Submissions by JohnFeddeler
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
My poems are blue collar; they work hard.
bullets never get lonely
sometimes my brain takes off in a 40’s black&white direction
yeah, Bogart tough-&-cool
sittin’ at his splintered desk with his fedora
pushed back, tie loose, and then:
“she walked into my office on a pair o’ legs
that could burn down Hitler’s heart.”
beat up from the grime & the crime on the streets.
pursued between jobs by a scandalous muse; he
holsters his Beretta & picks up a ball point, to deal
in hard-boiled poetics. conjures up an ode to love,
his beautiful, heartless mistress, written on the back
of an unpaid bill…...
yeah, Bogart tough-&-cool
sittin’ at his splintered desk with his fedora
pushed back, tie loose, and then:
“she walked into my office on a pair o’ legs
that could burn down Hitler’s heart.”
beat up from the grime & the crime on the streets.
pursued between jobs by a scandalous muse; he
holsters his Beretta & picks up a ball point, to deal
in hard-boiled poetics. conjures up an ode to love,
his beautiful, heartless mistress, written on the back
of an unpaid bill…...
96 reads
12 Comments
blues for a lonely night
slow death in a pretty bottle
the story of my life, written in spilled whiskey
bustin my ass all day for a few bucks
so i can blow it all on crow every night
in a string of broken down saloons
ghosts of foolish dreams hangin on my back,
whispering love stories that never happened
~~~ i drift back, to sensuous tropical nights,
hot Spanish women whose notorious flowers
captured me in the push-pull of that
velvet-sided vice,
the nights that never fade
(storyline of my...
the story of my life, written in spilled whiskey
bustin my ass all day for a few bucks
so i can blow it all on crow every night
in a string of broken down saloons
ghosts of foolish dreams hangin on my back,
whispering love stories that never happened
~~~ i drift back, to sensuous tropical nights,
hot Spanish women whose notorious flowers
captured me in the push-pull of that
velvet-sided vice,
the nights that never fade
(storyline of my...
100 reads
14 Comments
cry down the rain
sleep must be something that’s
awarded only to the dead
you contemplate things like that
when it’s late & you’re alone again
on another endless night
staring out the window at the
sorrowful rain that makes it seem
like everything out there is crying
that’s when they get up & dance again
those memories buzzing in your head
like piano melodies haunting the cracked
leatherette stools of a long-lamented
boarded up roadhouse
heartbreak that’s gone mellow over
the solitary years but still lingers
these faded...
awarded only to the dead
you contemplate things like that
when it’s late & you’re alone again
on another endless night
staring out the window at the
sorrowful rain that makes it seem
like everything out there is crying
that’s when they get up & dance again
those memories buzzing in your head
like piano melodies haunting the cracked
leatherette stools of a long-lamented
boarded up roadhouse
heartbreak that’s gone mellow over
the solitary years but still lingers
these faded...
135 reads
14 Comments
heartbreak divebar
it’s a divebar down a back alley, it’s where you end up
when the decent joints have barricaded the doors for
the night – the cowardly night that’s getting it’s butt
kicked by the harlequin dawn.
outside, the rain is a concert,
the thunder music & the strobe lights…
the bartender has sad eyes, you feel like
you’re hurting him when you order a cocktail.
he blends me a whiskey sour
but I’m not drinking it –
he offers me his own exposition of loneliness,
but I’m not writing it,
instead I write my love poem on a matchbook...
when the decent joints have barricaded the doors for
the night – the cowardly night that’s getting it’s butt
kicked by the harlequin dawn.
outside, the rain is a concert,
the thunder music & the strobe lights…
the bartender has sad eyes, you feel like
you’re hurting him when you order a cocktail.
he blends me a whiskey sour
but I’m not drinking it –
he offers me his own exposition of loneliness,
but I’m not writing it,
instead I write my love poem on a matchbook...
125 reads
16 Comments
variation for blue trumpet
she flashes those firecracker-green eyes & everyone
takes notice, like Spanish horns in ‘Ring of Fire.’
sailboats on the horizon. a red moon on a sultry night
& you ain’t got a notebook.
I dredge up visions of her in various shades of nakedness,
suggestive poses that a reckless girl learns in the cramped
back seat of a 2-door hardtop. & I speculate: could I even
satisfy a woman like that… maybe. maybe not.
so I dream on it. a suite at the Waldorf or a cheap motel
room; as long as the sheets are clean, she ain’t particular.
it’s...
takes notice, like Spanish horns in ‘Ring of Fire.’
sailboats on the horizon. a red moon on a sultry night
& you ain’t got a notebook.
I dredge up visions of her in various shades of nakedness,
suggestive poses that a reckless girl learns in the cramped
back seat of a 2-door hardtop. & I speculate: could I even
satisfy a woman like that… maybe. maybe not.
so I dream on it. a suite at the Waldorf or a cheap motel
room; as long as the sheets are clean, she ain’t particular.
it’s...
