Why I ain’t no poet


Once upon a time I thought I could write poetry. I had a very kind creative writing teacher who encouraged it, and at that time I did attempt to write some “serious” poetry, usually about death. Big surprise, huh? But my speciality was always silly soft-core porn that I wrote to amuse my machine shop co-workers. Here’s a little sample of something I just found from those days:

Hard, Hot, Heavy

 

Skinny little girls

Don’t trip my trigger;

I need a honey

Who’s big, big, bigger!

I won’t call her up

On the telephone

If she can’t lick the meat

Then suck the bone.

 

I’m hard

We’re hot

And she’s so heavy.

She shared her sugar

In her daddy’s Chevy.

Yes, it is supposed to sound like an ’80s hair-metal anthem. And yeah, I know it’s offensive and sexist. It was the 1980s and I was 19 or so when I wrote it. Gimme a break.

Unfortunately, I never became much of a poet and no longer have enough interest to keep trying it. Here’s something that’s newer, and by that I mean it’s probably 10 years old.

Moonlight Dancer

 

In the forest of my mind

Among flowers of winter kind

A spritely maiden dances alone.

In fragrant evening, all alone.

Flashing feet–graceful elf,

She dances there; by herself.

Her laughter, so sweet, blinds me;

Laughing still, she turns to flee.

 

Won’t you dance for me?

Won’t you stay with me?

Tonight.

 

Fragile as a candle’s flame,

My soul, I cry, for your name!

Fleeting form in starry night.

A waif of dust, soft moonlight.

Endless eyes can’t mask her soul.

She has no use for what she stole.

I reach for her to take what’s mine;

I touch the grape but taste no wine.

 

Won’t you dance for me?

Won’t you stay with me?

Tonight.

 

Ghostly spirit of fevered dream.

I can’t know her, can’t end the dream.

A foamy wave on sandy beach,

Dancing there, beyond my reach.

She laughs and mocks my heart,

Neither brush nor canvas — living art.

Dance, my elf, I am your thrall.

Dance, dance. You’ll never fall.

 

Won’t you dance for me?

Won’t you stay with me?

Tonight.

Yeah, well, sometimes it’s good to laugh at yourself.


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