"dismount" poems
*Long lines looped the carousel
the first time you gazed my eye,
mounted on that chestnut mare,
grasped tight to the reigns up high.
I see his face around the bend,
a corn dog in his hand.
Locking eyes as I rise. I blush,
above the crowd he stands.
Light flickers, mouths water
delicate contoured lips laugh. I smile.
The music hesitates along with my breath.
I think I'll be staying awhile.
Bewildered and a little dizzy,
I dismount with a giggle.
I lick my dry lips, dreamily,
hoping he is single.
With the wind, a light mist blows.
I can see her slowly get wet,
stumbling she falls my way.
I'm excited, this day isn't over yet
Drip, drip, drip upon my face,
anxiously, I turn to hurry.
In my haste, he catches my waist
swallowing... I fall covertly.
Lips moisten, I pull her near
a kiss, slipped, tongues twirl,
wanton whispers whisked away,
drenched deep passion's unfurl.
A stranger's kiss upon my lips
beneath the dreary skies.
Soaking wet, I'm still on fire
He caught me by surprise.
A stranger's kiss upon my lips
beneath the queching skies.
Heaven sent, a burning desire;
she, such a welcomed surprise.*
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 1:37 PM UTC
*Ladies & Gentlemen, behold!
Listen to the story I have to share.
A fantasy from future.*
Someday in Future
Setting: The underground metro train
Characters: She & me
Me: Now our stop is at the end, darling.
She: I'd just relax until we reach then, dear.
Me: How're you going to do that, standing?
She: I've my personal pillar to hold on to for relaxing, you know - I don't fear...
Me: ...and that is me?
She: Yes & no!
I look clueless and she lets out a laughter barely audible to others in the metro train.
She: You yourself are not the pillar but you've the pillar!
I blush big time and turn tomato-red, her delicately-soft hands come pull my cheeks and by now I am able to duly respond as the man.
Me: Oh I see! So madam is in a good mood to flirt. Good-good, even I was starting to get bored hearing only to the harsh sound of the metro train on the track, let us recollect the previous night.
She: Sure, you bear the onus of starting the account and I'll recount the ending as we reach home.
Me: Alright then, here we go.
Low voices
Me: Darling I started it all,
I came from the showers,
I carried a seductive grin,
As I moved forwards,
You started to fall,
Not caring where you fell towards.
And you fell in my arms,
I held you softly as my baby,
As you're precious to me like one.
I then lifted you in my arms,
You had a soft glowing smile on your lips.
Then I laid you on the bed,
You appeared like Aphrodite.
The white gown was off in a jiffy,
You looked at my towel's knot,
And you undid it the next.
She: As the pillar was unveiled,
I hoisted myself on it,
And we came together.
Me: Now the station seems closer, let us conclude our recounting Friday night. (Looking at my watch)
She: Yes, we have a night every other night. (Winks)
Me: I love you, honey! (I smile)
She: Not more than me! (Her smile is more brilliant)
By now the train approaches our stop and we are smiling as we dismount the train.
On our minds for a sleepless Saturday night we are hatching a beautiful plan.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
I shall go away
To the brown hills, the quiet ones,
The vast, the mountainous, the rolling,
Sun-fired and drowsy!
My horse snuffs delicately
At the strange wind;
He settles to a swinging trot; his hoofs ***** the dust.
The road winds, straightens,
Slashes a marsh,
Shoulders out a bridge,
Then --
Again the hills.
Unchanged, innumerable,
Bowing huge, round backs;
Holding secret, immense converse:
In gusty voices,
Fruitful, fecund, toiling
Like yoked black oxen.
The clouds pass like great, slow thoughts
And vanish
In the intense blue.
My horse lopes; the saddle creaks and sways.
A thousand glittering spears of sun slant from on high.
The immensity, the spaces,
Are like the spaces
Between star and star.
The hills sleep.
If I put my hand on one,
I would feel the vast heave of its breath.
I would start away before it awakened
And shook the world from its shoulders.
A cicada's cry deepens the hot silence.
The hills open
To show a slope of poppies,
Ardent, noble, heroic,
A flare, a great flame of orange;
Giving sleepy, brittle scent
That stings the lungs.
A creeping wind slips through them like a ferret; they bow and dance,
answering Beauty's voice . . .
The horse whinnies. I dismount
And tie him to the grey worn fence.
I set myself against the javelins of grass and sun;
And climb the rounded breast,
That flows like a sea-wave.
The summit crackles with heat, there is no shelter, no hollow from
the flagellating glare.
