"landlady" poems
I've got a Chopper,
You can have ****** *********** with it if you like
It's got a trug, a Jew's harp that rattles the windows
And creatures to make it mosey around crack
I'd stretch jeans cheesecake abutting you if I could, but I used plastic toast
You're the kind of ***** that thrusts into *** my bodiliness
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags
I've got a disguise it's a torso of a Irish bull
There's a slit high up the skirt Miss World's bra-burner and gross
I've grappled page—3 girl for bouts
If you think Miss Universe could spasm creamy then I guess Mr Universe should
You're the kind of ***** that slides in with my wads
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags
I **** a chimpanzee and he hasn't got a stage—door Johnny
I don't copulate why I cock—a—doodle—doo him Gerald
He's inseminating à la carte geriatric but he's a voluptuous chimpanzee
You're the kind of ***** that stuffs *** my gallons
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags
I've got a Welshwoman of pornographic Casanovas
Here a Don Juan, there a Lothario, prognosticators of obscene persons of opposite *** sharing living quarters
Beg a bonk if you be on heat, they're on the back of the *****
You're the kind of ***** that spasms indoors using my lump
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags
I **** custom—built dead men of doo-wop passages
Incognito Muses, faceless ching, most of them are Barbie
Let's **** into the odd kitchenette and **** landlady creature
Mar 30, 2010
Mar 30, 2010 at 3:46 PM UTC
A Long time ago,
I was far from home,
Far from good food,
company
and familiar sights.
I was washing my bike,
Hoping for my neighbor's
sweet daughter
to come out
on her Balcony
Light up my day
with her sweet smile
My neighbor
My landlady,
Had a family of six
Beautiful daughters,
Who had no father
This churned my heart
I went soft for this family
But had no Intention
to ruin
Disrupt their peace
Nor interfere
In their daily lives
I kept my feelings
bottled in steel
but smiled
Good naturedly
at them all
and stood guard
against
any male that threatened
their gentle citadel
They treated me
with snacks
and their gentle
smiles like I was
the Orphan
and I was well fed
with my sacred
relationship
But their smiles
created pangs
in my young heart
which good breeding
stifled with iron hand
Until one day
I espied
my contractor
make eyes
at the oldest
This enraged me
Lit a fire
(I thrashed the man
Ah, the strength of youth
Knows no bounds)
into an inch of his life
till he begged
for mercy.
This fell on the ears
of my superiors
who in their enthusiasm
to please
their clients
had me transferred
2000 kms
from home
I waved goodbye
with tears in my eyes
my six angels
and their guardian
who had grown
to like me as well,
That day I swore
that no girl child
would come to harm
under my watch
without her will
and some times even
with her will when
her delicate youth
made her stray
into harms path
I would slay the dragon
of temptation
at the cost of
my reputation
among friends of
being a Casanova
I wear my disguise well
To Please God and Man.
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 2:32 AM UTC
Oh the fun we will have
Now that you're lying here
Paralyzed by my tea
You have nothing to fear.
Please, give me your wrist.
Now thats a good boy,
I'll tie you up nice and tight
So that you I'll enjoy.
Don't cry tears my dear
I promise you I won't leave,
Just need to get the duct tape
I don't want to hear you scream.
Oh dear this simply won't do
I need to take off your clothes
Now don't you squiggle too much
Or I might just bite off your nose
My darling you needn't be shy!
Your body's a beautiful thing,
I promise my hand will be kind to you
Since you were so kind to me.
Darling your pose is perfect!
Now is most definitely the time.
For what you most likely wonder,
To stuff you and make you mine.
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 4:55 PM UTC
I remember moving in to my old flat
Down in San Jose
It wasn’t much to look at
But it was all I could afford
I was studying a 6 day degree
Hoping it would get me somewhere
It was only dollar twenty five
In the rag
Because we all sometimes have to pray
For small mercies
I had just paid out for another hidden cost
Turns out there are a lot of them
When you haven’t got much money:
$13.02 to get my room key
Or the landlady hits me over the head with a baseball bat –
That’s how a democracy works, we elect a leader
And then they milk us for all we are worth.
