Thursday, November 14, 2013

Splinker's Seven Seadly Sins Series

Enough! How many times must we apologize for Haiku?!
For the record, if even one scantily clad woman had shown up on my doorstep, or sent me a political career killing tweet, I would have been happy to stop at three deadly sins.  Unfortunately for both of us that didn't happen. I did have one offer from a Jehovah's Witness, but no matter how hard I tried to read between the lines, I don't think she meant what I wanted it to mean. 

SO, my hand is being forced and you must suffer with ...


You take my heart, paid for with
a kiss from soft lips,
like you are granting a pardon.

My words are given, not required;
my overblown poems and declarations,
elicit entitlement, not gratitude.
I kneel before you at the bed,
and you accept my worship with a sleepy smile.

I give you everything I am and we both agree you deserve more.

May you one day get over yourself,
as easily as you got over me.

The other three poems, previously posted, follow:


Somehow, the night illuminates you,
naked and splayed against clean, white sheets,
Your scent, the scent of gin and lotus blossoms,
stokes my hunger drawing me down, until I am lost,
no longer thinking.

Taste, you whisper,
and I am consumed with devouring,
unable to stop until there is nothing left of us.
We are a husk, a shell, emptied and drained,
even so, I need more.
Even so, you whisper Taste.



It eats at me,
ever since that late spring night,
when you first touched me, and took everything.

All my hunger, all my wants,
all my yearning, all my need.

You kissed me and it all went away. 

But then you left, and it all came back,
and it eats at me.

You taste like Saturday night,
with a hint of Sunday confession.
Everything lingers,
trails of smoke follow your touch
and I burn.


You have an opinion about everything else. Might as well have one here. Remember, spelling counts.