Best Bosomed Poems
I have borrowed the first line of this piece from the"unknown scribe" , which I
read many years ago.... The rest is for ALL the great mothers who are SOUPER.
Who took me from my cosy cot
And sat me on an ice cold pot .
To make me pee ,when I could not.......... My mother
Who fed me from the very start
With bosomed milk , straight from the heart
Then burped me, 'till I'd belch and fart...... My mother
Who warmed me from the Winter breeze
Dried the blood from my skinned knees
But told me "fibs" 'bout birds'n bees..........My mother
Who healed me when I had a chill
And nursery rhymed me Jack and Jill
But lied to Dad , about being on the pill...... My mother
Who coaxed me past the school day bell
Smiled and said .. all would be well
But then went home and cried like Hell.......My mother
Who was protector from life's curse
Was doctor , dentist , priest and nurse
Friendly Bank ,with open purse...................My mother
Who lies beneath this cold grey stone
In peace ,at last , and all alone
The first true love that I had known.................. Mam
x
Down in Louisiana,
down in da bayou deep
Where sweaty bodies hear da swamp sounds
in da hot, steamy heat
Local people know Mamadou Sekkou
Medicine woman
born on da banks of da bayou
300 lbs
of dark, dark skin
charcoal black
Big bosomed woman
with black and silver wavy waterfalls
flowing down her back
Mamadou Sekkou
sez she got a potion for you
Make your weak man strong,
make him love you all night long
Make him be yours from a man-child
til he be old in da bones
Make him be yours all his lifelong
Just don’t do Mamadou Sekkou wrong,
or a curse is gon rise from da swamp
Do da big Cajun woman right,
and a blessing gets added to your life
Mamadou Sekkou sez she a woman of God,
had da healing potion oracles passed down ...
straight from da root of da African bush
that don’t burn
Mamadou Sekkou
sez she curse dem dat don’t never learn
Dem dat keep to da bad ways,
dem dat wear da gator gaze
Curse dem to da swamp dey go,
let da glowing eyes drag dey souls down below
Mamadou Sekkou
give dem da swamp Cajun curse ...
but she always try to turn dem right first
Born Doris, named for our grandmother Doris Owens,
she is nothing much like grandma.
If anything, I am more like grandma
for my thrifty ways and down-to-earth practicality.
Doris, nicnamed Dorie, how we tease her when we hear
her name like the name of the spaced-out fish on “Finding Nemo.”
Dorie, who we teased as a child because she always dawdled,
always losing track of time; we never could guess why!
In that way, she never was like me, but was more like Dory
from “Finding Nemo.”
Dorie, who like me, is long-nosed and full-bosomed
and of all my sisters, has the most in common with myself.
Dorie, who got confused for me, particularly by our grandma,
the woman after whom Dorie had been named!
Dorie, who got to be the cheerleader I failed to be
but who majored in my field and never got to work as a teacher.
Instead she works today in a place for special needs adults,
working many hours now that she is divorced.
Dedicated, hard-working, studious and conscientious -
in those ways Dorie is the most like me
of all my other sisters.
Who else but Dorie would write me back 40 to 50-page letters
back in the day when all we had was snail mail!
My letters to Dorie I copied off each month as a record
of my hectic life when I was young in college and
also when I was dealing with my new role as a mother.
Dorie, my writing soul mate sister, who probably
does not write much any more and I doubt that she writes poetry!
She is busy working up to 60 hours a week!
But when she writes, her emails are long and detailed
just like mine.
Dorie, in whom I gradually saw differences from me.
More emotional, more hormonal, more maternal -
this is Dorie. More religious and in politics,
the opposite of me.
Despite all that, we love to chat.
We laugh and laugh, as I do with all my other sisters.
Dorie, who like our youngest sister Theadora,
shares with me a fascination for things such as nutrition,
all three of us sharing with each other our recipes
fitness hints, and special ways to boost metabolism!
Dorie, the sister who Mom says "leapt with joy"
inside our mother’s womb right before Mom went into labor
just for hearing the voice of me, her oldest sister.
I love all my sisters equally, but for many reasons,
Dorie is the sister most like me!
