I seek the one
like many do.
Till then I hide,
or, just take flight.
Catwoman
Your eyes they beguile as they work their embrace,
and, a compulsion draws me to your arms.
A feminine feline claws retracted,
your arms await…
to mould my flesh
…to yours
I sent this somone in VR I'd hoped might find it interesting.
Then, I figured what the h...
So, here it is...
Knock knock
As I sat and pondered
On the meaning of life
‘an all
Death had come calling,
... at about half past four
Not wanting to rise …
I hadn’t …
But, Death was persistent with
Knock, knock, knocking at the door
At last I arose
For I could take it no more
So I'd got up and walked
across to the door
“Who is it?" I’d asked,
feeling quite terse
It is DEATH said he
... not speaking in verse
“Why do you call?”
- to take you … to a dance -
“A dance?”
- My danse macabre –
“No thanks,” said I
…closing the door.
And as I sat in my chair
I realized
… how good
it had felt
… just sitting there.
- o -
Alone
Though alone
For many
a reason ~
We are not ~
As there are others,
just like us.
Mirror Mirror
Through a facet of yourself
that you allow to be seen
I see a little of myself
reflected in you.
I’m no wordsmith.
But, after the other night
I had to write ~
to try and describe
what I saw and felt.
‘Coz a moment of now
like that,
doesn’t last very long.
And, it had started with a friend
and a suggestion.
But, I was nervous, apprehensive.
Just plain scared.
Yet, I’d been told it was ‘safe.’
So hesitantly, I’d approached the door ~
and the two big men, standing there.
Then, I’d passed between them.
And as I went to go toward the stairs, going down,
one of them said,
“You pay at the bar.”
It was dark inside,
Yet I easily found the bar ~
where I’d paid for my entrance,
then got a whiskey;
and found a quiet corner to sit.
Now holding my bar dollar
which paid for my first dance,
I was nervous, apprehensive.
Just plain scared.
Then, with a warm, wide smile
and dark searching eyes,
a dream of a girl approached me;
then in a light, pleasant voice asked,
“Do you want a dance?”
Black silken hair frames the pretty
face, of a young woman
of the Asian race.
And I go shy ~ but, nod, ‘yes.’
I am nervous, apprehensive.
But, I can’t help but stare ~ she
looks lovely, and ~ I can’t help
but stare.
A red and black pleated skirt
clings to her hips,
It’s hem ending mid-thigh.
And she wears boots, of what seem
to be soft leather,
with zips at the side
and a sensible heel.
Beneath the calf-hugging boots
she wears black, knee-length socks.
The expanse of leg exposed is toned,
A natural golden colour;
and most attractive to the eye.
A white blouse,
knotted at the waist
and a school-tie loosely
tied; exposing, the flesh
of her belly ~ and,
the cutest,
inward-sloping, navel.
“I’m Neil,” I say,
taking her right hand gently in mine;
and I kiss her fingertips,
gazing at her knees
and the toes of her boots.
So we sat and talk
and I slowly relax,
with May,
as I learn she is called.
And, as we talk, I stare,
I can’t help it ~ for with
dark eyes and hair
and a beautiful smile, May
has a beautiful face.
And, I’m just, transfixed.
Finally she stands,
Saying to me, “I dance now?”
Still a little nervous, I go shy ~
but, nod, ‘yes.’
And I watch May push
the house dollar
into a black pouch,
pull its drawstring tight,
then turn to me.
She indicates
I move where I sit,
so I do as she bids
and sit where I’m told
my heart beating
ever-so-fast, as May
begins to move,
to the music.
And I feel breathless,
as I gaze, I stare
and squirm where I sit
and I’m told to ‘relax’ as she
begins to dance to the
beat of the music.
And May teases, to the music;
her every expression
and move, pleasing me.
Then eyes cast downward,
and slowly lifted back to mine,
she undoes the blouse
buttons, one-by-one.
Then finally, the knot undone,
she drapes the blouse over my right knee,
then steps forward to continue her tease.
She casts her hair over her shoulder,
then looks back,
to see me,
watching her,
and her
every movement.
Her back to me,
buttocks just over my crotch
and my arousal;
May looks over right shoulder,
at me,
as she gently caresses each breast,
the nipples erect.
As May teases,
to the music;
her every expression
and move, pleases
me…
And, she cups her left breast,
the darker flesh of her left nipple,
to me; the one with the small cute
scar, that I like…
It’s an enticement offered,
then denied:
as May turns once more,
and teases, to the music,
a wide smile on her face.