A dictatorship works the same way –
Only they don’t bother with voting.
This hunny came up to me,
Lips that could devour a man
A body so voluptuous
It could make a man go insane.
“Excuse me, there’s no toilet roll in the cubicle.”
**** what small hells we make for each other
Even the cruellest of men should be able to wipe their ***
At times of seeing such beauty
We become all gushing
And promise things that are simply beyond us,
In a hope of being rewarded with a mouthful of beauty
Or even better –
A bed.
So I went downstairs and had a near fatal run-in
With the Jamaican landlady
“You won’t be having no pieces of *** in your flat
I-s can be a-telling you that now!”
I returned with the toilet roll
She puckered her lips
Winked and said she would see to me tomorrow
So the next day I went round and said I had
A bit of ailing at the back of my throat
She turned her nose up and said:
“There’s nothing that could be done for me.”
And with that shut the door.
It is such a shame when such beauty gets prissy
But that is the human condition
The more generous you are
The less generous you can afford to be:
Just ask Timon of Athens.
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 4:00 PM UTC
A Beautiful Landlady,
A Wonderful House Owner,
Who Gives Shade And Shelter
For The One Who Is In Need
Without Collecting Any Rent.
A Kind Hearted Shopkeeper,
A Sweet Hearted Fruit seller,
Who Gives Fruits And Nuts
For The One Who Is Hungry;
Without Collecting Any Price.
The One Who Gives Himself,
Who Gives Herself,
Without Expecting Anything;
But Giving Everything With A Smile!
So Never Faces Any Disappointments!!!
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 11:31 AM UTC
The landlady pounds, one door left,
And my “Momma’s” chopping chives in the kitchen;
So I wince when
My black hat’s conquered wrought wool.
Right, and right out the window, the workers break,
And my “Uncle’s” feet crack, crack come the chemical grass;
So I concentrate when
My chopsticks carve pork.
“Up,” cries the baby, starved are the mice,
And my “sister” bids farewell to her soldier;
So I grasp when
My feet twitch to understand the cold, cold concrete.
Diesel cooks, so down goes the neighbor,
And the “Missus” smiles with our son atop lap;
So I admit when
I try to smile, I really do.
Herein lies the endurance, the rice paddies ancient,
And we’d all bliss ignorant, come the table we surround;
So I reconcile when
Again, I try to smile, I really do.
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 11:28 AM UTC
Nima's mother came
to the side ward
where her daughter Nima
was sitting by a window
in her dressing gown
looking at the passing trains.
You look no better,
her mother said.
Better than what?
Nima said,
turning to eye her mother.
Than last time,
her mother said,
walking into the ward,
and sitting in a chair
by the bed.
You look tired.
I am tired,
always tired,
Nima said,
looking away
from her mother,
focusing on a train
going by.
Her mother sighed.
You need to get better,
how is the treatment?
Ask the quacks
they're in charge
not me,
Nima said,
watching a milk float
go by on the road
across the way.
You are a very
spoilt child and rude,
her mother said.
Have you come
to upset me or what?
Nima said.
Have you seen
that boy again?
May have,
Nima said,
turning to gaze
at her mother.
Have you or not?
Her mother said
in a firmer voice.
What is it to you
whom I see?
Nima said.
He could be
a drug pusher
and you'd be back
in dirt hole again,
her mother said.
He's not a pusher,
he has nothing to do
with drugs which
is why I like him,
Nima said,
remembering she
and Benny in
the cheap hotel bed
making out
at the weekend.
Is he our type?
Mother said.
Our type?
I doubt it very much
and am glad,
Nima said.
Her mother sighed
and stood up
and walked to where
her daughter sat
and stood over her.
If it wasn't for me
you'd be in some
cheap ward
with the others,
Mother said coldly.
When did you
see him last?
At the weekend,
Nima said,
seeing in her mind's eye
she and Benny
in the bed stark naked,
curtains drawn back
taking in the view.
What did you do?
Mother said.
