VoyForums
[ Show ]
Support VoyForums
[ Shrink ]
VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: [1] ]
Subject: poems


Author:
Anonymous
[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]
Date Posted: 05:46:51 05/11/01 Fri

These are two poems I wrote about six years ago.

Jessie's Cowboys

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
the country western song recommends.
When I was seven years old cowboys were Roy
Rogers, the Lone Ranger, and other friends.

At night I lay in bed dreaming of the Badlands,
riding my cloud-white stallion bareback
feeling the muscles of his neck against my small hands
twisted in his mane, skinny legs gripping his throbbing back.

A cowboy I thought I knew always waited in the scrub-brush
in the dark night on his black horse and dragged
me off my loping horse to ride behind him, demanding I hush
my whimpering and do what I'm told when I'm tied and gagged.

At the bunkhouse I'm naked, legs spread, tied to a table
and the cowhands come join the fun when dad's no longer able.




Jessie and the Cliff People

Sometimes l'm in a valley filled with sweetgrass
and water whispering secrets passing over speckled rocks.
I wander along the sandstone cliffs until I reach an impasse
and watch clouds drifting like Snowbirds in migratory flocks.

My naked eleven year-old skin is sensitive and aware.
The sweetgrass tickles my thighs and that secret place
between my legs, until something starts to bite me there
and I look down to see my father's face.

I hear the fluttering of wings and voices calling,
Jessie, you can fly too, come with us up to the sky.
I flap my arms and feel my body rising, rising
and join the others in their cliff-homes miles high.

In the sweetgrass my father demands
Jessie, lay still or I'll tie those hands.

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:
[> Subject: Re: poems


Author:
Anonymous
[ Edit | View ]

Date Posted: 01:02:07 11/02/02 Sat

[> Subject: Re: poems


Author:
Anonymous
[ Edit | View ]

Date Posted: 18:14:09 11/20/02 Wed

a heart is not a playing thing a heart is not a toy but if you want it broken just give it to a boy


[ Contact Forum Admin ]


Forum timezone: GMT-6
VF Version: 3.00b, ConfDB:
Before posting please read our privacy policy.
VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
Copyright © 1998-2019 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.