Then, with her back to me,
May pulls her skirt up,
to reveal a little wisp of white cotton in between her taut,
proud cheeks.
I lick my lips, as
May swings her hips,
toying with the waist of her skirt.
And soon the red and black
pleated skirt, no longer clings
to her hips,
it’s hem ending mid-thigh.
It is gone the way of the shirt,
to lie on the floor, where
she drops it.
And now she dances
and prances before me
in just boots, of what seem
to be soft leather,
with zips at the side
and a sensible heel.
As she bends forward,
she runs her left middle finger
between her legs,
I look to my left
and May reflected in the
wall mirrors.
And, her eyes
alight with mischief,
May seems to delight
in my obvious pleasure and
apparent discomfort;
as I stare, at her eyes
and the pert shape of her derrière,
as May continues to dance
to the beat of the music.
I watch May turn, naked,
except for her panties ~
my attention held by the rise
and fall of her pert buttocks,
as she moves to the music.
In front of where I sit,
May arches her back,
Rocking her hips
back and forth~ her bottom
almost grazing my crotch.
And I feel breathless,
as I gaze, I stare
and squirm where I sit.
May looks great, as she
starts to gyrate, her backside,
just before my eyes.
Then, she turns, once more,
to wriggle her hips before me,
the crotch of her white,
embroidered, cotton panties,
drawn tight around her shapely
mound ~ as if, to emphasise
perfection, in my eyes.
And, still moving, May gyrates
her hips, watching me stare,
as she slides the panties,
slowly down her shapely thighs.
I look to the mirror, then back
to May ~ for at this moment,
right now, she is all there is.
And ~ she dances to the beat
of the music ~ until, too soon
it begins to fade.
Then, she kisses my cheek
and says, “thank you,”
before dressing.
“Thank me,” I paraphrase, quite
breathless;
“Oh no, thank you,” I added,
kissing her fingertips.
Demure and delightful,
it was good to be with May.
It was “safe,”
being near her;
and it’d felt good.
Then finally, I’ve spent what
I’d set aside, after two more
dances.
‘And as a moment of now,
it’s ones that I want to recall,’
I’d thought on the way home,
with a grin.
And, now, I figure,
‘It was worth it, just to write this.’
COMMENTS
This is a lon-ass poem its almost as long as The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe
It is 3:20 and the bar is filling with solitary men,
all ready to gaze...
upon the girls, three in all; who will strip and tease,
for their allotted slot, (fifteen minutes, or so;)
on the railed off dais…
and now my bitter costs an extra twenty six pence.
The music is now louder and there is an impatient atmosphere, as men take the best spec, so as to enjoy the show...
Now, it is just a few minutes to go...
and what was an empty bar, is filling still: as places are taken by men, in working attire, casual dress and the occasional suit.
Where I sit, at a table to the right of the dias,
I look through the rails and across the stage - to the heavies now standing by the door, ready to restore order, (it seems,)
if any man takes liberties... with the girls.
It is now past show-time - and anxious faces look around...
all of them waiting - with five minutes to go...
and what was an empty bar, is filling still, as places are taken by men, in working attire, casual dress and the occasional suit.
It is now past show-time and anxious faces look around...
all of them waiting, (with evident anticipation) for the girls.
And men gather at the wooden rail, round the small, slightly raised stage,
as if aware, that soon ... very soon, their patience will be rewarded:
and another cigarette is lit, as my pulse quickens and I know that I am now part of the expectant crowd, all waiting.
"We dream the same dream, we want the same thing..."
is played whilst during this intermission -
and somehow the song seems very appropriate...
The lights suddenly dim throughout - except for the bar
and the spotlights that point toward centre-stage -
And the first girl comes on, dressed as a cowgirl, in chaps, waistcoat, boots and a hat ... Strutting across the stage, cracking her whip.
She wears cut-down jeans, worn as shorts, pulled tight to the crotch...
and she strips to the beat and ... she squirts Gillette onto her hands...
blue eyes surveying - the faces of the men as they leer...
The blonde smacks at her pert breasts and against her ass...
and a John Major look-alike, all in grey, stares wide-eyed, shaving-foam dripping down his beer glass; and all before her are enthralled as the cowgirl stimulates the crowd - as she simulates sex with the whip butt...
