Rose’s Poetry, Sept. ’06 to July ’07

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 this page. 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.



“Lemons” and “Lemons 2”


Heat shimmered on the front porch.
Luther slowly waved his funeral home fan.
The afternoon air was muggy and still.
Chilled droplets condensed on tumbler.
Fresh lemons squeezed over shaved ice.
Red clay the reality facing him now.
Worn out soil parched in stubborn drought.
Gnarled and broken fingers griped glass.
Rivulets creased his dusty black palms.
Drop splashed on snoozing mongrel.
Cotton dungarees faded and patched.
Creak of rocking chair on worn planks.
Mind plays tricks at times like these.
White sea still covered the farmland.
Happy squeals from grandchildren.
Sizzle of frying pork and bread.
Instead Luther heard flapping sign.
Tomorrow morning Foreclosure Sale.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, July 25th, 2007.

“Lemons 2”

Blurred outline shimmered.
On the front porch,
Luther slowly waved his funeral home fan.
By early afternoon,
the torpid air had stilled.
Chilled droplets condensed.
Tumbler with fresh lemons squeezed over shaved ice.
Red clay,
the worn out soil parched in stubborn drought.
Reality facing him,
now gnarled and broken.
Rivulets creased dusty black palms,
his fingers gripping glass.
Drop splashed on snoozing mongrel,
faded and patched.
Worn cotton dungarees,
creak of rocking chair on warped planks.
Mind plays tricks at times like these.
See white ocean covering farmland.
Hear happy squeals from grandchildren.
Smell sizzle of frying pork and bread.
Luther watched the flapping sign.
Tomorrow morning,
Foreclosure Sale.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, July 25th, 2007


scent of sandalwood
solid shoulder to lean on
tight hugs transcend words

By Rose Dewy Knickers, July 23rd, 2007

“That Time”

lunar pulls monthly
bloated flesh bathing suit tight
headache go away
dangerous depths swims partner
currents thirteen weeks a year

By Rose Dewy Knickers, July 17th, 2007

“Hit Me”

I’ve crossed too many people to turn back now
My eyes squint in the glare of chrome plating
Drone of the wheels a single unbroken horizon
Behind the private thoughts a burning wasteland
Friendship and love revealed to be a thin veneer
Took many lonely hours to rinse away all that blood

By Rose Dewy Knickers, July 11th, 2007

“Love is Sweeter Than Broccoli With Cocaine”

The trill of a nightingale,
melodic vibrations caress
Strolling arm in arm,
worn stones cool twilight haze

Pulsating violent red light,
penetrates fragile veil
Rolling slick bodies,
warm frothy throbbing surf

Drizzling stream bathes flesh,
coats slick tongues
Tart explosions swallow,
hot fluids bittersweet chocolate

Silk and cashmere tight curves,
soft temptation beckons
Dreams of cotton and lace,
tied to burnished oak posts

The steam curls of thick cider,
clopping hooves muffled
Cold blasts glittering blue,
hands rove seeking home

Pallid substitutions for love,
feeble attempts to ensnare essence
Limbs tremble fierce exultations,
shouts echo in marble palace

Love is life distilled to a singular,
smooth quenching drink that
glides through and envelops
your thirsty soul

By Rose Dewy Knickers, July 7th, 2007

“Lip Service”

Deep within the earth
They toil for our pleasure
The walls press closely
The dark ever present
Death, a specter made real
With sharp tools
And bare hands
They dig, dig, dig
Vast quantities of ancient stone
Cracked and crushed
Sifted and powdered
Melted and formed
All so that
For vanity’s sake
We can wear gems
Of fabled

By Rose Dewy Knickers, July 5th, 2007

“Mail Call”

Heavy stock, rich cream
Frayed edges, broken heart
Love negligible, tears copious
Long years, short memory
Happy pictures, resent past
Numb feelings, sense fear
Company requested, white lace
Sympathetic eyes, gleaming ring
Returned envelope, no address
Gone forever, bewildered soul
Food plentiful, drown sorrows

By Rose Dewy Knickers, June 27th, 2007


Touch me, tease me
Damp air surrounds us
It licks and strokes
Fondles even
The heat drains me
Makes me compliant
Have your way with me
Strip me and wipe me dry
Not too dry though
The day is hot
Night is for lovers
Cool breeze on naked skin

By Rose Dewy Knickers, June, 20th, 2007


manicured bedding
trim rows of matching colors
rogue weed disrupts plans

By Rose Dewy Knickers, June 18th, 2007

wheels hum on concrete
endless vistas dull senses
sea of Bluebonnets

By Rose Dewy Knickers, June 18th, 2007

“Dual Citizenship”

