Submissions by Quill-in-Heart (Tony Pena)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I ain't no academic though I've been writing for two score with the typical ups and downs. My work seeks intimacy and passion especially as it pertains to the dark and sometimes ugly side of the street. Thankfully beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
123 reads
6 Comments
Tavern on the Green
A gold
bullion icing
on the cake
of your dreams
may find a taker
under the tables
of a Broadway
blues arcade.
Delicious drop
of valium
for beggars
on a bend.
A waste
of a hand
me
down
family recipe
for a ragamuffin
who refuses
to tell time.
bullion icing
on the cake
of your dreams
may find a taker
under the tables
of a Broadway
blues arcade.
Delicious drop
of valium
for beggars
on a bend.
A waste
of a hand
me
down
family recipe
for a ragamuffin
who refuses
to tell time.
104 reads
6 Comments
Spanish Fly
She loiters
by my lips
soaking in
the carbon dioxide
as if my halitosis
provides osmosis
to a higher being.
by my lips
soaking in
the carbon dioxide
as if my halitosis
provides osmosis
to a higher being.
108 reads
8 Comments
Hunter
The blow of the hunting horn
echos off the brittle walls
of a congested artery where soiled
blood makes a red sea with teardrops
flooding the boat. Beast in the wilds
baring fangs, elusive as faith
in the deep rough. A fresh killing
along the orange horizon begging
to be choreographed in technicolor
by Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom
but it's not the prey he's after.
It's the point in the middle of the forest
lit up like a Manhattan Christmas
where your clothes come off and you
reach for the moon with your teeth
to suck all the...
echos off the brittle walls
of a congested artery where soiled
blood makes a red sea with teardrops
flooding the boat. Beast in the wilds
baring fangs, elusive as faith
in the deep rough. A fresh killing
along the orange horizon begging
to be choreographed in technicolor
by Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom
but it's not the prey he's after.
It's the point in the middle of the forest
lit up like a Manhattan Christmas
where your clothes come off and you
reach for the moon with your teeth
to suck all the...
86 reads
4 Comments
Liberty
At first the reels
ran like fratboy
fantasies on Friday
nights with tawny
brown curls liberated
from the bun and draped
over the sensuous shoulders
of the lascivious librarian.
Stop me if you've heard
this one before maybe a hundred
times or more since your hand
first found the tickle under cotton
sheets praying Mom and Dad
were too preoccupied
with their own squeaking
bed to pay yours any mind.
Tortoise shell eyeglasses,
designer frames for sure,
eschewed along with her blue
blazer and skirt, white silk...
ran like fratboy
fantasies on Friday
nights with tawny
brown curls liberated
from the bun and draped
over the sensuous shoulders
of the lascivious librarian.
Stop me if you've heard
this one before maybe a hundred
times or more since your hand
first found the tickle under cotton
sheets praying Mom and Dad
were too preoccupied
with their own squeaking
bed to pay yours any mind.
Tortoise shell eyeglasses,
designer frames for sure,
eschewed along with her blue
blazer and skirt, white silk...
133 reads
2 Comments
170 reads
12 Comments
149 reads
6 Comments
137 reads
8 Comments
Lit Fuse
I jerked off to a picture of me last night.
A Polaroid from my eighteenth birthday.
A pound of hair on my hard young head,
A half dozen strands on my chinny chin chin.
The guys at work place twenty dollar bets
As to when I'll outgrow this mid life crisis.
What they don't know is I got a do not remove
Tag on all my vices and this shit's been going down
For more than the two score I've been legal
When I first realized what I wanted to do
When I grow up is not to get grown up
At all so fuck the astronaut, the bus...
A Polaroid from my eighteenth birthday.
A pound of hair on my hard young head,
A half dozen strands on my chinny chin chin.
The guys at work place twenty dollar bets
As to when I'll outgrow this mid life crisis.
What they don't know is I got a do not remove
Tag on all my vices and this shit's been going down
For more than the two score I've been legal
When I first realized what I wanted to do
When I grow up is not to get grown up
At all so fuck the astronaut, the bus...
166 reads
4 Comments
Another in a series of elusive happy endings
![restricted poem](/images/extremecontent.jpg)
373 reads
11 Comments
Urge and Purge
I ain't got the apparatus,
Looks, mettle or game
To give it a go
As a gigolo.
I ain't got the attitude,
Sound, fury or hair
To go real far
As a rock and roll star.
What I got is years . . .
A bona fide
Middle class
Working ass.
A gray and grizzled
Bean counter,
One prescription away
From legal blindness,
Logging credits in a ledger
Tethered to a metal desk
In a room with a view
Of the parking lot
Where pigeons shit
On my minivan
From nine to five.
But I was young once . . ....
Looks, mettle or game
To give it a go
As a gigolo.
I ain't got the attitude,
Sound, fury or hair
To go real far
As a rock and roll star.
What I got is years . . .
A bona fide
Middle class
Working ass.
A gray and grizzled
Bean counter,
One prescription away
From legal blindness,
Logging credits in a ledger
Tethered to a metal desk
In a room with a view
Of the parking lot
Where pigeons shit
On my minivan
From nine to five.
But I was young once . . ....
139 reads
16 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Quill-in-Heart (Tony Pena)