Thursday, November 21, 2013

The Morning Match Up

Poetry: A Sports Fanatic Lover, Equates His Lover's Loss to a Wrestling Match

"The Morning Match Up"

I so miss that good morning smile
But, not so much your good morning breath
well just a bit

I do miss that blazing warm snuggle as
you’d crawl on top and there proclaim your victory over me
I even miss those little nips you’d take
about my jawline and neck, those I would proclaim to hate
I miss our morning wrestling matches the ones that always
left that infernal love musk pool
Oh then, it would turn freezing cold in an instant
Shoot to a commercial break, our sponsor would say; if we had one
The bell rings
I miss struggling and fumbling to get out of that torn up bed
Was not much sleep gotten there, when we first begun
Wasn’t much rest given near the end
litter everywhere; the clean up crew made, a clean sweep
But, if ever I had a chance to go back
I’d desire to go to that old apartment, above the old movie-house
That California King sized bed, that was our arena

The only thing missing was the turnbuckles, a referee, and a bell
 That is where we first committed to each other
Before life became a living hell
We waited some time before we got together
a love match well worth the wait
A promoter’s dream everything fell right into place, every kiss on cue
this was the main event
But, no championship was ever won, no golden belt, you would tag out

 A deadly game true to the hurt
Such a blissful lift it gave such height
How could I survive the fall
Well it’s the continual hope for the re-match that’s all

A thought by Sinbad the Sailor Man

"The Summer Rains, Oh How They Rein in This Poor Poet's Brain" ~A thought by Sinbad the Sailor Man

Stuck in a sudden torrential down pour, this poet remembers one summers night making love in the rain, with a great fanning passion.

Summer Reins

 Tip tap splat goes the rain
As it continually dances upon my
Weathered brain

It nearly drives me insane
For with each and every drop
Appears another tear drop

In the corners of my minds eye
They never seem to stop
I so loved the summer rains

And their lighting of the skies
Their screams of thunder
Oh how they make me wonder; why?

The waves of winds
Watching those old trees bend
The taste of their sweet waters

The smell of renewal
Left behind by their duel; with me
Their harmless baneful dance upon my nude back

As I sheltered you they would attack
As whips they merely cut upon the skin
Then they’d turn softly and back away

To a feathered mist as they disappear
They so remind me of you
But, so will every breath I breathe

A thought by Sinbad the Sailor Man 

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The Man Inside the Man
Sinbad the Sailor Man
JMK's Production


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Donnie/ Sinbad the Sailor Man

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Tuesday, November 19, 2013

It Seems to Me

Poetry: Another of this Authors, Poems from Night School 1981-82


That air is free, but the beer is not

Love is for the taken, but it can be bought

Friends are like flowers, they bloom and multiply

But, all too often they soon wither and die

Only to be re-lived in ones cluttered mind

It seems to me that

Life is not meant to be judged or dissected as some often do

But, it is to be enjoyed by me and you

For it is, but a brief moment in this time and space

That we all have

No one, but God knows his plan

He numbers the hairs on each head and every grain of sand

He placed the moon up above it gives off, just the right glow

Romantic some might say, so

So why do we explore the space up above

Let us stay down to earth, and explore this thing called love

A thought by Sinbad the Sailor Man