Good-looking Eric
and mannish Kate
walk by each week-day morning
with their two young, fair-haired,
sweet-berry sons,
Samuel on Eric’s shoulders,
Henri hand-in-hand with Kate.
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Good-looking Eric
and mannish Kate
walk by each week-day morning
with their two young, fair-haired,
sweet-berry sons,
Samuel on Eric’s shoulders,
Henri hand-in-hand with Kate.
These two are the best of buddies,
teachers at the College Français
across the way: the chubby,
balding, wise-cracking Quebecker
and the handsome, soft-looking
transplanted Egyptian.
Write a lesbian poem please Prince.
You sure do know how to 'pervert' a poem into something gay. Thank you. :)
Thanks, Amp, but it's not the beads,
you know, the beads
are all equally round and smooth
and pleasing,
it's the way the fingers caress them
hoping to bring out
the singular essence of each.
*
Snapshot:
Grey-faced Greeks
on the balcony of a restaurant
on Av. Du Parc
address their cigarettes
like the toughest of questions
directed at each of them
by Socrates in the ancient Agora.
Good one! Love the image.
Even better one. Love the association to a religious ritual. ;) Great metephor.
Perhaps the best of the three. Very strong simile, and while I can't put my finger why, the synagogue adds power to this.
Nor can I say exactly why I included it. It is there, indeed: a great hulk of a building, uncommonly assertive for a N. American synagogue, and the birds did several times land on it, but there were any number of other details I might have cited from the scene in front of me and yet I didn't.
One of the pleasures for me in writing poetry is the experience of living in suspension for a time between one's conscious mind and one's subconscious, how the former sometimes humbly makes way for the latter.
I dig that.
But can something that's not humble, ever humbly make way?
Or does it make way in another way?
Just wondering. :)
Kalimera, Ampoule, evcharisto, te kanis?
A young woman jounces along the street
with such energy
that her young, underdeveloped breasts
seem, at ever step,
about to leap free of her chest.
Snapshot:
Hanging in the air,
Just a foot from the earth,
Waiting for impact.
God! I hope it won't hurt.
Ellen and Jean-François,
though they may not know it,
are having a love affair
on my behalf!
He with his young, young
clean-cut French-Canadian face,
smiling eyes and sketch
of a beard that appears on
and disappears from his chin
and she, with her Oregonian innocence,
puppy fat and voice
unsullied by a cigarette
or, I assume, a single off-colour word.
The photographer handed the camera to his assistant. "Perfect," she said, "I can see them perfectly."
What so?
I don't have a problem.
I'm not judging breast size.
:P
Oh, sorry.
:D
Well, I must have been judging size then
as a measure of development
not desire. but I desire, so...
I have to be careful.
Seeing myself as an innocent breast-less youth is only setting me up
to be destroyed for my own pleasure by older evil.
Have a good day :)
Shen Li
I met a woman the other day.
The encounter was such
that I knew I would never want to impress her.
I thought that she saw me
as an extension of her field of freedom.
She had questions for me.
Some of them were things I needed answers to
myself. I had just the one or two questions
for her, such as Who are you? And
For how long will I be privileged to know you?
You're a sweetheart, Shou. :)
Waiting for Shen Li
After Shen Li and I chatted the other day she discovered that the Café was currently unable to accept credit cards. Since she had too little or no money on her she would have to go and get some which might make her late for work, I offered to pay for her. She hesitated, wondering as any woman might what I’d be expecting in return. There were no strings attached, I assured her sincerely. She questioned me about when I would be there again, thanked me and left...
Because she is Chinese
I assume she will be eager
to discharge her indebtedness.
But if only there were some other reason
why she might return.
I wait in my sandals, Bermudas
and wind-breaker. It’s a damp,
somewhat chilly day
and I’ve never been good at waiting
for a bus, a plane, the mail
or love. (Especially not for love!)
But if you’ve been waiting as long as I have,
what’s another ten, fifteen,
fifteen and a half, fifteen
minutes and forty-five, forty-six
forty-seven seconds...
Haha aaaow I like it...
What's another 15, 15.5 YEARS... we were meant to think,
until we saw that you said MINUTES
a new line LONGER...
and then we all laughed, thinking... he's lying, he's been and will be waiting longer, waiting for the repetition of your numbers.
84, 56, 694...
I'm so shi.t at waiting for a bus.
What's another 10 seconds,
VERY LONG if you're counting each second - you're extending each second,
and yourself, with no-one to meet you in each direction.
Sometimes waiting for my TV to START is painful enough...
I haven't yet counted how many kilometers I am away from my non-Lover in another country.
Jeezus Christ, this is fun.
<3 enjoy ya day
The city hums today,
but off-key, somewhat distracted,
as if one of its most closely-guarded secrets
were about to leak out.
Two kids
arm in arm
sipping kisses
from each other’s lips.
Mmmm....sipping kisses. Cdn says it all...delightful. :D
16 on a good day!!
Like me. :D
A late-twentyish woman walks by
on bare shapely legs
the length of many an entire
smaller woman, and before
I’ve had my fill of looking at her,
she’s two blocks over and gone!