Make your own free website on Tripod.com






Mind Wanderings Twenty One through Thirty




Twenty One

Sometimes I sit.

I see them...

They are lovely but...

Are they mine?

I see them...

Yet I drift away,
Backwards

I float above them...

I see them but...

They are not mine.



Twenty Two

"Them people
And their blue-assed
Candles!" Mom says.

I say nothing

Just wondering,

What the fuck color
Is "blue-ased"?



Twenty Three

She is narcistic.

I see her
And I know.

Hair styled to perfection,
Make-up...

Everything about her,
Much too needy...

Long ankle length fur;
It is beautiful...

Black gloves she tells
My son are new.

"You are the first to touch
My new black gloves," she says.

He smiles at her...

She is beautiful,

Or so she hopes.



Twenty Four

Times like this

I wonder what it is,
Exactly,

That forces me to whine.

Just look at them!

They are beaties, all three!

I must know somewhere
Inside

Cleopatra herself
Could not have done better.



Twenty Five

"Are you going to write
(poetry)
When you grow up?"

I ask. Hoping...

"Yes...With a marker,"
She says.

I laugh; remembering,

My little blue diary,
A crayon...

And the words,
"I hate my damn brother."



Twenty Six

Five days before
That big day.

Yeah. That one.

Bah humbug.

No tree. Damn kids.

They ruin Everything.

Took that tree down
Piece by piece.

Sad thing is...

I cried,

And they wanted to
Help

Tear it down.



Twenty Seven

When you look at me

That way...
It sends this feeling...

Shockwave to my core...

It is like

You are making love,

To my soul.



Twenty Eight

What would you do?

You would look at me.
No...

You would see me,

Kiss me...
You would run

Your beautiful hands
Down my back

To my ass,
Where you would squeeze

A little,

Maybe give my neck
Some gentle pressing

Of your lips...

And then...
Then you would kneel

In front of me

Reach for my panties
Slowly, gently,

You grasp them and pull...

Then you would stand
And kiss me,

Touch me...

Kneeling once more
You would kiss me

Lick me, make me
Die...

This you would do

Till in misery,
Beautiful misery...

I beg you to make me
Yours,

One last time.



Twenty Nine

Sometimes I can't wait
Till it happens.

I just know one day
I will start to laugh

And never stop;

Steady thinking...

I can't believe
This is my life...



Thirty

Damn. I couldn't told you,

Looked you straight in the eyes,

And said it...

Had I been her.

But I can't.

Not right now...

I'm here.



©all poetry on this page is the sole property
of Serena J. Bishop and is not in any way to
be reproduced.