Mimi-Mona Poetry: Dangerous Liaison

©Dangerous Liaison

Mona Arizona

Mimi Wolske-Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

When

 she finally revealed herself

she was nude—

not just naked, but vulnerable—

it was obvious, not by her expression,

she'd not reveal her face, she was shy.

It was the way she showed him,

the way he discovered and rediscovered,

the way she never did it to win him over,

that redefined the infinite process

of sharing her body slightly hidden.

Timing...it was everything,

just as it had been when the Titanic

went down and it was women and children

first...and stasis were her forte,

her talent that drove his desire.

There existed no emotional entropy;

she was prime real estate, alive,

with an order and a predictability.

He was chaos, about to implode,

without her, but to take her,

to join her in bare reflection

would be a most dangerous liaison.

 (painting: The Dangerous Liaison by René Magritte)

Mimi-Mona Poetry

© I Forget how to breathe, especially when

your tongue shoves love down my throat

I gag because I can only write L-O-V-E

across your heart with permanent marker

 

by Mimi Wolske

All Rights Reserved

© I Fell

hard

and I'm drowning —

just because

you fill a hole

with crap

doesn't mean

it wasn't there once

by Mimi Wolske

All Rights Reserved

© Not Enough

to know

I prefer Earl Grey

when picking

up the shattered,

splattered,

shredded mess

called my heart

from your first 

knowing stare

by Mimi Wolske

All Rights Reserved

Mimi-Mona Poetry: Our Shadows Blend

©Our Shadows Blend

Mimi Wolske

Mimi Wolske-Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

Every house has its secrets.

Weeping brings no solace;

Anger only increases pain's life.

Fortunately our shadows blend.

Walking beyond my legs,

Solo, beyond firm ground, sometimes

Aimlessly, but always pulled home to you where

Saturday falls asleep on Sunday.

At the edge of laughter there's

A handful of roses for me;

Between play and cuddling,

We do not need paradise

For all we have each other.

Every secret is its own personal validity.

Mimi-Mona Poetry: I Fell Off My Bike

©I Fell Off My Bike

when i read your note

yes, we are still together

as you called it

since the day he took my habile hand and my haematic heart

in to his secretive and seductive grasp

since he had my haptotropic body and

my hypnotized mind wantonly weakened

since my systaltic body was figuratively standing

in front of the departure screen

as if i were at the airport

silently searching for that singular State: satiation

you sit there across from me

puffing your smoke screen in my face

asking as a friend

asking as his friend

ascertaining my every look

my every movement

my every word

so you can determine

if his words are true

if mine are the ones to believe

my skin is still warm

from his attentive strokes

from last night

from the day before

from the slow, seductive horizontal habanera

and if we take your hand as a friend

i fear our lambent touch will tinge you with our libertinism

and if you reach out to learn

whether our liaisons continue

as no friend would

as i assume your true intentions for the note

as one who covets this love of mine

i fear your heart will be shattered to learn the truth

i fell off my bike

and when i woke up i was still here

Mimi Wolske

Mimi Wolske-Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

Mimi-Mona Poetry: Last Kiss

©Last Kiss

Mimi Wolske

Mimi Wolske-Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

Don't get all hot and bothered,

this is a poem about somebody else,

The devil's in the details,

so you don't need to look too closely,

you don't need to try and read

between the lines...there's nothing there.

Lust's buried under fingernails—

disillusioned by other lovers,

she wasn't ready to love

after being vomited back

into a world deserted by

men—men who were not trustworthy.

May not be a queen, but she

was numb under her dangling crown.

She took back her kingdom;

drawbridge raised for defenses and

ornamental moat was refilled,

fortifying her aching heart.

Futile, repeated attacks

found the castle walls protected.

Boring, lonely, drudging years,

middle-age, grey-grizzled hair,

emptiness reflected from eyes saw

rejected knights scale other walls.

