Lori Boulard


Lori Boulard Poems

1. Out Walking 9/15/2005
2. Uninspired 9/15/2005
3. Rhythms 7/31/2006
4. The Death Of Poetry 9/17/2006
5. 05 Class Reunion 9/17/2006
6. 03 Campfire Dancing 12/9/2006
7. Soup To Nuts 12/22/2006
8. Come January 12/31/2006
9. 0005 Natural Disasters 10/12/2008
10. Playful 9/15/2005
11. Nanny's House 5/31/2006
12. Tap Dancing With My Tongue 5/19/2006
13. Cat's Eye 3/14/2006
14. Life Outside The Box 10/26/2005
15. Carnival Ii - Merry Go Round 1/1/2006
16. Impressions Of Midnight 10/17/2005
17. The Difference Between Us And Them 10/11/2006
18. Each Day Is A Gift (Haiku) 6/20/2006
19. Intersection Of Radios At A Red Light 10/26/2006
20. Pottery 10/24/2005
21. Down The Hatch 6/1/2006
22. A Seemingly Normal Friday Afternoon 2/24/2006
23. 001 An Old Mother's Wash 10/13/2006
24. 002 Footprints 10/26/2006
25. Fool To Consider Me Beautiful 8/17/2006
26. Poets - Gathering The Crumbs 7/7/2006
27. Poets - Why They Smile 7/7/2006
28. Done For 10/14/2005
29. 0001 Punks 10/12/2008
30. 0002 Sleeping Under Stars (1) 2/23/2008
31. Stratosphere 1/2/2006
32. Wanderlust 9/24/2005
33. Bamboo 9/15/2005
34. 08 Chasing Vanity 8/9/2006
35. Child Of Genius 8/9/2006
36. 008 Reading Rumi 1/12/2007
37. 0004 Chloe's Stories 2/23/2008
38. Carnival I - Funhouse 1/1/2006
39. Coma Victim Becomes Writer Of Children's Books 11/1/2005
40. First Born 11/4/2005

Comments about Lori Boulard

  • Max Reif (11/15/2005 8:00:00 AM)

    Dear Lori, I look forward to wit, passion, and often wisdom when I see that a new poem of yours has come over. Yours are among the most telegraphic I read-I almost always 'get' them immediately, which is not at all to say they're superficial-they're not. Just communicative!

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Best Poem of Lori Boulard

My Hot Black Love, Or, Ode To Java

HIS name? Please. What man
among us lives solely for
the touch of your lips
and the “mmmm” that oozes
only if he’s really good?
No, my love is ready for me
hot
on demand,
waiting patiently for my
attention
Soothing every injury
Smoothing every edge
Offering clarity in a blurred existence
Inspiring me to face my fortune
or frivolity
Mi amor, unlike mi men, judges not
the words of my lips,
travels impeccably well,
and sets my heart’s pace each
and every morning.

He is?
Columbian Blend
and he’s calling my name.

Read the full of My Hot Black Love, Or, Ode To Java

007 Spring Cleaning

It is time. Time for changes.
Time to open windows
and let breezes of inspiration in,
sweep out the echo of lingering laughter,
and wipe away the stains of family, friends
and Shiraz tipped by the fire.
Put to sleep in their albums snapshots
of a time not wasted. Pack up the waste.
Set it out for prompt and permanent removal.

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