Stanley Kowalski —
I met him on a steamy
August night in 1968
by the flickering blue light
of channel five's
Movies All Night.
He stood
(which would have been enough
for me)
he stood
there
rippling.
I had never seen
a person ripple before.
He was
meaty,
thick,
a
a
a
lumper, a longshoreman
an iron worker.
He was Oh, my Christ — What is this? This was not
Davy Jones,
Mickey Dolenz,
Bobby Sherman;
this was
M-A-N!
With my eyes bulging,
my nostrils flared,
I watched Streetcar without blinking
or breathing
as Stanley (that animal!)
mumbled
sweated
burped
scratched his privates
and
rippled.
Okay, so maybe it was just my twelve-year old hormones
kicking in,
but my heart was beating so hard
I thought my ears would start to bleed!
This was...
foreign.
Dangerously, darkly
foreign.
The curling sneer of his full lips,
the brooding eyes...
I wanted to
to
to
compose a freakin' symphony
on the spot for big, dirty men.
Intense:
simple movements a veritable Ballet
of intensity, of passion.
(could his jeans have been any tighter
without cutting off his
circulation!)
And it did not matter
that he took advantage of
the delicate magnolia, Mizz Blanche —
Crazy bitch had it comin'! (Oh, we gals are hard
on our own kind, aren't we?)
It did not matter because
his heart
was true ,
his heart
belonged to Stella.
STEEEELLLLAAAA!!!
Stella was his wife,
his Mama,
his salvation,
his woman.
The summer of Brando
changed me forever.
Since that moment,
that steamy August night,
every man
in my life is measured
by the Brando yardstick,
from Stanley
to Don Vito Corleone...
God help them.
"What are you rebelling against, Johnny?"
"Whadda ya got?"
P. Gomes,
I applaud you on this exquisite piece, you actually made me smile! I dont often do that on the outside! Inside smile a lot when reading, but seldom does an outside smile race across my face in blazed instant fashion and form! I adored watching this twelve year old bask in her day of innocence unfolding! The piece was enchanting and magnificent to my way of thinking, words I toss seldom as well! My, my, what a fast race-horse mind you have! Ah yes Brando.... he had his way with the ladies indeed...heres to ya Mr Brando.
By The way, the pleasures all mine P.
Rodney Evan Bohen
Reviewed by Cathy Montgomery (Reader)
Reviewed on March 12, 2003
Wow...
My eyes rarely wander from my guy...
But you had my mind's eyes breaking
the speed limit with this one!
Reviewed by Adam Walsvik (Reader)
Reviewed on March 11, 2003
For the ladies. Well, the lady in me cries out along with you for this man! This beautiful, dirty,sweaty, delicious man! Oh!
Adam
Reviewed by Amber Lynn (Reader)
Reviewed on March 6, 2003
Brando does it for every young girl, and you captured it.
I love your poem patricia...for me, it was Robert mitchum..his voice...his eyes..sigh..the late late movies just arent the same anymore. Deb
Reviewed by Mike Ill (Reader)
Reviewed on March 5, 2003
Great poem, too bad Brando is just a shell of his former self now...a big shell. I'm glad to find someone who also appreciates Bukowski...you should check out my poem for Bukowski if you get a chance.
Reviewed by Mike Ill (Reader)
Reviewed on March 5, 2003
damn, this is right on...and that moment of Brando has never been duplicated has it? :-)
Hey You,
Well, there is nothing flat about this poem! It is filled with your unique and very powerful way of telling a story! How is it that you always put us right there with you?
An iron worker eh??? You must stay away from them, they are heartbreakers! <smilesandwinks>
uh, youse are somethin...youse got the kinda honest like stuff...EVEN A RIPPLING MAN OUTTA APPRECIATE... well, his brain cells might havta' ripple a little, too, but damn, Pat..this...I, okay, so I kinda maybe mighta gone for the like oh...James Dean Type (didn't ripple as much, but that sadness behind the eyes and that wanting..) ALL OF THIS TO SAY, YES!!! YOU..my friend, pull no punches and just amaze me, always, always, and yes, still wish I was a publisher!!!
I agree w/Lady A.
"bravooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
This book is an autobiographical account of the lessons I learned about life and how I was able to apply them to inspire, motivate and empower others in my own work as a firefighter, as well in my daily life as a husband, a father and a man. When I w
This is not a drill. The attack on Pearl. They were the ghost planes of the night, deadly, illusive, sharp-clawed Black Cats. The Memoirs of ARM H.P. Lawrence, a Pearl Harbor survivor, Black Cat, and decorated war veteran.
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I applaud you on this exquisite piece, you actually made me smile! I dont often do that on the outside! Inside smile a lot when reading, but seldom does an outside smile race across my face in blazed instant fashion and form! I adored watching this twelve year old bask in her day of innocence unfolding! The piece was enchanting and magnificent to my way of thinking, words I toss seldom as well! My, my, what a fast race-horse mind you have! Ah yes Brando.... he had his way with the ladies indeed...heres to ya Mr Brando.
By The way, the pleasures all mine P.
Rodney Evan Bohen
My eyes rarely wander from my guy...
But you had my mind's eyes breaking
the speed limit with this one!
Adam
ask Chrissie We know....lol
Excellent!
Reindeer
josie
Well, there is nothing flat about this poem! It is filled with your unique and very powerful way of telling a story! How is it that you always put us right there with you?
An iron worker eh??? You must stay away from them, they are heartbreakers! <smilesandwinks>
LoveYa,
Maria
Chrissie
I agree w/Lady A.
"bravooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
william
Good one.
Glad I stopped by.
~E
and i will never think of another woman again
Hey Stella!!!!!!!!!!!!!
wow....this roars!!!
Stellaaaaaaaa
and more!!!!
bravoooooooooooooooo!!!