Hello everyone, this is Rose and welcome to my poetry blog within a blog. All the poetry I have written, so far, are published on these two pages. Each poem is titled and dated with the most recent poem on top. The title itself is a link back to the original post on my blog. If you wish to leave a comment, you may do so on this page or the original post. Enjoy the reading and thank you.
Rose
xo
My Poetry from September 2006 until July 2007. A link to the first page of poetry.
____________________________________________________
on the edge of leaping, lost
my focus, the
words hurt
cut me, a
delayed reaction
but true nonetheless
for my blood
is invisible
but pulses
just the same
slower and slower
the edge of vision
goes out of focus
delayed to
my
destination
Rose
xo
Comment at Three Word Wednesday 5/21/08
“Hot and Spunky”
Must be driven to be truly appreciated
So quiet you can hear birds singing
An astounding two hundred miles per gallon
Rain forest wood veneers and rare pelts
Unlimited horsepower and warrantied for life
Room for an entire pee-wee soccer team
And enough cup holders for a case of beer
The all-new ‘Requiem’ by Detroit Motors
100% powered by hot air and bull shit
By Rose Dewy Knickers, March 30th, 2008
with a sweet kiss
over the fence
deep in the vale
caused a simper
train heart to beat
By Rose Dewy Knickers, March 20th, 2008
“Bears and Bull”
if you have a printing press, you go
to jail… unless of course, you work on
Wall Street where it’s understood that
money is best tangled in obscure
derivatives called ‘too big to fail’
…
those of us on Main Street have a
printing press as well, it’s called cheap
credit, the equity in your home, oops, I
guess that money is melting away in a
tangled scheme that cannot be understood
…
a rebate check, known as a bribe, because
without consumer spending on credit, all those
bulls will go hungry and then the not understood
homeless will be us, and those food pantries
need more money for tangled families
…
as gas takes more from your paycheck, our
leaders slash interest rates, destroying the
dollar and inflating foreign money, thus all those
toys and electronics understood to be essential are
more expensive, what a tangled mess is ‘Free Trade’
…
This satire brought to you by Rose Dewy Knickers, March 19th, 2008.
“Rigid Colors”
a quick note here, I am not
as I appear, all angles and
chiseled glass, they got the
lips right, but cross-eyed?
please tell me the artist was
working with poor light
bi-colored breasts too by
two with green arms
coiled around blue skunk
streak… bold chin though
determined and fierce as
I backstroke my way to
victory
By Rose Dewy Knickers, March 17th, 2008
anonymous text
mocking laughter spreads hatred
what purpose your life
By Rose Dewy Knickers. March 16th, 2008
We’ve seen over one million, five hundred thousand sunrises
We’ve seen over fifty billion humans pass through time
We’ve seen over fifty-eight thousand full moons
in a century of stars
We live on rock and ice
in a century of summer
We grow an inch wider
in a century of winter
We shed three lives of needles
in a century of rain
We drink deeply with roots
in a century of drought
We fall fast asleep
in forty-five more centuries
We will still be here
Will you?
By Rose Dewy Knickers, March 23rd, 2008
“When did the world start smelling so good?”
never gave much thought
to how it all worked
the rumors and sly
innuendo
had no meaning
what held others
spellbound
could not happen
to her
never gave much thought
until the awakening came
the glowing eyes
that caught the breath
and shivered in
the blood
presented her rear
tail tucked aside
instinct was dormant
when the alpha howled
until the awakening came
By Rose Dewy Knickers, March 14th, 2008
“The Locket Containing Memories Of You”
mottled overcast in gentle shades
of mist, gray smoke, white
holes
it all began in a far off place, name
he could not pronounce, the job
for life now lost, money tight
numb I listen, his eyes
crawling inside, begging
for absolution
none do I have,
only
vacant thoughts where once
you curled up
in my heart
echoes bounce
between the mirrors,
if I looked deep enough
you’d return
to the empty space that used to be your apartment
By Rose Dewy Knickers, March 12th, 2008
sharp questioning tone
dinner running late again
belly full knead lap
By Rose Dewy Knickers, March 10th, 2008
The open window frame paint peeling, roses stare at me as I fall.
