"toured" poems
I thought I might be a musician
Mom couldn’t afford my lessons
My eyesight wasn’t great
I couldn’t read notes fast enough
Practicing annoyed the family
I only managed last chair, 2nd violins
But still
I got to play in High School concerts
In shiny dresses with glitter in my hair
However
I haven’t held a violin in years
I loaned mine to a Bluegrass band
The leader died - and it was gone
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
I thought I might become a dancer
But my fingers can not touch the floor
I couldn’t kick much higher than my waist
Choreography was hard for me to learn
I had the stamina if not the skill
My partner wanted someone else
But still
I danced on stage in a college play
And Morris Danced at the Old Globe Theatre
However
I’ve forgotten how to keep the beat
And all the dance floor moves I made
I’m too self conscious now to try
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
I fancied I could be a singer
I knew the words to all the songs
And I could keep the melody in tune
But I had a voice with no vibrato
And the quality was thin
My range was very limited
But still
I sang Blueberry Hill at a talent show
In a black lame’ dress and surprised a few
However
I couldn’t get the hang of harmony
And found I fit best in a choir
My family wouldn’t hear my solos
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
I thought that I was born an actress
I practically got that one right
I had a lead in an Ibsen play
And toured the state with Macbeth
But Hollywood was one big casting couch
And I could see no way around it
But still
I got to be on TV shows
Winning games and merchandise
However
I sold the Firebird Convertible I won
I needed rent money more than a car
And rules allow you only three shows in a lifetime
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
I always thought I was a poet
I started young and never stopped
But family ignored and scoffed
Then I got trapped inside my mirror
And only wrote when all was beak
Somebody said my stuff was dreary
But still
I stumbled on the HP website
And found a group who like the words I write
However
When I read the others’ writes
I realize how limited my skills
And fight the need to run away and hide.
∞
It seems I dabbled in all the arts
Looking for the one that fit me
And finding they all needed alteration
And I never had the proper needle
∞
Still, a moment in the sun
Is better than a lifetime in the shade
I had a taste of everything
Though the banquet was not mine.
ljm
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 12:24 PM UTC
Purge your unclean self
Your existence does not depend
On the judgement of others
You are the beauty created
For something long before you were born
Life depends on you
You are what you aspire to look like
Appearances fail when you forget
That time is an illusion
Seasons are fleeting
But you will reign red-blooded
The eyes follow every angle
Seriously believe in your immortality
The skinny boy on the runway
Believes
Invincibility
Inevitably forever
This is heaven
This is hell
Death is forever
Life lasts beyond eons
Your beauty is worn on your soul
Be it an old familiar jacket
That has toured the world
Be it a minimalistic shift
Worn moments before you were deflowered
Photographs will create the verdict
You will be weighed
You will be measured
Perfection is possible
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
But just maybe by then i’ll be north and you’ll be south
just how we’ve always been on different paths
but somehow ended up at the same place again and again.
Meet me in Amsterdam.
When you’ve toured every major city
and I’ve seen enough landscapes.
Would you spare a week from all of this and escape?
Just to feel like we’re sixteen again
when we planned that we’ll do this one day.
We said we’d live.
I know you said a lot of things.
Yeah, so the future didn’t turn out the way we hoped,
but i’m hopeful that one day you will
Meet me in Amsterdam.
Where we’ll experience night, day, and beautiful weather.
See and do all kinds of things together.
Where we could pretend we’re in another universe
Where we ended up happily ever.
Where I could finally say goodbye to you forever.
Maybe when we leave, I’ll go north and you’ll go south.
Or maybe we’ll somehow end up at the same place.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
there's a lot of holes in my life
for example
my waist takes as little space as possible;
a curve is formed in each side
in order to be fitted by
somebody's hands
and i would like them to be your hands
between every bone of my spine
there's a little pause pretending to shape
a path long enough to be toured by
somebody's fingers
and i would like them to be your fingers
when i stretch my neck i find
angles in my collarbones
a piece of architecture to be traced by
somebody's mouth
and i would like it to be your mouth
but your hands hold the curves of other waist
and your fingers wander other road
and your mouth traces the lines of other architecture
and i have all of these holes
and there's a hole in my bed
and i would like to have two
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
The tour guide was usually a taxi-driver,
But for a few extra Euros, he was my guide.
