A Door Unopened

A Door Unopened
Knock, knock...
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

A poem for Katherine. Turning 40 and getting divorced is better than you'd think. Been there. Done that.

KATHERINE TURNS 40

A dollop of this, and a jigger more that
All go into making our fine feathered Kat.
You once were a Porth but now back to Brovont.
This decade you’ll master life just as you want.

At 40 your journey is not at all fated.
With work and two sons your life’s been updated
To include no more husband, but of men, there’ll be plenty.
‘Cause let’s face it, my darling, you’re no innocenti.

You’re hot and you know it-- don’t have to be nice.
You’ve got it, so flaunt it. Yeah! Bring on the spice!
On Charlie, on David, on Joe, Frank and Max
The dudes to be conquered! No time to relax.

You’re out there and stirring it up with the men.
You’re groove is so on you can rival cayenne.
With Tom, Dick and Harry you just shrug and say “Next!”
You’re calling the roll, and rewriting the text,

About how to rock it. You’ve got it all wired.
No rush. You’re at peace and at 40 inspired
To show what you know about older and wiser.
And your friends have your back; we can help as advisor.

Dear Katherine, cheers! as you start toward the middle
Of life.  You’re the bomb, girl. You’re no second fiddle.
Ten years goes by quickly, you can take it from me.
And I see in your future the best yet to be.                       

                                                                                                ~For Katherine from Lyn October 23, 2010

Friday, September 17, 2010

Dirty Trimes: DO NOT READ if bawdiness offends you.

These are what I call trimes. It's three rhyme verse.
I don't know if I invented it. It seems to me that others may have struck upon this already. But given that I don't know much about poetry I'm claiming--until proven otherwise--first dibs.

They're fun, puerile, ribald and an absolute demonstration of me being in touch with my young, male side.

You've been warned but I'm warning you again--
IF YOU DON'T LIKE BAWDY LANGUAGE AND VULGARITY, STOP READING THIS POST NOW! IF I AM YOUR MOTHER, STEP MOTHER, DAUGHTER, SISTER OR AUNT PLEASE CEASE AND DESIST!

The heat of his meat knocked her right off her feet.

The clench of her drench caused his member to wrench.

The angle of his dangle coaxed her legs to untangle.

The shunt of her cunt made their pairing a stunt.

The rock of his cock made her swoon out of shock.

My Venus, your penis and no distance between us.

The semen was gleamin' with its gametes a streamin'.

His juice made a sluice of her shapely caboose.

Her pussy, so cushy left his Johnson all mushy.

The throb of his knob caused his partner to sob.

Her poon, moist cocoon, made him come way too soon.

Poon tang, his thang, they love to bang.

RIND--a poem

 A perfect orb of outer skin.
All pores and dimpled, thick.
Protects the citrus fruit within
It makes the moisture stick.

The slab of green hard smoothness hugs
Pink watermelon flesh.
Protection from persistent bugs,
Keeps innards wet and fresh.

Your velvet white and leathered hide.
Rank breeding ground for mold.
Protecting, ripened cheese inside,
Its pungency you hold.

Bubbled, lumpy, puffed up big
Sad, morbid, crispy snack.
Protects no more, the murdered pig.
Wants life and skin brought back.

Betrayer, wrinkles as I age
Mottled, sagging, plundered.
Protector of myself you gauge,
My youth has gone asunder.

MARRIED LIFE--a poem



I find the trait detestable,
On which I’m loathe to dwell.
His words come out high decibel.
My honey likes to yell.

The children used to quake upon
Inception of his knell.
But now inured, they merely yawn.
Their daddy likes to yell.

The dog went deaf, no longer hears
His shouts meant to compel.
Spot looks at him, and cocks his ears.
The master likes to yell.

The cat hides out under the couch
When volume starts to swell.
His tail puffed up, he keeps a crouch.
Crazed nut case likes to yell.

The neighbors’ kids steer clear and far.
No longer try to sell
Their cookies, candies, discount cards
‘Cause Mister likes to yell.

At night my sugar’s fevered pitch
Does nothing much to quell
My frazzled nerves.  It’s such a bitch
That dearest likes to yell.

My parents fought. Their voices brought
Hostility and hell.
And this is why I’d rather not
Hear sweetie start to yell.

So please, I beg, it means so much.
My words I hope impel
Your anger stream dammed up a touch.
My darling— please—DON’T YELL!