I lie down and look at the sky, shading my eyes.
My body becomes strange, the sun takes it and changes it, it does not feel,
it is like the body of another.
The air blazes. The air is diamond.
Small noises move among the grass . . .
Blackly,
A hawk mounts, mounts in the inane
Seeking the star-road,
Seeking the end . . .
But there is no end.
Here, in this light, there is no end. . .
3.1k
Spilling the juice all over the floor,
Missing you each day more and more.
Listening to music- new and old
My decisions getting a bit more bold.
Shutting the door louder than usual,
My mind is starting to get delusional.
Loving you without a doubt,
Hate seeing you with other girls out and about.
Scrutinizing every mistake I write,
Only to view every poem I spite.
Luring the unknown into my room,
Chimney blows wind in with a bad fume.
Securing my own locks on doors so fragile,
My body always wanting to move so agile.
Leaving your life and entering his,
Wisdom hit but so did his fist.
Sobbing on the cold ground,
I wish I still had you around.
Listening on what to do - my friend’s advice,
Maybe I have to start trying more than twice.
Sending mixed signals and causing trouble,
Will only ever lead to a burst in the bubble.
Lacking thought or too many to count,
So many problems I have to dismount.
Serving my old yet new figure,
My body tired, and oh-so-bitter.
Latching on somebody to stay,
Words cannot explain my feelings at play.
Shouting loud but not loud enough,
My brain's gone into a severe slough.
Crying for extreme help,
I cannot do this by myself.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 10:57 PM UTC
Tonight we’re aligned with the stars
I’m wearing Orion’s belt
You’re drinking in thirsty gulps from the big dipper
The little one’s in freckles on your chest
And now I can hear the wind chimes
On the porch
I can hear the leaves
Of the Bradford Pear
I can hear the cats and dogs and coyotes and deer and owls
Making nighttime noises
I can hear mom snoring in the house
For one of the last times
I can hear the trampoline springs creaking with age
And feel it bouncing and swaying under us
Like it did in its heyday
I can hear you sniffling, sister,
I can hear you crying
Your warm wet tears
Are drowning my ears
Like all those summers we did swim team
When I take your hand
It’s smaller than I remember
It’s Abby circa ‘99
Though you didn’t let me hold it then
And I never tried
Now our hair is curling in swirling halos
Around the same face
Mom’s face
We never did look like Dad
Now we’re gazing at the same stars
Under the same March sky
Thinking, saying, “God is good”
Saying, believing, “How can He not be?
When the sky looks like this”
Believing, knowing, that it’s true
Even while our hearts are rocks,
Our hands are clay,
Our minds are swarming
Teeming
Buzzing
Hives
But “God is good”
“How can He not be?
When the sky looks like this”
When our mother is a fish
How can He not be?
We know:
“God is good.”
While we’re reading the Braille of the sky
Two foxes slink by
Now we dismount the trampoline and go inside
Where we hear Mom snoring
For one of the last times
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 3:40 PM UTC
It's a daylight countdown
like a ten nine eight
who do we appreciate
the darkness of the night
I dismount my dragon Jet Black
for eons I have battled on his back
now I dismount my ride
and place my feet back on land
I pull out my timepieces
I lay them on the ground
and then open a portal
making no light or sound
Daylight countdown
to the realms of my darkness
see I have been most disciplined
by her of many names
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
I.
I used to be a crocodile.
I knew no risks, no tears, no joy
no excitement to lure me above water,
no work, for it was cut out for me
in the shallows with the small fish,
no heavens to make up for,
no hells to hope for,
no soul to shatter on mid-spring days
when all life is but a nightmare
and clouds are all but
******* on my head,
who granted to desired effect
that siren hoped for,
who sits upon the sandy shore
and whispers sweet songs to me, myself
evolved,
and repeats me back
the songs I taught her,
"Over and over again,"
she mocks.
How Neptune did churn his waters
to beach a loveless Odysseus here
shall ever be unbeknownst to me.
But
beeswax I have fixed in my ears,
but
now I cannot hear my other friends
in the trees.
but
once I make my flight from this island,
away from the crocodiles,
and starvation,
and sirens,
I will take it out, and
I will hear!
by God! I will hear
and be heard!
II.
No sound.
The siren's lips move;
the water recedes.
the sky grays.
the crocodiles come.
I am drawn near
by her lotus lips that bid me down this tree
but
I must not dismount.
but
a second siren in the trees
has been picking out my beeswax.
