A Spinning Beauty Upon The Mirror

Photo by Olha Ruskykh on Pexels.com

A spinning beauty upon the mirror
In a perfect white dancing gown
A pirouette for all eternity’s memory
A lady of such illustrious renown

A sunny smile in the cold, cold air
Our frozen ballerina silently wept
Whispering French words softly
Freedom tasted when she first stepped

Ill Reputed Minstrel & Her Fancy Dolls

Ill reputed minstrel & her fancy dolls
Forever punished for my dated sin
A hushed wish for something more
Images of the whiteness of porcelain
Do not lead me through vacant doors
No need to become another mistake
Removed from that dreadful life
Sparing additional pain for her own sake
Dancing lightly in the darkness
Admiring her spinning gown
Incapable of resisting delicate charms
Would do anything to replace that frown

It Was A One-Eyed Kind Of Morn

It was a one-eyed kind of morn
With evening’s festivities going awry
I scrawled out all I could remember
Once a gentleman, turned drunken guy

Slight images of a lovely form
Olfactory sparks upon my brain
Sketching the party’s guest list
But no new faces could remain

Racking my skull for a proper memory
Writing down every & each detail
Compiling a list to rediscover
I’m trying to think, but it’s to no avail

A faceless gown with affectionate gloves
Somehow my mind is able to recall
Cognitive fragments begin to linger
Clouded out by last night’s alcohol

Scenes slowly begin to return
I believe we’re out on the dance floor
An embrace of smoldering desire
Yet I couldn’t figure out any more

Scraps of notes spread before me
No identity to place upon the truth
Scant reason to be shy in my search
Basking in honesty of my lapsed youth

Cobwebs have been sparsely lifted
Won’t think of her in the past tense
Her ghostly touch encourages me yet
We shall meet again, I firmly sense

To hold her with determined spirit
Seems fantastical at this sad rate
Yet she’s left fingerprints upon me
Remaining until I succumb to my fate

Manicured City Walls

 

Manicured city walls
Stomping through summer puddles
Curiosities of a finer life
Scorching rays, can’t help but befuddle


Recoiling to the chaffy shade
Searching for the talisman of the storm
Knowing we’re in for a futile calm
Who could’ve predicted it’d be this warm


But we keep on pushing through
Wicking precipitation from her summer gown
Effort to remain a head above
A damn shame if we perish & drown

Image by Terri Cnudde from Pixabay 

Elegant Evenings; Long Gown Shimmering

Photo by Masha Raymers on Pexels.com

Elegant evenings; long gown shimmering
Cackling & racking back the slide
Uncomfortable theories in the moonlight
Recasting guilt on the day Jesus died

Some of us aren’t natural beauties
We must rely on intellectual fortitude
Ashamed to exist outside fantasy
Wishing for a more temperate latitude

Sweat pooling under our winks & grins
With anyone else, this would be a bummer
But I can’t get enough of your adventure
Basking in the pleasantries of a hot book summer

Red Lipstick & A Tight Ponytail

kiss-562556_1920.jpg

 

Red lipstick & a tight ponytail
The pretty piano player; a punk rockette
The domestic goddess with a need to be clean
Living on the edge of the cosmopolitain set

Hoarding her guilty pleasures fiercely
The moral ambiguity is a stubborn crutch
Ignoring nature’s perfectly placed laws
But she’ll only accept the light’s soft touch

Wearing an evening gown at her elegant leisure
Within her mind, no better way to take a selfie
She’s blunt with her standards & expectations
But lucky for us all, my poems are gluten free

 

Image by Kelsey Vere from Pixabay

Strapped Into A Mourning Gown

woman-1292792_1920.jpg

 

Strapped into a mourning gown
That might survive our winter garden
Rebasing all these dreams
This predicament has begun to harden;
I beg your pardon
Slowly peeling off your layers
Caught us in a lightning storm
Feeling excited electricity
Between our adrenalized forms
Standing naked before the darkness
Illuminated only by midnight flashes
Perfection within a moment
Emotion dripping from your eyelashes

An Innocent Looking Soul

Photo by Rachel Claire on Pexels.com

An innocent looking soul
Draped with an ethereal gown
Confident strides across the patio
With Eve’s revenge
Crisp air – like the first bite of a green apple
Obscured; knowing her nectar to be my cure

I watch her bosom swell
It’s not objectivization
For I worship her
Refreshed in waves
This transparent Victorian hypocrisy
Knowing all that ails
& an unseen wound

Yet morning crests
Pale orange sky forces it’s way through space
In the arms of naked trees
I’m celebrating femininity
Spring’s arrival in a sundress
As she teases me with breathless recitals
Our love not by design
But still goes well with NorCal wine

I Didn’t Mean To Get Too Personal

Photo by Francesca Zama on Pexels.com

I didn’t mean to get too personal
I merely noticed your exposed slip
My thoughts took me to uncharted waters
Thinking of us – alone- a subtle skinny dip
An abandoned wedding gown crumpled
The satin too white against your lace
I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel
Though I could see the muted joy in your face
You kicked off your heels & removed your gloves
Walking too close you whispered ‘yes’ to my surprise
I loosened my tie before you took charge
I’ll never forget how you looked with your laughing eyes