Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Mimi - Mona Poetry: Timbre of Love

In a dream, I found a way to survive and I was full of JOY.

©Timbre of Love
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

Reveries of past cobalt skies
playing backdrop to autumn’s
deepest saturation of
golden leaves and pumpkins,
of resisting winter’s icy encroachment
and it’s blue velvet nights
when we cocooned together
in Grandma’s patchwork quilts,
are like a cloudburst
of your stalwart arms
enveloping me with warmth and love.

Your lips kiss the words from mine
scattering thoughts, and our
booted feet, awash in puddles
from last night’s icy rain,
dance as though warmed from latent
wildfires that seared across the
bare skin of limbs wantonly twisted
together in the filtered light of dawn.
Beveled edges of light, like missing
art prints on glass, blur melded bodies
and flash freeze moments of love and time.

Monday, October 12, 2015

Mimi - Mona Poetry: Siren

A siren’s song, though irresistibly sweet, is no less sad than sweet, and laps both body and soul in a fatal lethargy, the forerunner of death and corruption.

Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

She let their cruel words, their dirty looks,
roll off her back— verbal blows easier
to take than a limb being ripped off;
and just maybe the words were more tender
than a 1,000 jokers between her legs.

In a deck of 52, there was no
marriage card for women like her...
women who took on guns,
bigger than their worn bodies,
behind the old fruit crating factory.

Her Life Passport shredded
in tomorrow’s circus, she cried
as each bit of stamped paper
made it clear her magic was gone;
she was a refugee in the stomach of some truck

Racing for the border,
her neighbors running faster than she...
None crawled under fences,
none wanted to be strip searched.
She wanted to go home—back to the shark’s mouth.

(Painting by Malcolm T. Liepke)

Sunday, October 11, 2015

Mimi - Mona Erotic Poetry: But You're Her Slave

Warning: Mona Arizona's erotic poem is visually and verbally explicit. Recommended for 18+ years and older.

Ten-finger massage intimacy,
Your mascara stained palms
Hold her tears, cover gazpacho-soiled lips
Disobedient and pleading
As repeating, thunderous claps
Bring her desirous body,
A wantonness body
Regretting its betrayal
Of her proprietous mind,
To climax-induced screams.

©But, You’re Her Slave
Mona Arizona
All Rights Reserved

(Painting by Malcolm T. Liepke)