129 reads
20 Comments
Marilyn died for our sins
in her own words, & out of grace more so than glamour,
she revealed that her sinning did not make her a devil,
& her not sinning did not make her an angel.
she began as a small spark, & worked very hard to grow
to a candle flame; but there were moments when she was
lightning, & the stars took notice.
earth-bound angel, fashioned for wet dreams, blonde & blue.
flamboyant temptress – within her beat the heart of lonely
Norma Jean, who begged to be loved. but a man can’t hold the
delicate things, nor make captive of such beauty....
she revealed that her sinning did not make her a devil,
& her not sinning did not make her an angel.
she began as a small spark, & worked very hard to grow
to a candle flame; but there were moments when she was
lightning, & the stars took notice.
earth-bound angel, fashioned for wet dreams, blonde & blue.
flamboyant temptress – within her beat the heart of lonely
Norma Jean, who begged to be loved. but a man can’t hold the
delicate things, nor make captive of such beauty....
117 reads
15 Comments
love is a gypsy
she showed up at midnight. came in the back door.
something about her face, almost familiar, I told her. out of
focus snapshot of someone I knew long ago. ‘maybe I’m the
poem you wrote when you put away your toy soldiers,’ she said.
‘& peeked out your window at the girl next door.’ but she was
wrong; her face was pretty enough, but there was no poetry there.
it was too quiet, she didn’t like it. but two years in stir makes a
man tight, hard to de-stress in the company of a woman. she
suggested a little music, slow dancing. sure, I like to...
something about her face, almost familiar, I told her. out of
focus snapshot of someone I knew long ago. ‘maybe I’m the
poem you wrote when you put away your toy soldiers,’ she said.
‘& peeked out your window at the girl next door.’ but she was
wrong; her face was pretty enough, but there was no poetry there.
it was too quiet, she didn’t like it. but two years in stir makes a
man tight, hard to de-stress in the company of a woman. she
suggested a little music, slow dancing. sure, I like to...
134 reads
22 Comments
Ariel's passion
he was a prince. and Ariel was his slave.
this was the sole purpose of her creation, to serve him until
one of them passed to the realm of Thanatos.
she provided all of his needs…and desires. she fed him & bathed him,
she cleaned the messes that he constantly made. she attended with
great skill to the animal fevers that gripped him. she soothed his lust.
but she was not an uneducated servant. she was endowed with superior
intelligence, attained at the university that she attended, before she was
taken. the prince thrilled to her teachings like...
this was the sole purpose of her creation, to serve him until
one of them passed to the realm of Thanatos.
she provided all of his needs…and desires. she fed him & bathed him,
she cleaned the messes that he constantly made. she attended with
great skill to the animal fevers that gripped him. she soothed his lust.
but she was not an uneducated servant. she was endowed with superior
intelligence, attained at the university that she attended, before she was
taken. the prince thrilled to her teachings like...
119 reads
13 Comments
Woman of Wind and Rain {w.Velvet Rose}
in my desert, there is no oasis. the raging sandstorm blinds me,
pack animals have deserted. angels are occupied in greener lands.
is there a dark-winged guardian, a witch or a genie, to deliver me
from my desolation?
born of flames, through the winding sand. with exploding vibrations within
the space of splinted fears. raven feathers caress your cheeks as my wings open,
protecting against the blinding storm. whispered words gracefully lick your ear
as grains of sand explode a fading star burst...
i am your Raven Angel, fear not my love... ...
pack animals have deserted. angels are occupied in greener lands.
is there a dark-winged guardian, a witch or a genie, to deliver me
from my desolation?
born of flames, through the winding sand. with exploding vibrations within
the space of splinted fears. raven feathers caress your cheeks as my wings open,
protecting against the blinding storm. whispered words gracefully lick your ear
as grains of sand explode a fading star burst...
i am your Raven Angel, fear not my love... ...
142 reads
15 Comments
smoky eyes, steel ribbons
color=Navy]
there’s a poem here. right here in this picture
even here in the wasted, beat-up side of town
‘hood that died years ago
they never got around to burying it
train pulled in to sleep at the station a few blocks
from here. I needed a sandwich, a shot & a beer.
& that’s all I expected from this gimpy night.
sometimes fate with dark hair & smoky eyes falls
right outa the blue.
she walked into the bar behind two other girls, all of
them workin the late shift. the first two hookers took
a booth, joined quick by...
there’s a poem here. right here in this picture
even here in the wasted, beat-up side of town
‘hood that died years ago
they never got around to burying it
train pulled in to sleep at the station a few blocks
from here. I needed a sandwich, a shot & a beer.
& that’s all I expected from this gimpy night.
sometimes fate with dark hair & smoky eyes falls
right outa the blue.
she walked into the bar behind two other girls, all of
them workin the late shift. the first two hookers took
a booth, joined quick by...
133 reads
16 Comments
tango vingativo
251 reads
16 Comments
cowboy love
122 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by JohnFeddeler