Majestically entered

a jester from another land,

one who drew years of stored laughs,

who harkened to her stories.

A canvas painted with love

 would fight fading dragons.

Unrecognized, Marvell's

own Winged Chariot advanced.

Life's youthful hue moat-like dried.

Love held her in thrall at last;

with ritual madness and

ecstasy, one last breath.

Hope never departed.

Drawbridge lowered over dry moat.

Gasping at reality,

eyelids fell one last time.

Vaporous jester of

Death held evanescent queen.

Mimi-Mona Poetry: Favorite Parts

©Favorite Parts

Mimi Wolske

Mimi Wolske-Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

Won't you tell me your favorite parts of me?

What are the parts you want to keep?

If you're afraid, then I'll give you mine—

It's your eyes that look at me with love,

Your heart that's fearless as those

Alberta winds in the winter time,

Your silver hair that's always in place,

Your comfy pants that have seen better days,

Your crooked smile like a happy wolf,

That look you get that tells me, yes it says

That you're up to no good at all,

And those ornamental parts of love.

Well, you know in a better light

Everything changes so that  

I will want every part of you...

So you will want every part of me, too.

Let's close the door on good intentions;

We can't be bothered with mistakes made while

Waiting for these things we share to grow,

These feelings written in our blood,

These feelings that touch us to our bones.

Let's turn off the lights and shut the door;

We already have everything we're going to need.

Won't you hold me in your arms and tell me a story,

Or, won't you tell me your favorite parts of me?

Paintings by Hamish Blakely 

Mimi-Mona Erotic Humorous Poetry: Seeing Blue

©Seeing Blue

Mona Arizona

Mimi Wolske-Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

Morning comes and so I rise

(remember last night),

he didn't, no big surprise.

Have to give the man credit;

he tried very hard—

well, he was affectionate.

Promised me lifetime thrusts;

now he's seeking more

pharmacologists.

I questioned, can this happen?

Has my beauty warped?

Faded? Oh! Where is my talisman?

After our years together,

is he finding me

disappointing? Can I ever be sure?

Gaze at his side of the bed

sighing with relief;

good, he's still here; he isn't dead;

our arrangement's still the same.

Nothing ever changes.

Fate still plays her soft wood game.

Must refill his prescriptions;

he's not getting off.

Tonight he'll give me both guns,

or I'll get my money back.

No sexual bans;

he'll be my sex maniac.

Mimi-Mona Erotic Poetry: Matinee Love Sessions

©Matinee Love Sessions

Mona Arizona

Mimi Wolske-Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

People tell me it's you who makes me wanna do

all those things I shouldn't, but when you're thirteen

hundred miles away, we need our time to play—

when protestors can never intervene.

Don't say it's useless; it's not wanton wishes...

don't tell me there's too little freedom these days.

It's you who brings night, turns up the Fahrenheit

turning love sessions into matinees.

You can be my Queller, my hypnotic speller;

you can cast your magic charms over me.

Can't we go down that path knowing the aftermath;

won't you let me see your tumidity?

You're no reprobate...you did not perpetrate...

and I have not been vitiated.

I want to hold you; do what lovers do...

I wanna love you 'til we're both sated.

Mimi-Mona Poetry: If Krasner's Painting Was A Poem

©If Krasner's Painting Was A Poem
(Impressionism Meets Dada via Poetry or Ekphrasis-Poetry Confronting Art)

Mimi Wolske

2015

Mimi Wolske - Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

  

There have been no ends

seized

released

injected with sleep

rampant lucidity

dreams

reality

two states of future

resolve

joy

articulate words

possibility

lost

insistent sentence

Freudian preoccupation

rapid

monologue

throws reticence to wind

hesitant manner

illusion

verve

image assortment

surreal dialectic

in definition

in morals

in the directed dream

how old are you

forty five

houses

poetic listeners

everything is valid

Picasso

Braque

have the same value

sapphire laughter

coffee

beauty

I'm the artisan

I'm the weaver

paint

words

There have been no ends

(shellflower-1947 - lee krasner)

Mimi-Mona Poetry: Nude Smiles

©NUDE SMILES

Mimi Wolske

January 2015

Mimi Wolske - Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

Fire in our bed,

sheets afire,

and the pillows,

bodies, too.

