If we are to believe...

According to various surveys
an ideal male companion
has...

...a superior right hand
(no southpaws here)
...an innie for a navel,
and hearing that scares a bat.

and what's more is...
moderately intelligent
lean
and only mean upon request,
and does nothing to excess
except when encouraged.

is...
a nose breather
does not wear glasses
is...
just large enough,
and ready just often enough.
is...
a very good connection and...
likes kids.

...just oozing life

stars ooze life
stray cats ooze life
squished tomatoes ooze life
babies ooze life
as well as kangaroos and lemmings do

women ooze life
men too
children wooze life
seers choose life
gods and bangers
and unseen doppelgängers
all ooze life

and let's see...

so do witches and brooms
and sunny afternoons
siren swoons
and loony tunes

all...
...just oozing life

Rent a Response

For all poetry editors and forum participants:

I have read your latest effort and find...
I like your work, it has class.
It shows such exquisite emotion.
Your vivid images push on the backs of my eyes.
I do so like the way you use your imagination.

And your use of enjambment is keen.
So very well done!
I wish I had written this, really!
These lines are simply beautiful...
and these also... and these fine lines hold such truth.

What thoughtful word usage.
Nice work! Wow!
Where do you get your ideas?

matchless metaphors!
solid writing!
creative extremum!

Her Underwear

She wears thong underwear,
nylon, lace and cotton;
White ones, black ones,
red, purple and green.
a sensuous mix of colors.

They're everywhere:
squeezed between cushions,
hanging in the bathroom,
nestling in drawers,
stuffed in purses, pockets and backpacks,
draped over lampshades,
fixed on her form
and in my heart.

Her underwear!

Gone Missing 1

I've looked everywhere
and still I'm at a loss,
It was right here, but now it's gone.
Truly, what am I to do?
How will I live without it?

Everything was so clear,
but that was before, now everything
is different and my life is messy and dumb.
And fat!

There, right there sits
the problem like a smirking Buddha.
There's too much fat insulating my spirit.

But so what?
That's another problem isn't it?
Surely it's not related to this
most pressing one, is it?

How could l have been so careless?
I misplaced it right?
I didn't lose it, did I?
Maybe I'm not to blame
Maybe it's in my other shirt,
waiting,
waiting for me...

Oh, where is my other shirt?

Gone Missing 2

Seems I've missed a day somewhere
lost among the fields of growing things.

I found it among the summer clothes
stored in the attic,
nestled comfortably
between a faded Alman Brothers t-shirt
and an old summer weight cap
knitted for me so long ago
by an honest friend,
and which survived the marriage purge
by adopting the image of a mother's gift.

It seemed well enough
the day I mean,
if somewhat reluctant to leave the nest,
but I took all three and hung them outside
to air and within minutes all was like before.

It's amazing how things find their place.




One To The Ju-Ju Man

I took two hours off,
went to see the Ju-Ju man,
who was drinking
tea from his white porcelain cup.

I told him I needed to find
a way out of this maze.
I hoped for an answer,
a clue,
a small wedge
to drive in life's tangle.

I also told him I felt
belligerent and pugnacious,
and Succubus courted every night,
which made my days jaded and worn.

And the Ju-Ju man smiled,
drank more tea
from his white porcelain cup;
said he was sure he could help me,
but for now, my time was up,
pay the man, come back next week.

One to the Ju-Ju man.

back