Modified Villanelle*

The lies he tells me are so grand
Ornamental and impressive
Within moments, I forget the bland

He holds my hand
Attention excessive
Trying to twist off my wedding band

The lay of this land
Familiar but still expressive
Plentiful as coastal sand

Why weren't my feelings manned?
Protected, dismissive
My interest burns like a brand

Playing with my hair, every strand
His want aggressive
Where I stand
Is banned

*A villanelle is a poetic form which entered English-language poetry in the late 1800s from the imitation of French models. Nineteen lines long, they are poems written in Tercets with only two rhymes, the first and third line of the first stanza alternating as the third line in each successive stanza and forming a couplet at the close.
The above example is not a TRUE villanelle, hence the title.

Iambic Pentameter

He wants me available and ready
Noticing secret, feminine details
Rewind, from behind, wicked and steady
Goddess he whispers ultimate female
Eight hundred count sheets protect like armor
A heated equation: flesh and cotton
Exposed but getting tender and warmer
Fear of the forbidden is forgotten
Who is this man who brings me such pleasure?
Elegant fingers, profane attraction
Craves and wants me more than he can measure
His obsession completes the transaction
Adoration and infatuation
Slower I whisper opening my eyes
His laugh is an erotic libation
Answered question, necessary sunrise

Words I Love

I love the word bombshell
Inamorata and jezebel
I enjoy saying hellified
When I'm dressed up and blow dried
I like the three syllables and the mouth feel
The way I say it closes the deal
I tell my husband he's uxorious
Saadia's lexicon is luxurious
Like shatoosh or cashmere
Or an expensive souvenir
Of course, words like raw and risk make me smile
As do elegant, quirk, freak and nubile
I will use swear words as punctuation
Until the cuss police issue a citation
Motherfucker!--said with an exclamation
Dissolves every ounce of my frustration
A well placed word is a magical occurrence
Strong words are like weapons--my self defense

Class Flirt

Back in the day, I was voted Class Flirt
A long haired, girly girl wearing a miniskirt
I didn’t mean to tease
Always speaking Lolita-ese
Daddy’s princess
A study in excess
Long limbs in constant motion
Forever causing a commotion
Varsity tennis, student body president
Running into little boys like an accident
Too friendly, too crazy, too too much
Infernal in high school, hot to the touch
Where did she go?
At times I miss her so
Other days she’s back--ready to misbehave
When I feel her presence, I almost try to wave

Touching Food

I am disgusted when my food touches
I'm aware that this is one of my insane crutches
When my potatoes touch my entree
It basically ruins my whole day
Words like casserole and stew make me nauseous
And those who eat these atrocities leave me cautious
I like my plate arranged just so
Heaping dishes push me over like a domino
My husband and kids laugh at me
The roll their eyes, but don't agree
They like to mix all of their food together
And giggle when I become untethered
'On the side' is my favorite command
As long as my food is seperate...who cares if it's bland?