Monthly Archives: May 2012

Two person tumble – a ribald sonnet

Betwixt your thighs, with face bedewed I feast
on pink sunshine, honey, spice and flower.
My tongue becomes a cunning little beast,
making wanton in this fleshly bower,
while, several feet away, stout my sapling grows,
swiftly, in the close compass of your jaws.
Through our damp bodies wriggling, pleasure goes
and at our every nerve so sweetly gnaws.
My hands, upon your buttocks firm, convulse
as my passion’s juice wildly upward comes.
Full now with joy, your rosy fig does pulse
as you, dear wanton, clutch my bearded plums.
Come!  Let us swear, belovèd beauty lewd,
forever to thrive on such play and food!

*    *   *

(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2012

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Haiku (for Memorial Day 2012)

massed in the field  ants
wind and rain  the storm’s fury
recall the fallen

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(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2012

Fellowship

I stood behind the wide, double-paned window
looking up toward the barely visible treetops,
their burgeoning leaves outlined against the sky
red with the spicy but fickle heat of a Spring dawn.

Wearing a burgundy-colored patient’s gown
to cover my nakedness, I was awaiting my turn
with the machine.  I moved my head and saw the signs light up
on the board above the closed, lead-lined door to the x-ray room.

Phil – the only patient on the schedule before me –
was in there, immobilized by the molded leg-form,
lying on the motorized table beneath what I saw
as the blue-gray beast, a huge metallic leech,
ready to suck out all the cancer.

From a speaker, connected from the x-ray chamber
to the technician’s control room with its video monitors,
I could hear the low whirr of the curative-poisoning machine
as it turned slowly above Phil’s outstretched body.

I turned back to the window.  I saw geese in formation,
a moving wedge of dark, honking birds, just clearing the treetops.
They were moving west by northwest.  Slowly their leader
angled them to a heading nearer true North.

Two stragglers kept to the old bearing but then realized
they would soon be stranded without their companions.
Winging hard they turned toward their fellows, then caught up.
They took up again their places in the flying wedge.

I heard John the technician strike the automatic door release
and, as the door swung open, watched him
squeeze through the dim void between the door’s edge
and its frame.  A minute later, out came Phil, smiling.
“The table’s all warmed up for you, buddy!” he said.
Phil and I shook hands as John called out my name.

I lay now on the table.  As John readied me
by positioning the table to line up the lasers
with the faint points tattooed on my lower abdomen
and on each of my hips, I remembered
his bantering joke on the first day of treatment.

“Did the doctor tell you about the side-effects?
About how you’ll glow in the dark?’  He’d smiled.
I laughed and played along.  “Yes! That’ll be a time saver
when I get up during the night to go take a pee.”

The cool, clean white sheet was draped
over my upper thighs and groin.
Finished now with the preparations,
John was walking out of the x-ray room.
“Stay nice and still now, okay, Mister D?”
As the great beast began its four encirclements
of my half-tensed, prostrate body,
I didn’t watch – as was my custom –
the blue-gray metal passing above me
like a huge, arched leech’s head.  Instead,
I closed my eyes and saw, still, the flying wedge
of geese turning toward their far off home.

*    *   *

(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2012

In the garden

Darling dancers, the deep red roses sway
atop green leaves and stems with sharp brown thorn.
The wind, the rain, the sun, the moon each day
take turns teasing the petals still unshorn.
Bees visit the vivacious blooms and seek
nurture inside every quivering crown.
The random ant visits each rosy peak
while the close air turns chilly at sundown.
To see these hearty blossoms spurs wonder
for their beauty, for their steadfast calm
in the face of certain doom and plunder,
without misgivings or some treacly balm.
So, like such flowers let’s resolve to live,
And thus, to all, beauty and nurture give!

*    *   *

(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2012

“Revelation” – updated for our time into seven verses

There once was a dream of humane freedom,
but they declared a Dire Emergency;
all that’s left is buying, selling, carrying guns.

There once was a dream of peace,
but they made it beg for mercy,
then butchered it anyway.

There once was a dream of self-government,
but they auctioned it off piecemeal to the highest bidders;
now the laws are written and construed in corporate boardrooms.

There once was a dream of justice,
but they shrank it and shrank it further,
then drowned it in a bathtub.

There once was a dream of equality
but the fat cats wanted it all,
so they dashed the dream’s brains out on the pavement.

The brazen sun looked down on all the mayhem;
it grew hotter and hotter still, until
the doers and shakers turned into prunes.

Now they’ve taken their rightful place
at the ass-end of the queue while angels
hand out polished stones to the masses.

*    *   *

(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2012

Nombres / Names – a poem in Spanish with English translation

Me nombraste Picaflor.
Ahora dime, mi Amor:
¿Por cuál nombre, te voy a nombrar?
¿Flor o fresa?   ¿Miel o especia?
¿Estrella o nube?   ¿Sol o cielo?
¿Mar o playa?  ¿Borrasca o amparo?
¿Todos estos?  ¿O ninguno?
¡Me lo he resuelto!
Te voy a nombrar Canción
¡Te cantaré para siempre!

*    *   *

(translation)

You named me Hummingbird.
Now tell me, my love:
What name shall I call you?
Flower or Strawberry?  Honey or Spice?
Star or Cloud?  Sun or Heaven?
Sea or Shore?  Storm or Shelter?
All of these?  Or none?
– I’ve got it!
I’ll call you Song
I’ll sing you forever!

*    *   *

(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2012

Haiku

games   we think   amuse
they also teach us limits
a gaggle of geese

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(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2012