March 6, 2019 for the "What's In a Name" Contest of Kim Rodrigues
Blasphemy
Blatantly ephemeral or plain outright naughty and lustful
Praying for beauty in the eye of beholding passionate Gods
Angles and half dome shaped wishes curve balls and all
~ Those who write by the sword are judged by the Lord ~
Thanatos and Libido a close shave of mounds of Vesuvius
The Vatican going up in one shattering search of its smoke
Church towers like phalli or bayonets decree choice in the matter
~ Trust thy neighbor in her cove’s coveted olives and mangos go forth
Veiled femme fatals embrace their shadows cover the flame
The Muezzin shouts from his minaret calls for service and love
Lingerie adorned by copula’s cusp bosomed for nibbles
~ Wet shirt competition in the heat of the spiritual moment ~
An elegant elephant with trumpeting trunks moaning and groaning
Free flowing love on the banks of the Ganges under cloth of the loin
Where Hindu meets Buddha on sheets and streets of Kolkata
~ Begging for mercy as wars of religions and nations battle in vain ~
Crosses to bear half moons to envisage and Karma to please
One woman’s humid humour is another man’s satirical crime
Whose God is to command me what is right and what thong
~ But once the bloody atheist kneels on the altar faith is restored ~
03rd May
In her slippery salmon swim
And red streaked Crawdads chute
Into her eddying pools
To stare at her from beneath rocks.
Whitewater rapids challenge men
To stand against her torrential frame
And face her, screaming out in pain
Torturous centuries of ecstatic rain
To be her solitary stone
To stand against her all alone
A true man to soften her cold soul.
And who’ll be her Reigning Lord
Echo her insanity
To lover her shade and slippery slopes
Crevices’ waiting, sharp inclines.
Once a current in the sea
So filled with green and mystery
To her a man did rarely come
Then, pulled up by curious shapes
Like lambs, in white puffs she flew
And traced her shadow cross the land
Till the puffs released her soul
In little flakes, gentle and slow
For a time entombed in frozen snow.
There men saw her as a sprite
Reflected in her cage of white
Men chased her form of watery light
In dreams that came hard in the night
Her body lucid, long and lean
A cold corpse, frozen to the earth
Blue hair, bent arm, frozen knee
The sun took pity, broke the back
Of the ice block and set her free
So through high mountains, cliffs
And rocks she trickled
In a gathering streams, in rivulets
Of tears, mouths open
Her bosomed skin slipped as ice
Pain built up the rage within
And sorrow brought it to the light.
Green – the color of fast and deep
White – the foam that came in waves
Along the long and joyous vein
She spreads her long body
Knee bent, her heavy breasts pinned
Blasted, rippled by the wind
She’s touched only by old earth’s hand
Its gravity like a naked man
Basking in her pools
Her faces and belly ghosting him, a mirror.
Watch her through the thickening trees
Her body sliding toward the sea
A torturous rape, a rapid ride
For all who’ve hung upon her side
Hearts pound, as she shrieks and sighs
With each down stroke a demon dies
Within the man who’s bourn the pain
Endured her crushing fingers round
Who’s felt the pound of her breasts soft
Been beaten by her to the blood
And awaits for centuries her cold flood.
She gives you her number, you remember
She is brown to the sun
Her figure is one well bottomed
She is well bosomed
Her lips so glossy
And her hips bouncy
You remember,
You felt the thirst and felt the lust
You did not surrender.
Gave her a call at night
Told her she looks beautiful and bright
That her outlook was online so you linked
She giggled
You felt the thirst and felt the lust
You did not surrender
You gave her a date
Told her cate
You are my perfect mate
She opened her gate’
You went in with all the thirst and all the lust
Scattered your seeds
Mission complete
Her number delete
Days later
Saw someone better
Then the thirst and the lust
Do not forget your own.
A man with the tendency of every pregnancy
Firing shorts, hitting the target then take off like Tergat
Leaving the hunt to rot in the jungle
A really deadly gamble.
Seed you sow you must reap
Will there be a time when men will have no stomachs
That want to put in more meat
As their seed loose weight
Chains and cartels of a chosen few
Having life on a daily stew
Are, you, are, you
No! Such files are encrypted
Details private and confidential
But behind the white board lies a black board.
Seeds you sow you should surely reap
Will there be a time when guilt will be felt
And thinks will change
And time will revenge
For freedom is a responsibility
Life has its dignity
Lift the left
Fix the misfits
Clean the black sheep
Throw a party for the prodigal son
Tend to the seed
Let it germinate
Do not terminate
That growth has a worth
Do the math
Be proud of the aftermath
Seeds you sow
You must reap.
by Michaelw1two
Heart fire is fueled by truth not lie,
thus gifts all minds serene;
permutes a consciousness confused,
result a soul of facet sheen;
perverse lapse, irresolute trait,
venal view rebuked by mien;
synteresis returned foremost,
no room for grayish id between.
