Our Clothes Stay On

Photo by Ilya Shishikhin on Unsplash
Lips together, moans joined.
Raise the volume,
Let the television cover our sound.
Hands move,
Denim, cotton, covered delights
My hands long to touch flesh
Your hands rub between my legs
Purrs of desire
You like what you feel
Yet tonight skin will not touch skin
Let us kiss again
Only tongues penetrate
Salivate, wetness shared
As cloth rubs against cloth
As our clothes stay on

Woman laying on a bed semi-clothed with open books around her

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Little tree in a Field

Picture by Azul – 8yr old artist
Little tree in a field
Trunk wide and fat
Shading grass that is green
With leaves of green
In a field of green
Blue sky on top of that

In the branches in the tree
Are there birds?
Maybe a family of squirrels
Probably bugs
Imagine all of that

Little tree in a field
Branches way up high
In a field of green
With bugs and rabbits
Under blue skies and all that

This is for a dVerse prompt: Write a poem inspired by at least one of Azul’s works of art shown above. Be sure to include the artwork in your post and credit 8-year old Azul as the artist. I hope you enjoy! 😊

Pox It

A plague on pockets

Photo by gryffyn m on Unsplash
Pox it! Pox on it all!
I care not what he hides
Beneath his jeans
Next to his thighs.
Put his hand there
Or pull it out.
He hides his money there.
Maybe his time?
Pocket, pffft, whatever;
I know it’s all a lie.

This is for a dVerse prompt: Pen us a poem of exactly 44 words (not counting the title), and be sure to include some form of the word pocket. No need for rhyme, or rhythm, or even reason – unless you choose it. Hope you enjoy! 😊


I got a little carried away with my original poem and forgot it was a quadrille. 😳😂 So, if you’d like a peak at the inspiration for the above quadrille read it below.

Pox it! Pox on it all!
I care not what he hides
Beneath his jeans
Next to his thighs.
Put his hand there
Or pull it out.
Pox it! I shout.
He says he’s cold
So his hand he hides.
Wear gloves, say I.
He hides his money there.
Or maybe his time?
Pox it, pffft, whatever;
I know it’s a lie.
Who would need some small space
Upon their clothes,
If not for something
To keep from wondering eyes?
You don’t see her with some extra space
On her dress or upon her waist.
A proper bag or she goes without.
Just as should be.
Without a doubt.
So pox it. And a pox it within a pox it.
Never shall a pocket darken the clothes I design
Nor will it ever, from any designer of my line.

Wild Dahlia

Photo by Jairo Hernández on Unsplash
Wild Dahlia, the name of the bar,
The owner was Deborah,
Below her left breast there was a scar,
She’d let you see if you whispered sweet,
Thought that could only get you so far.

The drinks were cheap,
The company cost.
The men were sheep,
You could hear them baa.
Such was the cost of being barkeep.

I tried my luck.
The others they laughed.
Miss Deborah, my heart you have struck,
I’d like your company,
Not just for a fuck.

She smiled so sweet,
My heart did melt.
Words so pretty for a peak at my teat.
But it is for more what beats underneath.
So my heart you wish to meet?

Wild Dahlia’s Deborah delight
Sweet words her weakness be
Let me take her away for a night
No barkeep or business thoughts
Let me see her scar and more in soft candlelight

This is for a prompt for BattleBorn Poetry: This week’s #BornBattleReady prompt word is: WILD DAHLIA

Just For Two

Image by Rob Owen-Wahl from Pixabay
Ah this should be sweet
Not that I should care

For two lines to meet
Sweet candy upon my tongue

Couplets, couples, lines of two
For me or you or him and her, them and they, shall occur

Does this whole thing have to be two lines?
No.

Okay, good.
You did it again.

What?
Two lines my friend.

Truly two is fine enough to stop
The end.

This is for a dVerse prompt: This week, break the couple. Write a poem incorporating one of these couplets.

Choose one:
Broken Couplet — disrupt the expected relationship between the two lines.

Split Couplet — experiment with a longer first line and a shorter second line.

Hinged Couplet — let the second line turn, transform, or change the meaning of the first.

