Tag Archives: poem about skinny-dipping

Bonus View

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Bonus View

The sun was at its zenith and although I ventured bare
out to my jacuzzi, I had no intent to share
a peep show with my neighbors, for tall bushes masked the view
from their high terrace to my bedroom, and my hot tub, too.

I’d forgotten that leaf cutter ants had lately been to dine
upon the hedge between us, depleting leaf and vine.
So when birds perch upon it, they’re exposed from tail to plume.
I can see them from the terrace and see them from my room

as they feed upon the flowers against a bright blue sky,
exposed there as they lately are to every human eye.
In addition, I’d been duly warned by  neighbors recently
that since the ants had visited, they can’t help viewing me

as I go about life’s duties on my terrace, in my yard,
and if my drapes are open, they had found that it was hard
to deflect their eyes from bedroom views. I’d been duly alerted
that if our mutual embarrassment was to be averted

that I should be more careful until our hedge filled out
lest I inadvertently forget and walk about
in fewer clothes than usual or pursued private actions
not intended to be shared for neighborly reactions.

So when I left the hot tub seeking to slake my thirst
and headed for the kitchen, I, too, witnessed the worst.
Through bare branches, void of leaf, male neighbors stood askance
viewing me against their will as I took the chance

naked as a jaybird, to scurry to the house
devoid of any raiment—swimsuit, pants or blouse.
Now this might have been exciting when there was less to see
in my earlier years, preceding seventy-three,

but I fear the scene they viewed was more a shock than titillating.
Certainly not the scene that they had been anticipating
as they strolled out with their guests for a visual interlude.
I’m sure they’d no intent to view their neighbor in the nude!

Prompt words today are plume, zenith, thirst, duly and share.

Skinny-dipping in One’s Sixties

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Skinny-dipping in One’s Sixties

While driving on a country lane, I spy a little lake
and decide that I should skinny-dip, just for old time’s sake.
Lack of a suit is not a problem, for this spot is so secluded
that I jump into the water both nuded and deluded,
for after just five minutes, although the night is dark,
three cars pull up with lights full-on and proceed to park
directly in my exit spot with windows all rolled down,
music spilling out from them. Teenagers from the town
out here for the thrill of it to swill a little beer
and have a wild party with no parents near.

Like a deer in headlights, I am blinded by the glare.
I quickly put my hands back to obscure my derriere.
Then, desperate for cover, sprint for a nearby bush.
But when I cover up my front, I have to bare my tush.
Skinny-dipping simply doesn’t work with lookers-on,
and I guess that I am trapped until these partiers are gone.
With no hope on the horizon, I hunch and drip and cower,
forgetful of the blanket I had slung over a bower
just a few short yards away, but finally I sprint for it,
and wrapping it around me, I am grateful that I went for it
in spite of all the cheers and huzzahs and the blinding light
of the headlights of the teenagers who view my frenzied flight.

Once I reach my car, the far horizon is my goal.
I gun the engine and I speed over dip and knoll.
If I need to teach the lesson of this ill-advised adventure
of senior citizen skinny-dipping, I’m the one to censure,
for I was a solo-act swimming swimsuit-free,
and the only one that I can implicate is me.
I guess that skinny-dipping is best left in the past,
for the skinny body necessary simply doesn’t last!

Prompt words today are forgetful, horizon, desperate, implicate and deer.

Skinny-Dipping

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daily life color103

Important note: This is a shape poem , but if you look at it in Reader, it distorts the shape by left margin justifying.  Please click on the title again and you will view it from my blog where it will be centered and you can see the shape.

Skinny-Dipping 

There’s a change in the weather, a shift in the light.
The palm trees are swaying. Three stars shining bright.
The water is cooling, my exercise through.
Clouds cover the moon. I think it’s my cue
to get out of the water before I turn blue,
then clouds shift and the moon turns its usual hue.

The wind stirs the water. I think of past times
ages ago in different climes.
All those past lives, can they really be mine?
If I put experience in a straight line,
could I see the reason for things as they were
as my life sped by–—a perpetual whirr?

What gave me the courage to do what I did
since that time long ago when I was a kid
and took that first journey out on my own,
out of the house across grass newly mown,
fresh from the bathtub, laughing with glee,
nude for the whole world to look out and see.

Running down the sidewalk until I was captured
again by my mother, winded but enraptured
by this one-year-old daughter escaped from her bath,
already set out on her singular path.
So many roadways traveled since then.
So many different lives that have been

tried and discarded in favor of others.
Surrogate fathers and surrogate mothers,
surrogate sisters and friends freshly minted,
plane tickets ordered, paid for and printed.
Travel adventures. Dangers to survive.
Making it through it all still alive.

I come up     from the pool,
dripping and     shivering.
Those few    bold stars
above me    delivering
promises     that I
might still   be a rover.
While there   is breath left,
my life       isn’t over.

 

For V.J.’s Weekly Challenge prompt, shift:  “Alter your routine in some small way this week.
The idea is not to do something that over taxes your already busy schedule – just something that shifts you enough to make a difference. Or maybe, it won’t. Your response can be in the form of prose, poetry, photograph(s) or whatever moves you.”

The “shift” I did was to go out to the pool and swim and exercise for an hour before writing to her prompt word. The poem above is what resulted.

Skinny-dip

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Version 3

Skinny-Dip

If he’d been more well-imbued,
perhaps the ladies might have queued
to be the one he might have wooed.

Instead, when he swam in the nude,
all the women bathers booed,
making comments  crass and lewd.

His face turned pale, then roseate-hued,
his manner cringing and subdued
as he hurried to elude

each smug and cruel insulting prude—
the cat-callers who stood and viewed
that poor unfortunate naked dude.

As those ladies,smug and rude,
Departed, calling his act crude,
as each one passed me by, I mooed.

The prompt today was “Subdued.”