© LROD 01.19.1998

I feel like a kid when I’m around you.

I feel like a kid.  Don’t you feel like one too?

I feel I ought to have a chaperone.

I feel I will do things no one will condone.

I feel so vivid, so reckless, so wild!

I feel like a kid.  I feel like a child.

I feel my head spinning out of control.

I feel young and restless, beautiful and bold.

I feel I need someone to calm me down.

I feel you are the person that I need around,

I feel effervescent, like a Pepsi or a Coke.

I feel like too lovers, needing a smoke.

I feel like a kid when I’m near you.

I feel like a kid.  Don’t you feel that way too?




© LROD 02.01.1998

(1998 Bout Time Publishing Contest winning poem)

I adore you.

I adore your smile and every time I see you sitting in the aisle,

I want to join you and tell you just how much I adore you.

I adore your touch.

I adore your laugh.

Your voice is so deep.

Do you happen to snore when you sleep?

If you do, it probably sounds like a roar,

but then, I would adore you even more!

I adore the way you walk with deliberate steps.

You have so much energy, so much pep.

Your disguise has my approval each day

because I adore you in every way

from the hat on your head to the earring in your ear.

I’m so glad God put you here for me to adore you.

I really think that’s why and believe me—

I would not tell a lie.

I adore the boots you wear on your feet.

(It’s getting hot in here.  Who turned up the heat?)

Oh, by the way, I don’t want you to forget

that I adored you when we first met.

I adore your eyes looking at me,

so intense, so passionate, so coy they can be.

I adore the way you choose to dress—

casual and expressive with no frills, no stress.

I adore just how you look in a suit—

stylish and gentlemanly—so darned cute!

I adore all the clothes you decide to wear

when I run into you here and there,

but mostly, I adore the hair on your head

and, with that, I think, enough has been said,

except that I adore the way you talk and breathe.

I even adore the way you sneeze!

I adore the words that flow from your lips.

You even gave me one or two tips.

I adore your caring, your concern.

I realize I have so much more to learn

about the reasons why it’s you I adore,

but I don’t want to be a consummate bore

so I’ll sign off now and just say goodbye.

I still adore you.

Can you guess why I adore your nose, your mouth and teeth?

I adore the way they move when you speak.

And let’s not forget the hair on your face.

I adore it so don’t ever shave.

I adore you from head to toe.

I adore your whole body, don’t you know?

I adore you.

I think you’re great.

What a wonderful man God did create.

You were born a very special child

and adoring you sometimes drives me wild,

but still I adore you.

I adore you so

and all of these things I want you to know.

I adore you every hour of the day.

I’m almost finished with what I have to say.

I adore you.

I cannot tell a lie.

I adore you.

Bet you can’t guess why!




© LROD 2000

those words

just rolled

right out

of your mouth

and off of your tongue

as if they had been waiting


for a very long time

for you

to say them

because you had said them before

a lot

of other times

to many different people

and were anxious

to say them again

to me

and you couldn’t wait

to spit them out

at me

to deliberately hurt me

which you did

and I will never forget

those words




© LROD 03.03.1993

I’m a disgruntled employee

and you’d just better watch out for me

because I hate my job and I hate this place

so make sure you keep out of my face.

I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do

but you act like I’m still beholding to you.

You’ve given everybody else here a raise.

Am I going to get mine one of these days?

You constantly try to make me jump and hop.

Your harassment of me has just got to stop.

The verbal abuse has caused me such pain.

Tell me, what do you really have to gain

by trying to drive me to the end of my rope?

Do you honestly think I can’t cope

with you treating me like you think I’m dumb?

Watch out because your day will come!

One day you’ll know just now I felt

with those bogus assignments I was dealt.

Somebody will treat you just the same

which will stop your fortune and your fame

so you’d better watch out because the people you’ve treated

like dirt, some day, will have you defeated!

I suggest you change your tune, and how,

while you still can (you’d better do it now!)

because one of these days, and it may be soon,

you’re going to find yourself seeing stars or the moon.

Some one is really going to give it to you

so you’d better hurry up and change your shoe

to the other foot because your attitude sucks

and you have yet to make the big bucks.

You should change your evil ways right quick

or they will eventually make you real sick

although sick is already what you seem to be

and you could use some professional counseling.

You need to find out why you act this way

before it becomes too late in the day

to correct yourself and mend your old ways.

When you’re left in a hypnotic daze

from the mental anguish that will befall

you when you discover others have the gall

to put you in your place for a change

and watch you squirm and your face rearrange.

