Weaker Sex

So, so, yeah he looks 
me up and down 
stop and pause 
while all along 
attempting to prove a point 
A point he doesn't need 
to prove 
Unspoken basic law,
basic rule 
survival of the fittest 
- in his mind 
His gaze stops mid way 
and it tells me; 
- the power of unspoken words
to shut the fuck up 
and sit the fuck down 
in my assigned seat 
My assigned place 
My assigned station 
in this life…
"Female" "woman" 
"weaker sex" "inferior species" 
...the lowest taxonomic rank, 
and the most basic unit 
or category of biological classification 
He doesn't bat an eye 
or shift his weight 
from side to side; 
he has the world as he knows it, 
- by the balls 
With his finger he pokes me 
in the chest as if he has 
some kind of universal right;
he has an innate level of "know" 
Testosterone rises and as his ego soars 
I am convinced I'm looking 
squarely at a little boy 
A moment of pathetic 
maternal awe dances up my spine, 
but only to be lost in a moment 
of complete defiance 
A moment of screw you asshole 
The muscles in my chest begin to tighten 
and I can feel the blood pumping 
from my heart, racing up my neck 
My head pounding, face flushed, teeth clenched... 
- with one symbolic step
I take a stand 
I own my space 
There is a flash of empowerment 
I am in an innate level of "know"
I am a feisty heroine who is
more than a pretty face…

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Jazz Man's Song

Notice the tide rolling
with the punches
not the way I do
battling life’s challenges
sea foam tossed in the air
strong Atlantic breeze
blows the tender sound
of the Jazz Man
always reminding me of home
looking out beyond the horizon
the sea never comes to an end
unlike the sweet songs
that are carried by the wind
from strumming fingers
on strings of gold
stirring up seashells
while conjuring images
bare feet running on the sand
you unknowingly remind me
with a riff now and then
that off in the distance
as the notes rise above
the tide will come and the tide will go
sometimes high and not always low

...play me another song my sweet Jazz Man

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Mr. Who Knows Who

All that crazy anticipation 
build up and worry 
as if yesterday 
was a blank page 
And all the steps taken 
have somehow 
been washed away 
like footsteps in the sand - how cliche! 
I remember laughing 
about all those old sayings 
one night during a brief love affair
he filled my glass of wine up 
for the 3rd time 
smiling with such intent
saying, "Man, who are they trying to kid!
...rather have loved and lost 
than to have never loved at all - 
or, something like, if you set it free 
and it doesn't come back 
it was never yours to begin with..." 
Man what a kick
Man what a time 
for jokes and one liners
from men like Henny Youngman,
"I've been in love with the same woman 
for forty-one years 
if my wife finds out she'll kill me..."
The corners of my mouth 
turn up and I laugh -
so politically incorrect...yea no kidding man!
Even between all the laughter 
and long talks - we faded 
off in different directions 
but that wasn't a news flash
we both knew from day one 
nothing was going to come 
of what ever this was or wasn't 
just passing time 
drinking wine 
making love and laughing - 
sometimes we would
slow dance in the living room,
...candles flickering 
sexy shadows on the walls...
to some off the grid 
blues tune...
At the time everything was perfection 
in its own light - 
but, it was those long drives home 
late at night 
that set me free 
And now...I find myself 
walking to a bar in Brooklyn 
to meet Mr. Who Knows Who 
and for just a moment 
there is this rush 
the feeling of soft warm hands
occasionally touching mine -
We laugh and talk
as he fills up my glass 
of wine 
for the 3rd time...


© 2014 TrilbyYates  

Early Sunday AM...July 2011

Old Couple ~ Train Station 2011

Comfort Zone

Warm summer breeze
blows by
like a one hit wonder
that plays over and over
with the familiarity
of a gentle smile
greetings at the door
welcome home sweet one
some say boredom
sets in with time
and the eyes wander
but I remain in awe
of the next day
same old sunrise
same old sunset
red sky at night
sailors delight
red sky in the morning
sailors take warning

Gentle touch, sweet kiss, comfort in the familiar…

© 2011 Trilby Yates