poetry – Page 40 – Press Send Poetry

black tie affair (who is she?!)

tongue finding left hand
she slowly licks gold
pulls it gently with teeth

champagne on their lips
“You’re truly my one”
legs wrap ’round his convincing

while She watches the phone
she swallows his ring
spits coyly the consequence

you say in Chicago (never trust a jazz man)

you say in Chicago
you came to know
Miles Davis.
Miles Davis!
lies! you should know
you can never know
anyone
especially a jazz man
think of all that
im prov isat ion, think
of all that so lo in g!

when he played "The Pretender"

blue crabs stroll
along the night surface
of water that before
looked just like
chocolate silk and
there is this girl,
she sits alone hood
to block the wind and
behind her two women
call woooo wooos
to Jackson Browne while
a man smokes solo
next to a prudish streetlight
the yellow beer guys
carry their loads and
there is this man
he mumbles as he walks
to work his second shift
and the boaters honk
horns in approval
holding hands and rocking
while a vast sea
sings along decades past.

[jackson browne played pier 6 in baltimore tonight.
http://www.ilike.com/artist/Jackson+Browne/track/The+Pretender ]

rainy day poetry

try a search on “rain” and see what you get……. it drips its way into so many of my poems….

riding my bike at night (and Russian classical music)

riding fast
down the center yellow lane
no cars
no stops at the signs
(quick turn)
down back alleys
thinking,
i’ve spent my whole entire life
rejecting
everyone
(swerve to avoid a
winter
pothole)
i’ve never felt so ____
as riding this bike
now, darkened city sleeping,
(hop the curb)
and at home,
when i arrive
the Russian classical
echoes alone in
the apartment,
furtive
(minor) steps along-
side my own.

hanging up the phone for the night

there is finality
to a phone call
ending
chatter of goodbye
lingering
room silent as if
a big-eyed pup is
begging

only the cars

and the nightstand
proclaiming
a lighthouse for
who may be
calling

still: the night is late

beware of
dark thoughts
spilling

reaching an end

“it’s just…
you never understand”
she sighing
ever so gently
in that woman’s way of
acceptance.

he says
“God! then help me try”
speech
draped curtains of
exasperation,
face lined
mouth opening wide
on the last word

“just help me try”
under breath, pleading…

door clicks shut
giving up.

untitled (nightmare at dawn)

have you ever had
a nightmare so real –
you are fighting him off
but he grabs your leg
… you jump awake

your own hand
there on your knee.

aug 15 only means one thing

it would have been my late grandfather Chuck Burrows’ birthday. he loved his birthday – so the date is imprinted in my mind almost more than my own. i miss him terribly, and don’t feel much like writing anything new; but i will link to a few:

Age 92
http://presssend.blogspot.com/2010/03/age-92.html

Science Fair Project (How to anodize aluminum)
http://presssend.blogspot.com/2010/02/science-fair-project-how-to-anodize.html

http://presssend.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-grandfathers-amazing-life.html