| My baby left me She ran off with some dumb guy Who ironed his shirts Mark McCarvill |
Table for one My eggs surrounded by All last night's couples. Jim McKay |
| There across the bar she stands, pouring me a drink. Damn those perfect legs! bakai |
i dropt out a skool cawz i be smart an so cool lernin is for fools anonymous |
| Whipped, kicked and put out. No mercy for an old dog. Just the fleas are fat. anonymous |
Words chiseled in stone. Promises as good as gold. In the end, just lies. anonymous |
| Café alfresco. Light nosh 'neath trees and teal sky. Big bug in my soup. anonymous |
Curling onion skins discarded fragile armour my portent of tears. Pat G |
| Testy little brat yells, "You ain't the boss-a-me!" Oh, such a sad truth. bakai |
Without hope, nothing. Spring erodes, summer explodes, souls wither and die. liz-de-wiz |
| Mists rise in the night. Moonlit wisps of delusion Burnt off at sunrise. marleen & Lida Jo |
Elegance defined Woven well and threads so fine I wore your haiku. marleen |
| I love zoos, do you? No, not particularly. The baboons are nice. anonymous |
Balancing my heart, Between yesterday and you. Dancing on a wire. liz-de-wiz |
| Fifteen: Thin and cute. Twenty-five: Trim and Stylish. Forty: Jenny Craig. anonymous |
Hungry lioness, mistress of my bed, beckons. I must gather strength. anonymous |
| Silliness prevails sneaking up and goosing me tweaking my facade. Tuckoos |
girlfriends after school important secrets whispered giggles overheard anonymous |
| Night enfolds the room. Endless quiet. Sleep descends. Horrors lie in wait. anonymous |
Please answer, she sobs. Where is this going? What hope? I haven't a clue. anonymous |
| I'm so used to sleeping alone I can do it with my eyes closed mary romeyn |
Too early or too late is my continous dull plight or too much too soon. liz-de-wiz |
| Dine at the dumpster. Estate in a shopping cart. Alternate lifestyle. bakai |
Gathering at dusk A muttering of mallards Lost in river's mist Pat G |
| Envy that he spent Like someone else's money Left his cupboard bare. Pat G |
Cruel demons abound, tho not one so vile as he who invented golf. kadiz |
| Mindblown party days. Blank sullen faces. Nasal drip. Life in the fast lane. anonymous |
That old love towel. Faded recipes. A comb. Hope she's doing well. anonymous |
| hush your tired complaints things this bad can soon get worse life's a fickle bitch bakai |
The computer nerd hacks at his keys all day long. Bits of life surf by. mw |
| Boys in high-heeled shoes toddle down old bleeker street birds of a feather. anonymous |
Friday night at Duke's. Numb with drink and dull chatter. Still kidding myself. bakai |
| Learning's stirring wind rustles minds and moves them on to infinity. Pat G |
At last light abounds. A moment of clarity. It's not about me. liz-de-wiz |
| Beach stroll, warm sunset. Neap tide lapping passive sands. Tar stuck 'tween my toes. bakai |
laying back arms spread pin points of starlight pierce me his semen spills out Lemya |
| Too hot to make love. Where did all those Children come from? Geoffrey Wilson |
Jealousy appears. Words regretted. Calls ignored. Love can be a bitch. bakai |
| The wounded old stag, pride bled away, resolve lost, waits the setting sun. bakai |
Open minds, cheerful faces. Eager tots await my voice. Help me say it right. bakai |
| At night I listen to The ugly song with which Frogs worship God. Geoffrey Wilson |
I lust, awaiting. Quick, the little act is played. Cash in hand, she leaves. anonymous |
| House full of the past No place for now, and no room for the future dream Lida Jo |
Clothes, hair, change of style. Cold touch, vague conversation. She's breaking my heart. bakai |
| then, you skipped a stone ripples spread and touched my heart at the waters edge marleen |
Ooops! TV just croaked. Ohshit! Computer's on fire. Damn! Nuthin' to do. bakai |
| Once I noticed you and tried to tell you so, but you changed the subject. Willow |
Broad-hipped fisherwives scan the sea, gut the catch, and criticize the priest. helen |
| saw a shooting star going east toward the morning laughing at the night Vita |
Cached within the lee of a cold and sandy hill wind worn tumbleweeds Pat G |
| Between your wet thighs I lay my head and gently lick the dew of the moon. anonymous |
You ain't nuthin' like bicarbonate of soda. You make my heart burn. bakai |
| hot today my scotch needs more rocks kadiz |
ringing phone she's distracted I dismount kadiz |
| new perfume I almost forget her lies kadiz |
counter person she's so fine I suck in my gut kadiz |
| It's been a long time No need to make up the bed I'll be leaving soon OsterOne |
bird overhead passes judgement on a new mercedes bakai |
| Caught in Buick's grille Page five of the L.A. Times A dead pine needle. anonymous |
my hand is unsure it dares to touch the unknown you make no protest bakai |
| workin' my ass off flat out balls to the wall too pooped to pop anonymous |
The bride all in white Shares an awful secret with Monsignor in black liz-de-wiz & OsterOne |
| Surprise them, dear one The hostile comment needs not Your acknowledgement OsterOne |
i wish i knew you naked in chilly starlight three hours before dawn OsterOne |