Jobs are scarce.
For two hours we toured Yeats Country,
Me, sitting beside this man of letters, and for once,
Enjoying the drive and not the anxiety
On Irish roads.
They're narrow and winding to Ben Bulben,
With stops at neolithic stone circles, burial mounds,
Passageways and, A Fairy's Fort.
The culmination was Drumcliff Churchyard
Where I was to prove his existence.
He has an unassuming stone,
One usually doesn't linger long,
But my Guide stood beside me,
And suddenly recited,
The Fiddler of Dooney.
I was sure it was Yeats' accent,
This unassuming poet.
I did as bid,
I
Cast a cold eye,
And stood glad that
I
Wasn't him,
As I stopped,
Before passing by.
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC
A Second Chance of Love
Traveled, toured,and searched a long time for this day.
Now, considered it fate for I found you again.
Now we met again, I'm not going to be stopped.
I will not stop these words from being told anymore
for it should have been told from the beginning
I love you
I may not give the perfect relationship that they are offering
Forgive me for I can only offer loyalty and undying love
Don't be angered in me being afraid for my feelings
Forgive me passing out the time not doing anything
But never get mad on the reason that until now
I love you still
When I lost you, my world revolve around deep regret and sorrow,
So now, let me express, tell and show
that you on and only you will be loved.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
A pen and a cup,
they are my seed,
to withstand a filthy need,
and to fulfill an empty creed.
Just hold me in your eyes.
For it is quite,
a rare sight,
to witness a Sunday Smile.
Waking up to the cold air again,
grasping hold of me again,
and the fire is gone.
The wind shuffling the pages of my life,
but I think I’m a little more stable now.
The frequent cheap, empty talks don’t bother me as much.
The songs you taught me,
stuck longer than the religion you sought for me.
Just hold me in your eyes.
For it is quite,
a rare sight,
to reach a Sunday Smile.
I stand still until,
the day gives me the words I’m looking for.
Feels like a collection of meaningful drunk words.
Whenever I look down,
I see my weary conscience,
waving hello in a shallow puddle.
Just hold me in your eyes.
For it is quite,
a rare sight,
to feel a Sunday Smile.
Although I’ve never toured the universe,
forward or reverse,
I have witnessed pale truth,
in a life of epilepsy.
She introduced me to the world,
through a Polaroid view,
as she critiqued my life of solitude.
Just hold me in your eyes.
For it is quite,
a rare sight,
to hold onto a Sunday Smile.
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 1:22 PM UTC
the token of love, vacant of meaning
the token of love, vacant of meaning
a non committal heart, ne'er sticks by
a non committal heart, ne'er sticks by
the token of love, ne'er sticks by
vacant of meaning, a non committal heart
ponds replete with lovelier lotuses, of enticing thrall
ponds replete with lovelier lotuses, of enticing thrall
shun none of them, attentive the mind is
shun none of them, attentive the mind is
of enticing thrall, attentive the mind is
ponds replete with lovelier lotuses, shun none of them
binding in love's genuine bow, doth require consideration
binding in love's genuine bow, doth require consideration
all avenues being toured, the right lady chosen
all avenues being toured, the right lady chosen
all avenues being toured, doth require consideration
binding in love's genuine bow, the right lady chosen
the non committal heart, doth require consideration
all avenues being toured ,ponds replete with lovelier lotuses
attentive the mind is, of enticing thrall
shun none of them, vacant of meaning
the token of love, ne'er stick by
the right lady chosen, binding in love's genuine bow
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC
The crowd goes wild
The boys give it their all
Everyone knows the lyrics
You stand back stage
And evaluate the show
"Where do we go next"
Always one step ahead.
You've toured all over the world.
The girls flash their *****
They're eating from
The palm of your hand.
She walks up to me
Do I know him?
She asks, eyes wide open.