Butternut soup with fresh ground peppercorn, hostess brushes off the dirt.
Sleeping spotted hound guards kitchen door, growling wind dries tablecloth stain.
By Rose Dewy Knickers, March 10th, 2008
an hour lost, the sun rising all the same
bleary eyes and scrambled eggs
soft voices and rising dough
flour and flowers, the ribbons and bows
rising as one behind the bridal veil
her smile returned from many
quavering vows sealed with ring
an hour lost, a lifetime rising together
By Rose Dewy Knickers, March 9th, 2008
I must admit to feeling a bit rusty and rundown. Nothing has gone like it should. I write and write and yet when I turn the page, there is nothing there. The thoughts come in flurries, my fingers swell; on hands and knees scrabble for random letters. The cats hiss, arch their spines, tails fluffed and low growls emanate from my throat. I weep with frustration, the drops of blood stain the carpet and pool in the dirty fibers. I lick my wounds, the bitter taste a reminder that the experiment has failed. You cannot inject knowledge directly into your veins. I sit back on my haunches, the stained pages mocking me. Anger turns to hope. Perhaps a potion…
By Rose Dewy Knickers, March 7th, 2008
Your name is Mr. Punch,
all the girls drool.
Provoke you, and we’ll
be beaten, not about the head,
but our saucy rounded bottoms.
See? We turn our backs, unravel
our skirts… is that sausage we see?
We are naughty buxom wenches,
watch as we flout decency, good
taste, propriety and wives. Our Twins
toddle too, up and down, rosy peaks
to summit in tight T-shirt.
We’ll break down your door,
cry out in panting lust, and
throw you on the bed where
we’ll ride like dreams on your head.
Off to bed? Limp and useless stick,
we want a harder man.
By Rose Dewy Knickers, February 20th, 2008
the fruit punch was spiked
her T-shirt
like her morals
soon unraveled
followed by her panties
By Rose Dewy Knickers, Feb. 20th, 2008
slime at high tide, black bollards bob
a flash of thigh, his tongue follows
glints of honey, faint echoes
pass, fade, silence
between beats, caught in faith
fingering strings, notes drop ripples of
past fondling, broken, beads bouncing
A dust pan Rose, the priest is lost in spirals
By Rose Dewy Knickers, Feb. 13th, 2008
“bodies lay still upon the bed”
wild yowls in dark’s hollowed spaces, the still calm before the break of passion’s hopes. how awful the wait is, I think too much, those are words uttered most calmly often to me, by my valet, by my master of horse, by my fencing instructor. think man! not a phrase used in love. how disturbed am I to care for her? her lips, her eyes! I go mad waiting for her approach! what if, nay, do not say what is in your breast, for is it not true what they say? the heart does not lie with true love. why would I be here? in the fog and damp air. truly a bridge between the child I was and the man I am to become. for her I would indeed do much, anything, for her love. a glance, I saw her glance, her shy smile. that smile, she did promise much in that smile. it twas for me, I swear! not that vile dog, not him. he would be well warned to stay far away from her. such madness is love, I know not my own mind, my hands betray me, flexing as if throttling, aching to rend and destroy. is this love? can this be love? hark, the cock crows! time has fled! so must I, too late I have seen the blood!
By Rose Dewy Knickers, February 6th, 2008
“Silence and Lies are deafening…”
…in the absence of common sense. Asked to explain life, felt
trapped, breathless panic of dark places and bright
gee-gaws collected by strident
jackdaws, high in the canopy
hiding in boles.
Reasons for this are clear, clear as the scars
carved in the trunk, lyrical
shapes
hysterical initials, promises
implied…
no idea at all how this happened
Is Life here?
