Night Flower
Fret not lost love, so very far away
Inspiration lounging in a hotel room
Far from where river poets bemuse
Minutes away from purchased passion
So fling a foul curse come morning
Or have nothing else to say at all
The lewd poets begging no approval
Whose words are they anyway?
What we pen and what we say
Words taking a rare few somewhere else
The view from the edge of a king size bed
Warm blissful thoughts swirl in his head
A short, thin, almost transparent, low-cut cotton shift
And a seemingly accidentally dropped hotel cup
“Could you pick that up for me please?”
Eyes ascending the back of her well turned legs
Feigning sincere apologies for such clumsiness
A lewd drunken poet and his Friday night muse
Inspiration enough for at least one poem
Never begging affectionate approval
A courtesan’s off season nightly rate
The lewd poet’s most special date
This poem being part of the bargain
“Your money up front” She reminded him
Placed on the dresser behind a closed door
Paying well for affectionate maneuvers
State officials and high end businessmen
Would often employ her sweet services
He knew where to find her this time of year
The dimly lit lounge at the Ramada Inn
Out of regular work this slow off season
Still employable, but drunk beyond good reason
Lewd working poet and his overtime pay
Mescal flowing, lounge table advertising
Accepting a delicate hand motion invitation
Introductions of no special importance
Libations, lewd thoughts and lounge lizard logic
Haggling over hospitality in a Ramada Inn
It didn't seem as anonymously comfortable
As a quaint, old mom and pop roadside motel
“I’m on the second floor, room number 206”
Leaving him alone at a small table with a large drink
Enough cold cash stuffed in a warm coat pocket
Six knocks on the door, just as she requested
Just like last year around this same time
She usually worked the high end hotel scene
Here at the Ramada when times were lean
To this weekend reveler, an expensive pleasure
Never slighting in any off season specials
Ever appreciative of this annual off season session
Enjoying his company over officials and representatives
Ever looking forward to that one cold winter night
The soft night stand light well hid her age
This time seemed better than the last four
A DO NOT DISTURB sign hung on the door
She invited her guest to stay all night
Lubricating libations and swirling inhibitions
Between passionate bouts, her drunken pillow talk
“Couldn't be like this forever and ever?”
An older courtesan’s slow business off season
Blissfully drunk beyond any good reason
Winding down into what just may be lasting love
A large savings and too much competition for her age
Seemingly she found her true love despite his meager wage
Those fond feelings did not survive the sobering morning
Nothing at all like last night’s delightful drunken bliss
She shooed him out into the hall without a kiss
Just like last year around this same time
Flowers of the Night
Flowers of the Night
"We know the predator, we see them feed on us, we are aware to starve the beast is our destiny"
Re: Flowers of the Night
Motor Lodge Meeting
Travelers motor lodge
Outside on the walkway
She had her sunglasses on at dusk
Smoking an extra long cigarette
Bathrobe and bare feet
Ample hips swaying to the music in her head
Nothing much on underneath
Another night flower
Quite ready to blossom
Half intoxicated, he watched her
Moths fluttering above her head
Around a dim awning light
A motel room nymph
Tonight’s vision of beauty
Three doors down from him
Hopefully she was alone, he thought
Unconsciously the words escaped his lips
Greetings and invitation
She neither returned, or accepted
Turning, back into her room she went
He sat in a lounge chair staring at where she had been
Another gulp of vodka
Thinking she probably took him for a creep
Just as he took her for an easy pick up
There was still the magnificent vista
Satellite television inside
And another bottle of vodka
Then he heard a door open
She had stepped outside again
He pretended not to pay her much mind this time
Until she was standing in front of him
A bottle of beer in one hand
Between two fingers of the other
A cigarette burning
Whirling tendrils of smoke
Rising and dissipating
Slowly raising his head
Ascending view leaving her bare feet
Shins and white terrycloth bathrobe
Belted, but slightly open
Enough of her bosom visible below her lovely neck
Soft pretty face and hard brown eyes
She was no dainty daisy
Night flower blossoming
She asked him about that drink
He thought she had a hollow leg
Putting down booze like a seasoned toper
A job which took her from Roanoke to Norfolk
Divorced with a drinking problem
The breeze was blowing down the walkway
Carrying her scent to him
Inhaling deeply, eyes closed
Exhaling with a lusty sigh
Her hair was still wet
Nightfall found them in a friendly way
A slight chill in the highland air
Inside for several more drinks
He recognized the look in her eyes
“Not yet", he said under his breath
As he had remembered her swaying hips
Turning on the clock radio, pouring two more drinks
Dialing through stations, finding appropriate music
He scooped her up in his arms
Travelers motor lodge
Outside on the walkway
She had her sunglasses on at dusk
Smoking an extra long cigarette
Bathrobe and bare feet
Ample hips swaying to the music in her head
Nothing much on underneath
Another night flower
Quite ready to blossom