"Yeah dude, that's Kurt. He ate dirt last weekend"
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
Its indeed a correct mistake that a dot of white is a stain on our black
Its inventions, a womb that born all Evils
Its promises, the word a Saint despises
Its stupid dreams, a count of Sahara shii
Its a correct mistake their tongue we ever bought
For the womb that made us we offered in penny
Our pride we cut so short
Their pranks scored us much better than Balloteli
Its a correct mistake we believe we were slaves
To be enslaved into their gravy cell that we then called a palace
We chased what's left to us as honour into. the cafe
Only to bath in their **** we called a grace
Its a correct mistake we ever shifted an inch
As it now turns a cell that imprisons our eggs, our fathers, our gods.
We took the bait to be toured for in a pinch
Turning our shrines a funfair that gets us bored
Its a correct mistake that our right made us wrong
We fell for the weak we believed would make us strong
A fallacy of conception that God is actually a white
Logically thinking its a plight to make our future bright
Its indeed a correct mistake
That Adam actually got fooled by a hole for a bite of cake
Esau gave out a divine right
Just to make the worms in the stomach feel alright.
Its a correct mistake they came through the sea from the west
Its much crazy we still drink from the well that put our ratio of intelligence to test.
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 9:57 AM UTC
Short nights.
We toured the sands of lake Erie.
Wet feet,
The flashlight beam breaking on rocks and waves and empty beer cans.
You laughed at me and we talked about finding a bear or
Maybe, in a few years, living together.
There was heat.
I was swinging and the trees were touching my feet,
Bending boughs before us and the cops came
So we piled in your car and you
Were called to “drive faster.”
Speeding up to catch the sharp exhale I
Let spread across your neck,
Trickling slowly off your collarbone.
We brought a camera.
And, negatives spoke volumes when we reviewed our faces;
You were looking at your feet and my
Eyes were on your lips.
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 2:32 AM UTC
She had a fading tattoo
on her thigh
which caught my eye.
Winnie asked me
to help her
bath Florence
as she was alone
and I wasn't busy.
You don't mind
if Benny helps me
bath you
do you Florence?
Winnie said.
Me?
no make my day
for a young feller
to see my tattoo again
first time
in many years
I can tell you
Florence said.
Used to be
a dancer
back in
the early days
danced on stage
up in London
and sometimes
when we toured
we went all
over the place.
Once Winnie
had helped
Florence undress
I saw the tattoo clearer
it was in blue and pink
and was of a dancer
doing the can-can.
Is that what
you did Florence
the can-can?
Winnie said.
Yes that
and other dancing too
did more than
dancing too
other times
she laughed.
I smiled.
She had her
grey hair long now
as Winnie
had unpinned
the hair to wash it.
Had a young feller
who wanted
to marry me
but he got himself
killed at Mons
and that was that.
Another one came
back blinded
and although
I could have
married him
I wasn't keen
on marrying
a blind bloke
you know what
with me dancing
and touring
and having to
help him
I couldn't do it.
I think he married
some other girl.
Florence went quiet
had my chances
but never did marry.
Bet you were a looker
when you were young
Winnie said.
Got a photo
in my drawer
when I was a dancer
one of those sepia jobs
faded a bit like me
but you can see me
as I was then.
We eased Florence
down in the bath.
I wondered how many
other men had seen her
like I did
but didn't ask or say.
Once in the bath
Winnie did her back
and Florence talked on
all about once upon.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 3:59 AM UTC
Splendid was the thunderous night
Of stormy lightening serenade
With cold feet shivering in fright
Dismayed you, all afraid
Begged of me to walk closer
And make you feel at ease
Unaware innocently how
Passion in night frees.
We walked some distance, hand in hand
Drenched in blessed rain fall
Forgotten is the fear of storm
As love came on prowl.
As storm poured and doused the earth
Until late in the night
Kindled on dimly lit streets
Keen desire to unite.
Suddenly we halt, with eyes locked
Sensing a sweet fragrance,
Hearing our heavy breathing
Acceding to closing distance.
Never learnt how hands toured north
And reached our faces
In heavy rains what wet our lips
Were those passionate kisses.
Gradually the sweetness grew
Entangling us in embrace
Ironically a gloomy storm
bestowed us divine grace.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
OF ALL THE KISSES IN ALL THE WORLD, SHE HAS TO WALK INTO MINE!
I kissed you in
Islip & Liss.
Then once again in
Syathling, Shipton & Pershore.