Shhhhh… listen!
listen to within, listen to the answers, they are
here
no stage, no
projection needed
no oratory splendor worthy of fine milled stock and hand-stitched bindings in rubbed gold leaf overlays for all of the answers to all of the questions are here not hidden in plain sight of treasures in ancient oaks…
… spring from acorns, gnawed and
punctured, pressed by urgent
paws
deep into fertile loam, forgotten
we have, forgotten to
laugh
and live
reasons of faith and loss and overall weariness,
cynical despair, contempt
oh yes, we know scorn, heaps
and piles of rotting scorn, through which
a shoot of brightest vivid green pokes
up
up
up
to seek the light that we cower in fear, hands to face, lost
on pathways trod by feet scraped and
rutted groves, geometric shape, precise
cage that holds
our soul.
By Rose Dewy Knickers, January 28th, 2008
I desire the dance, the you and I. The slow start, the shy glances, the gradually melting of inhibitions. The I that wants you… inside, where it is warm and inviting.
Not safe.
Never that…
Not for this dance. A frilly drink or two, to lubricate the social intercourse, I say. I say,
is that a Dior you’re wearing? I desire that, the window I saw, hanging on a manequin, thin and pale, unlike you, but then what can you expect from someone like you?
The Orchid Room spins as he spins me… I am spun, whirled, twirled, the smoke falls in ribbons of gray, my drinks rising in waves of desire, for you, for
you and I…
are not here when we dance.
The band is awful tonight, don’t you think my dear? To be expected of course, since it wouldn’t matter as you… can’t dance.
What’s that darling? Nothing I say,
to you… I ignore the voice, that nagging, bragging, sagging voice in me, the voice that ruins it.
It being desire
It being need
It being what I have always desired, to be danced, here in the smoke and the fire of desire for you,
and I.
Without pretense, stumbled on aching feet,
shattered hopes, vacant thoughts, for
what?
Obsessed with artificial looks, painted and
tweezed, furtive motions
feeble excuses, awkward silence
smothering love and passion, betrayal of
all we’d shared, no
longer our sacred room, safe, a
place now of sharp tones, and
scathing contempt,
in our
kitchen? How could you?
I hate her cookbooks!
By Rose Dewy Knickers, January 16th, 2008
Hey Santa!
What….
Check out those headlights! Mama mia!
Oh grow up Rudolf, I thought you settled down.
Gee Santa, has Mrs. Claus got you whipped.
Please, I can do whatever I want, whenever I want.
Like go out drinking until closing?
Yeah. Like that.
With a reindeer.
I like you.
None of that big guy, save that for your virtual world. Rudolph don’t guide that way.
But you’re so purdy.
Hey barkeep, settle this tab. Looks like ol Mr. Claus needs a designated fly-boy again.
By Rose Dewy Knickers, December 12th, 2007
plaintive cries, are we lost?
No, the gruff voice, harsh
with nicotine and gin
dust and rocks spanging
hard, curses and dents
pristine finish,
branches scraped
Don’t interrupt your father
the GPS says this is 95
Right dear?
Stupid machine
Maybe we should turn around?
brooding silence
slow, slower, stopped
silence
out of gas
no signal
road to nowhere
well kids
look on the bright side
think about
all the neat things
your friends
will hear about
look, a deer
and a squirrel
a hawk
a mountain lion
and rattlesnakes…
and a grizzly bear
…
my
that’s a lot
of vultures…
By Rose Dewy Knickers, December 5th, 2007
gaily fringed
the parasol twirled
a twin, a flavorful mix
all rainbows
walk
betwixt the
tangy sea,
and luxury
somber matrons
watchful eyes
dashing rakes
boldly call
genteel days, misting
morns
the gulls swoop
haunting flight
ribbons flutter
lace reveals
languid summer
passions restrained
ritual for matches
family names
procreation
after a ring
come the twilight
and turning colors
white packed away
jewel tones alight
marble floor
slippers twirl
fans flicker
answer, a nod
moonlit chill
shawl conceals
not for long
a ramble
in the maze
a romance climaxes
By Rose Dewy Knickers, November 30th, 2007
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
cold turquoise waters
fragrant gnarled cling to scree
chamois dance kiss clouds
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
granite distorted
dappled umber leaves conceal
fish eggs camouflaged
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
hoarse shouts triumphant
shattered igneous rubble
shovels search for gems
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Softly Lick The Sticky Flesh”
They don’t play fair, all
plump and shiny,
oily skin gleaming,
deep colors tempting,
fingers long to caress and
tease, furrows made for
probing tongues, wet, so
wet inside, the pulp oozes
out, crystal glass slowly
fills with sweet, tart, tangy
juice.