I ought to go
A tinge of regret
Night is not endless
Skins slick with oil
Expression a shadow
Hands woven together
Fabricated tale woven
Dawn’s rays chase shadow
Gate latch needs oil
Endless stairs to climb
Inside a tinge of pain
He ought to wake soon

By Rose Dewy Knickers, June 6th, 2007


Voracious appetite of hydraulic fury
Tidy blue lines on cartographer’s surveys
Rampaging swollen carnivores devour
Frothing white waves rear to observe
Pouncing on barrier with bared claws
Turbid brown pulverising solid stone
Scoring channels through lush forests
Ravaged green drowned and stripped
Artificial hopes seep away and tremble
Wavering yellow pinpoints leakage
Roaring maelstrom thrashes in futility
Dawns red skies of shredded clouds
Roiling subsides retreats this time
Tranquil blue conceals destruction
Voracious appetite oblivious picnickers
Hungry black rivers relentless march.
demarcation lines
tensions flare lives change for good
no common ground left

By Rose Dewy Knickers, May 31st, 2007


demarcation lines
tensions flare lives change for good
no common ground left

By Rose Dewy Knickers, May 28th, 2007

“Diversions and Lies”

Why am I here at this club barring a collapse we should have a good news again so I told him to go to the museum have you seen the painting by the ducks flying through the air jamming the ball through the hoop while the crowd turned out that he was cheating on our taxes have doubled this year so we laid out in the sun and watched the waves crash hard after her drugged high time somebody told the truth in lending made me laugh so sad about what happened to that child who knew that restaurant would fail that coincidently we both had the same tattoos of her name three things that turn you on the other hand he is rich mocha with sprinkles and foam peanuts are recyclable you idiot to believe that the promotion was real good sex that night before he left or right I can never remember which way is up for grabs the bouquet and falls on her softly kisses our baby steps every time I come here to this club.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, May 23rd, 2007


sun is reluctant
rays bathe beautiful flowers
pollen breezes by
night falls with gentle caress
stand in line at pharmacy

By Rose Dewy Knickers May 17th, 2007

“Who’s out Front?”

So I need to know,
Who are you?
I’m Rose.
I thought,
you were Brian?
No, he’s Brian,
I’m Rose.
Then who’s out front?
It depends.
Depends on what?
Who’s what? I’m Rose.
I know that, but
who’s our front, not
what’s out front.
I’m out front,
he’s not.
He’s not what?
He’s not out front.
Then who’s out front?
He’s not, I am.
Who’s he?
He is Brian,
I am Rose,
and I am out front,
he’s not.
Not what?

By Rose Dewy Knickers May 13th, 2007

“Prowling Pussies”

When you go to sleep at night
We’ll come out of hiding to play
Growls and hisses as we fight
Planned the assault during the day
When the humans turn out the light
Romp on the bed to their dismay
Fall on them hard from a height
Then leap off and run far away
Howl as we go give such a fright
Searching for more delicious prey
Tear into the box with all our might
On the kitchen floor is a buffet
Claws come out with teeth we bite
Until the humans with water spray
Matted down fur is a funny sight
Soon enough the humans will pay
For awhile we’ll act so contrite
Purr and rub their opinions we sway
Try and make them pity our plight
Rolling over such a cute display
Until they forget and then….
And then…
We pounce and claw and run wild!
Victory to the gang known as,
The Prowling Pussies.

By Rose Dewy Knickers May 14th, 2007

“Our Hapless Hero”

I know honey, ok?
We go through this every month.
But I mean how many varieties do you possibly need?
What do you mean just pick one?
There’s mini ones, and maxi ones.
They’ve got ones with multi colors, and ones with
gel and foam.
Then there are the ones with action solvents
that fight algae.
Yes, that’s what I’m telling you, algae.
Oh, and don’t forget the ones with deodorizers, to
keep you fresh and clean for a week!
Why there’s even day and night versions.
What ever happened to one size fits all?
Fine! I’ll just pick one…
Yes, I’m here, just stunned.
What now? I’ll tell you what now.
For a limited time, buy the jumbo pack with micro
scrubbing bubbles that whisk away bacteria, and it comes with
free internet access!
No, while you’re using it!
The internet’s in the product, and the tagline says,
Surf in clean confidence wherever you are.
That’s it honey, next time,
you buy the toothpaste.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, May 15th, 2007

“Frozen Daiquiri”