Touch of music

on our skin.

Fire from within

comes and howls

like a wolf.

Weird together

twice each year,

collecting that

next kiss...

like a last breath...

before sleep.

Sex-worn flesh,

the wearers

of lust, of

bonding—

almost bondage.

A gazer's

sequestration

of nude smiles;

arcing dancers

on forever

rented beds.

Action-packed

superman and

wonder woman...

significance glanced.

Cities brighten

unbridled dreams...

destiny—  desire.

Pizza box collections,

side of porn flakes.

Laughing kisses;

shortened horns;

blended summers

and fulfilling falls.

Role-antic memories.

(painting: patterned sheets by Malcolm T. Liepke)

(poetry - From (Mis)Adventures in Poetry by D.A. Powell)

Mimi-Mona Poetry: I Long to See

©I Long to See

Mimi Wolske

All Rights Reserved

December 2014

Mimi Wolske - Mona Arizona™

When I open my eyes,

I look over

at your pillow

and dream you are there

next to me

Yes, you are far away

but there's something I know...

you will always

be near me

My eyelids fall,

I go back to sleep

and dream you are there

next to me

It's so easy to sleep

dreaming of you and

imagining you are there

near to me

In the cold morning

I look around

and I can see

you're not next to me

Tears are forced from

my eyes waiting

for you to come back

back to me

And I fall asleep

praying you'll hurry

home, knowing you're coming

back to me

That it's all a dream

I'm been imagining,

you will always be

near to me

But I feel the tears

and the ache in my heart

I keep hoping you're not

far from me

A silent promise

passes over my lips

I'll be here until you come

back to me

Then morning comes again

I open eyes and fear

you might still be

far from me

I long to see

if my imagination

played tricks and you're here

next to me

I long to see

I long to see-ee

that you're still here

next to me

Mimi-Mona Erotic Poetry: Fire

©Fire

Mimi Wolske

Mimi Wolske-Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

Can you feel it,

feel the fire in my heart?

Can you feel it,

feel the fire in my heart?

You got it started,

bringing me out of the dark.

You licked my soul and

Your thoughts are crystal clear—

You're giving me every...

ev-ver-ry piece of you.

You should know better.

Never underestimate

what a love like mine

can do when you set a

fire and give me... give me...

ev-ver-ry part of you.

Can you feel it,

feel the fire in my heart?

Can you feel it,

feel the fire in my heart?

Your mobile fingers,

they're teasing my memory,

strumming those tunes I

remember, and you are

bringing me out of the dark—

you're leaving me breathless!

You're giving me allllll

It's nothing or it's allllll

Your giving me allllll

You have me heart and soullllll

Think of me, I'll make you burn—

Ev-ver-ry part of you....

Can you feel it,

feel the fire in my heart?

Can you feel it,

feel the fire in my heart?

Mimi-Mona Erotic Poetry: Codpiece Freedom

©Codpiece Freedom

Mimi Wolske

All Rights Reserved

Your smile is in those hazel orbs

Your impish thoughts revealed

You were born to comfort me

I could spend a weekend in your eyes

I could live tangled in your locks

I could spend a lifetime on your lips

I need the steadiness of you

I will give you anything

I need you here, within

I could spend a weekend in your eyes

I could live tangled in your locks

I could spend a lifetime on your lips

That tenderness I see in you

Says you will always be kind

I never liked it fast, I like it slow

I could spend a weekend in your eyes

I could live tangled in your locks

I could spend a lifetime on your lips

Your moves take my breath

You wanna take it slow

I wanna make it last

I could spend a weekend in your eyes

I could live tangled in your locks

I could spend a lifetime on your lips

I thought we would have all night

I was hoping we could linger

Baby, set the codpiece free

I could spend a weekend in your eyes

I could live tangled in your locks

I could spend a lifetime on your lips

(a man's song to a sensuous redhead) 

Mimi-Mona Musings: FADE by Mimi Wolske

Yup, been taking dictation for 1-1/2 weeks from the heroine of my WIP -- I'm beginning to think the 2 of us are not seeing eye to eye on the art of words. 