They don’t play fair, these
oranges and lemons and
naughty, naughty citrus.
By Rose Dewy Knickers, November 23rd, 2007
I’m not bitter in this cold
day, winters hence
shall see my heart, dark
and crumbled. It is a
sequence all face, some
with courage, some with
salty rind. Rancid, festering,
but lo, I’m not one to seek
answers.
To graft love onto another’s
soul is fruitless, it bears sweet
blossoms, but no bee shall
ever pollinate barren loins.
It was not
a sudden flood, no rash
storm calved our desire, but
slow melt of tender mercies.
Drip by frigid drip, passion
withered, died and dust
blew in watery eyes. I see
now, no longer his dulcinea,
cast aside, returned to my
roots. Once a kept woman,
now a common doxy, painted
and still life amongst death.
By Rose Dewy Knickers, November 23rd, 2007
Fall leaves please, I concentrate and squint, hoping for snowfall and reindeer.
Morning fog dresses fir trees in miniskirts, modesty melts with sun.
Cold wind sears brain, confused thoughts ramble on thin ice, rescue dogs barking.
Sizzling flesh spins in broiler light, bright fabric scraps removed for basting.
By Rose Dewy Knickers, November 16th, 2007
“Mysteries Of Feeling Left Out”
“Tap dancing; or how Place replaced Sense”
cloying or crumbled
thick paste squelches between
broken toes thrusting green shoots
sense of bare sole
tap dancing with dusty notes
music plays deep within molten core
birth waters fertilize
celebration harvest sacrifice
pleas of blood haul winter light back
place of connection
Via Roma centurion march
legions follow cadence trembles soil
worked stone fades
dark rites return to cleanse
consecrated edifice superstitions
sweat filled larder
pyramid unchanging serfs
empty renewal for broken spirits
By Rose Dewy Knickers, November 15th, 2007
1. An icy pause, “he’s so hard to train”
2. Rutted furrows,
icy chips smashed
by
carriage wheels
A pause
to let the
train pass
3. three feet… she wanted ten
father said no, your bridal train
is for show
tempers flared, slamming doors
the moment of a lifetime
ruined by being cheap
her icy heart, frigid, empty
as the silence
of the grave
pause please, give respect
for his life
By Rose Dewy Knickers, November 14th, 2007
“It’s Policy! That’s why!”
Greetings Great Cube. There issue be with angles and lines.
We of the four dimensions, can not reach our potential.
Here.
Flat they be, bipedal forms called Homosapian. We
confused we be.
Policy not clear.
Can not train, conquer and utilize beings.
Advise and return.
Lesser Triangle received. Issues solved.
The eight dimensions call and demand.
Swift completion. Invasion for profit.
Take resources. Fold rest into power.
Have Homosapians for lunch.
Great Cube calls.
Honored Great Cube. Issues resolved.
Not clear in string.
Quantum math not show hardships.
Split our Triangles to uprights.
Discovered problem. Formula follows.
Left, Right, Left, Right, Left, Right, Left, Right
By Rose Dewy Knickers, November 11th, 2007
Agony of birth, rips, tears holes in sacred flesh, that which
has drunk of semen, sperm dying/flailing in primal ooze,
atoms from God’s dawning, quantum eggs formed
before birth of this girl-child-woman-crone, future in
motion, pathway to stars a link/chain/bondage to humanity.
****
Babe helpless, saliva, urine, feces, blood, vomit, wiped, cleaned, scrubbed,
disposed in hermetically sealed containers~~~~ or in the ground, or on
leaves of exotic trees, or even, at times, into the water that is drunk
used up for cooking and bathing and the toxic elements of our sewage
recycled as corpses rotting in fusion’s light beams and teeth.
**
Begin again, to defecate and urinate, young rewarded to wipe and go
brash words learned on playground, piss and shit, no longer number one
or two are not enough, middle-aged remedies for late nights, sedentary
layers, fossils in artificial glare, brighter than any blaze in ancestor’s
nightmares, compressed tortured intestines groan.
