Submissions by robert-james
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
SELF POEM
Published
11th Jul 2013 1:15pm
11th Jul 2013 1:15pm
How to meet your Son
Went drinking the other night
Not to different from other nights
A game to watch
Girls to chat to
Money in my pocket
The makings of a good night
Time for a new venue
A good smoke for the walk
Different bar, different scene
Hard drinking here
A place people come to drink, sing and to forget
I can feel that,
trying to forget,
getting lost in a song in the bottom of a cup
Everyone in the place knows it
Makes them happier and sadder all at the same time
This girl walks in
Like a girl from a dream or a long forgotton night...
Not to different from other nights
A game to watch
Girls to chat to
Money in my pocket
The makings of a good night
Time for a new venue
A good smoke for the walk
Different bar, different scene
Hard drinking here
A place people come to drink, sing and to forget
I can feel that,
trying to forget,
getting lost in a song in the bottom of a cup
Everyone in the place knows it
Makes them happier and sadder all at the same time
This girl walks in
Like a girl from a dream or a long forgotton night...
539 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
24th May 2013 9:35am
24th May 2013 9:35am
Mayor goes on bender, drinks all their whisky, shags all their woman.
Allegations have emerged that while vacationing on a remote Carribean Island, Mayor Harold Wishwell is said to have drunken excessively, taken drugs and engaged in rampent sexual activity. Mayor Harold, newly elected in September has been enjoying a hard earned vacation, after a hectic first nine weeks in office.
One local Gentleman, who wished to remain anonymous, said "He drank all our whisky and shagged all our women". A blushing young lady, of fine proportions, said she had heard stories that Mayor Wishwell was "hung like a mammoth" and was "a caring and...
One local Gentleman, who wished to remain anonymous, said "He drank all our whisky and shagged all our women". A blushing young lady, of fine proportions, said she had heard stories that Mayor Wishwell was "hung like a mammoth" and was "a caring and...
628 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
20th May 2013 11:48am
20th May 2013 11:48am
Lighthouse
I long for the loneliness of the lone lighthouse keeper
What tremendous souls of self appreciation
These men must have possessed
At one with nature and its sole surround
Yet fighting its very intention
Visions, lights and sounds of creation
At the nest of the soul
Time for creation and contemplation
They would become the most hospitable of men
Yet long for the lone soul
Like some evil drug
Drawn to the isolation like a moth to there candle
The base instinct drawn and driven
By the same unknown desire of what will become
What tremendous souls of self appreciation
These men must have possessed
At one with nature and its sole surround
Yet fighting its very intention
Visions, lights and sounds of creation
At the nest of the soul
Time for creation and contemplation
They would become the most hospitable of men
Yet long for the lone soul
Like some evil drug
Drawn to the isolation like a moth to there candle
The base instinct drawn and driven
By the same unknown desire of what will become
736 reads
1 Comment
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
23rd Apr 2013 1:57pm
23rd Apr 2013 1:57pm
Kitty Kat
I arrive with everyone already in the swing of it, music, drink, drugs and dancing to the fore. I slipped in the front door, taking in the scene like I've never been here before, but I've read the script and know all the acts. Grab a beer from the fridge and take it all in from the kitchen. Quietly observing still unseen, she sees me, skips over to hug and kiss and introduce me to all. Instant friends by association prehaps but I'll take it. Shots of hard liqour, not sure where she puts it all, barely 9 stone and 5"7, can't leave you much room, but credit where it's due the girl can...
618 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
9th Jun 2011 1:58am
9th Jun 2011 1:58am
The Writer
He walks in.
He is basically a burly, reasonably fit, shady looking fucker, chest like a barrel and hands made of fists. He portrays the image that he is a man's man. Like Bukowski or Hemmingway, he would have fought them both and one day will better them if he chooses.
He opens his mouth to confirm the facts.
"Ya right mate, just been for the hell ride on the bike"
He rides classic cafe racer motorcycles, bikes that will do 100mph plus but don't have brakes. Believing this will help him recapture his youth and virility.
"Got ice Mate?" ...
He is basically a burly, reasonably fit, shady looking fucker, chest like a barrel and hands made of fists. He portrays the image that he is a man's man. Like Bukowski or Hemmingway, he would have fought them both and one day will better them if he chooses.
He opens his mouth to confirm the facts.
"Ya right mate, just been for the hell ride on the bike"
He rides classic cafe racer motorcycles, bikes that will do 100mph plus but don't have brakes. Believing this will help him recapture his youth and virility.
"Got ice Mate?" ...
1082 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
9th Jun 2011 00:41am
9th Jun 2011 00:41am
Untitled 1
I meander through the meadow of my mind
Trying to sort order
Names, places
Deeds done and undone
No specific order
Apprehension, condescension, mainly disorder
A smiling figure
I place my wish
A flooding tide returns to order
My mind
Misconceptions mainly of the man made to order.
Trying to sort order
Names, places
Deeds done and undone
No specific order
Apprehension, condescension, mainly disorder
A smiling figure
I place my wish
A flooding tide returns to order
My mind
Misconceptions mainly of the man made to order.
830 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
7th Jun 2011 1:05pm
7th Jun 2011 1:05pm
Blue Eyes
She shimmers of life, this one, somehow
Even with her hair in disorder
In racing red
Silken and smooth
To easy to touch
To easy to lose
Mositen mouthwatering lips
But the beauty is in her eyes
Light blue pools of lust
Love and light hearted madness
Where what they held
And my heart
More importantly my cock
Hoping that my credit held
Even with her hair in disorder
In racing red
Silken and smooth
To easy to touch
To easy to lose
Mositen mouthwatering lips
But the beauty is in her eyes
Light blue pools of lust
Love and light hearted madness
Where what they held
And my heart
More importantly my cock
Hoping that my credit held
901 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by robert-james
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