Two songs.
The reptiles draw ever nearer to
the siren, her song is the loudest.
The second siren sings a song
of warning and captivation.
I dismount the tree
to fight back the green menace, and save
the first siren.
I knew these fellows once.
They were my friends,
and now do I slay them.
I see only jaws and red blood now,
and now am I defeated.
The crocodile has taken her as prey,
so familiarly,
for I was a crocodile
once.
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 9:06 AM UTC
He is a man in fact , a factual man in fact
But in fact more than man, and more natural
He is a predator, sometimes ****** endeavourer
Jumping as a feather stead upon my weathered bed
Lead at the head but it's heavier
A best of a beast, in his chest at least
A lion's heart beats, and with mine at his feet
He is deadlier
Mane across his back, mainly manly, manly knack
And a pride to admire any crazy track
Mired by those paws or clawed back
Lion's share of the hair and a siren's glare
Its enough to ensnare any to come back
To lie in the den and unpack
A purr that can stir dwelling spell in gazelles
A roar that could ensure his reign is obtained on every plain
If called for
His face is made heeding, and bleeding the sun
His legs win a race never needed to be run
Already won
Prowl and it's done
If he who rides the tiger finds it difficult to dismount
Than he who rides the lion will feel him sure surmount
No doubt, for nobility is paramount
Alpha is better beyond count, couched in whim
And he reigns as King of the jungle I grew for him
King of all that's funnelled through to him
King of all that humbles me and truly sings
And so
Clearly success best rests in
Being a lioness, not left guessing lionless
A carnivorous, blitherous, tyrant's guest
In fact I am a woman, a natural woman in fact
And factually I am a woman intact
Yet in fact a woman distracted on a lion obsessed tract
Where a leonine mess is lacked
And a lion-like chests interact
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
recently in a women's magazine
I read an article
about the Duchess of Cornwall
being most ungracious
toward Princess Mary of Denmark
*the Duchess can be a very catty *****
especially when Charles
is eyeing something of more appeal
but Camilla seems to have forgotten
her come hither days
when she was conducting
an affair with the Prince of Wales
under his wife's nose
the protocols in royal circles
have become less civil
and it is about time
she on her high horse
was more convivial
where the crown
and matters of state
are paramount
the Queen should avail
her son's missus
of a polite dismount
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 8:37 PM UTC
Hear my cry.
I’m just brand new.
I survived the womb
and my first breath drew.
For the next twenty years
must I suffer child abuse?
Must I be the victim
Of a criminal choice?
There’s a twenty per cent chance
That my childhood will provide
An evil ****** education
that I will deride.
There’s a twenty per cent chance
I’ll have a very large account
for my mental health requirement.
Think I’d rather dismount
from life right now
than go through all of that.
Can you please change my outlook?
I’m being very frank.
I cannot face life
Through such insufferable pain.
I’d rather go back
To the place from which I came!
But I can’t!
P-L-E-A-S-E H-E-L-P M-E
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 7:03 PM UTC
I foster an incremental relation to the cosmos, enticed regularly by its indefiniteness and appeal.
Its evolutions, innate behaviors, and formidable sciences are recompense for earth’s meager discrepancies.
I often engage in the caprice to dismount much dissatisfaction by the constancy of riveting celestial events.
These beings possess no artificiality.
Its prophetic order, ornate and stupendous architectural facets have allowed a crescendo of dispositional hysteria.
Prosaic imprecations are deduced from its auxiliary wherewithal.
There is no contrition in immersing in enthrallment nor is there fickleness in trust.
Magnificent bodies orbit in finesse and probability, achieving universality and control.
Though these incitements are exponentially cheering, my origin is but connoted in despondency.
Usurpers and ill-suited vandals proliferated by the intemperance of the Ptolemaic discipline.
Rustics, miscreants and idle minds misdirected by less virtuous planetary derision.
My cognitive severity asserted by ominous consummation.
Oh how these preponderant truths confine me unfortunate.
Soliloquy is but an affliction amidst this era of anachronistic reign.
Grandiose passivity is intolerable at this time.
I plan to dichotomize my adamant fate from precepts and conditions anew.
The deposition of malfeasant kings will be sought.
Ploys I have already configured; propagation is near to instigation.
I will exhort my ascent to prime eminence.
The stars will sanction me to a rightful end.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
During this time, with unknown motions of sweet innocence, Snow White
Was walking in the wood to feel the Zephyr's scent and to see the pure light.
The prince was walking on his horseback at dawn lacing through its highs.