*****
Rusted cells shed cancerous growths, battle waged in arteries clogged with
fat and chemicals unable to pass boundaries of bladder, liver, spleen,
kidney frying eggs, butter and cheese allergies, sneezing mucus, wipe
clean, constant motion, cringe at release of gaseous odors from bowel
cramped, polyps cling to soft, pulsing walls, purged at last.
*
By Rose Dewy Knickers, November 8th, 2007
What a piece of junk this is!
They promised it was the most modern they had.
Now the endless seas are closing in.
The radio works no more.
Can no longer compensate the fuel trim.
And tropical night greets tired eyes.
Will they ever find me?
Or wonder through the years.
What ever happened,
To Amelia Earhart?
By Rose Dewy Knickers, November 7th, 2007
Sharp snaps,
wood sparks,
hearth rug,
bodies entwined
KNOCK
Did you hear that?
KNOCK
It’s nothing,
wind in trees,
ice falling,
walls creaking
KNOCK
There it is again!
KNOCK
Stop worrying,
we’re alone,
no one knows,
kiss me
KNOCK
It’s the front door!
KNOCK
All right,
I’ll check,
you’re not romantic,
stay hot
KNOCK
This better be good!
KNOCK
Flying snow,
dark night,
covers tracks,
weather awful
KNOCK
Stop that banging!
KNOCK
Open wide,
empty steps,
freezing cold,
red initial
By Rose Dewy Knickers, October 10th, 2007
“Aggravation”
Come on! Pick up already!
Hello?
Not one word out of you!
Just shut up and listen
for once in your
miserable life.
I’m tired,
tired of your
cheating
and hustling
and just plain
no good ways.
I want to treated better
starting now.
No more late nights
No more drinking
No more parties.
If you want me to
stay with you,
then stop treating
me like a joke
and start
treating me
like
a
man!
Hello?
Sorry,
you have
the
wrong number.
Click
By Rose Dewy Knickers, October 6th, 2007
“Scouring”
the very act reveals
the depths
which we plunge
it is useless
this despair
scrubbing and bleaching
will never remove
the misplaced
anger
violence
let go they say
free
fly
a feather
in the winds
of life
By Rose Dewy Knickers, October 3rd, 2007
“Workout”
He caught up, swaying hips, tight
bottom begging
Wary runner, mace at hand, put
away after coffee
Not eager, good boys don’t, but
her eyes promised
Hard meets soft, more exchanged
than home pages
Perfume sweet and light, limber
tongue met tart lips
Lapping body flows, hungry
fingers probe deeply
Caught a whiff, a scent, teasing
taste of musk
Skin too close, too far, heated
slick with fluids
She was eager, randy, willing
limbs all akimbo
Pinned down, strong muscles, hours
of gym workouts
Perfume dulled mind, too late
skewered heart
Trash pickup, sealed black bag
muted ring tone
By Rose Dewy Knickers, September 26th, 2007
“Never, ever, ever”
words spoken, spat in anger
and fear
ridicule
hatred of self
common
perhaps, but not him
not now
never, ever, ever
to be seen naked in public again
words pleaded, soft in love
and desire
fantasy
passion of body
uncommon
perhaps, but not her
not then
never, ever, ever
to be denied joining of flesh
words whimpered, harsh in need
and irritation
petrify
scars of suicide
common
perhaps, but not for them
not here
never, ever, ever
the key to an open future
By Rose Dewy Knickers, September 23rd, 2007
“Details Are Killer”
Twas in a rush, I was
I was you see… naive
Yes I was
Naive in the ways,
Of the ways of…
Of… oh, I can’t say it,
I am ashamed.
It was ambiguous, I swear!
I read the contract,
line by line
Nine times I read,
until my eyes
blurred and sealed
Sealed against the vile
and wretched abuse
I had suffered.
I slept,
Then I dreamt, of all the ways,
the ways my revenge
would be sweet
At last awoke,
confused and alone
The pounding on the door
Echoed in my soul,
My soul, no longer my own
The due date twas nigh.