She wondered, would she ever melt?
Hard and glittering, that’s what they said.
Behind her back, the ice bitch.
Cold, unfeeling.
But that was just the tip of the iceberg.
No one knew her vice.
A bar, at night,
late night.
Buy me a drink, a frozen drink,
several frozen drinks.
The harsh bite of alcohol that turned the key.
Open my lock, ream me deep, into the frozen core.
Take me hard, hard as ice.
Stab me with your burning knife.
What if they all knew the truth?
That the iceberg blazed with cold flame.
She had none, that’s why the frozen facade,
for if she melted,
could have her, with a look.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, May 8th, 2007


What’s worse
than one writer?
Try six, in
one mind
all squalling
and insistent.
a bunch,
a mess?
a clutch?
a gaggle?
of poets.
A cafe at night,
the sodium buzz
of insects nearly,
but not quite,
covering the noise coming
from table three.
Shall we

You can’t use that word,
what are you thinking? That’s
right; you don’t think!
Oh zip it ya freak, at least
I didn’t inhale those shrooms.
Will you stop it.
You two act your age. Or
at least
try to behave. You’re poets,
not handicapped.
Oh please, as if you
write prose worth
All emotions, and feelings. Bah.
You call that tripe you pen
Who’s the head dog here? I
don’t recall inviting you,
perhaps if that swill you
imbibe didn’t rot your
you could feel too!
Boys, boys, boys, we
all know just who
is best
There is only one
of me,
(thank God)
I heard that!

Just a short intro into the mind of a writer, and his others. We do get along, most of the time, but it’s definitely a learning process.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, May 2nd, 2007


My ears hurt
The ceaseless babble of
the digital age. Whining and
crying of loves lost and
When is it ever enough?
Poetry I mean,
Your sonnets and prose
And sestinas and rhymes
Haikus and villanelle
Have you noticed
that many
were invented by
It’s time I
say, for a new
Golden age
of Poetry I mean.
We bloggers you
see, are very
Insisting in revivals
and what’s worse
We demand that others
not so astute,
pay homage to our
and read,
and read,
and read,
you do get the point?
It’s never enough
in this digital age
not enough time
too many
great poets.

By Rose Dewy Knickers April 25th, 2007


Drifter, dirty,
stinky, homeless.
Disgraceful it is,
They should all be

Her soul slips
Bright smile
gunned down,
blood blossoms
nourishes hate
deep rooted.

Prayers and tears
fall on salted
Ribbons blossom
on shrines to
Rooted in
compassion and

By Rose Dewy Knickers April 20th, 2007

“Bold Laughter”

They sat together, the girls of winter.
All bundled up in their knitted scarves,
the yarn, each color, a knot of emotion; a
twist upon their friendship. A toast, she said,
to us, our club.
“But it leaves no room for sanity”

Bold laughter followed. Other patrons looked on
with disdain, smothered giggles.

They danced together, the girls of spring.
Flowered dresses flaring in the light, their limbs
exposed, flashing the swelling green world.
Each movement was sacred, the love of touch as
they spun in joy.
“But it leaves no room for sanity”

Chanting they fell to the earth, throwing legs to the sky;
the sun penetrating their pulsing vulvae.

They roamed together, the girls of summer.
In dark woods and open vales, the bounty of
the world was theirs. Each fire, a blessing to behold,
the stories shared in flickering shadows, each tear shed
a precious gift.
“But it leaves no room for sanity”

Hands on hips, shuffling round the stones, the painted buttocks
swayed, circled nipples taut and vibrant.

They mourned together, the girls of fall.
Somber threads reflecting radiant water; the deepest blue of
lover’s breath, each exhalation a journey. Shower of reds
covered the path, the ending of their fear; for now the
hugs spoke for all.
“But it leaves no room for sanity”

Walking now, they remained as one, a toast they said, to
our club, may we always be insane.

By Rose Dewy Knickers April 11th, 2007


“A Shadow”

A wisp, a pale remnant of a woman
Drifting aimlessly through life
I wonder sometimes, why bother?

What do I show to the world,
What face, what name?

I am bereft.

(I like that word)

Bereft. So modern,
yet so old, meaningful
and harsh.

I feel harsh right now, as if I
am fading away; and I don’t mind.
Not really, my life seems pointless.

Who am I after all, just a
shadow in his mind.

By Rose Dewy Knickers April 4th, 2007


gentle clack of shears
cooing of doves on her nest
look mommy an egg

By Rose Dewy Knickers, April 2nd, 2007

“What if there were no more flowers?”

