Rose’s Poetry 2, Aug. ’07 to March ’08

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.



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



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”

“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


By Rose Dewy Knickers, March 17th, 2008


anonymous text

mocking laughter spreads hatred

what purpose your life

By Rose Dewy Knickers. March 16th, 2008

“Now in Session”

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
had no meaning

what held others
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


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,


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

“Reality Intrudes”

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

“Blood Oath”

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

“Give me the stick”

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

“Party on Dude”

the fruit punch was spiked

her T-shirt

like her morals

soon unraveled

followed by her panties

By Rose Dewy Knickers, Feb. 20th, 2008

Lost Idols

in the glass, the sea

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


hysterical initials, promises


no idea at all how this happened

Is Life here?

Shhhhh… listen!

listen to within, listen to the answers, they are


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


deep into fertile loam, forgotten

we have, forgotten to


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




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

“Smoke Falls”

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.

“Glossy Pages”

Without pretense, stumbled on aching feet,

shattered hopes, vacant thoughts, for


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

“After the fly-by”

Hey Santa!
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

“GPS Off-Line”

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
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

that’s a lot
of vultures…

By Rose Dewy Knickers, December 5th, 2007

“Birds Of A Feather”

gaily fringed
the parasol twirled
a twin, a flavorful mix
all rainbows
betwixt the
tangy sea,
and luxury
somber matrons
watchful eyes
dashing rakes
boldly call
genteel days, misting
the gulls swoop
haunting flight
ribbons flutter
lace reveals
languid summer
passions restrained
ritual for matches
family names
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

“Hefty Haiku”


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


They don’t play fair, these

oranges and lemons and

naughty, naughty citrus.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, November 23rd, 2007

“Withered Passion”

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

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

“Seventeen Items Exactly”

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

“Random Thoughts”

1. An icy pause, “he’s so hard to train”

2. Rutted furrows,
icy chips smashed
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.
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

“Night Soil for the Soul”

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

“Ghosts of the Airwaves”

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

“Scratching That Itch”

Sharp snaps,
wood sparks,
hearth rug,
bodies entwined
Did you hear that?
It’s nothing,
wind in trees,
ice falling,
walls creaking
There it is again!
Stop worrying,
we’re alone,
no one knows,
kiss me
It’s the front door!
All right,
I’ll check,
you’re not romantic,
stay hot
This better be good!
Flying snow,
dark night,
covers tracks,
weather awful
Stop that banging!
Open wide,
empty steps,
freezing cold,
red initial

By Rose Dewy Knickers, October 10th, 2007

“Wrong Number”


Come on! Pick up already!
Not one word out of you!
Just shut up and listen
for once in your
miserable life.
I’m tired,
tired of your
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
you have
wrong number.


By Rose Dewy Knickers, October 6th, 2007



the very act reveals
the depths
which we plunge
it is useless
this despair
scrubbing and bleaching
will never remove
the misplaced
let go they say
a feather
in the winds
of life

By Rose Dewy Knickers, October 3rd, 2007

“Dirty Words”


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

“Cover Up”

“Never, ever, ever”

words spoken, spat in anger
and fear
hatred of self
perhaps, but not him
not now
never, ever, ever
to be seen naked in public again

words pleaded, soft in love
and desire
passion of body
perhaps, but not her
not then
never, ever, ever
to be denied joining of flesh

words whimpered, harsh in need
and irritation
scars of suicide
perhaps, but not for them
not here
never, ever, ever
the key to an open future

By Rose Dewy Knickers, September 23rd, 2007

“Fine Print”

“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

“Ribbons and Bows”


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


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



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



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

“Check Out”

“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”

“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

By Rose Dewy Knickers, August 23rd, 2007

“The truth?”

“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.

“The Good Life”

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

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