And she leans forward now, her glistening folds dripping with oil, liberally applied... with a finger teasing at the entrance... and she smiles,
for her part in this now of the crowd, has just ended.
There is silence, (then,) there is applause, as the spotlight becomes dim -
and... the blonde can be seen, collecting her fallen clothes.
And once more we wait...
So, I visit the toilet 'coz the beer is going through me:
and I read the scrawl on the wall...
before taking my seat once more.
And we wait in the darkness, till music blares... the next girl,
again a blonde, stands before us on the stage, dressed as a schoolgirl,
her hair worn in braids, that loosen and fall as she dances and prances... across the small railed off stage.
She is wearing a uniform that she will not have been in, for about ten years, or so, white blouse, shoes and socks and a grey-pleated skirt,
with shapely-legs stocking-clad... she disrobes very slowly...
playing the baying animals in front of her with an air of mockery...
and they love it.
Licking her lips the girl pushes forward her hips and toward
a little man's thick pebble glasses... and the crowd applaud him,
much to his delight and embarrassment.
Then the blonde busty Barbie-doll... bumps and grinds her way...
to the rail opposite; turns her back to a man in a rugby shirt and… bending over…
thrusts her backside toward the man and… laughing,
she finally drops her skirt;
then returns to the middle of the stage and continues to strip...
away her remaining clothes.
Now the blonde sits on a chair, it's back facing front,
her legs spread either side - as a man, stands in the middle of the crowd, between the two rails and before the steps to the dias:
he is large and bulky, with little round glasses and is wearing a light tan mac, his hands are deep in the pockets.
He has thick pursed lips and as the act proceeds… the man impersonates a goldfish... drawing in his breath - and - saying the word 'more'...
As the girl - young woman I should say...
begins to move, her actions are old, indeed practised... and…
She is confident, in her control of the men, looking up at her...
and the ribbons are not tight any more and her braids hang loose ...
as she takes out from her rolled up towel ... Johnson's cream milk
and her head back, in mock ecstasy, she takes some into her mouth ...
dripping it slowly, down the mounds of her young breasts.
She looks down, at the rail...
then smiling, she watches her audience
and repeats this part of her act... again and again.
Then the blonde moves to the front and poses naked... for the fish ...
and as the man in the mac draws breath, to show his affection,
she laughs and turns, to resume her strip... and continue to tease.
She looks at the audience before her, sparkling eyes wide,
with white lotion trickling from the corners of her mouth...
before standing and bowing, her act finished...
And – the lights dim once more.
With my coat and case, I reserve my place, as I seek the bar and a beer,
before finding my seat ... and I light a smoke, sharing a joke...
with my neighbour, who has also finished work early, so as to be here.
The last of the three takes to the stage - and - this redhead is older,
than the other two girls, both puppy fat
and eager to play the mechanics of the strip ...
Though she is the eldest by far...
she stalks from one half of the stage to the other…
with an arrogant swagger:
an American police woman, in her blue shirt, grey skirt and peak cap; wielding her night staff as if it is a club...
She looks at the audience sternly...
from beneath the brim of the cap – as she walks,
stepping high in her heels, as she looks at the men,
as if they are the prey, that she stalks ...
As she undoes her shirt buttons one by one - parading the stage,
flaunting her legs, her body, her smile ...
each button is undone with measured ease, every movement guaranteed,
to emphasise the tease...
She removes the cap with a flourish and her long, lustrous, red hair cascades loose and she shakes it... as she whirls in a circle, twisting her hips.
The tie is removed and finally the skirt and long legged and toned,
the redhead moves to the music in white bra and panties,
suspender-belt and fine black hose.
On all fours now, she prowls feline,
then lowers herself, she pumps with her hips...
and makes love to the stage, eyes like slits, (in apparent pleasure,)
as she observes the eye’s... of the men watching her ...
As she undoes her bra, directly looking at a man, clasp held tight ...
she turns to another, cupping her breasts in her hands,
as the bra hits the floor... the redhead stands centre stage,
to lift her arms and display her charms.
And standing, she struts over to one man, middle-aged,
laughing with his pal next to him ... and she turns her back to him and her firm cheeks to the edge of the rail…
peeling off her knickers slowly, halting and looking around,
at the crowd of ogling men, all intent on her every move...
And when she does slip them from her long legs.
he looks down to his pint, blushing...
and a man shouts, from near to me, 'Hey we're missing out!'