Where ever I kissed you
I only ever wanted to
kiss you
more.
I kissed you in
Amberly & Arundel.
Once, I kissed you in
Swale & Sway.
I kissed you all over
in many various places
that I cannot remember
today.
I only remember
the kisses
scattered all over England
refusing to fade away.
***
***
These are all the beautiful names of little towns and villages in southern England. To my English Jan they were just names but to an Irishman unacquainted with them...they were magical sounds that opened the portals to worlds and love unknown. As we toured the area I did indeed kiss her in all these various places...indeed I cannot conceive of a time or a place in which we were not engaged in the art and craft of kissing. The magic of the kisses and the magic of the names cross pollinated and bloomed into the world of this poem. I still love saying this poem as it allows my lips to kiss once again those beautiful sounds and to kiss the lips that I loved to kiss. They refuse to...fade away. My heart held in Swale and Sway...as if it were today.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC
We could have hiked Mt.Happily ever after
And probably swam in Lake Laughter
We would have flown in hope airways
If you didn't change your ways
We would have toured inspiration springs
We would have exchanged vows and rings
I could have made a great bride
But now that you've wounded my pride
Just witness destruction in paradise
Witness the change of the paradigm
See for yourself with your own eyes
You was no Angel but devil in disguise
We might have been quite imperfect
Something about which we didn't care
But we still tried to reach there
While we kept our mutual respect
Our affair was a race to reckon
A corn which haters tried to peck on
We could have changed the trend
I don't believe that it really was the end
So witness destruction in paradise
Witness the change of the paradigm
See for yourself with your own eyes
You was no Angel but devil in disguise
You left me with a deadly kind of freedom
A kind that chains the soul in a prison
You crippled the feet I could use to start again
So I'm constantly flying on cloud nine
Totally fooled my heart to believe you was mine
Only to drop it from high, causing more pain
Witness destruction in paradise
Witness the change of the paradigm
See for yourself with your own eyes
You was no Angel but devil in disguise
It could have been a better story than cinderella
During the rains would have been your umbrella
The hugs and kisses were worthwhile
We could have gone longer than the Nile
That's why I can't believe you've forgotten
Yet within me It's no where near rotten
Could have shared with the world our paradigm
We could have had a pyramidic paradise
Witness destruction in paradise
Witness the change of the paradigm
See for yourself with your own eyes
You was no Angel but devil in disguise
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
Cacophonous were the echoes of yesteryear
In the face of unyielding fear they flourished
Oblivious to their imagistic cataclysm I dwindled
Who had known of such a fate to have married?
Theatrical strands of faith and vindication
Gradually descended upon each square
The sun’s oath had risen to fruition
Beauteous framework begins to evolve
Bearing the august seeds of revelation
Answers in which I sought
Rested within pendulum clocks
As throughout my life
Many webs they have spun
Amongst tribulations I have toured
By not a second did hope age
A novelty twas the leaf
Upon which I have turned
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 2:51 PM UTC
Speechless would be a good start,
Together could be a great ending and
Love could be an great explanation.
I had a hole filled with nothing in my heart before I met you, I expected you to fall into it and look for a way out without a farewell.
Instead you toured it, you discovered every flaw, insecurity, broken dream and lost prosperity and you filled it up with everything you had.
Tonight my heart feels complete and normally my mind would be empty but, it's lost in the valley of what could've been and what is and what I want.
And right now my love,
You are definitely a need.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 3:16 AM UTC
A tiny civilization hidden in the trees,
The critters gave Kronos a little tease,
In our land he found a place to stay,
" I'll stay here a while ", he says.
Feral the fox governs this home,
He invites Kronos to his cave in friendly tone,
Around the little town Kronos toured,
As dusk calls, the critters gathered at The Great Tree's floor.
A little festival to celebrate the day,
The critters danced around and play,
After singing songs, Kronos took a break,
There at his seat is where love is in his wake.
