Wooden Cups

Drink long and deep the quenching brew,
not offered for your lips to choose,
for you are but the wooden cups,
and Love has chosen you.


A mist follows Joangel, like after the rain.
Sometimes a faint glow can be seen in strands
of her hair when the air gently stirs.
Her earrings send lights up the walls
in the mornings and late afternoons.
Modesty compels her to hide her wings,
but her elegant clumsiness betrays her.
Her smile is like the darting
shadows of eventide seeking repose.
Her porcelain hands adorn everything they touch.
When she speaks the song she murmurs is unforgettable,
and haunts the ear for days.
Her eyes behold souls in their stark nakedness,
for she is sent from Heaven on a mission mysterious;
only to mortals, so she has made me
eternal in every hue of blue.

Nine Line Rhyme

All beauty that I dreamed is gone;
no more fire dwells within, anon
where heavy footfalls cannot run
to beat of sadly broken drum
o’er empty pages ever done
in the dark of withered sun,
not even unto kingdom come.
though I should stay forever young
for the love that I have sung.

Do You Ever?

I hunger and wonder
was it ever meant to be
for me to be immersed
in your silky satin sea or
wander bare beaches with
thoughts of missing thee
to hunger and wonder
do you ever think of me?

That Swine Attitude Hairdo

Where are you scratching your behind
and leaving me here to whine allatime
you ill-tempered feline divine?
I thought you were mine,
for you so loved to dine,
while I fed you a line
my sweet Valentine.
Weren’t we just fine
for such a long time
that our hearts got entwined,
which I didn’t mind
and I’ll never find
another like you, to my mind;
I’m not that blind
so please be so kind
as your wig to unwind
and lose that swine attitude hairdo.
(That was fun!)

Locket Destinies

The locket was lost–
No, it was cast aside;
now peers from the tall grass
with gaping mouth and screaming eyes,
fearing abandonment after lifelong intimate surrender;
is resigned to the inevitable death of
warm skin’s embrace in late days of cool seasons,
for lockets know but empty destinies.

The sea is the sea

The sea is the sea; and me, I go to see it just for the reverie,
when waves of moment cascade and Eternity’s tide beckons.
My stay is ever short, yet I never depart without discovering anew that
the sea is the sea, and me she does not acknowledge.

She Never Takes Me Out There

She never takes me out there
without flowers on the bow;
mast leaning to her star;
sweet singing in the sails;
blessings lying with the keel;
her scent wafting o’er the deck;
florescence in her wake;
eddies in the wash;
celestial signs afoot;
her wishes understood
or my rudder in her prayers.
Ain’t love grand coming and going!


It’s not just for married people anymore.
Parting, when entered into properly, can be an uplifting experience.
Divorce gives one permission to not incessantly accommodate another at one’s own expense.
Divorce is a great crash diet. I feel like I’ve lost 120 pounds overnight;
okay, so you’ve lost 250!
Now she won’t have to put up with your
unreasonable need for logic and order,
and he won’t have to endure continuous bad marks for poor
mind reading skills, anymore.
I haven’t met the man yet who didn’t flunk mind reading in school.
We’re such dummies!
Ever heard “Parting is such sweet sorrow?” Blast is more like it.
She was never my “donut” in the biblical sense;
only in the black-hole-of-needs and hole-in-the-head senses.
Anyway; “New donut here I come, poor baby!”

Tuna Fish Mind

Dear sweetheart fine,I proved I was the smartest, most tasteful kind
when I got snared in your velvet twine.
So how could you abandon this tastey catch, oh kitty mine?
It’s like all those conundrums in my tuna fish mind
that don’t rhyme but grind.

Wounds We Inflict Today

Innocence mislaid by youth;freedom waylaid by thinking adult;
passion lost in a man’s afternoon;
but the worst of all scars
is from the wounds we inflict today.

A Moment Forever

What endures of us becomes our immortality,
and if that portion is love restless even in sunlight
that goes not quietly to sleep because to life it clings,
and things incomprehensible to Earthlings,
we live in a moment forever.


Take these symbols from my soul’s estate and smear them on your body.
They wreak in the air like feral musk this hot Summer’s day
as treaty rends petals of flowering beauty, and irises dilate forever.
Flutter faint thunder; in tumult succumb to release the rain.

Wellspring Of My Heart

A heart is the wellspring of love and song and art;
The bed of peace and turmoil where things that matter start.
While these red rivers tricklelong days we are apart,
the smile I once saw in your eyeis the wellspring of my heart.

Haiku Voodoo

Silken limbs rustle
Hair flutters high
Nostrils flare afar.

That Rock You Dropped

My bones hurt,
and my skin burns,
and my fingertips
are gonna burst like
fresh squoze bananas
in the hands of mad monkies,
because the rock you dropped
on my heart is making my blood
cold and flat from end to end.
and my tears sound like glass
breaking when they hit the ground.

Another Helping of You

When you’re gone I won’t be lonely, but I’ll try,
if only your loudly perfuned memory will shut up.
Since you didn’t miss me in the other room,
my departure should go unnoticed,
and I won’t even have to tiptoe.
Too much of you is my favorite puke,
so I’ll be back for another plate.

Tender Drowning

Crap gets tenderly nudged before drowning,
but I get unceremoniously throttled
by a creative flair for inattention.
What doesn’t kill me makes me bitchier.
Too Good for Me
You’re too good for me,
so I’ll have to leave you.
That I don’t deserve you
proves God’s infinite mercy.


You don’t mean ro hurt me,
but your stayed hand is painful
,and my shreds impress you not,
as you seek the gift of missing me.

Originality Not Appreciated …

Guidelines for giving me the ass:
I prefer ass served tastefully;
skirts up, and panties down.
Please don’t improvise!

2 Responses to “MY VICE IS VERSE”

  1. Bob

    this is so lovely…and so sad…the gift is in your heart …

  2. An Imperfect Servant Says:

    There is so much good stuff here, Bob. I want more. Give me more poetry.

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