Rhyme and meter are optional—unless you want to challenge yourself. The only rule: Let the two lines change each other. Break the couple. See what happens

Hope you enjoy!😊

Morning or Evening Tides

Whitby Docks (1836-1893) by John Atkinson Grimshaw public domain
Is it morning?
The start of a brand new day?
Or evening as the day slips away?
Fishermen, a man and his boy
As the tide is low
Boats anchored and moored;
Hardships of a hard life endured.
The light illuminates yet details aren’t clear.
An impressionist influence
Or a realist reaction?
Perhaps the light blinded him
Or the clouds obscured.
Well the sun has risen
Further in the sky.
As the tides go by,
Onward we must fly,
Leaving the boats and fishermen and tides behind.

This is for a dVerse prompt: For today’s Poetics, I would like you all to choose ONE of the paintings above and to write a poem inspired by it. You can write an ekphrastic poem or simply take the title as a springboard or both. The choice is yours.

I chose the painting above. I hope you enjoy! 😊

You Need A Vision

Br’er Rabbit and the Tar-Baby, drawing by E. W. Kemble from “The Tar-Baby”, by Joel Chandler Harris, 1904

I enter the tent to begin my vision quest and can feel the disdain from those watching. Hey, this was not my idea! I want to yell at them but it is not my place. Besides, Osamu told me he would deny it if I told anyone it was his idea. It was his idea and he was the one who convinced the elders to allow me to perform the vision quest. It was Osamu who sat in the tent with the elders during the Inipi. It was Osamu who was standing along with the elders now looking like a drunk grandpa. 

“We will return on the fourth day and lead you back to the village. You will come with us no matter what. If you have had a vision or not,” said the chief elder.

“I understand,” I said.

He turned and walked away without another word. I entered the dark, hot, humid tent. A low fire sat in the middle with a small bucket of water and a ladle. The air felt damp, clammy. The smoke from the fire left from the top of the tent yet the scent lingered like I was the visitor and I was impeding on its hospitality. I sat on the ground cross legged and waited. I was supposed to be meditating. Inviting the spirits to show me what secrets they wished. Instead I sat bored and wondering for the umpteenth time why and how I had gotten here.

In winter seeds sleep
During the spring they waken
In autumn they yawn

“Wake up!” 

I startle awake. 

“Sleeping at such a time! Hmph!”

“Wha.. Who?” I asked. My sight was a little blurry.

“I am why you are here. I have come to give you the knowledge you need.”

My vision cleared enough for me to see a 8 foot dragon in front of me. 

“A dragon? Really?”

“What? I should be a bear or a bunny or maybe an owl like fuking Harry Potter?”

“I just thought a Native sweat lodge tent and all …”

“Oh so the black guy on a vision quest at the reserve wants to talk about cultural appropriation? Brah. I could come out looking like Godzilla in a pink tutu and it wouldn’t mean shit. Listen to the words I am speaking to you. Forget the packaging.”

“Cool, cool. I got it. Sheesh. Who stole your golden cup?”

“Oooo  a Hobbit reference. + 1 for you. Now shut up and listen. We don’t have much time.”

“Relax, I’ve got four days.”

“You’ve been asleep for almost three days. And if you say one more thing I’m poofing out of here like a bad magician.”

“….”

“Good. You need to go to Mt. Fuji. You’re not going to be able to go directly, just trust me. But when you get there. Take the tour with the fat white guy as a guide -”

“Th-”

“One. More. Word.  Poof!”

I held up my hands. 

“You’ll know which one when you get there. At the shrine, leave the group and go through the jade gate.”

I waited. He said nothing. I waited some more. Still nothing.  I pointed towards my mouth with my eyebrows up.

“You can talk now.”

“What??? I thought vision quests gave you these vision dreamlike flying eagle type thing. This is like mission impossible Google maps type stuff. What is going on here? And why me?”

“Why not you? And-”

“Cause I don’t want to!”

“Too bad. It’s you. And this isn’t your vision quest, this is literally like Charlie’s Angels type instructions but I ain’t self destructing. You want a vision quest you speak to your own ancestors.”

He continued saying something but off to the side behind him I saw like a washed out movie the picture of Br’er Rabbit and a briar patch. The more I tried to strain to see the more it washed out but if I relaxed it got clearer and then suddenly I was standing next to him in the briar patch. 

“Well how do! What you doin’ in this briar patch?” said Br’er.

“Boy, I say Boy! If you don’t get yo ass back outta this here briar patch!”