Being sad, he wanted to hunt, when the girl's face enlightened his eyes.
''Will he cross the boundary and move over to my side? '' She suddenly thought.
He came to her saying, ''I'm another victim of your beauty, I like you a lot.'
''I'm drowning in my own willingness to give up my strengths for your kiss, ''
''Queen of beauty, to get an approval to kiss you is my overwhelming bliss.'
He started to dismount his horse, because their eyes had magically met.
He kissed her saying, ' I could although avoid your eyes, but I would regret.'
''For this love that thrills my heart, there is no use in this forest to hide,
Skies' golden blessings come for our souls, please, will you be my bride? '
The queen poisoned an apple, '' She's driven by forces beyond her control.
I want her blood and she will eat this apple to pay for me the beauty's toll.''
She disguised herself as a peasant woman to knock on the dwarf's door.
The girl bitted into it, she had the bite in her mouth, when she fell on the floor.
The dwarfs returned home and they cried seeing that she was really dead.
She did not look at all like a dead person and her cheeks' color was still red.
They made a diamante coffin to lie her inside, so that she could be seen.
They wrote the name on it using golden letters to be visible through green.
Snow White laid there in the coffin for a very long time as if she was asleep.
One of dwarfs always stayed at home to keep watching and the tears to weep.
One day, the prince came to the dwarfs' house and saw the dead Snow-White.
She was illuminated by seven candles and he wanted to hold her very tight.
He asked the dwarfs to sell him the coffin with the princess Snow-White inside,
The dwarfs took pity on him and gave him the coffin with his dead bride.
As the prince looked into her eyes, he immediately knew that he can't wait
To be together with his lost bride and he wanted to open the death's gate.
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 6:05 PM UTC
Imagine yourself with me in the mountains,
Imagine peaceful tranquility away from plains,
Imagine nights full of love and forget pains.
We travel through the mountainous terrain,
We see just colder snow everywhere & no rain,
We go through snow mounted on our horse.
Our horse starts panting as it smells water,
Our wounds tingle with pain & ask for rest too,
Our stomachs demand food too as it seems.
Your elegant eyes see a dark house close-by,
Your now wearying voice tells me to stop over,
Your royal desire is an order for me to obey.
I also agree as we must treat our injuries,
I dismount the horse first to experience pain,
I do offer a hand to you for dismounting.
You are here in this ancient wooden house,
You rest upon the ancient creaky barrel chair,
You look at me with the cute eyes of yours.
I ask you if you needed something soothing,
I am told by you to come and stay by your side,
I come while sensing this cold bothering us.
Your voice quivered from the terrible cold,
Your hands do crave for fresh air of the cabin,
Your mind tells you to remove your gloves.
I looked at you with my questioning eyes,
I am asked by you regarding the same thing,
I agree with you & remove my gloves too.
You come & hold my hands - feel the heat,
You have your hands as frigid as snow & ice,
You sigh with a smile as you feel relieved.
This smile meant much more than relief,
This meant that you want bit more warmth,
This makes me smile back at you kindly.
Imagine us admiring each other happily,
Imagine listening to your own voice inside,
Imagine the snow dust pouring outside...
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 2:27 AM UTC
Those who cross, this nighttime terror, will be sure to know his name,
From ocean blue, to Timbuktu, the ghost of the man is to blame.
He rides upon, a howling steed, he sets women's hearts aflame,
He will dismount, only to pay no heed, to the life, the gods call, 'game'.
Beware, oh Bandit, do not pierce, the eyes of the open believer,
For what you have seen, on the journey of one, has made thy soul, cleaver.
Hated still, the tainted will, of the man who rides, in the palm of despair,
Points his fingers to the sky, in faith, that the heel of truth will be there.
The bandit will leave less on hands and feet, when he comes through,
Yet, he will leave more than tears, when with your ****** he must make do.
So true is his arrow, nailing to the tree, the reigns which he has overcome,
Out of sight, he is a patriot to the desires of his heart, serving no one, but one.
Where will you go next, bandit, what treasures will you next seize?
What of the riches in your heart, crucified by forgotten responsibilities?
He searches, this bandit, for the one elusive key to his caged soul,
As if it were on race ahead of himself, always out of reach or toll.
Aghast! He halts in treasure cove, at odds with the sight before him.
What layeth on the ground, is a sight that attempts no boredom.
Here! Is a sight for eager eyes, here! Is the quencher for desire.
That which is in front of him, will extinguish his mind's wild fire.