Which makes me think...there are three important things writers know and do.

Know Your Characters

"I swear, I'm not writing about paint drying," I tell Hollis, the heroine in my WIP.

"But, you need to plant that seed, use that brush stroke, tender the word that is going to leave an imprint," Hollis continued to remind me every hour or so.

"True. Don't worry; be happy. You will have the same open-mouth-insert-foot characteristic you had in The Nobleman, The Husband, and The Inconvenient Wife mystery. But I also have to come up with ideas for and then create 3...THREE...book covers. Okay, four if you want to include the book about your story. So, please, trust me to write you as you are."

It's complicated. There's a relationship between the character and the author, or the poet and the character of her poem. They enable the existence of each other—in a positive way. Then there are times I'm looking one way and she's off moving in another direction... sometimes alone, sometimes with other characters.

I find a problem in writing. 

I know so much more about my characters than I'm able to get on the few pages I'm allowed for their story. For example, things I know, that any author knows about his or her characters (or, at least, strongly suspect). It's never really real until it makes it onto the page. That's because the process of writing is also a process of discovery. Things that do not make it onto the page could be more of a character's back story, what s/he likes to eat, his or her favorite color or book or piece of music, what happens to her after the story ends or before it began, even what he does in bed. 

Things that don't turn up in the book mean only that they didn't make it onto the page or were not relevant to the story. 

Oh, then that means that the character's personalities and what happens in the book are relevant?  Yep, it sure does (see "keep characters...etc. below).

And that's usually when the characters begin arguing with me. But, I know my characters, basically, like any good author does. I know them better than I know myself I think. And, the relationship has to be that way. I always have to know more about each character and what they are thinking and how they will react and act.

Keep Characters and Theme of Story Consistent

Okay...I have to also say that after-the-fact revisionism happens. Take for example Ray Bradbury's declaration that Fahrenheit 451 was not about censorship at all. IF you believe him now, it was about television destroying literature. 

Huh? Yeah. 

Well, that statement is looked upon with utter skepticism by the majority of people because for the last 50 or so years it has been about censorship. Hey, even Bradbury himself explicitly noted it. 

We all know he took a poke at TV in the book, but the core of the story —and what is in the text —is the effect of censorship on his primary character, who himself is a censor. 

It's a free literary world and Bradbury can certainly say what he wants, but his own words and his own character in his text speak against him. I say we go with the text because it doesn't change its mind and readers know and remember.

For example, take the Dumbledore literature news story —J.K. Rowling said Dumbledore was gay. He had always been gay because that is the way she wrote him. 

Hey, she knows him better than anyone. 

Many thought she was making an after-the-fact statement and refused to believe it. 

Her readers knew, though, and many remarked, "well, now, such-and-such a scene makes perfect sense." Critics who say Rowling had no concept Dumbledore was gay now have proof that's not the case. She's got backup in her books.

So, Hollis can argue with me all she wants...some things about her will remain because that is who she is and when she appears in other stories, she will be the Hollis everyone learns to like and roll their eyes or shake their heads at.

Learn To Control Your Characters

Now, the scary thought —your characters finally become full-blown people and they see you as their imaginary friend and you begin to fade away and they take over?

I think about that — a lot! In fact, I'm almost done writing that story! FADE (by Mimi Wolske) will be published 2015. :)

Art by Limeuranite