PoemsForGuys

Priorities

2010-02-26T01:31:00.000-08:00

I've no time for recreation,discipline's my inclination.Rewards come later, work is now--knotted muscle, sweaty brow.Write my story, scream my headline;late the hour, near the deadline.Who makes time for poems and fancy?Bills and taxes keep me antsy.Count the pennies, watch finances,flee all risk, take damn few

Spanish poerty

2006-04-12T11:19:00.000-07:00

Pobre María.Dále la bujíaPara que la llevePor la vida breve.Ella ya no sabeLa vida no es grave.Después de estas luchasDe vidas...¡habrán muchas!

St. Paddy's Day Troubles

2006-04-05T12:45:00.000-07:00

Oh, Danny boy, 'tis sad but truePerception's all there is.I went to bed on March 16thAnd thought meself a whiz!My nightshirt colored goldenrodWould keep me body warm.When I woke on St. Paddy's dayIt suddenly looked orange!To be in orange on that saint's dayWas more than I could bear.I stripped it off my shoulders thenAnd shivered in the air.I bathed three times and burned the sheets.I cast the

2004-06-22T22:10:00.000-07:00

Please pity, God, the prostitute who sells her love alloyed. Illusion traded for sensation, Her once-warm eyes now void. Put love for her in someone's eyes, One man she might respect. From all her lovers, all her sons, She knows not to expect. Give her a hearth, a fire, a room With supple sheets and roof above, To warm her face, perhaps her heart To pray for those once loved. ____ Jon von

2004-05-23T19:43:00.000-07:00

POEM TO SELL A RED CORVETTEYou, too, can own red Corvette!Eat up Porsches with no sweat.I drive her gently, you should meet her;Corners like a hungry cheetah!Suspension's made for twists and turning,Leaves the eyes and stomach churning.Slip into her leather saddle...Her color's deep and candy-apple...Power goodies all around;Nice new rubber on the ground.She's 18, born in `86,Almost nothin' left

Keep Heart

2003-12-15T00:36:00.000-08:00

Movies and songs go on and on about love Little boys get all bashful while girls dream of. From the very first date we all acted disarming The guys wanted centerfolds. The girls…Prince Charming. Then along came reality. With a sting it did teach We should pull back burnt fingers and nevermore reach. Till those of us who, till the last act it seems, Held onto, and never let loose of their dreams.

Money Gets a Bad Rap

2003-12-15T00:31:00.000-08:00

Now this here song is apropos Of where the heck does money go. Shopowner, charge me more of course Cause folks you hire crave speed and horse. I used to see a movie for a dollar, But now my trip to the popcorn-waller Costs twenty or more just to get in the door Then another ten bucks fer Cokes and Ho-Ho's I know as an employer, sir, you under lotsa pressure To pay people more so I can really

E-mail husband

2003-12-15T00:07:00.000-08:00

The E-mail Husband I always put the seat down, see? I'm quite the ladies' friend. I don't drink beer nor hunt nor fish nor bowl nor overspend. I fix the things around the house with ease and facile speed. I sometimes cook, I wash and dry, and clean up doggy deeds. I'm nice to all your beaus of old and all my in-laws, too. Your girlfriends think I'm super, like your office buddies do. I do not

No Season for Poets

2003-09-18T13:16:00.000-07:00

Written after 9-11 This is no season for poets. It is a time for warriors, doers. When deeds are counted in sword notches. Killers felled, hills taken, allies rescued, Strongholds overrun. If a poet stand up now, let him be a warrior poet, Bringing words to raise dead comrades, Halter enemies, cajole turncoats. That days may come when coarsest soldier, Rough-handed plowman, warm-eyed wife

"Questions for 9/11"

2003-09-12T20:16:00.000-07:00

"Questions for 9/11" How could they smile as they boarded each plane, greeted fellow travelers and fingered box-cutters in their pockets? What man, arms wrapped about a woman, could press blade to her throat and pierce her soft veins for Allah or God? Did they know, did Crusaders know, that every death killed a family? (c) 2003 by Jon von Gunten