If I take action now, I’ll go to town—

I’ll burn this dump right down to the ground.

I’ll destroy the nucleus of this place

and leave it in shambles (what a disgrace!),

then I’ll sit back and when I’m all through,

everyone will put the whole blame on you.




© LROD 03.06.1999

As I sit here staring at the bruise on my arm,

I constantly ask myself why he tried to harm

someone that he barely knew.  I keep wondering why

he decided that he had to make up a lie

to lure me out to dinner and then up to his hotel room

when all he had to do was to tell me the truth.

If I had wanted to be a willing partner in his quest,

I would have given my all and really done my best,

but he was there under false pretenses, I discovered,

by wanting to just add me to his long list of lovers,

though you can’t really consider it a lover when it’s a one-night stand

and this guy had no intention of becoming my man,

plus I’m still in celibacy from my last relationship

so of course I didn’t think he was too cool or too hip

trying to bed down someone that he just met.

Was he doing this on some kind of a bet

and, if so, exactly what was it that made him so grown?

He could have stated his evil intentions over the telephone,

but yet, there I was sitting across from him

in the hotel restaurant.  The lights were so dim.

It was cozy and romantic and I must say

that given any other time and kind of day,

I might have been receptive to what he had in mind

but to try to assume who I was—well, that was unkind!

And exactly whom did he think that he was

trying to feed me alcohol and give me a buzz?

Well, I wasn’t going for that kind of stuff.

I ate my meal until I’d had quite enough

so that later, when we adjourned for the business meeting,

I’d be in control of my faculties and my breathing.

On the way to the elevator, he cracked a joke.

Although I felt a little uneasy as he gave me a poke,

I passed it off as a friendly gesture in kind,

not really knowing whether he was about to mess with my mind,

but soon I discovered that this promoter of sorts

was only interested in seeing me without my undershorts!

When I resisted the brazen pass that he made

and he realized that he wasn’t about to get laid,

he grabbed me and held tightly onto my arm.

I wasn’t quite sure if I’d be able to storm

out of the elevator when it finally stopped,

but as the couple entered, I suddenly hopped

over to the other side and he released his hold.

I clutched my purse and became so bold

that I ran out of the elevator and said a prayer,

held on tightly as I fled down the stairs.

I didn’t look back once he had let me go

and never stopped running until I reached the ground floor

where I composed myself and slowly began to walk

out the door, and then, to myself, I began to talk.

As I entered the parking lot and neared my car,

I began to laugh, “Har de har har.”

What a night!  I thought this was a business meeting.

I wasn’t aware that I would be the dessert treat.

Now, was I being naïve or conceited to think

that someone just wanted to buy me a drink

and treat me to dinner and conversation, but instead

ended up trying to carry me off to bed.

And now the purple bruise on my right arm

reminds me of how I escaped all harm.

Well, I don't know if I’ll be that foolish again,

giving the benefit of the doubt to some strange man,

so the next time someone invites me to tea,

I will make certain that dessert is not me!




© LROD 05.20.1998

I love you, baby, but you’re too old for me.

I want somebody who is under 23.

And so what if my butt is 49.

I want some young stuff and I ain’t lying.

My ex-husband is only 36,

But his old butt ran all out of tricks

When he was just 33 years old.

Now he can’t do squat (or so I’m told).

Hey, Baby, just how do you do?

I think I want to go home with you.

You say you’ve just turned 21?

Well, look out, Baby, because here I come!

I want someone that I won’t have to bury.

That’s the only way that I will remarry.

But, one day, if you should run out of gas,

Then you know I’ll have to leave your old butt!




© LROD 12.26.1997

(contest winning poem)

I know you’re nothing but a liar and I know you’re nothing but a cheat.

I also know you spent quite some time kissing on her feet.

You’re nothing but a tired old dog and you think nobody knows,

But I know you spent quite some time sucking on her toes.

The last time you laid eyes on me, do you remember what you said?

You told me you would never, ever take another woman to bed.

You told me how much you loved me as you stroked the hair on my head.

“I ain’t got no other woman, Jackie.”


That’s what you said.

Well, my name ain’t no Jackie!

You know my name is Rose!

And you ain’t been spending no time with your lips wrapped ‘round my toes!

Well, if that don’t make you a liar and if that don’t make you a cheat,

Then you’d better part your lips and start going at my feet!




