July's exposed lamp found her posing
in a scantly tight fitted skirt, that
was an ivory sinful halo
(or was it purple?)
Legs
like silk
hypnotically and limber
maneuvered rougishly
with ample revealing cheek
She was standing by the bus stop
just waiting for on-lookers
when she came hovering
on the peritherals
of my adolescent vision
and when she undid a grin
she bared a diamond for a face
with Cheekbones so well immaculate
they may have been cut from tanned marble
and when her lips uncurled pearls
she may have been a lion
or a tiger on the prowl
waiting to catch any lust sick fool
with the whiff of her perfume
For she was a Movie Star vision
with a glamour page luster
and the Sapphires in her eyes
bloomed a starlight angel face
the symmetry of her rose lips
made her the it girl for first page
and my eyes took the picture
of her standing their like bait dreams
hooked deep in my equator
and I admite
that as we drove past
my reason took a pass
but as time blew
Retrospection proof read
and my mind came to shrug, that...
Shes just a pretty girl
when after the suns last flashing bulb
the skirt will cut her circulation
and she'll be making curtsies
(or gasping for a medic)
knees
so weak
docile with a frailty
stuttered with hesitation
from cold comfort adulation
Still, every boy wants her
to be the best friend
for his bed,
a companion to fulfill
his longely hearted den
and she cries with lines
holding thinly behind a mask
that the mascara hides the trauma
Knowing that if anytime they were shown
she would be the one torn down,
as the dogs would turn tail
looking for fresh meat
and she will loose her leading role
to any novice newly bloomed
for shes condemned to film exposure
and a boys sick lust of two dimensions
And even if I had her
I could never really feel it
For the emotions in our hearts
are to far away and desperate
her minds a coliseuum of pure wander
But know one buys the ticket to hear her thoughts
Instead shes reeled in as the catch of the day
She cant acquite
all the drive by lovers
that see her one way colour
Like a pawn
that roams the stage alone
People disect with their crosseyes, becuse...
She's just a pretty girl
It is perfectly normal, Kevin. We are but animals, instinctively programmed to propagate the species, and societally indoctrinated to 'appreciate' a beautiful woman. When I was younger, I used to love summer for many reasons, one of which was the fact that pretty girls would shed their overcoats and advertise their availability with exposed skin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice try, Rate my poem About my Talent