By Rose Dewy Knickers, September 19th, 2007
“Rituals”
Squealing
Ripping
Tearing
Laughing
Grubby fingers, stained with frosting
Silly hats, confetti, mothers rolling eyes
Justify expense, dry crying eyes
Year after year, search for the gift
Close, but never right
Politics of the neighborhood
Shunning
Yelling
Despising
Gloating
“Nostalgia”
Home for break
Smells of real food
Sleep in bed that couldn’t wait to leave
Holiday gift, practical, needed
Life tougher on your own
Advice spurned
Now eager to hear
Not so old after all
By Rose Dewy Knickers, September 18th, 2007
“Let Me Out!”
How often have you heard that?
I don’t want to stop here!
Are we there yet?
I’m bored.
My imaginary life passes by the windows,
Rain streaked and blurry,
Faint impressions of desires
and wishes.
Always in a rush, never pausing, never asking,
Never revealing the depths,
The richness, the variety, the freedom that
Being real entails.
It’s another day, another meal, another love.
My life, my real life, my hopes are not imaginary.
Not fantasies, but less than real.
For now.
Just wait until I get my drivers license. 
By Rose Dewy Knickers, September 11th, 2007
Simplicity
cool caress tingles
long exhalation heats day
sun energizes
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
glittering blue air
stormy clouds rise on thermals
cycle washes clean
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
warm darkness coats sky
satisfied inhalation
rest overtakes eyes
~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Rose Dewy Knickers, September 10th 2007
“Fearful-lessly”
She dangles
Half in, half out
A girl, a woman
Her dress caught
An open window
Should have
Worn jeans
She throbs
Half out, half in
Life beckons
Danger and lust
An open window
Should have
Worn mini-skirt
She wonders
Half asleep, half aware
Parent’s tales true
Worth every thrust
An open window
Should have
Gone back.
By Rose Dewy Knickers, August 29th, 2007
“What’s That Smell?”
I’d forgotten how much I hated this rundown moldy hotel in the most obscure town you could possibly imagine.
“Why Am I Here?
You’d have thought my employer would have forgotten all about my obscure threat that night in her hotel room.
“How Are You?”
Nothing worse than a hotel bar with obscure drinks and patrons that have forgotten personal hygiene.
“Where Are My Knickers?”
I take obscure pleasure in sneaking out of a hotel room after hot and sweaty sex before the forgotten promises are remembered.
By Rose Dewy Knickers, August 29th, 2007
“Armed and Right”
rubbing eyes
sleep falls away
chair stiff
stumble awake
coffee drips
whirling emotions
dark clouds
the night before
murky truths
drip, drip, drip
washing
waiting
fading…
By Rose Dewy Knickers, August 23rd, 2007
“The truth?”
Never Subtle was his name
And politicking was his game
In hamlets small plied his trade
Cities large his welcome frayed
Only once was seen to linger
Afterward had sticky finger
Talking fast cleared his fate
Donors gave did not hesitate
Final tally showed the score
Paces now in that corridor
Civic duty has been met
Pork consumed paying debt
Lesson learned for us all
Voters always take the fall.
By Rose Dewy Knickers, August 22nd, 2007.
Inside, calloused fingers softy caress polished wood
Outside, troubled eyes touch splintered stump
Inside, mind seeks safety of hidden dark spaces
Outside, winsome smile charms unwary folks
Outside in
Inside out
All torn up
All unaware
Light flowed stealthily, rising sap after winter’s chill
Tight packed rings engorged and burst forth new growth
Buds turn to leaves turn to pollen turn to bees
Turn to flowers turn to lovers turn their backs
On table made of stumps and hopes milled in
Dark, quiet places of the heart
Inside out
Outside in
All too aware
All are confused
Light, harsh on tender ears, clamor of visions both recent and profane
Tight emotions break bonds held long in rigid embrace
Buds turn to thoughts turn to words turn to deeds
Turn to friends turn to lovers turn to actions
On pages made of ether and dreams written in
Bright, joyous places of the soul
Out from inside
In from outside
All is well
All is right
By Rose Dewy Knickers, August 1st, 2007