© LROD 01.24.2006

“U-G-L-Y. You ain’t got to no alibi. You ugly. What? What! You ugly”

from NBC-TVs “Saturday Night Live”

and he said

“that’s an ugly girl”

his nose frowned

and his mouth curled

in displeasure

at having to gaze upon

one he deemed

so unworthy

I marveled

at the way

he correctly used

the indefinite article “an”

not substituting

the word “a”

as many

often do

it nevertheless plunged me

into a darkness

I never escaped from

being called “ugly”

never thought of myself

as beautiful

or even pretty

but I certainly

never considered myself

as being

“an ugly girl”

can’t think of anything

that hurt me worse


not missing the connection

when I tried

to imitate

that athletic Oretha Byrd

her style and grace

as she thrusted her body forth

to grab onto

the overhead bars

swing a couple of times

then jump off

landing on the balls of her feet

but I instinctively


and fell

directly on my back

knocking the wind out of me

and butting my head


on the polished hardwood gymnasium floor

during Physical Education Class

and I felt a pain

so devastating

that I doubted

I would ever be able

to catch my breath

or rise again

or walk without crutches

or talk


not being called the “N” word

in a return unsealed envelope

from Shirley Reynolds

the Notasulga, Alabama-born


I selected from

a scholastic magazine

in the seventh grade

because we were

so much alike

sharing our innermost secrets

about friends and family

about siblings and boyfriends

about church and school

about family values and moral codes

about fads and clothes

we corresponded

for over three years

until the photograph

I was so happy

to finally share with her

dolled up

in my pageboy hairstyle

wearing my favorite

winter wool gray dress

and black patent leather flats


a person of color

and I felt a pain

so devastating

that I doubted

I would ever be able

to wear gray again

or pick up another pen

or write another letter

to anyone

about anything

or ever express my feelings

or tell my secrets

or share my desires


not when that

big-lipped bully bad girl

Valerie Stewart

pissed off about

a note

I wrote

in Algebra Class

to someone else

about something else

tackled me

after school

knocked my glasses

off my face

dumped me down

in the grass

sat on me

then pounded my head

into the sidewalk pavement

along Avon Street

near Belmont Avenue

until handsome police officer

Raymond Davis

and his partner

drove up in their squad car

pushed their way

through tons of tickled teenagers

dragged her away

from my badly beaten body

delivered my black eye

swollen jaw

grass-filled skirt

and baby blue bloody blouse


to 1516 Broad Street

and I felt a pain

so devastating

that I doubted

I would ever be able

to think again

or hear again

or see again

or face my boyfriend again

eye to eye

because his cousin

was Valerie’s boyfriend


not being dumped

by Donald Wilson

for his old flame Lynn Weaver

and his new love Shirley Epps

after falling madly

and passionately

in love with him

during the winter months

of my sophomore year

when he kept me company

in my parent’s living room

before placing his soft round lips

on mine

kissing me

the first time

and filling my nostrils

with the magnificence

of Jade East cologne

fashioned against

his expensive leather jacket


months later

in the spring

flanked by his snickering friends

Dennis Buckner and Gary Bolden

(also friends of mine)

and surrounded

by other high school athletes

sought to humiliate me

in the presence of my enemies

at the

Christ the King Catholic Church dance

on Friday night

when he called to see what I was doing

a dance he knew nothing about

that I invited him to attend

saying my sister’s boyfriend

would drive me there

if he would take me home

and with everyone looking

and staring

at what was now

a massive circle

with miniature caricatures of us

in the middle

and gigantic replicas

of friends and foes

spread around us

and when I inquired

about his philandering nature

he indicated that it was true

and when I hurtfully asked,

“What about us?”

he cavalierly slapped me with,

“What ABOUT us?!”

leaving me to nearly trip

down the unpainted wooden steps

at the side door

of the auditorium

as I hastily

removed myself

from in front of him

and exited the building

soaking my starched yellow check sleeveless dress

with the white bodice

and matching short sleeved jacket

with salty tears

before they blinded my flight

to Jimmy Smith’s beat up old 55 Chevrolet

not even being

not one

not two

but three timed

by this guy that I really, really liked

and I felt a pain

so devastating

so excruciating

that I prayed for death to come quickly

because I knew that I could no longer live

and I doubted

I would ever be able

to stop crying

or get out of Jimmy’s car

or breath again

or love again

or trust again


and I would gladly relive

all of those

pitiful painful experiences


if that hateful little boy

would just

take back

what he said