Submissions by standingmyground
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
SELF POEM
Published
30th Jul 2017 2:05pm
30th Jul 2017 2:05pm
Steamy, Sultry Night in the Vieux Carré
walking slow, oh it could be called dancing
crowded with Bourbon Street night people
music filling the air, we stop every so often
wrapped arms around each other and swayed
firing up to the already hot-blood New Orleans
seems to affect all the out-of-town tourists and
the nights are specially made for physical reaction
big easy, sin city, whatever, a city of cool coitus
her willowy body pressed so close to mine
her face in my neck nuzzling and groping
I feel her eyelashes teasing, pleasing, my neck
we're fused...
crowded with Bourbon Street night people
music filling the air, we stop every so often
wrapped arms around each other and swayed
firing up to the already hot-blood New Orleans
seems to affect all the out-of-town tourists and
the nights are specially made for physical reaction
big easy, sin city, whatever, a city of cool coitus
her willowy body pressed so close to mine
her face in my neck nuzzling and groping
I feel her eyelashes teasing, pleasing, my neck
we're fused...
554 reads
6 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
29th Jul 2017 9:12pm
29th Jul 2017 9:12pm
Nursing Home Stud
With the economy being such as it is, my Social Security check just doesn't cut it. I needed a job, but who'd hire someone as old as I. So! I decided to apply for the job of stud at the local nursing home. Didn't work out so well.
I went to the nursing home today,
A job on my mind I did say.
What kind a job you looking for,
They asked, I said I'm a man whore.
They said we might have a spot for ya,
But you'll have to service old ma.
If you satisfy her you are hired,
I passed the test, ma sang like a choir.
When she came she almost broke...
I went to the nursing home today,
A job on my mind I did say.
What kind a job you looking for,
They asked, I said I'm a man whore.
They said we might have a spot for ya,
But you'll have to service old ma.
If you satisfy her you are hired,
I passed the test, ma sang like a choir.
When she came she almost broke...
550 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
28th Jul 2017 9:54pm
28th Jul 2017 9:54pm
Remembrance
a remembrance stalled my dreary thoughts
I was touching your face with excitement
so deep I swapped my fingers with my tongue
you looked into my eyes, from you came a purr
I knew where we were going and how to get there
we were on the Interstate of love spontaneous
which gave way to a dirt road; your moans increased
I knew you would be thrilled with an old
Arkansas dirt road, though it didn't fit your persona
in your finery and silks and your wide bonnet
which fell into the dirt and mud as I kissed your lips
tasting of Key Lime Pie nearly...
I was touching your face with excitement
so deep I swapped my fingers with my tongue
you looked into my eyes, from you came a purr
I knew where we were going and how to get there
we were on the Interstate of love spontaneous
which gave way to a dirt road; your moans increased
I knew you would be thrilled with an old
Arkansas dirt road, though it didn't fit your persona
in your finery and silks and your wide bonnet
which fell into the dirt and mud as I kissed your lips
tasting of Key Lime Pie nearly...
524 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
27th Jul 2017 9:21pm
27th Jul 2017 9:21pm
What Next
why do we believe that the day has an ending
it doesn’t, you know
it is the same day midnight black
as it was high noon brilliant
it was man who put the hours to the days
the days into weeks
weeks into months, etc.
and so on and so on
into years, centuries and
then what
millennium is the answer
whot comes next, huh
uh . . . there is no answer
why not
have the bright illustrious minds
began to crumple
ahhh . . .
we have been given seconds, minutes, hours
all the way up to the millennium ...
it doesn’t, you know
it is the same day midnight black
as it was high noon brilliant
it was man who put the hours to the days
the days into weeks
weeks into months, etc.
and so on and so on
into years, centuries and
then what
millennium is the answer
whot comes next, huh
uh . . . there is no answer
why not
have the bright illustrious minds
began to crumple
ahhh . . .
we have been given seconds, minutes, hours
all the way up to the millennium ...
696 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
26th Jul 2017 3:42pm
26th Jul 2017 3:42pm
A Lifelong Love Affair
First time I saw a linotype
It boggled the mind, I was hyped.
What in the hell is this monster,
I didn't know what would occur.
A love affair lasting for years,
It also was my life's career.
I vividly recall the day,
That first I sat in disarray.
It was a Rube Goldberg nightmare,
So many things for which to scare.
Was vital to the printed page,
Mergenthaler-invented rage.
Too much for me to ever learn,
I was confused at every turn.
Can't do this, oh don't you do that,
It seemed that I was in combat. ...
It boggled the mind, I was hyped.
What in the hell is this monster,
I didn't know what would occur.
A love affair lasting for years,
It also was my life's career.
I vividly recall the day,
That first I sat in disarray.
It was a Rube Goldberg nightmare,
So many things for which to scare.
Was vital to the printed page,
Mergenthaler-invented rage.
Too much for me to ever learn,
I was confused at every turn.
Can't do this, oh don't you do that,
It seemed that I was in combat. ...
602 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
25th Jul 2017 6:17pm
25th Jul 2017 6:17pm
Picking Daises
she loves me
she doesn’t give a fig
she loves me
especially when she thaws
she likes to pick daisies
repeating well-known phrases
until one day she stopped
looked at me and said
who are you and why are you between my thighs
took me about fifteen more minutes
before I could answer her
by then she had forgotten what she’d asked
March 18, 2017 / Jerry Pat Bolton
she doesn’t give a fig
she loves me
especially when she thaws
she likes to pick daisies
repeating well-known phrases
until one day she stopped
looked at me and said
who are you and why are you between my thighs
took me about fifteen more minutes
before I could answer her
by then she had forgotten what she’d asked
March 18, 2017 / Jerry Pat Bolton
538 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
24th Jul 2017 4:15pm
24th Jul 2017 4:15pm
Lady from Dallas
You liked to hold my hand when we walked.