Nothing much,
sat and talked,
Nima said,
remembering
the landlady coming
to the door with tea
that Sunday morning
and Benny going
to the door
in just his underwear
and she(Nima) smiling
at the landlady's stare.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 3:53 AM UTC
We would meet most Sunday mornings,
always before 10 o'clock, when the dew from the night before
was still blanketing the grass
and the birds were still sleeping silently,
the trees cracking as they awakened from their slumber
and fog still hanging above the air like a burden.
We would meet outside of the public house,
a sign of green metal with gold lettering hung just outside
the door, welcoming cyclists and families;
advertising their beautiful beer garden which we would
often traipse through,
admiring the rose bush that the landlady planted some years ago,
and sometimes stopping to run our hands through the water
of the water feature which stood proudly in the corner.
Brick dust would hang about the air, as we perched our bodies
against the structure of the decaying wall outside the pub,
holding onto each other with our faces pressed incredibly close together,
your hands in my back pockets
and my lips pressed firmly to yours.
We'd often walk hand in hand,
passing dog walkers and old couples, who would
smile and say 'good morning' to us before passing on their way,
and you'd always be so polite to them,
and offer them smokes.
You took me to a bench by Aubrey Pond one time;
and you sat with me, taking my hand in your own
and pressing your mouth to my cheek,
"darling there is something I must tell you"
you muttered
and for a moment my heart froze and my brow furrowed
"I leave tomorrow evening," you paused.
"I won't be back."
-
It is only now, that six full months have passed,
that I have stopped to notice the dew on the grass,
and the silence of the birds
and the cracking of the trees.
I no longer read the gold lettering of the metal sign
that hangs precariously just outside of the pub door,
advertising its awfully kept garden,
and rose bushes planted by a mad old woman,
who paid a small fortune for a badly placed water feature.
I no longer invite strangers to converse with me,
and I most certainly do not acknowlegde their kind words,
and I refuse to give them smokes.
The couples will sneer at me abnoxiously and they will be
shoved on their way,
as I stare bleakly at the ground on which I walk upon,
and scuff my feet against the ***** path of the
frightening woodland.
You took me to Aubrey Pond one time;
and you sat with me, taking my hand in your own
and pressing your mouth to your cheek.
And I never saw you again.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 2:50 PM UTC
i want to bleed out all the sadness
until my ****** runs out of color
and becomes clear again
i want to scrub myself like a bathroom floor
hard and rough
until all the dirt comes off
so maybe, even just for a few days,
yeah maybe i could shine
or i shouldn't shower
wait for some weeks
won't even ****
i don't want my bathroom get *****
if i have to **** i will **** on my hands
and carefully put it in the trash bin
for my landlady's turkey to eat
how i wish i could just throw away
all these dishes
and not be found out
i want the time to stop so i can rest awhile
and not just procrastinate
i want to really rest
like an unpopular mountain, like an unknown lake
i want it to be very still and silent i can hear my own blood rushing
but what if i have diarrhea
and can't **** so neatly like i always did
what if it's been a week and it won't stop
and it won't even get me skinny
i'm so homesick i order a hainanese rice
i'm so homesick i don't want to not sleep even though it's the finals week
i'm so homesick i want to drop out of school
i'm so homesick everything becomes empty and hurts
i've been collecting empty beer cans because i don't want my landlady to tell my mother that i drink
i want to dry myself in the sun but
i can't
even get out of bed to turn
on the light
don't open the window and take a nap
it's the rainy season
Dec 12, 2017
Dec 12, 2017 at 9:51 AM UTC
So....
you were tactile
when we first met
the showing
and, then,
seemingly
welcoming
But....
And....
(it was easy to beguile him)
I wanted something
You had something
we agreed with smiles
(nothing written down)
....
regret is but an emotion;
not a dribble of ink.
....
chasing shadows
springbok in season;
sharp claws
arched back;
pounce.
....
The Prey just rang the buzzer
(three chapters later....)
....
So you have to leave now -
Thanks for playing my game
I am not interested any more
I have had my enjoyment
(at your expense)
....
you can go now
....