Half intoxicated, he watched her
Moths fluttering above her head
Around a dim awning light
A motel room nymph
Tonight’s vision of beauty
Three doors down from him
Hopefully she was alone, he thought
Unconsciously the words escaped his lips
Greetings and invitation
She neither returned, or accepted
Turning, back into her room she went
He sat in a lounge chair staring at where she had been
Another gulp of vodka
Thinking she probably took him for a creep
Just as he took her for an easy pick up
There was still the magnificent vista
Satellite television inside
And another bottle of vodka
Then he heard a door open
She had stepped outside again
He pretended not to pay her much mind this time
Until she was standing in front of him
A bottle of beer in one hand
Between two fingers of the other
A cigarette burning
Whirling tendrils of smoke
Rising and dissipating
Slowly raising his head
Ascending view leaving her bare feet
Shins and white terrycloth bathrobe
Belted, but slightly open
Enough of her bosom visible below her lovely neck
Soft pretty face and hard brown eyes
She was no dainty daisy
Night flower blossoming
She asked him about that drink
He thought she had a hollow leg
Putting down booze like a seasoned toper
A job which took her from Roanoke to Norfolk
Divorced with a drinking problem
The breeze was blowing down the walkway
Carrying her scent to him
Inhaling deeply, eyes closed
Exhaling with a lusty sigh
Her hair was still wet
Nightfall found them in a friendly way
A slight chill in the highland air
Inside for several more drinks
He recognized the look in her eyes
“Not yet", he said under his breath
As he had remembered her swaying hips
Turning on the clock radio, pouring two more drinks
Dialing through stations, finding appropriate music
He scooped her up in his arms
"We know the predator, we see them feed on us, we are aware to starve the beast is our destiny"
Re: Flowers of the Night
Catching up with the Altitude
Remembering those Friday evenings when
We would all make the trip up to the Afton Inn
Having booked a good few rooms in advance
Well prepared for the celebration soon to begin
A good band in the lounge and a place to dance
Not all that long into this strange new decade
Reveling weekends away from the lives we made
Atop Afton Mountain for adventure and romance
Seemingly the highest we had ever been
Inside our lodgings, the booze flowed free
This was the scene to make and a good place to be
Burning bones passed around, the pungent smoke
Through bloodshot eyes my cousin was happy to see
Someone pulling out a small glass jar of coke
I would do a couple of good lines, that was it
Having never gotten too wrapped up in that shit
Too much of that snow and I would surely croak
Just a couple of lines would well suit me
Holiday Inn atop Afton Mountain, 1982
Better than staying at home having naught to do
Several of us at a higher elevation beating the heat
The lofty sensation of something strange and new
After a fine fare of baked potatoes and rare red meat
Pungent smoke swirling around our hotel rooms
Tingeing well with pine scented air freshener fumes
And the big boom box’s rocking rhythmic beat
Awaiting to experience what would ensue
With heads full of booze, coke and grass
Floating along, too much of the old puff and pass
We drift on out, making our way to the hotel bar
Through the doors and crowded hotel lounge mass
My eyes fell upon a night flowering hotel lounge star
A comely face, pretty smile and big fluffed up hair
Making eye contact, she blushed at my ogling stare
Leering across the bar room, intentions made from afar
A slow dance perhaps, with this Blue Ridge lass
Remembering those Friday evenings when
We would all make the trip up to the Afton Inn
Having booked a good few rooms in advance
Well prepared for the celebration soon to begin
A good band in the lounge and a place to dance
Not all that long into this strange new decade
Reveling weekends away from the lives we made
Atop Afton Mountain for adventure and romance
Seemingly the highest we had ever been
Inside our lodgings, the booze flowed free
This was the scene to make and a good place to be
Burning bones passed around, the pungent smoke
Through bloodshot eyes my cousin was happy to see
Someone pulling out a small glass jar of coke
I would do a couple of good lines, that was it
Having never gotten too wrapped up in that shit
Too much of that snow and I would surely croak
Just a couple of lines would well suit me
Holiday Inn atop Afton Mountain, 1982
Better than staying at home having naught to do
Several of us at a higher elevation beating the heat
The lofty sensation of something strange and new
After a fine fare of baked potatoes and rare red meat
Pungent smoke swirling around our hotel rooms
Tingeing well with pine scented air freshener fumes
And the big boom box’s rocking rhythmic beat
Awaiting to experience what would ensue
With heads full of booze, coke and grass
Floating along, too much of the old puff and pass
We drift on out, making our way to the hotel bar
Through the doors and crowded hotel lounge mass
My eyes fell upon a night flowering hotel lounge star
A comely face, pretty smile and big fluffed up hair
Making eye contact, she blushed at my ogling stare
Leering across the bar room, intentions made from afar
A slow dance perhaps, with this Blue Ridge lass
"We know the predator, we see them feed on us, we are aware to starve the beast is our destiny"