| them two chimps is cute havin' just a grand ol' time pickin' at them lice anonymous |
git this hound off me foul breath and wettin' like that goddamn ol' fleabag bakai |
| acting is standing naked and turning around so very slowly Rosalind Russell paraphrased |
before you could hang up my machine caught a half-second of bar noise Tom Gilroy |
| Want to lose my mind. Want to blow this popcorn stand. Want to be with you. anonymous |
The fat lady sang The players have left the field Why are you still here? 13-23 |
| Her bourbon breakfast. She's twenty-three, looks thirty. And laughs at my fears. anonymous |
You say that you've left But I still find evidence To the contrary. anonymous |
| buried my baby where the coyotes left him never found his head OsterOne |
some fables we cast soar, poignant, on gilded wings 'til they hit the fan anonymous |
| much earnest effort a modicum of product masturbation blues bakai |
I'm ready to write but first I'll belch, pick my nose scratch my ass and fart. bakai |
| Wham! Bam! Thank you ma'am Up at six then out the door Back at ten for more. Candy Floss |
naively I suck the tit of disillusion how bitter the mead anonymous |
| if love could be parsed torn apart, reassembled 'twould still make no sense anonymous |
my hand is a dog had it a nose and a tongue my guests would be few anonymous |
| words can be pretty some can be ugly, be blah and then there's smegma anonymous |
so many people laughing and loud talking groups and then there is me liz-de-wiz |
| Lonely kingsize bed. Warm little bubble on a cold vast empty sea. liz-de-wiz |
the fool that I am the fool you want me to be won't be home tonight bakai |
| Settle down, baby Kick off those practical shoes Relax and enjoy. liz-de-wiz & OsterOne |
Over a table hands touch, gazes interlock. Hunger for dessert. kadiz |
| gunmetal gray sky ugly crows perched on a wire somethin's gonna die anonymous |
Never had to bend to the pressure of the wind. Never grew too tall. Pat G |
| Old coyote trots On the trail of come what may Winter in his legs Pat G |
Laughter speaks to me like gentle windchimes stirring in the dawn's first breeze. Pat G |
| I opened my heart My chest of drawers. And a poem came tumbling out. dreamer |
evening boulevards neon lights and taxicabs jewelry and smiles bakai |
| Mirth is heaven's gift Whimsy is life's guiding light God is just a smile anonymous |
Upon reflection I would not have changed a thing Just the drapes, maybe. 13-23 |
| I'm so damn hungry Allright, here comes the lunch truck I'll take that gray thing anonymous |
it doesn't take much to keep me fat and happy oh wait, yes it does MoFo Rising |
| She walked right through me little titties a bouncin' all over my heart anonymous |
I walked in silence Toward the edge of my thoughts And then disappeared Richard Silver |
| Looking back, she sighs, "A jerk with a wit, how quaint". Then she slams the door. anonymous |
lost that great job when my boss caught me smoking pot while fucking his wife Hollywood Bonfire |
| She loved my poems, poured me drinks and never bitched. I should have kept her. bakai |
At the ancient pond a frog plunges into the sound of water Basho |
| Even in Kyoto, how I long for Kyoto when the cuckoo sings Basho |
Sick on my journey, only my dreams will wander these desolate moors Bahso |
| This ruined temple should have its sad tale told only by a clam digger Basho |
nothing much to show for a life so blithely spent some cigarette ash bakai |
| tuesday we quarreled wednesday I sent you a poem thursday you were gone anonymous |
summer wind's hot breath purple clover, fresh cut hay iced tea memory marleen |
| tuesday we quarreled wednesday I sent you a poem thursday you were gone anonymous |
the thought of running naked through fields of tall grass just tickles my ass bakai |
| that raspberry jam it's so right on my bagel so wrong on my slacks anonymous |
convenience or need demonic or just inspired love's an illusion anonymous |
| whilst meditating, came to mind this golden truth: my thoughts are a bore kadiz |
he touched my heart, and disappeared laughing, teaching me to see. liz-de-wiz |
| this earth turns her back to the light once every day to conceal her shame anonymous |
he touched my heart, and disappeared laughing, teaching me to see. liz-de-wiz |
| They built a moat round The trailer park to keep out Undesirables Mark Moehrke |
All i see is blue Wait. My shirt is over my head I am getting dressed anonymous |
| throwing knives at birds is something I'm not proud of but I am the best Hollywood Bonfire |
if the world's a stage let me see the director need to change my lines questioning |
| give me sinatra kansas city steaks and scotch give me the voice of men sketch |
what would stir you up tempting you from your retreat my mind or my legs? marleen |
| reality sits like a ridiculous toad on your little head Thunder Stork |
A token gesture. A stylish lecher lights a Lady's cigarette. Stuart Reed |
| Most of existence Is better at a distance. Take love for instance. Stuart Reed |
These are good hands, strong but not tough. They always know what needs to be touched. Debra Schorn |