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 6:16 AM UTC
Outside Oslo
in the base camp
after showering
you met Moira
in the cafe
for breakfast
and coffee
she was in a mood
about the Yank girl
and having to share
a tent with her
(when she wasn’t off
someplace being *******
Moira said)
and always chewing gum
and those *******
she wears
I’ve seen more cloth
on a finger cut
she said
I’ll take your word for it
you said
she pouted
and stared at you
the finger cut I meant
you said
by the way
are you into
Oslo today?
you asked
mind if I hang along?
sure as long as you don’t
talk about the Yank
or football or Mahler
or whoever else
is hid up
in that brain of yours
she sipped her coffee
and ate her breakfast
saying nothing more
and you watched
as she ate
her eyes dark
and deep
her hair frizzed up
after the shower
her tee shirt
holding tight
her ****
and her blue jeans
hugging her thighs
as you’d like to do
later in Oslo
you toured about
the streets
saw the sights
had a beer or two
while you sat
with her
in some bar
she talking of Glasgow
and her job
and her brother
and his girlfriend
and how
she had this awful
wiggly ****
and floppy *******
and large eyes
like cow pats
soft and brown
and she laughed
and you liked it
when she laughed
it made her seem better
more human
less grumpy
less critical
and had you been
more brave you might
have kissed her
there and then
but you didn’t
you just ordered
another beer
and talked of Nietzsche
and Mahler
just to watch
her lips move
and incidentally
bore her.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 3:25 PM UTC
Tis quiet now.
This day is done
A busy day
Chalk full of fun
Walks with the pups
in grass so tall
They leaped to see
or move at all
Flea markets toured
once junk ,now not
Now treasures prized
and gamely sought
We shopped a while
had stuff to get
all shops were full
On Sunday yet
Back to the camp
on busy roads
of folks and campers
Heading home
But no so us
Our time to play
two weeks is ours
on holidays
A charcoal fire
With cast iron grill
Dogs, fries and steaks
All bellies filled
While sipping tea
a book is read
the tired pups
sent to their beds
My lady too
Is fast asleep
so to the internet
I creep
While of the day
my mind does roam
I take a sec
to write this poem
No work of art
on silver tray
just simple verse
of one fine day
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 7:58 PM UTC
The Eiffel Tower stabbed at a midnight
as blue as an old Muddy Waters track.
From a distance, its lace-iron skeleton
looked like a slick and oily spider-web
crowned with a glittering neon diamond.
(My Grandmère's home is across the street from it).
“Do you want to go climb it?” I’d asked Peter (my bf).
“Naah,” he’d replied, “too crowded - what’s next?”
We’ve been tourist-ing all of the big Paris sights.
As we night cruised the Seine, the rivière looked dark
and perilous - a phthalo-green snake slithering north
westerly at six times the speed of the Nile.
We took a guided tour of the Louvre - it’s a crowded
fortress and you can’t see the Mona Lisa up close.
We day-toured the palace at Versailles, with its ghosts
of past grandeurs and revolutionary, royal beheadings.
The Arc de Triomphe is just an unsafe round-about.
As we Uber’d around it, I turned to Peter saying,
“Joke time: What’s more dangerous:
a shark or an American driver in a Paris traffic circle?”
Mar 12, 2024
Mar 12, 2024 at 12:03 PM UTC
How do you deny a girl...
A girl who plays the right tricks,
and knows how many licks
it takes to get to the center of what it is to feel like to be a
MAN.
Who knows and understands, how to make him think with his Man-hood.
And though he thought he never would,
she took before he answered
knowing he was never really going to say no....
who was going to know?
She teased and laid him down,
reminding him and showing him around;
the skin and flesh he's toured before,
and incase he's forgotten she'll show him some more.
Now the sun is up
and he's coming down,
his briefs hang low and that *** goddess;
with the golden glow...
she's asleep and now,
he knows the extent of his sin.
He has gone too far, and as she awakes he heads to the car.
Its over, its denial.
She's gone and she leaves tomorrow.
on the plane she'll take the memory far away.
There's a witness! There's a witness!
There's a witness to their crime
and within weeks of time it will turn her stomach;
make her ill,
make her run.
Now she hates the the sight of every mornings sun.
Every new day brought more movement and more sickness.
That call, one call.
What did she say?
Uttered some words but it all went gray.
All he saw was HER.
What he heard nearly deafened him, his crime is now expecting
and as though it was strictly divine his phone beeped 2 times
and his wife was on the other line.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 9:37 PM UTC