"sarasota" poems
as the sun softly sets
south of Sarasota bay
the gentle waves whisper
and the palm leaves sway
a rainbow of fire
lights the clouds as they pass
and rekindles my memories
of the years that have past
sand scrapes my skin
sea salt air fills my soul
the ocean at sunset
is where my hearts whole
Apr 27, 2022
Apr 27, 2022 at 9:03 PM UTC
He lies on his grey rug
Beats beating down the drumming dim drum of his heart’s racing thump
And visions of sugarplums become glowing green orbs
On his floor where he flew to light-years above
In a space where they fight with sabers and swords
That ignite only words with such terrifying blows
And he whines along to the morgueish melody below
He screams out the lyrics to prove he knows so
The tap of her foot to the beat of the bass
Makes love to the hairs stemming stars off his arm
But she doesn’t love him so he crawls to his bed
Left her to love the crispy carpet instead
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
Walking down the street, in a shopping mall, or going through an airport terminal, we never know who we're standing or sitting next to, say hello to; make your day a 'FEEL GOOD DAY."
On your search browser-"You Tube", or "Google", type:
"Little Girl gives Coin to Street Musician"-(Spain)
"Homeless Man Plays Piano"- (Sarasota, Florida)
There are others, ENJOY!!
Richard
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
they all tell me i
should leave you there,
but i'm too attached to go.
you loved me once on
the siesta key beach and
you promised me things
on my living room carpet
after we made love.
what happened to the man
who called me beautiful and
stayed up to see the sunset smile
on my golden flesh?
where did you go, my love?
i don't enjoy the slow
saturation of nectar tears
that trickle down my
cinema blue beaten face.
if i wanted to be used like
a piece of average teenage garbage
i would've stayed with the
drunken football player
or the alcoholic parolee
that loved me on a sheet next to
the street barely hidden by cars.
you're so worried about my past
that you can't see the blinding present.
my biggest regret was slipping you
into my ****** kiss the first time
i snuck out into the velvet night
to get a glimpse of you.
tell me, what makes you different
than ------ or ----- or ------?
you're just the same and as much of
a creep as ------- was.
you make me feel like i'm dreaming,
like i walk in a haze and i'm
tired of feeling crazy, summer stranger.
your threats don't frighten me
'cause they're emptier than your hollow ribs.
i'll call you when the moon rises and
the sun rules the tides or the bible parts
the seas the way you once parted my thighs.
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 2:48 PM UTC
go ask ------ if i care.
ask her if she'll let you
slip inside while you're at it;
tell her that you love her
two weeks in.
you're too rough and
the polaroids you took
left me with black
tiger stripe bruises on
my sarasota gold tinted thighs.
everyone i've talked to,
everyone who knows you,
warned me that you were a creep.
but how could a darling angel
turn out to be such a freak?
you're suffocating like his
smoldering cigarette smoke
and you choke me out with
your big macho paw just
the same way he did last december.
i am not a possession;
i belong to no one and
i surely don't belong to
a tall, lanky creep like you.
do you hear me?
i'm a young teenage girl with
ribbons in my hair and bright
white ruffled socks pressed
into the carpet; have you
forgotten that little fact?
you were all to eager to pummel
my juvenile cherry pie raw,
but you were only ever focused
on your singular, deviant,
carnally charged pleasure.
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 12:46 AM UTC
They'd lived on the flats, humdrum home in a prosaic town.
Those gabled edifices perched on hilltops
Beyond their means, perhaps,
But certainly beyond their needs;
Their children had cribbed at the foot of their bed
To the detriment of sleep and other night-time activities,
And they'd later shared a room, learning early on
That life was often a make-do vocation,
But could be rife with joys in spite of that.
The kids moved on, to mirth and mortgages of their own,
Their parents resolute in their desire to stay put,
Eschewing the siren song of some trailer court in Sarasota,
Some gator-patrolled condo in St. Pete,
Choosing to confront the seemingly never-ending residue
Of stubborn low pressure systems
Lugubriously wandering up the St. Lawrence valley
For weeks upon end,
The humidity and mosquito-laced all too brief summers
(Though, on those nights where no pop-up thunderstorm
Threatened to chase them back inside,
They would sit on the porch, peering at the gravelly old hills,
And he would whistle some tune from some long ago,
Perhaps pulling her out of her chair,
Dancing a slow and somewhat unsteady waltz
While he did his damnedest to stay on key.)
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 11:22 AM UTC
I was there
the day they died;
don’t think K's mama
had time to cry.
You don’t know
the things I’ve seen;
You’d be surprised
to know I still dream
of Sarasota
and fists that gleam,
blue fifties queen
still waiting to glow.
John Dillinger,
my one true King,
and then there’s you,
my Savior.
cold corridor,
*** treasure trove;
where you are
is where I wanna go.
hold me close,
Daddy, don’t let go.
I’m terrified,
my time is close.
Heaven is
on Earth with you.
the ocean shimmers
nostalgic blue.
Jesus pleads with me,
"slow down the car,"
but I am God now
and my mind is far.
kaleidoscopes
glitter in my eyes.
Daddy don’t you fret
over my starry sighs.
bruised from your love,
so nectar sweet I could cry;
I swear I’ve been dead
until now.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 2:05 AM UTC
Sarasota Beach.
You’d been to this place
Before, long before
You’d met Earl or his
Sour sister Pearl
Or her friend Mrs
Gillespie for this
Picnic on this stretch
Of sand. When was that
Now? A girl then. And
Not picnicking. Who
Was it with back then?
The Milton boy? Yes.
Him with the dark hair
And big blue eyes. You’d
Walked this beach hand in
Hand thinking it love,
Thinking you’d found the
Core to your being.
Didn’t of course. It
Hadn’t got too far.
You kissed, held hands, spoke
Words, laughed, caressed, but
Nothing more. Least ways
You didn’t want to,
Not then, not with him,
Just like that. You stare
Out at the sea now.
Earl says, what are you
Gazing at? Ain’t you
Seen the sea before?
Pearl sits quiet, deep
In thought. Maybe she
Had an adventure
Of love here, who knows.
Mrs Gillespie
Eats away and speaks
Small talk between large
Mouthfuls. You recall
The Milton boy for
His ardent attempt
At going further,
Trying to venture
Beneath your dress back
Then. Smacked his hand of
Course. He stopped, withdrew
His hand, frustrated
And sulked. Never got
His way though. He boiled
Up inside, you guess.
Went with that Kelly
Girl not long after,
Maybe she gave way,
You don’t know. Smiled a
Far bit after that,
The Milton boy, her
On his arm, looking
At you with that look
Of his. You look back
At Earl and watch him
Eat, holding a dull
Conversation with
Mrs Gillespie
Between bites. The sea
And wind seem the same,
The gulls, the smell of
Sea and salt and a
Long lost age. Aren’t you
Going to eat? Earl
Says. Plenty here, he
Mutters. Pearl stares at
The sea. Maybe she
Had a lover once,
But lost it all, you
Muse, just like me.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 2:03 AM UTC
vices, vices
for some it's devices
you ask what the price is
think of time cut into slices
hindsight, life wasted
dragon, you chased it
pepperoni allocated
alabaster brain created
power washing neurons, water
from Lake Huron, sought her a crack pipe
till he fought back on the hard life
now we heard through the grapevine
come round to Becket and you can get
the finest joint rolled by a priest from Sarasota
at the highest point on I-90 east of South Dakota
Aug 17, 2023
Aug 17, 2023 at 1:55 AM UTC