The bees fly aimlessly, lost
in a waking dream
Sweet taste of honey, drips
on toasted rye
No flowers grow now, gone
forever paved under.

The orchards rot away, fall
comes with no harvest
Crisp snap of white, flesh
sliced in circles
No blossoms burst now, green
leaves leached black.

The lover’s poems fail, passion
slips under and drowns
Fragrant scent of parfum, lingers
on the tongue
No kisses given now, wet
lips parched cracks.

The barren hillsides, slide
into the salty sea
Carpet of waving color, shades
await us all
No life is left now, skulls
scattered like petals.

By Rose Dewy Knickers March 28th, 2007


brisk breeze blows white clouds on blue curtain

yellow heads on stalks of green black eyes stare with longing

hurry, hurry, tines stab dark black frosting sugar coated cake

By Rose Dewy Knickers, March 26th, 2007


Tis very well known around here
That the pot o’ gold is a joke
too much stout
too little sleep
The truth is more mundane I fear
Leprechauns are ordinary folk
too much green
too little stature
One area at which they excel
Tunes on the kiskadee they do blow
too much time
too little sense
For as long as you play you’ll be well
but stop and a new moonbeam will grow.
One less leprechaun chasing the rainbow
One more moonbeam sweetly singing below.

By Rose Dewy Knickers March 13th, 2007


Always the knife,

Never enough,

The body of work,
A different nose
A rounded butt
A larger chest
A thinner waist.

Perfection at any cost,
Mirrors cracked
Huntsman dispatched
Apples poisoned
Only one shall be
Fairest in the land.

The body knows,
It always does.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, February 21st, 2007

“Feet Of White”

I see the white. Sharp, angular no longer. I touch the white. Soft, hard rounded corners. Words, my words cannot convey the white. I hear the white. Hushed, pressing relentlessly. I taste the white. Giggles, clear water once more. Those that live here, disbelief yes, but pride too. I feel the white. Warm on face, arms move, angel left. So we walk, and I am shown in deed why they stay. Scrape of shovel, roar of motor, hearty laugh, hot chocolate. Belinda’s Cafe, bright outpost. We have gas, have to keep my boys fed. A red blush, teased, that womanly smile. The Chief escorts me. Squeaking on feet of white. Checking, always the knock. You ok? Makes notes, dispatch to Elm St., Ethel needs some company. I look away, tears, I am a professional. Short day turns to night, yellow squares shine. Fog glitters around my head. I see the white. But I see the people who call this home. They are tall, taller than any snowstorm. This has been Dewy Knickers; from Western New York. Good night.

If you are unaware of Lake Effect snow, in many places surrounding The Great Lakes between The United States and Canada, at times massive amounts of snow will accumulate in a matter of days. Just recently, between seven and twelve feet of snow fell in parts of Western New York.

By Rose Dewy Knickers February 14th, 2007

“Mama Bear”

Resting in a clean white bowl
lay three cups of sugar
and the pure ground flour
Mix together and fold in
the butter and milk
Add in two fresh eggs
some nutmeg for flavor
Whatever you do
don’t forget the extract
of Goldilocks.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, January 17th, 2007

Fur coat and no knickers: When someone appears to be of sound financial and social character when in reality there is a question about their morals.

“Papers Please”

Thump, thump, the bass rattled
the ice in the glass
the sticky table
the dance club
Flash, flash, the strobe highlighted
the flesh on display
the hard floor
the night club.

Two dimensions, all frozen thoughts
does she put out
she looks the type
man, I’m bored
he thinks he can dance
I can’t believe I let myself be,
dragged to this dump, what
a bunch of low life losers.

Thump, thump the bass pounded
the stalls in the loo
the filthy sink
the crowded club

Flash, flash, the phone captured
the girl in the fur coat
the no knickers
the trendy club

One dimension, all narrow thoughts
what a slut
all that fame, typical
I’d like a piece of that
she thinks that’s hot
everybody against the wall
and hands on your head
identification papers please.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, January 11th, 2007

“Is there Life out There?”