When we were around people you kept
Touching me, putting your hands on me.
Not protectively, but gently laying claim
For anyone's eyes who might be interested
In what was yours.
Virginia, I never let you know how I felt
About that subtle clinging. You asked once
Does it bother you that I like to touch you like I do?
I just shrugged, turned away, not wanting to
Say what I really felt, afraid it would clash
With the macho image I had at the time.
After all these years I'd like to...
When we were around people you kept
Touching me, putting your hands on me.
Not protectively, but gently laying claim
For anyone's eyes who might be interested
In what was yours.
Virginia, I never let you know how I felt
About that subtle clinging. You asked once
Does it bother you that I like to touch you like I do?
I just shrugged, turned away, not wanting to
Say what I really felt, afraid it would clash
With the macho image I had at the time.
After all these years I'd like to...
548 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Jul 2017 10:20pm
23rd Jul 2017 10:20pm
The Me You See
is what you get
my essence however
is one
of many colors
the shadows within me
are there
to give me pause for reflection
there are also
colliding emotions
making dark clouds and lightning
which stalks through
my mind
if you were able to see the storms
you'd likely
believe I was quite insane
psst!
those who know me quite well
might confirm
that assessment with a wink
still . . . my quintessence
is like that babbling brook
alive with life's being
on the whole
I consider myself to...
my essence however
is one
of many colors
the shadows within me
are there
to give me pause for reflection
there are also
colliding emotions
making dark clouds and lightning
which stalks through
my mind
if you were able to see the storms
you'd likely
believe I was quite insane
psst!
those who know me quite well
might confirm
that assessment with a wink
still . . . my quintessence
is like that babbling brook
alive with life's being
on the whole
I consider myself to...
605 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
22nd Jul 2017 1:55pm
22nd Jul 2017 1:55pm
Nostalgia
madness looks back at me in the mirror
my soul blackened with insidious peccadillo
the jungle beat of voodoo drums quicken my heart
I blame on psychedelic whiplash
everybody said would surely sprout through the cracks
in the form of blasphemy screeching at modern art
where paranoia paralyzes and incinerates
therapeutic revelations
and cast a great darkness in hopes of dousing the fire
of malnourished rationalization
my muse has deceived me
allowing me to flounder in reflective smoldering fumes
bloody scenes from yesteryear ...
my soul blackened with insidious peccadillo
the jungle beat of voodoo drums quicken my heart
I blame on psychedelic whiplash
everybody said would surely sprout through the cracks
in the form of blasphemy screeching at modern art
where paranoia paralyzes and incinerates
therapeutic revelations
and cast a great darkness in hopes of dousing the fire
of malnourished rationalization
my muse has deceived me
allowing me to flounder in reflective smoldering fumes
bloody scenes from yesteryear ...
478 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
18th Jul 2017 2:40pm
18th Jul 2017 2:40pm
Back to Novel Writing
Okay
I have allowed poetry to overwhelm me,
and yes, I will always write poetry,
but I refuse to allow it to overwhelm me again.
I love to write poetry,
but I MISS writing novels.
I am determined to get back into novel writing . . .
Beginning yesterday.
©July 18, 2017 / Jerry Pat Bolton
I have allowed poetry to overwhelm me,
and yes, I will always write poetry,
but I refuse to allow it to overwhelm me again.
I love to write poetry,
but I MISS writing novels.
I am determined to get back into novel writing . . .
Beginning yesterday.
©July 18, 2017 / Jerry Pat Bolton
621 reads
6 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
17th Jul 2017 2:13am
17th Jul 2017 2:13am
Life's Sonnet #14
I shan't sit on that bench whittling all day,
My glass is half full and not half empty,
I walk round the block; my feet are not clay,
I drink wine at night and nibble on brie.
I use my mind on things I still can learn,
Yes, I am old but my psyche burns bright,
Don't live for the past, the future I yearn,
I attempt each day to climb to new heights.
I'll not let my mind decay like my flesh,
Though I know that too will finally come.
Yet it's feasible to keep the mind fresh,
This stage of my life I'll not go through numb.
...
My glass is half full and not half empty,
I walk round the block; my feet are not clay,
I drink wine at night and nibble on brie.
I use my mind on things I still can learn,
Yes, I am old but my psyche burns bright,
Don't live for the past, the future I yearn,
I attempt each day to climb to new heights.
I'll not let my mind decay like my flesh,
Though I know that too will finally come.
Yet it's feasible to keep the mind fresh,
This stage of my life I'll not go through numb.
...
604 reads
8 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
17th Jul 2017 1:00am
17th Jul 2017 1:00am
Life's Sonnet #5
Heavenly bliss your lovely neck,
A stem to hold your pretty face,
Would I could lean in and peck,
Luscious lips; delicate as lace.
Your bearing, thoroughbred haughty,
Beauty unsurpassed is your reign,
Silently I watch you drink your tea,
I'm sad all dragons have been slain.
You laugh as you wriggle your head,
Your teeth sparkle like polished pearls,
At something amusing she said,
As she brushed back an errant curl.
A beauty, such a perfect rose,
I watch from shadows as my love grows
©September 30,...
A stem to hold your pretty face,
Would I could lean in and peck,
Luscious lips; delicate as lace.
Your bearing, thoroughbred haughty,
Beauty unsurpassed is your reign,
Silently I watch you drink your tea,
I'm sad all dragons have been slain.
You laugh as you wriggle your head,
Your teeth sparkle like polished pearls,
At something amusing she said,
As she brushed back an errant curl.
A beauty, such a perfect rose,
I watch from shadows as my love grows
©September 30,...
536 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by standingmyground