Expand in consciousness, reprove past view,
embrace cosmolatry;
concordance, life’s dance empirical,
in soul tune inner ballatry;
consensus pleads, relate to all,
firstborn progeny of beatific latry;
coalesce resolve and refute obduracy,
reject bitter barratry.
Panoptic sight,
is found in the core of minds that ideate;
fortitude rekindles ebbing credulity,
thoughts soon elaqueate;
empowering self one’s privilege,
become truth’s malleate;
certitude redemptory proof,
be no partisan to wicked illaqueate.
Asterisms reveal times augury,
in souls and upon firmament;
exemplify divine embrace,
as bosomed is life’s colliquament;
prolific incitation named,
physical being specific sacrament;
regardant shuns a look behind,
rapt of rapture's delirament.
Precocious each must be,
our best bestowed on us prebirth;
candour freed of callousness,
at birth all know their worth;
anthropical question,
is life poised to rebuild faith’s hearth;
eversion, soul deputes the flesh,
temple filled, aeon enforth.
Jan 2010
The midday dazzle lays off by the maiden daytime
A solstice ray parades over my eventide jollity
The solitary hour bosomed by the bambini’s elfish prime
An ecstatic hour greeted my heartfelt puerility
The infrasonic twittery of birds melded by the sundown cosmic time
A gentle breeze solemnly pass by my stargaze eternity.
The daylight soulfully sonneted by the sunset bliss
An allayed euphony coupled my awaited sapidity
The blessed souls savored by the moonlit soul kiss
A wishful rhyme pulsed my heart with chastity
The shadow of fantasm abided by the solely muss
A blended mind’s eye captured my evening salsa verity.
------------------------------x-------------------------------
~~~~~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~~~~~
Vague murky nights bosomed with bane
Annihilating ev'ry smile
Plummeting pollens so insane
Ample powder - quietus file
Effulgence emerged just awhile
Lustre fetching thousand glee
Electrifying - halt to rile
In realms of outrage - nice to flee.
~~~~~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~~~~~
=============================
*-* jun-jun villanueva
*-* " HUTAIN THIS ONE " Contest
There was a girl at the height of her youth
Big bosomed and slim and yet quite uncouth
Then a virus took hold
She had been quite controlled
And then developed a rather sweet tooth
Will be good for your breast milk so God will
This catholic nation forbids the pill
No coil and no rubber
But he would not snub her
Took them to bed and demanded his fill
Her pastor advised a chastity belt
Helps protection in times of great svelte
And dries up his quill
Seed cannot instill
So your grand midsection cannot be swelled
But her pangs would not stop food ingestion
She did not even get indigestion
So tight at the waist
No good to be chaste
To do it or not was thus the question
Before I pop we must look for the key
But no cohabitation you will agree
No sex my sweetheart
Till death do us part
But the right pick remained an absentee
Then she burst like an inflated balloon
And they consumed passion at a full moon
Twins round and perfect
Whats cause and effect
Philosophy can be rather opportune
Was the girdle the faulty solution
Human nature or too much volution
Adipose tissue
Some other issue
That triggered seminal ‘pollution’
Moment of madness due to pandemic
Birth rites or something more academic
Epicure’s garden
Or simply a hard one
Time revealed it was rather systemic
So what’s the climax of this fine account
Could the fertile villain truly be found
The friend here at task
Knocked with a face mask
It was the kind milkman during his round
30th April 2020
In the late 1800’s working a trade well-meant
I was considered different to my sorrow and detriment
I thought about changing, to reinvent
But, as “Ranger” (that’s me) I was content
I was a mortician by trade (not held to be routine)
My occupation ostracized but to me sensible and serene
Nor as strange or alarming as some may deem
Ghosts, spirits and the deceased frequented my dreams
Providing the spiritual source that supported my prediction
Everyone’s earthly departure led to a new dimension.
Sadly by my late thirties I bowed to my fate
Convinced I would never have a mate
Absent Society’s invitations and hardly befriended
Dwelling in Society’s circles for me was prevented
When I turned forty my life was transformed
Raven flew into my life like a raging firestorm
Accepting who I was and liking every part of me
We embraced the unity that was meant to be.