Edge of atmosphere, curved glass prison
Pushed from the center like welling magma
Rainbow of coated shells buffed to high gloss
Ejection, one plucked from the churning mass
Rolling through the one way door, never to return.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, January 4th, 2007

“Holiday Haiku”

frozen branches sway
stubborn shapes cling to rough flesh
we want toys mommy

gouts of scalding steam
moans and shrieks abrupt silence
soothing bubble bath

lights blink mesmerize
sweet fragrant boughs support love
together watching

By Rose Dewy Knickers, December 27th, 2007


The cards had all been mailed
Each and every one a masterpiece
The family letter printed just so
On rare and expensive stock
The twenty dozen cookies
Hand dipped and glazed
Only the best for the shelter
The latest toys all purchased
Wrapped meticulously with
Homemade paper and bows
The benefit plays a success
Much money raised for charity
Every night sang in the choir
And daily cooked for family
Spent hours in the woods
Looking for the proper tree
The ritual of decorating
White lights and red bulbs
Each in patterns decades old
Music playing and candles burn
The day grows every near
When all the family reunites
Fresh faced healthy children
Dressed up in designer fashions
Home from school best in class
Downstairs the party rages
Food and drink overflows
Conversation and competition
In her bedroom refuge
Stares mutely in the mirror
Sees a strangers face
Who is this perfect woman
And how did she get here.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, December 20th, 2007

“City Planning”

When is Second first?
And First Third?
Why is Seventh tenth?
And Sixth eighth?
When laying a plat
And choosing a name
Can’t you pick
Anything better
Than Main?
The mighty Oak
Lingers in ninth
At least Park
Gets to be fifth
Although Fifth
Slides to sixth
Perhaps Cherry Course
Or Guava Trace
Lemon Circle
meets Lime Way
Feeling down?
Hemlock Avenue
crosses Arsenic Trail
Of course
Think of the fame
If we all lived
In Bourbon Street
At Wisteria Lane.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, December 13th, 2007

“Dewy’s Room”

We see her sitting there
doing her nails
a vibrant shade of purple
blows gently and smiles.

the carpet on the floor
is a lovely shade of yellow
that matches the drapes
hung in flowered chintz

her bed is queen size
as is so befitting
piled up with soft pillows
and teddy bears

she changes her sheets
silk and cotton
in all flavors of the rainbow

a dressing table
with many bright lights
admires her rounded assets
caressing her skin

there’s a window with a view
an inner landscape
of dreams and fears
long years alone.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, November 30th, 2007


He stretched, he scratched, he rubbed his eyes.
The rest of us here had a surprise.
What kind of word is this we pondered?
Perhaps the fleas have caused his brain to wander.
But then we realize the awful fact,
That it’s our brains that often lack.
We concede his intellectual might,
All worship the troglodyte.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, November 12st, 2007

“Dread Machine”

the drum beats out the tempo
moving in unison
flailing arms
the crack of the whip
echoes in the hall
grunts and moans
the damned despair
wretched cries
for mercy
but none is given
faster and faster
the tempo rises
sweat pours off
drenched clothing
eyes fixated
on the moving hands
slower and slower
they turn
abrupt silence
as bodies
fall to the floor
wheezing their last
Great job ladies!
can’t you feel the burn
those pounds
are melting away!
Go girls! Go girls!
see everyone
next week!
for more aerobics!!

By Rose Dewy Knickers, October 26th, 2007

“Fruit of My Loins”

Oh darling
your eyes are like grapes
green and moldy
rotting in the sun
your breasts are like marshmallow
roasting in the campfire
melting in chocolate
your bottom is a fine cantaloupe
split open and tender
flies buzzing and gorging
your sweet slit
reminds me of a fuzzy peach
dribbling with rancid juice
just before the pit
cracks my tooth
your breath, oh your breath
is like a clove of garlic
a cloud so odoriferous
that I gag and heave
Oh darling
come and receive
the fruit of my loins.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, October 19th, 2007

“Cold Hard Cash”

she was standing there
on the side of the road
stringy frazzled hair
her fate did ill bode
she was maybe 13
short skirt showed wares
love she’s never seen
only death and despair
sleeps days in a sack
at night speads her legs
with gun at her back
raped by human dregs
she wishes she’d die
body felt many a lash
soul cannot cry
worth cold hard cash.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, October 5th, 2007

“When I Eat”

the color of an apple is blue
the sound of a carrot is red
the smell of an orange is yellow
the feel of a peach is pink
the taste of a banana is green
the sound of love is a drum
the color of sex is white
the feel of hope is soft
the taste of caring is butterscotch
the smell of friendship is cinnamon.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, September 28th, 2007


flashing legs
turning wheels
they’re not dregs
men of steel
long hours
in the saddle
manager glowers
tough battle
fields of yellow
walls of stone
makes one mellow
break a bone
victory stand
girls kiss(GRRR)
lend a hand
I’m a miss
flirty smile
gets the boy
stay awhile
be my toy.

By Rose Dewy Knickers, September 14th, 2007


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