Budapest
My pen moves along the page
like the snout of a strange animal
shaped like a human arm
and dressed in the sleeve of a loose green sweater.
I watch it sniffing the paper ceaselessly,
intent as any forager that has nothing
on its mind but the grubs and insects
that will allow it to live another day.
It wants only to be here tomorrow,
dressed perhaps in the sleeve of a plaid shirt.
nose pressed against the page,
writing a few more dutiful lines
while I gaze out the window and imagine Budapest
or some other city where I have never been.
Billy Collins
Sexy Little Black Number
I dress in special clothes
take her out from
my secret place
pull her top down
Broad and squat
hugging, like a jellyfish,
anything below her.
Sticking like spilt tar
Testosterone boosted shoulders
the extension of my puny figure
embracing driver and libido
in a single compactness,
she carries me and my ego
At different altitudes.
Intimate with weather,
and parking lot conversations,
smelling trees, barbecues
exhausts, perfumes,
hearing birds, radios, wind
in a frapped blur
WRM
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8 comments:
I don't like the fact that there are two "like"s in the first one and I have no idea what the second one is about!!!!!!!!!!!
Perhaps I'll have to have a go at this peotry lark
A word of caution to your readers or family who are very talented ... if they write something for the general public on your comments or a blog and you many want to claim credit for it in some later endeavor, whatever it might be, then copyright it, even just mail it to yourself as proof it's yours. Many people who surf blogs are honest but there are a number of people who are what I'll call literary pirates, & who have no regard for ones rights. The things I will post on your blog will be copyrighted.
Di
When I think of the things I fight,
the things I say 'No' to
the things I forget
& the things I say 'Go' to ...
I'm glad for the way things are
I can do things another way
Can take a short route but not mine
Can save my face and say 'Yes'
or go along with the times ....
... but I don't
SAN SALVADOR
This city's heart wears a label
Tossed like a loaf on the table
Cause things both past & present
Pierce the lives of every peasant
The biggest general cries himself to sleep
Little babies know mother's love will keep
The morning dew makes a soldier shiver
While the doggie next door lets out a whimper
Copyright '94 D. De Han
Written on the train coming home from the airport:¨
Black
Black
Then red, silver and navy
atop each other
A slow procession
Sliding silently around a giant C
Not outsized or oddshaped
as the skis, bikes and golf bags
Segregated with the dismembered push-chairs under the illuminated 8
Those that go unclaimed still
Continue their pointless circular journey whilst people wait
to report the failed arrival of their precious possessions
I bet that's crap!
the big C is crap ?
giant, not big,
I think it's more of a lower case h, but I am being too literal
The sexy little black number is a BMW Z3!
I like the poem about the baggage belt. Nothing about it is "crap"
I still love the "snoring Shingle" a few blogs back.
WRM - live from NYC!
Sexy little black number.
The dress is understated,
Tight and Black,
The effect overrated,
With cleavage and low back.
Transportation is no worry
It can take me anywhere,
Moving effortlessly in public
Attracting an appreciative stare,
Of admiration from the menfolk
Envy from the dames,
Who recognize the importance
Of playing sartorial games.
The secret underlying
The amazing magic dress,
A FRAPPED lycra body
And an awful lot of flesh.
j
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