Raven was a vibrant force, caring, and warm
Full bosomed spare but very graceful in form
Face exquisitely drawn and eyes like stormy dawn
Tall as I with opulent lips I yearned to taste
Her lustrous black hair tumbled below her waist
To all except Raven I was blind
We took root in each other’s soul and mind
The Supreme Being whoever He or She may be
Brought forth Raven I believed just for me
Raven gave me joy and added meaning
To my life with intense fulfilling feeling
She had humor, wit, and a naughty nature
She gave me pleasure Raven my cherished treasure.
One day I was off to the village while Raven was relaxing
She’d had a cold and her lack of rest had been taxing
I planned to surprise her with a hand-crafted gift
Ordered from the goldsmith with no thought for thrift
As I passed Turnbull’s Tavern at the front end of town
Two men crashed the doors and knocked me to the ground
They fought furiously cursing rolling knives slashing
I was pinned beneath pushing kicking gasping
Suddenly and painfully I felt a sharp penetration
In agony and disbelief there came instant recognition
“Oh no,” “Raven,” I breathed, “Raven.”
In increments un founding maze
my eye once twinkling, now in haze
not seeing, only feeling's phase
that knows some emptiness, not craze!
As when the pain, exaction, plays
upon my faith, to altar's scare,
the small ideal, all lessons raise
does still abound it's focused stays!
That picking voice, no sound's exchange
but endless prattle, toward its ways
so hearing nothing, nothing lays
within my path, but not relay!
Creations living, bosomed soul
this then, the else of time's replay
that speaks and sings, within's abode
as sameness striving's . . . not obey!
grandma bare bosomed and barely covered by frayed crocheted pants
looked like a mixture of parakeet and paragon in a fairy tale’s garment
under cover of darkness she would bare her wickedness and emotions
a mocking bird with a beak full of gold and a never ending feathered quill
fire in her heart and a pen crafted from charcoal and indelible passion
tea leaves suspended in a crystal ball swayed by pendulums of words
stepladder to wisdom swinging from a roped pinnacle at the threshold
from reality to psychedelic hunter and gatherer of mushrooms and magic
candles crafted from Arabian lamps exuded Alhambra charms and Alladin
whose cave was her fortress in the woods of past future times and pastiche
desk like a lamp post overshadowing contours and scripted penumbra
it was never too late to have a happy childhood with a wick as companion
no hermit but prophesy personified she send messages out into the world
parchment of wisdom tied to acorns belladonna berries and butterfly wings
required no answers because questions held stronger without instant replies
the old scribe never died because an oak tree grew unperturbed in my soul
27th June 2020
The selfsame page echoes wordlessly like barren lord
To write in characters of light, Oh! bucket headed bard
Understand, art-like slumber must set-the soul free
Beyond time's fabric walls, in boundless circles waterski
Across the black besmeared realms of dreary night
Where passion cleaves darkness with fanged light.
Tread forth into the beauteous lustre of things
And hark, how sweet the drunken nightingale sings
Cheering languid Cynthia and the slow bursting bud
Oh! come empty bosomed lad
Let the primeval tongue of deft nature teach
You how to fold forms into voluptuous speech.
The sun through verdure fields has unrolled
His sweet placid beam of burning gold
And how gaily whispers the roaming scented wind
Blowing voluptuous strains pleasant than sevenfold lutes combined
Revealing to the dancing emerald leaves galore
Divine secrets hoarded in mediaeval days devoid of law.
When the throbbing heart of nature tunes the soul
Grand refined wisdom is your to attain
Which nor cognitive lore nor pedantic clouds of scroll
Can ever shower upon the mortal train.
I went down the stairs before
The light went out
My urge more than a mark
The territorial pet sprays
The stoic silence of trees
I washed my hands
And clean of fear
Turned to the stair again
I rose each flight
To take the space
Reserved in my class
For those on the edge
Of belonging
And care
The darkness bosomed me
I yielded
To the succulence
Of your mouth
Waiting in the silence
To initiate
Surprise
Face to face with your planned desire
I learned a lot day
At school
For your perfect smile
Had false
Dentures glistening
White
On the darkness of my eyes
A first kiss
Is a stairway to understanding
How we
Having climbed no higher
Than that moment
Remained devoted
Until you expired.
Your husband cried not I
I stare at the muted darkness still.