So with an intricate turn of her hips and a few steps,
to where we sit 'neath the rail...
the redhead bends again, to pose as before, showing her slit peach and brown rose… looking at us, from upside down… and she winks...
Then her breasts gently sway, as she stalks the stage floor...
and then, then redhead lies on her back... running her hands over herself, teasing us ... with this display.
And she turns and sits, facing the group of men by one rail,
twisting and turning her legs, to sit again... legs wide…
facing the other side… then does the same again,
to face the crew by the steps to the stage,
so every man has the chance to view her, all of her...
And she takes to the middle of the stage once more... and kneels,
wearing only high heels and a smile, running her hands over the swell of her breasts...
as she hardens the nipples... with her fingertips...
And then, as she runs one hand over her belly - and picks up a bottle of Boots Baby Oil with the other.
She eyes her body, as the oil drips down ... and looks up, just once or twice, running oil-clad hands over her flesh ...
till finally she sits cross-legged, with one hand gently resting on her bush... her eyes all a flutter... and she stands looking around... then bows thrice to the men, as the house light come on...
And she picks up her clothes to a great deal of applause.
'The next set starts in half an hour,' I am told.
But I'm not sticking around, 'coz it's time for my train and I'm sure,
that my supper will be getting cold ...
Along a road
Lined with blossom clad trees
We had walked
Hand in hand –
To the station
And a sad farewell;
That bright and sunny
Sunday morning.
Then I had returned home,
To a bed made for one
That had slept two:
And immediately my thoughts
Had returned to you.
For the sweat dampened sheets
Still held your fragrance;
So it was with ease
I had conjured you in my arms.
It is now several hours later
And I am awake –
Yet though
The smell of you has diminished
The memory has not.
*
I remember…
I remember the taste of your flesh,
as I walk for my bus;
and I recall the scent of you,
as I’d nuzzled your neck.
Then, suckling your earlobe,
I’d inhaled the smell of your hair.
And a moment of now,
as perfect as that,
is indeed, very rare.
Freezeframe By Neil Kendrick
Pause … an
Rewind
… to different time
and a different place …
A pleasant taste –
A sweeter rhyme …
Ah, how I reminisce
on those times
of bliss …
… when to feel her grace
I had touched
her face …
an was swept away
on a winter’s day …
Pause … an
Rewind
An a sunnier place
- a warmer climb -
as hand in hand
our feet upon dand …
and a sunset
before us –
… Pause … half speed –
the image is clear:
an the backdrop is right _
I am holding her near
an …
Pause …
Freezeframe …
*
Shiny, shiny…
Sitting at my small coppertop table,
on a three legged stool,
I’d sat listening for the click clack click
of her heels on the polished wooden floor.
I recall that I’d sat, pint before me,
listening to the banal office gossip
from the lunch-time trade.
And my wait had seemed interminable,
while all I could think of,
was how good she would look.
The door opens, and sunlight streams in
for a moment, as she enters: and I smile,
as I find her style
most pleasing… to the eye.
The lace that she wears is purple, as is
a tint to her hair; whilst the rest of her
clothes are black.
Yet, for me, it’s the shiny black boots,
with their high instep… and pencil thin heels
that take me aback.
“I’m up here,” she says to me,
smiling:
her voice a reminder… that
I’ve stared too long… at her
knee length shiny, black boots.
She had noticed me stare ~
and I didn’t want to care,
yet did.
After all,
how could I explain,
my compulsion to kneel,
every time… I stared at her
high heel?
To put pen to paper
In a parallel dimension
following a similar timeline;
a man sits
scribbling down his thoughts ~
much like me.
The difference
between us
is small, but important:
for whenever
he writes,
his words make sense.
My Bestest Toy
When I was small
my bestest toy
was a brand new cardboard box.
It was a boat, a plane, a train.
a car ~
It was.
Aye ~ When I was small
my bestest toy
was a battered old cardboard box.
It had been a boat, a plane, a train.
a car ~ It had.
With just a little thought…
‘Normal’
Conform, to the norm,
whatever that is ~
be it punk,
biker, or Goth.
Meet your kinsmen,
Member of the clan;
then don the uniform
of your clique… be it
pink, black,
or purple ~
punk, biker,
or Goth.
COMMENTS
-
NoctusAngelusProcella
00:02 Apr 04 2011
lol
I like this one reminds me of me, flighty and scared of change.