Serpentine (#79)

Curved arms are raised; one foot points to the side.
She slowly rolls her head before both arms
With undulating wrists will downward glide.
Brief pose . . . and then exposed are all her charms.

As hips do figure 8's; move sensually round;
Then counterclockwise churn, there flash green eyes,
And silk-draped pelvis makes a tinkling sound.
She minces camel's walk to tantalize.

The beat is quickening, so she will thrust
Each hip that shimmies forward left; then right.
She bends, and coins jangle from her bust
As snake arms reach to us through dimming light.

With bills in hand, one beckons with his glance
The girl whose passion fuels this belly dance.

Role Model

I saw her as a child and was hooked-
Perception of perfection for the young!
The things she had and did and how she looked-
All that I could want, to which I've clung.
Those slender legs so elegant and long
Descending from a pair of hips so small,
A cinched-in waist which hardly could belong
To normal females be they short or tall.
I have her pretty eyes though not her nose.
My chest is bounteous, my hair is gold,
And just like her, I've got a lot of clothes.
Youthful, though I'm older, I am told,
I fit the mold of "Barbie," and that's fine.
I only wish I had her tiny waistline.

Seeking Willow's Grove

A newborn tree, I need to find a spot
where I can set down roots the more I grow.
To write in standard prose I just will not,
so leaves that from me flow I dare not show
to poets now surrounding me- stern trees
that tower over babes in shadowed woods.
I do not think that I could ever please
this clan of oaks (pretentious brotherhood).
I cannot penetrate that undergrowth
of rigid rules they guard as they stand tall.
To greet this willow sapling they are loath,
and yet her leaves from withy twigs shall fall.
I'll seek, when I transplant myself from here,
the peaceful ground of the gracious sonneteer.

Irreplaceable Love (#83)

Oh, how I loved my little teddy bear
although I don't recall from whom he came
or when I first laid eyes on him or where;
I only know I chose for him his name.

Yes, Pinky Winky's name was like my own,
a playful silly nickname "Andy Pandy,"
and also in his ear a bell was sewn;
I jingled him and thought he was quite dandy.

Everywhere with me went Pinky Winky
until he met sad fate with one cruel splash.
He fell into the toilet and got stinky.
I wailed when Mother threw him in the trash.

Alas! The pink imposter in his place
no jingling made nor had dear "Winky's" face.

Old Boyfriends Sonnet Trilogy Part 1

One summer in our youth group was a boy
I met.  How I would love to understand
if what he'd felt was equal to the joy
that bloomed in me when he caressed my hand.

His elfin features feminine and fine
revealed him to be prettier than me.
His legs and trunk seemed half the width of mine
and deeper than his skin was his delicacy.

He fretted, changed his moods; and ulcers grew
inside him.  Once atop a ferris wheel
he vomited, and I was young and knew
that we were through. . . but how he'd made me feel!

Oh, where is John?  I ask; no one can say.
We'd never really kissed. . . Had he been gay?

Old Boyfriends Sonnet Trilogy Part 2

Where I grew up, a gent was hard to find
who shared my faith, and so I launched my search
for someone who was handsome, good and kind
at monthly dances sponsored by my church.
Across the river lived a Mormon guy,
tall, blue-eyed, intelligent and sweet.
I was sort of wild; he was shy,
but at a youth event we planned to meet.
Although at every chance we kissed and cuddled,
I sensed he thought I'd bring him to perdition.
I was his "Bathsheba" left befuddled.
Then later, Alvin went and served his mission.
So what if Mr. Perfect let me go?
He drove and spoke and moved annoyingly slow!

Old Boyfriends Sonnet Trilogy Part 3 (#87)

Eduardo was a Spaniard from Madrid.
I met him on my study there abroad.
I won't list all the many things he did,
but I'll attest that some of them were odd.

Eduardo was "muy guapo," (very cute),
But still he was concerned that he was not
some burly hulk, so jackets to a suit
he wore downtown in June when it was hot!

And once, though I could not catch every word,
he had with his own mom an argument.
His threat to take his clothes off was absurd,
but when she screamed, I knew he was indecent.

I'd closed my eyes; I should have sneaked a peek. . .
I then could give a more complete critique!