Foghorn Leghorn? What? My vision quest is old time cartoon reruns?

“Yo! Come back to me! Here you go. Come on. Come on.”

It was the dragon again. Oh man. Whatever kind of sage stuff they put in here was grade A prime. 

“Okay I see I have to make this quick. Last thing. Don’t trust Osamu within an inch of your life but he will be the reason you live.”

Like I needed that warning. I already don’t trust Osamu. 

“Times up!”  POOF!

“Wait! I didn’t say anything!”

Sunlight flooded into the tent blinding my eyes.

“Time is up. Your four days are over.”

I shield my eyes and look at the tent entrance. Through the watering of my eyes I see the chief elder.

“Time’s up?” I croak out.

My throat is suddenly dry and I struggle to stand up. He watches me, impassive as a boulder, as I stumble into the light. There the village elders stand, faces like worn stone and beside them, Osamu.

As we walk back to the village where apparently there is a party waiting, courtesy of Osamu, he ask me if I had seen anything.

“We have to go to Japan. Mount Fuji.”

“No go. I’ve been banned.”

“Then I’ll go without you.”

“You did say ‘we’”

I had. And apparently, according to the dragon, I do need him to stay alive.

“We’ll find a way.”

“Stewie!! Baby!” 

Patty. Fifties, hair up, always hair up, blonde with red streaks or red with blonde streaks. I never knew which was her original color. The curtains always matched the carpet if you know what I mean, and sadly yes I’ve checked … a number of times.

“I’m coming with you,” she says.

“What? How do you know we’re, er, I’m, going anywhere?” I ask.

“You throw a party like this? You’re going somewhere.”

“You brought her here?” I ask, looking at Osamu. 

He shrugs and walks into the school gym where the party is.

“What should I pack?”

God help me if I make this out alive. Whatever this is. And as I walk arm in arm into the gym I see out of the corner of my eye a hare run into a field. Is that a briar patch?

The eyes see only
When open. The heart sees all
The mind see nothing

This is for a dVerse prompt: Write a haibun that alludes to vision. I hope you enjoy! 😊

Let Me Slip Inside You

Photo by Jonathan Kho on Unsplash
Let me slip inside you
And rearrange your insides
Your heart moved into peace
Love and happiness
Your stomach
Always full
Let me fill your pussy
So there is no room for another
Your back broken away from
Backbreaking work
Your womb moved
To the warmth of a happy home
Rearrange you so deep
Your toes are dipped in the sands of exotic beaches
Walking the heights of mountains
The paths of queens
Reach up to your throat
So you moan in pleasure
Screams of ecstasy
Let me slip inside you
And rearrange your insides

The cover of The Sex Cycle Collection. All four covers in a collage.

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Searching for Wisdom

Illustration by Mila Okta Safitri on Unsplash
Enlighten me with your words of wisdom
Drop knowledge upon my head
Fill my ears with the song the universe sings

Listen well to me and heed the words I say
Go on a journey without taking a step
Listen to the words the winds say


I have gone on a journey and listened to the wind
Though I don’t understand what it is you said
I feel no wiser but wearied instead

Your journey just begins
Now you must look inside
See where your footsteps took you


I looked inside and saw the dark
I looked inside and saw the light
Now it is from the inside I look out
Yet wisdom of the ages still alludes me with its whispers

Write it down, all you have gained
Spit out each grain of sand that is wisdom’s gift
Share it with those who would eat


All these things I’ve done
Wisdom gained and lost
I feel empty and full having feasted on the empty and dense
Do I now know the mysteries of the universe?
Have I gained the wisdom I have searched so long to find?
I have doubts but no longer concerns
I am satisfied with the search

I can no longer give you what you seek
For my wisdom you now find
Everything you’ve given was once mine

This is for a dVerse prompt: … today I would like you to focus not on the end of the sacred target but on the journey itself which may find those additional reasons listed above (or any other you may find).

I hope you enjoy! 😊


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The Hummer

Image by congerdesign from Pixabay
Humbly I beseech thee
No humming in the library

Hmm? I can’t hear you.
Nor do I want to.

Thumbing your nose
Will get you thumped out of this repository of prose

Hmmph I say
Again I say nay
I will hum all day

This is for a dVerse prompt: Ho-hum, it’s time to poem! Pen us a poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title), literally including some form of the word hum. I hope you enjoy! 😊