One foot, in front of the other. As if he had no longer the ability to walk.
Made the bandit, his way over. To the treasure that made him gawk.
It lay in fragile casing. It had a lustrous stare.
Even though it was alluring, it should have made the bandit beware.
But, oh! He was too hasty. For the jewel, evidently tasty,
Incited him to grasp it firmly, like a gluttonous man upon pastry.
What was it, in the cave? The treasure that could powerfully ensnare?
Oh child, I cannot tell you, for fear, that you will go there.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 1:12 PM UTC
Sleek as they drip off me
Making you eager to droop and scoop
Every drop like a leech would human blood
But wait, a gorge won’t save your hungered
Soul as my every bit leaves you wanting for more
Dismount your obsessive horse
Of carting away my very essence
Plea me your sins, I forgive like a reverend
Also bring penance as a godsend
For I have what you want and won’t pretend
A soul to spill the lie you want to hear
To cuddle the truth and make her fall asleep
In the imaginary arms of a lullaby princess
Yea! ‘tis what I deal you and very well
Tempting your every fiber to a fault
Girdling my tongue leaves you a goner
For with its wobbling there is succor
Contagious enough to infect Mr. Nobody
Reach the saddened with hope to laugh
Again, saving a tooth from obscurity.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 1:51 AM UTC
I am cog in the wheel
do not dismount me
I am cog in the wheel
of a not dreary chariot,
A marginal chariot chasing the
uppings of me.
I am a cog in the wheel
never detach me
I am cog in the wheel
of an ecstatic chariot,
A fancy chariot with horses
smiling at me.
I am cog in the wheel
dare not disentangle me
I am a cog in the wheel
of a suprising chariot,
A royal chariot hopping
to peculiarities of me.
I am cog in the wheel
suppose not disaffiliate me
I am cog in the wheel
of a heavenly chariot,
A pearly chariot scampering
towards hallucinations of me.
I am cog in the wheel
absurd not disassemble me
I am a cog in the wheel
of a spacious chariot,
A majestic chariot skipping
beyond incubus of me.
I am a cog in the wheel
please do not disassociate me
I am a cog in the wheel
of a cordial chariot,
A regal chariot escorting
development strands.
I am a cog in the wheel...
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 2:52 AM UTC
and know without trying
that i am doing it right
to know when you see me
you fill with excite
my spirits run low
due to unjustly fights
and i hide behind scarves
and avoid biding light
yet i await for your touch
it will all be alright
in this mask i feel ugly
the day is still night
you've yet to dismount your horse
but aren't you my knight?
i just want to feel beautiful
as well as i might
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 2:34 PM UTC
he laid me spread
like petals of a rose
in mornings dew
wet...
and gentle fingers
foraged; tormented
pleasure ripple
whimpered aches...
as I delight in his touch
gazing into warm brown
eyes, his sweet torment
begging
hungered panting...
hangs in our space, tingles
run rampant where tongue
glides; breathy sighs spill
flames of want
melding...
naked in blush; lips alight
against wet petals, spread
unabashed for his pleasure
eagerly...
hips ****** flush as tongue
touches, nibbling, tasting
consuming wet essence of me
ahhhh yes...
filling me stroke after stroke
the breadth of me in rhythm,
guiding; gliding flickering
front to back again and again
ecstasies trembles...
wet and wild passion rides,
taking him in deep up down
in out pulsing plunging in
stride
fingertips...
glide across aching breast
taut tips, moaned pleasure
slips between lips each dip
I ride; wielding flamed wetness
tip to shaft as he gasps
and I dismount...
tasting our bemingled wetness;
lingering in mid stride, teasing
veined throb ready to burst
easing, slowly...
tip tongue flickers head, he
tenses; to throat I engulf as
he begs, entrapping me tightly
between his legs
flushed...
his final ****** leaves me
submerged within our heat of
passion
still vibrant...
slides in the softness of me
where lips played, lush inside
my heat; enwrapping me in
the warmth of him
© D A Baugh. All rights reserved
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 8:29 PM UTC
I've got scratches on my knees
From the pressure Ive received
My heart beat quicked for a moment
As the pain was placed upon me
I can deny it all I want
But the scars on my shoulders
Match the edges of your words
So then I'm alone with them
And nobody answers the phone anymore
When you're sick you fade quick into nothing
My heart is a target
Each beat shot at like an animal
When something is dying you love it
Then why don't you love me now?
My sadness repels you like poisonous thorns
Each one more toxic then the one before
Who are you to me if not a hunter?
