Winter Lover

This is a Tanka, a poem I hope to write everyday. Dawn bites on the neck, The rays at noon are sweet tongues, Dusk tickles your back, Midnight pinches where it can; Winter days are cheap foreplay. 5-7-5-7-7, for those of you who want to do them also.

I wake up with poems starting in my head

I wake up with poems starting in my head. But not everyday. Sometimes it's a song. At one point in my life, I was able to turn those songs into ones that people could actually hear. I used to have this old tape recorder that I bought at a silent auction for three bucks or something like that--the price of one of the six batteries it took to power it--and I would sing the melody into the tape recorder, hoping to be able to fish something good out of it later. They usually just died there, though. I have no idea where those tapes are, either. Anyway, a couple of days ago I woke up with a poem starting in my head that I actually started to write down. I continued it at work (everything takes me a few days because I have a problem with overstimulation--I can't do one thing for too long without needing to listen to some song, watch some video, play some game, usually all at the same time). Here's how it starts, but you really need to read it as if you're listening to someone roll around in bed while they say it: Oh no, what's this? I'm now awake? I was dreaming and it was great! I'd done something worth an award and I was hoping to get a sword, or something that shines oh so bright-- just anything used by a knight. The people had all gathered round and none of them could make a sound, except the man who tried to cheer, silenced by those huddled near. "Shh," they said, "we want to hear and can't with you inside our ear!" The king and queen of some great land were standing ready to shake my hand. Attendants stood all in a row to make sure things were--just--so. And boy oh boy, the robes I wore, well they were just almost to die for! So please, oh please, turn out the light and let's pretend it is still night. I want to sleep straight through the banquet, so come on in under the blanket. Snuggle in up close and tight. You should want to, I am a knight.

They Call Me...

They call me the juicy dangler.