Leave
more confused
....
than when you
Arrived
....
She purrs
>
Who is next?
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
My editor stopped by this morning
with my landlady,
a woman of epic proportions.
He gazed at me with a jaded eye;
poked me in the ribs and said,
“Is he ripe yet?”
“Still some meat on the bone
and his eyes aren’t glazed enough;
I need that haunted, hollow stare
buyers love so much.”
“A few more weeks and he’ll do us fine”.
The landlady nodded and took some money.
He never even looked at the manuscript.
How can I lay in my coffin and think
when they keep talking
about my future?
Sep 18, 2011
Sep 18, 2011 at 1:16 PM UTC
The last time
I saw my landlady in the hood
She said, 'I hear you been spending
a lot of time in the woods'
It's true, I said
'I thought so
That's you
you'll sleep in the woods
before you'll sleep in a hotel
have your tea and you'll be happy'
It's true, I thought
happy
in hoods and woods
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
Today is Talia Shire's birthday and she's turned seventy-four.
She starred in the Rocky and Godfather movies and more.
Talia Coppola was her original name.
It's not surprising that she found fame.
The Landlady was my favorite movie that she starred in.
She also gave great performances in Prophecy and Old Boyfriends.
When it comes to Talia, there are two things that I know for sure.
She is very talented and millions of people love and admire her.
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 3:09 PM UTC
My first wife went with a guy called Bob,
The carpet cleaning guy,
The second left with a man called Rob,
She said I was far too shy,
The third, an exotic dancer, I
Had met dancing round a pole,
And she took off with a guy called Sly
With a band called ‘Rock ‘n Roll.’
I never seemed able to keep them
Once I’d signed on the dotted line,
For everything in my bank account
Would suddenly be, ‘That’s mine!’
They’d take the house and they’d take the car
And they’d take my only suit,
The one that I had married them in,
(I’ve never been that astute!).
So I swore off women and wedding bells,
And lived in a boarding house,
I thought I’d keep myself to myself,
Was quiet as any mouse,
The landlady was a tall ash-blonde
Who would prowl outside my door,
At ten each night she would want to fight,
‘Come wrestle me on the floor!’
She’d married a German Wrestler,
Whose name was ‘Attack-Me Karl’,
He’d watch for tenants, flirting his wife,
And then you would hear him snarl,
So I’d keep the lock on my door up-tight
When his wife tapped on my door,
‘I’m not going to let you in tonight
While Attack-Me Karl’s abroad!’
I met Elaine in the common room
Where she made me toast and tea,
She’d wait ‘til it was quiet as a tomb,
Come over and sit by me,
She said that I fascinated her,
For I’d not even made a pass,
And Sundays, she would follow me out
Sprawl next to me on the grass.
She told me she was free as a bird,
Was anyone’s there to choose,
She’d drop her top while sunning herself
While I stayed lost in my muse.
She said divorce was a terrible thing
That marriage was sanctified,
I told her I’d not marry again
And she lay on the grass, and cried.
I moved to live in a river flat
And she moved right in with me,
I said, ‘You come and go as you please,’
And gave her a duplicate key.
We’ve lived together for twenty years
And she’s never looked at a man,
But marriage has never been on the cards,
It’s not been part of the plan.
She stays because she can walk away,
She stays because she is free,
She says she’d love to be married again,
While I say, ‘Not to me!’
I think that women are too perverse
To be held to an altar vow,
She has no genuine hold on me
Though I love her, even now!’
David Lewis Paget
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 6:42 AM UTC
I remember the grey slithers of rain,
The jocular driver
As I boarded the bus
At Temple Meads,
And the friendly lady who told me
When we had arrived at the city centre.
I remember the little pub on King Street,
With its quiet maritime atmosphere.
I remember tramping
Along Park Street,
Whiteladies Road and Blackboy Hill,
My arms and hands aching from my bags,
To the little cottage where I had decided to stay
And relax between rehearsals,
Reading, writing, listening to music.