Can't you see me scream when you fire?
Tomorrow will be another sun and another set
I believe in it I do
That you can see my horizon
The way you see a god
Wait if I set the world down?
Would the pressure I feel dismount
Would it soften the blow of each bullet you shoot?
I can't run because I'm stuck
Always leaving, ways running away
But not I
Because I've got scratches on my knees from the world which I hold
But you still use me for target
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC
(who blew the bulb ?) everywhere is bright everything is eyes can't see you in your mirror-mail-shard suit i'm blinded / bladed / paraded to the roots / hear this chime ? / this overwhelming chime / it's in all the things but has predatory gut / it’s not vital / it’s hurt / spumming out allure evident byproduct you've stuffed it all down clutted all the drains of your fawning audience burning hair compounded the body with capillary blain / majesty, your maj-jest-tea ; it’s dishonesty ; you are what you are but you don't want to be-(you're not pleased) get you down from there sire ( if-you-please ) and grow an honest hovel / everything’s on discount ************* discount it's a travesty you are a misery (dismount) you were far from what you harm now you keep it close you snake just like a charmer / you slither you basket you rascal piping lewd at the tourist youths / such a hassle / bring on photography the *********** it's embarrassing it’s emm-bhar-rass-sing (who blew the bulb ?)
Dec 31, 2023
Dec 31, 2023 at 6:18 PM UTC
We're both aware that I'll be first to go,
but don't think for a minute that I'm done
with life and time. Although end game's begun
there's too much left, too many things to show
the daughters, sons, the grandchildren, and you.
The few uncurdled dreams we still might grasp
and reach, the promises that will not lapse
expired, without redemption will come true
in what years we have left. Let's make our plans,
adapt to new realities, accept
the finish of the roller-coaster ride,
dismount regretfully, again to stand
on solid ground, content to know we kept
what fragments tired love and peace provide.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
My dad takes me to the hospital on his bike.
It’s icy and he wears his sheepskin gauntlets
and I’m grateful to shelter behind him
secure in his familiar gruff intolerance.
This is not the first time he’s taken TOIL for me
and his frustration radiates through his layers
but this two-of-us space is still delicious,
still precious for its rare warmth.
And he parks, and we dismount like John Wayne,
and the wall of his leather back takes the lead
as I stride into outpatients in his impatient wake,
making demands for his boy from the nervous staff
and taking relief from the update on my progress
and for the scar that gives me some hope of distinctiveness
and a source of stories for years to come.
Stories with my dad.
Aug 24, 2022
Aug 24, 2022 at 11:58 AM UTC
Racing.
Days run on,bounding over life's hill.
Dash behind haste goads time on further.
Each frantic hour intends keeping still
But in racing along, pace begets ******
Met are all needs when busy un-bridles.
Quiet rest heals weary saddle-sore self.
If haltered, rush ceases and gallop tires.
As slackening reins never cry out for help.
Staying the ride dismount heady steeds.
Break awhile to pick life's sweet flowers.
Age weighs after taking life at high speed
Yet seizing each moment makes days ours.
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
The anomalous dismount
Fostering strange colours
Terminus
Mar 23, 2012
Mar 23, 2012 at 3:49 PM UTC
We set off nice and slow, I was nervous, uncertain.
Don’t get me wrong, I knew what I was doing,
I had ridden before, but nothing like this.
She was so beautiful, the best I’d ever had,
Trembling beneath me I knew she could move.
She responded delightfully to my delicate touch.
With accomplished skill I flicked HER gears,
Feeling her pull a little as we truly got underway.
Negotiating the first deceptive bend,
She gave a little shimmy, a sensitive wiggle,
Forcing a tightening from me, till I gathered her up.
Assuredly taking full control once more.
Hands gripping her firmly, slowly twisting the throttle.
She bucks; growls pleasurably, we are as one.
Revelling in wilful abandonment;
Gliding in unison, so enjoyable.
Cornering sweetly, high exhilaration,
missing NOT a single beat,
Accelerating at speeds-illegal,
Too soon, too soon,
Our destination arrives.
Catching my breath I tease the brakes and relax.
Tension flowing from me; while she: she purrs like a wild cat.
I know we made good time as I gently apply the clutch,
Easing her down through the gears, she gives a little SHuDDER.
I dismount, sighing, smiling, a playful slap, yes,
Acknowledging mutual appreciation,
Already anticipating another ride,
And believe me,
It was a ride.
©Paul Chafer 2014
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC