Tag Archives: steampunk


A dim light bends shadows

There’s no reason to make noise

Which would be muffled anyway

Here, beneath the city

Understreeting to trystplace

Your footfalls sound tentative around the corner

But they continue

You appear out of the dark

We don’t speak

Just reach

Pull together clinching tight

Finding our way through what is suddenly excess clothing

Shedding cottons

Sliding silks slow southern descent

A first taste

Then a moment of restraint

Eyes locked into each other

Simple kisses dissolving wetly

Urgently we try to absorb each other’s skin

Finding cellular delight pressed tight

In the shadows that lie beneath

Under layers that hide your mystery


Nothing locked behind us

A danger of discovery

Pleasure heightening apprehension adds to the rush

Bloodrushed heat becomes inferno bright

As you arch your back pressing up harder

Harder into softer

Urgent for that moment of completion

Exchange of self

Swallowing each other


While aboveground people walk from shop to shop

Sometimes stopping to take pictures of the view

A view that doesn’t scratch the surface



David Trudel    ©  2013



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Filed under Steampunketry


Backlit by gaslight she vanishes

Around the corner into the fog

I calibrate gears and dials on my forearm finder

Adjust the setting to mysterious and flip the brass toggle

I’m rewarded with whirs and clicks

Clockwork hands spin wildly

Much like my heart did a few moments earlier

When she came into the bistro, looked briefly around

And then left, abruptly, without a sound

Now the finder points the way

Into crooked alleys and unmarked lanes

Where I see no winsome beauty in high buttoned boots

But I smell a faint trace of her scent in the damp air

I hasten forward

As I turn a corner I see her

Ascending a rope ladder into an airship

A hand reaches out and pulls her in

The ship shudders, swivels and moves ahead

Picking up steam

So I flip the switch and walk away




David Trudel  © 2013



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Filed under Steampunketry

Stereo Types

Unexpected incongruities keep me smiling

I was at an anarchist bookstore fundraiser

Expecting the music to match the stereotypes

Black leathers and body piercings

Plaid flannel workshirts that never quite cover all of the tattoos

Or the hair, spilling out or down or over

Anarchists, my kind of crowd

Enthusiastic counter-culture rebels

Whose fashion sense lies somewhere between goth and steampunk

So when the show opened with bluegrass banjo

It felt discordant

But the crowd enthused and stomped along

And when the next chanteuse launched into Dixieland

And rolled up river to sing the blues like Lady Day

I had to smile as the loud girls behind me roared their applause

For gentle ballads of gracious peace

And I realized my assumptions were just that

Stereotypes are always incomplete

My expectation of the night’s music had been punked

Smiling, I roared my applause



David Trudel  ©  2013



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Filed under Poetry