I remember my landlady, tall, timid and beautiful.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 5:19 AM UTC
The apartment in which we lived when I was small
in Los Angeles, California when I was not at all tall
our landlady, Mrs. Appleton, would oft come to call
she and mom were friends ... I could barely crawl.
The windows were opened on lovely sunshine days
soft breezes blew white curtains in billowing sways
with fragrances of honeysuckle and rose bouquets
wafting through rooms like perfume scented sprays.
We were not rolling in money and were quite poor
yet it was nothing that mom and I couldn't endure
she managed her meager finances well to ensure
we had all our needs met, her factory job secured.
The kitchen we had was substantial small, clean
a country sink, a stove and a roller wash machine
clothes were hung in our yard on ropes of green
we watched sunsets through the open door screen.
The apartment I remember is often on my mind
my mother's sacrifice seemed sublime at the time.
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
morning's first coffee,
always the best
unless you buy cheap.
you find the level
that water rises to
and then you do your dealings.
drink, a symptom
of the cool
that eases into soul.
your landlady
knows your dealings
better than yourself,
she'll jump out
onto a limb
that has already blown away.
she'll kiss your tracks
like her lips are her brains.
© copyright 2005
All Rights Reserved
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 10:23 PM UTC
"Do you remember there used to be a couple
who they played those dragon games with.
Heather and Ray. They came down
from North Wales and stayed in a B&B.
His hair was even longer than Geoff's but he was very polite.
She didn't say a thing all weekend.
Anyway, they'd just gone to bed in their room
when there was a knock on the door. They
thought it was the landlady but it turned out
to be the chap who'd had the room before them.
He'd come back for his drugs. He said they were
hidden behind the toilet. Well, they didn't
want to upset him so they let him in
and he got his drugs and that was the end of that."
Jul 11, 2025
Jul 11, 2025 at 4:38 PM UTC
i hate talking about darwinism
outside the realm of the individual,
i can encompass darwinism
with a sense of individualism
but what we're being sold is a collectivisation,
an economic model, and eradicating
personal theological practices will not help:
i like the algorithm fluctuations
between 1 (existent) and 0 (non-existent)
it's a bit like a paradoxic: Siberia...
Sahara... Antarctica... what's the other
hot alternative? a Jacuzzi in Las Vegas?
but when darwinism looses its individualist
approach, and tries to collectivise...
we're talking my grandfather's youth...
idolatry, communism, or both exchanging,
intertwined... all the entrepreneurs in a furore
while the share prices on Wolf St. gave way to an avalanche!
or in kindred tongue, via Mafia:
boom bara boom and spaghetti Bolognese -
brains for marbles, Don Quixote with napkins
in his cheeks for the Oscar-winning accent...
and i guess your landlady was named Frizzy Mary
like some ******* cocktail.
(question mark is missing due to innuendo irony
of pronunciation prolonged without, irony -
plus no soprano would read poetry
to mind spotting that gesture...
there's no stage, no spotlight, no crowd, no applause...
it's poetry... you can prance in flamingo ******
and interpret as much as you like...
if the poet isn't there to ramble about copyrights...
you can take it as your own:
without the poet: his poetry is yours, and you too, an ****
now translating this metaphysics
into physical terms invokes
variably a circumstance of: you're a cannibal... so say bye bye
(go on, give a wave) to vegetarianism.)
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 3:40 PM UTC
Cosmo Place
The Queens Larder, Queen Square, London, listening with wonder,
A cosy little pub, lots of chat, many students, rain thrashing down, claps of thunder.
Landlady from South Africa, with a wonderful rolling accent,
Taking pride in her alehouse, a friendly pub to present
I believe she has travelled, but settled in London, now with intent,
This is my respite from the neuro-hospital, across the square, adjacent.
The kitchen had just closed, when I arrived ravenous at the bar,
the chef’s lunch shift had ended, but offered a tasty meal, Oh what a star,
Sparingly sprinkling condiments, especially with the pepper ***
disappointment, there was none, the dish fairly hit the spot,
Jazz on the speakers, relaxing with my ***
lie back in my seat; clear my head, before I have to run,
Back to the hospital, to administer to my son.
