Cute (Draft 1)

Cute (Draft 1)

She is so cute
when she loves the cute,
sends me

twelve wild turkeys in the road
on a camera phone

and a mama deer with 3 little spotted babies

and she is so cute
so caring that

I bet she’ll walk between lightning strokes
and dodge the rain for me
as if we could be between the drops

I think when the
sycamore tree fell down,
it was a sign, because

she thought it was cute
when I picked up a twig
and brushed the sky

— Douglas Gilbert

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Little Martyr (Draft 1)

Little Martyr (Draft 1)

Oh Mommy
rockets have fallen
like you said they would

but can I please play
my video game now?

I can not breathe like
a soccer star, but
I like winning many points

Can you let me hold my toy
without me making a prayer

Everything is dark and burning.
can I have my toy now.

I am afraid I’m not holy and brave;
can you let me hold my toy

I am bleeding.
Is that OK?

Can I go out and play even if I
can’t breathe that well?
The bombs have stopped, and
my friends are waiting for me —
tell them I’m coming,
God willing.

Don’t tell them
I have a twitch

— Douglas Gilbert

The Worry Dance (Draft 1)

The Worry Dance (Draft 1)

Don’t worry,
I loved you long before
you did your video

And when I look in your eyes
your virgin dance for me
is new and nude of pretense
just for my loving eyes
and the rest of me
why not

You know me enough
to enjoy my nude soul

And there are
private thoughts that let go
and envelope the dance of nude intimacy

— Douglas Gilbert

Being Where We Sing (draft 1)

Being Where We Sing

If you can’t listen to what I’m saying
If you can’t be out of your mind

let me say that when you’re an animal
I respect your passion, because
when I’m in a mischievous mood
there can be no rectitude except that
I love you, and

why not
be hot

it’s a matter of
passion!

I know you love me
I know I love you

Good times!

You’re such a clever girl
can stir me to twirl about you

Oh come flower
come take a shower

Good times!

I know you love me
I know I love you

No sense inferring
when I’m concurring
that there’s not good times

to be making and
I’m not talkin’ bacon

good times to stake a claim
to grill a steak and
make a sizzle with you
because there’ll be a shish kabob

with hot peppers and mushrooming
time and thyme, cumin and coming

If you can’t listen to what I’m saying
just be out of your mind, ’cause
I won’t mind
it’ll be fine, and then

there’ll be an exclamation
a conversation and
explanation

but these good times
I’d rather dance with you
happy senseless

can you make me blush,
oh I love your touch

good times
and I know you know it
and we’ll talk
tomorrow

happy days
that won’t be sorrow

If you don’t know what I’m saying
you can just be out of your mind
’cause I won’t mind, and
I know what you mean
when you cry for me

I’m here, no really
sincere

Tell me
forever, and
I’ll endeavor
to be out of my mind for you

just smile me kindly
and I will understand
the wild touch

— Douglas Gilbert

Save the Beck (Draft 1)

Save the Beck (Draft 1)

Endangered words need saving
even more than eagles
because like domesticated turkeys
they can’t fly.
Save the “beck”.

Becky’s best beck
was more seductive than the Sirens
though she could sing when near enough.

With the curl of her fingers of grace, she could
make the come-hither beck
lengthen the touch
shorten the distance, could
have it be that
sheltered travel to her in a fantasy bubble
would seem instant, riding on
the wave of her wave
a sound.

Save the beck itself
and it’s noun, because
sometimes the rose needs a name;
for in an instant there’d be
only one sweet rose
whose incantation is needed
just as a song needs a note

and sometimes the object
is beautiful to contemplate
before the action beckons

The endangered beck
beckons its own demise
by falling into
the beck and call of cliché

The beck needs no call, ’cause
isn’t the rose beautiful
even when it can’t walk

— Douglas Gilbert

Waving Hello (Draft 1)

Waving Hello (Draft 1)

Maybe a wave…

I imagined many times I’d
call her across the scenario, though

it didn’t seem real as I
wandered in the meadow

but when I looked up
from the grass I contemplated
I saw her beck,
and when I came closer
she kissed me

The gesture seemed clear, and
we were so close that
there was no need to call out,
only a need to call in.

— Douglas Gilbert