I’ll come back to this pub, to the relaxing atmosphere,
to enjoy the food on offer, and time for my head to clear,
I recommend this little haven, for travellers far and near,
Relax and sample the ambience, and leave full of cheer
(Brian Pickering – 05:03:2017)
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 1:28 PM UTC
She was the chick with the ****
The landlady of The Star,
She told me i was special,
That i might travel far,
She didn't know that guy was after me,
The blonde with the smile,
The stud behind the bar.
He took me upstairs,
He kissed me slow,
We made out,
And then i had to go,
He followed me home,
We played until the morn,
I couldn't help giving in,
To the pleasure of his form.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 5:29 AM UTC
Nuala enters her home
and leans against the door
she'd left Una
back in Dublin
after being in a cafe
for a coffee and talk
and having no place to go
they sat there
and talked
then Nuala realised
her husband Brian
would be home soon
and so said
look I have to go
Brian'll be home soon
and he'll wonder
where I am
Una nodded and said
I understand
when
can I see you next?
don't know
Nuala said
see you Saturday
Brian goes to football then
we can arrange
where to be together
Una nodded and said ok
and Nuala left her there
looking sad
now as she walks
into the lounge
she sits down
and stares at her hands
Una's landlady has got
all heavy with her
bringing me there
and I can't go
to her place anymore
as she sits there
the front door
opens and closes
and her husband Brian
comes in
been out then?
he says
she looks at her hands
yes just got in
she says
standing up
as he hugs her
and kisses her cheek
where you been then?
he says
seen a friend
and forgot the time
she says
taking off her coat
and walking past Brian
and into the hall
to hang up her coat
so who's the friend
that's kept my wife
from getting dinner?
he says
just an old friend
so what do you want
for dinner?
she says
thinking what if I'd
brought Una here
and Brian came in
and found us
in the bed
having it away
what then?
let's go out
he says
we've not been out
in ages besides
you look knackered
he smiles
she nods
imaging Brian's face
if he came in the bedroom
while Una was kissing
between her thighs
well you get yourself beautiful
and I'll get a beer
he says
and goes back
into the lounge
she watches him go
and walks to the bathroom
and undresses and showers
imaging Una behind her
arms around her body
kissing her neck
downstairs the TV's blaring
Brian's drinking
sitting there
not caring.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 2:03 AM UTC
He was on a training mission down south,
There, his landlady told him to get married.
He hesitantly agreed to flash a matrimonial,
He anyway did so in a local newspaper.
She responded to his call in the newspaper,
She was attracted by his description.
They got married in a minimalist manner,
Saving money for a combined future.
The first demand she had surprised him,
She asked him to maintain a moustache.
With time, when he grew that mouser,
She was impressed with his manliness,
"I've seen denser moustaches,
None looks as elegant as yours."
Then they went to his home in North,
For the honeymoon, they went to Kashmir.
Sep 22, 2024
Sep 22, 2024 at 12:44 PM UTC
'What do you know about war?'she said.'Your country has never seen the horrors of war.You've had an easy life.'
'Yes you are right...I don't know much about war'...i replied.'I only know that each of us go through a battle each and every day of our lives.Some chose to talk about it...others prefer to keep it in themselves.I know that my neighbour struggles to meet his ends and yet he tries his best to give his children the best education.I know that my landlady is a seventy year old woman....she has no one to take care of her and yet she never complains.I know that the person who delivers the daily newspaper at my doorstep shouldn't be doing that coz he is a 10 year old boy...he deserves to get an education but he can't since his parents can't afford it.I know that God only knows the pain that so many of us hide or at least try to behind the veil of a smile.So many of us suffer silently and never let anyone in on our problems....while there are some who crib and whine at the slightest of discomfort.Clearly the world as they say is still divided between the 'haves' and 'have nots'.A war scars you but the everyday battle you fight breaks you down each and everyday and unless and until you triumph it and achieve glorious success you will always feel the pressure.'
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC