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The Best Boy Poems

Details | Boy Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Boy oh boy and a girl

I wish to claim
My boyness
My yesterday sillyness
Innocent shyness
My crinkled nose grininess
That hide and seekiness
Spin the bottle 
kind of geekiness 

Getting caught 
My hand in the cookie jarness
That pushing too farness
Collecting comic charminess 
Pulling pigtales
Stolen kisses
Hidden playboy kinda business
Cop a feel inquisitiveness

Being a bit
Self conscience  
A true life witness
Loving the mysterious 
Laughing more than being serious
Feeling delirious 
Not afraid
Somewhat curious

Wondering
About adultness
What it was all aboutness
Thinking that it leads to freeness
I'd know just how to be-ness
Eating what I want 
Staying up late kinda keeness

Now I wonder
What was the rushness
To reach adultness
Full of it's doubtiness
What's it all aboutness
I witness it's dreamlessness
It's no longer about me-ness
More mundane
To much saneness
Routine and sameness
No one cares if you cameness
Less is less
And more is moreness
Can't see the trees
Through the dark forest

So grab onto your girliness
I'll bring my boyness
There will be more
Way more 
Yesirey
Hotdigity
Joyousness 
No more boringness 
We'll spin in circles
Enjoy our dizziness 
After all
Having fun
Is a serious business!



I wrote this one in December 2014. 
I hope you have as much fun reading as I had writing it.


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014


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My Little Soldier Boy

Gary, you are my little soldier boy,
who died on Veteran's Day. ('83)
My sunny, golden-haired soldier boy,
that I still miss in every way.

You had just turned 13,
getting interested in girls.
When CF took you from me,
my heart, like a flag, unfurled.

You fought CF with every breath.
For 13 years you tried.
And four lung collapses later,
after each one, I said, 
"Son, you will survive."
Oh, how I lied!

Now, no more hugs and kisses,
No more birthday wishes,
I watched you go
and please God know,
Heaven, receive my treasure.


Author Note:  This poem was written in memory of my son, Gary,
who died of Cystic Fibrosis at 13, in 1983.  I honor my soldier who so valiantly
fought his fight on the battlefield of a life threatening lung disease, which fills the lungs with sticky mucus and makes it difficult to breathe. With all CF children, 
they struggle with every breath they take just to breathe! My son eventually 
started to have lung collapses. He had four before the last one took his young life  on Veteran's Day weekend in 1983..(Read my poem "A rainbow Glitters") 

I wouldn't be a poet today, if not for my son. He was diagnoses at age three.
As I sat by his hospital bed crying, I reached into my purse for a tissue, but 
instead, I pulled out a pen. I thought to myself, "Ok, God, I get the message.
You want me to write and not cry." So I wrote my first poem that night, "Not 
MY Son!"  Which eventually got published in Elizabeth Kubler Ross' Book "On Children and Death." Later, I wrote humorous poems to entertain my son, who
was often to sick to go to school.  And I'm still writing my poems today. 
 



 



Copyright © Darlene Gifford | Year Posted 2014


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Avi, oh Avi

Oh Avi, Avi
  Sometimes, with my eyes closed
    I see you dance
      A dervish, whirling, like me
        And I wished
          Oh how I wished you would
            pirouette into my arms
              You would hold me
                How I would hold you

                  But my arms and yours
                caught girls, alluring and delicate
              Oh Avi, Avi
            When you laughed
                                          My stomach turned
                             And multi-coloured butterflies
             And small flying kites
danced into the air

     Occasionally you glanced at me
       the way I did at you
       I think you did
Oh Avi, Avi
        We were so young
                Just boys, small boys
Thinking about you still
  makes my day smile

             I wheel my chair
        With light rhythmic movements
   Dreaming about a time
  Where I still had dreams
     And you were in them
          With our tights and muscular
               Frames and our *****
             Avi, oh Avi.

***

March 7, 2017
© Darren White


Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017


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This song, it is for you

This song, it is for you Because my heart is singing All that I feel is true The happiness you’re bringing Because my heart is singing The sun is burning bright The happiness you’re bringing Chases away the night The sun is burning bright And though the nightmare lingers Chases away the night With friendly fiery fingers And though the nightmare lingers I shiver in your arms With friendly fiery fingers You keep me safe and warm I shiver in your arms You whisper in my ear You keep me safe and warm I want you always near You whisper in my ear The words that live within me I want you always near Two hearts, eternally The words that live within me All that I feel is true Two hearts, eternally This song, it is for you *** 1st place in contest Pantoum Poem, Judged October 16, 2016


Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016


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Brody

Brody

I bought two new books for you today my sweet boy.
The Wizard of Oz and the Jungle book should bring joy.

I'm very proud of how wonderfully you read.
As an English scholar, I know you will succeed.

I see your picture in the morning when I rise
As I observe your dark hair and sparkling brown eyes

The thought and sight of you really makes me smile,
Although, when I saw you last, it's been quite a while.

I miss watching you laugh and play riding your bike.
I love photos sent of you and Dad on that hike.

You love to have fun in the sun I know, I know...
You race and ride that ATV just like a pro.

Your mommy sends me sweet pictures which makes my day
I would love to find a letter from you today.

You look so dashing in your boy scout livery
With badges bravely sought and won with chivalry.

Your Kung fu lessons have trained mind and body well
I'm proud of you my dear grandson and I can tell

The kind of compassionate soul you will one day be.
I pray to God you will be blessed eternally.

Sometimes tears fall because you live so far away
I long for your kisses and hugs most everyday.

Please don't ever forget how much your Gram loves you.
You have my heart, and with your smile I can't feel blue.

4-9-18
© Connie Marcum Wong

-Poem of the day April 11, 2018~

5th place in Emile Pinet's Non-Romantic Love Contest



Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2018


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Missing My Little Boys

My babies have all gone,
They've grown and left the nest,
Spreading out their wings to fly,
Upon life's thrilling quest.

The years flew by so quickly.
Babies turned into little boys.
Little boys grew into manhood,
Putting away their childish toys.

I miss those little boy faces,
With their mischievous, winsome smiles.
I miss their childish chatter,
And their creative little boy wiles.

Why didn't I pay more attention?
Why didn't I play with them more?
Why didn't I realize how fleeting time was?
But I didn't and it makes my heart sore.

I miss the little boys that my sons were,
But I'm proud of the men they've become.
They'll always be my little boys,
And I will always love them.

Kim Merryman    3/10/12
Entered in SKAT's "Greatly Missed" contest


Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2012


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Middle School Nicknames Part 1

I am the girl with many names, 
At first when you said my name, “Madison”- it had been so crisp on your tongue, as if a leaf  of autumn had torn beneath your sneaker. As we walked out together.. on that pastoral day. 

I swooned when you said it, You spoke it, as if it were your own- as if you had picked it from the orchard of names.
You handed me the dainty ones- like, “Maddie.” so soft on your tongue, that it made me feel all warm and fuzzy, like I was cupping a peach in my palms.

Then, one day when you saw me- the true bud blossoming, 
my heart unfolding  like my floral printed skirt, draped over my tiny waist.

That is when you gave me- began to pester me..
with the cute pet names.

I've been called many names, “Cutie.” but I am not a clementine,
my personality is not round, it is curly like my sandy, golden strands of hair.

Oh, but you- You call me “Mad Dog.”

“Mad Dog,” my collar that fits upon the long nape of my neck,
You say it to my friends, and strangers who happen by, “...Oh Mad Dog...” 

Mad Dog- to you is when the apples of my cheeks go rosy, blushing in shades of primrose pink. It is when my brows arch, or my eyes touch the corners,
the edges of the room. 

This name it grows into ivy,
 then flourishes into soft spring blossoms,
of, “Mad Bunny,” “Mad Bear.’ the nurturing names to define my compassion..
and my passion for the love of Mother Earth.

You call me “Thumper,” when I tap my heels on the floor, a ballad 
for you to drum to with your pencil.

The symphony of Middle School nicknames, 
resounding thru my ears… each one following me- trailing behind me, leaving breadcrumbs of what I once was seen as,

As a Middle School girl, with lavender frames, tiny footsteps,
and sweet warbles- stumbling off her tongue.
I am the poetic one, the deep one… who can recite every verse of wisdom, I attain.


Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2017


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Dream Boy

My favorite verse from THE soft rock song of my youth
Hit song of 1969 by the Carpenters:

(They Long To Be) Close To You
    (middle stanza of the song)

"On the day that you were born

the angels got together and decided

to create a dream come true

so they sprinkled moon dust in your hair

of gold and starlight in your eyes of blue."

Dream Boy

To fall for him I needed just one look
and after that, he had me on his hook -
a fact which I’m not sure he even knew!
Dream boy with hair of gold and eyes of blue.

I lived for those church dances in his town.
I’d see him there but always feel let down.
Girls followed him around. What could I do?
Dream boy with hair of gold and eyes of blue.

Not being in his orbit or his school,
I longed for him and simply played the fool.
The fantasy for me would not come true!
Dream boy with hair of gold and eyes of blue.

Dedicated to Chris Frogley, wherever now he may be.

For the "I Love Rock 'N roll" Poetry contest of Kelly Deschler


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011


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Middle School Nicknames Part 2

And yet, you are the charming one, with charisma bursting at the seams of your creme grey sweatshirt.. and the tender strands of your ash blonde hair...
And your gaping eyes of blue, 
that take me into an undertow of enigma
and daydreams. In which I can never escape- from those tides of blue that pour from the irises of your eyes.

You, I call “Brownie.” not only because of your soft brown hair, 
that reminds me of softened chocolate chips baked into the heart shaped cookies I gave you. But to emphasize your sweetness-
 that comes from your tone; 
Your soft syllables they make me melt… melt slowly like a marshmallow caressed by embers of a smoldering campfire.

There is much we give, to one another- I give you my eyes, the sea green swirls 
that make you step lightly into bliss- even though you trip over your own feet.. when preening yourself as I walk by.

And you…
You give me your deep blue eyes, and your long, slow motion winks; 
you share with me the palms of your hands- so soft.. when you touch me.. or stroke the back of my neck, accidentally.

For you are the portrait of Soothing.
and I am your Admirer..
As am I your gallery- and the one painting of gentle colors that you brush with your palms..

The painting:

the dark blue of wildflowers etched- compared to 
my polka dotted dress, that I curtsy in.

The ivory clouds, alike the lace of my tank top...
when you gaze at me, and all the heat flushes back into me.. 
that melts the tips of my fingers… and awakens the seed of  romanticism inside of me.

This Silly little Attraction, where our friends nudge us to touch,
to bare fruit upon the Acacia Tree in our minds… that maybe…

Just maybe we should date, and 
that “Mad Dog,” and “Brownie,” 
should once and for all, share each other's sweet offerings,
Of blissful love.


Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2017


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SHOW ME WHAT LIFE IS

I move my hurtful head and stare forlorn
Over my non-existing boundary,
Where past is seen and future laughs decayed.
Here language is an unwelcome guest,
In stillness awkward, clean environment.
My eyes stay empty, yet insist and glare
Through looks of expectation all around:
“Where are the others, how long did I sleep...
Why can’t I speak, why can’t I move my legs..
Why is my vision dim, hearing askew?
Why can’t I turn my head? Where are my arms?”

A man sits here, I recognize his form:
He sat here yesterday, a week ago;
Last month he spoke, a resonated dream,
His hand on mine, his eyes a kindly blue.
He speaks in words I cannot figure out!
Expressions intimate, yet challenging
For memory and body, still it feels
I’ll understand if only I will try.
He speaks and smiles, his mellifluous voice
Reaches inside where tears are made of salt;
And I reach out for him, he takes my hand.

Today they let him in, my Little One.
He cried impatience loud, I heard his hurt.
He leaped and jumped, so they could not forestall
Him holding me so close in his embrace;
They cannot understand his tenderness
Needs close bodily touch and so does mine…
We used to spend our days in bitter cold
Amidst six more, all trying to survive.
The winters feasting on us in that land,
Bare and barren, forests deep and vile.
Our hearts beating as one kept us alive,
His heart I need in order to survive:
I revel in the glow of his warm shape;
I close my eyes, a fetus in his love

They moved me to a country far away.
The mountains here are high, the glaciers white.
The people speak a language I don’t know,
But languages are easy to be learned.
They’re friendly and not curious which is good,
Because I have no answers, what to say
If someone asks what I am doing here,
Or why I wheel a chair instead of walk,
Or how I come to twitch so strange and tic?
I don’t speak one word they can understand!
Their world is one of beauty, yet I long
For people that I know, companionship.
If I must be alone till end of times,
I’d rather not be here, or anywhere…

If there is something good in this strange world,
Don’t take it away, allow some of it,
Give an example, how do I fit in?
Allow the means to find my value here,
Teach me why waking up was worth a dime,
Why every second here is not in vain.
I will have life, my family, they say,
Is waiting for me, but I can’t believe
They want me back, they once gave me away...
I rather stay with people that are nice...
Make every moment count while I have time.

I have my hands, some paper and a pen.
Today I start to set right what was done
To us, to give us back our pride, so cruel
Taken, so brutally, by evil men
Who thought us nothing but commodities.
Their crimes be judged, these torturers of youth,
Who lust and kill, who do not feel regret,
See other people as their rightful herd….
Their days in court will end in prison time,
More than their days spent on this cruel world.
My hands will talk, my language powerful.
I’ll write and turn my words to prisons strong,
To keep their vile intentions far away.
Our gilded cage will open wide and free.
This is the first day of my life. This is...
Day ME!

***

Bio, written in Iambic Pentameter Blank Verse
March 24, 2017
Copyright © Darren White


Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017


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Burger Boy

Burger boy hangs out
at the A&W
Spare change for burgers 
he sometimes has two

He chats up the girls
imagines he is cool
Making up tall tales 
but girls ain't easy to fool

He asks the cute waitress 
if she's from the Philippines
Tells her he was there yesterday 
eating noodles and beans!

She asks where he traveled 
he says he was everywhere
But the more he talks 
she knows he wasn't there

She doesn't make him feel bad
she just gives a sweet smile
It's enough to make him happy 
his grin widens a mile

Like so many others 
he hates being all alone 
So he sits dreams and fidgets 
while he charges his phone

The place is kinda quiet 
except cars driving through
If he had his own car 
it would be a dream come true

What others take for granted 
seems far beyond his reach
He's never had a holiday 
or walked a sandy beach

So he finds something 
that to others ain't much
A burger and a smile
He hopes fingers might touch


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016


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WORDS OF LOVE

My back against your chest, I smiling sigh I fit so nicely, small between your legs You cross my gimpy legs and hold both my Ankles in your firm grip, I grin and beg You whisper words of love against my hair I cannot do the same, this is not fair! Ouside it's cold, inside this lair lives love I stutter heated words in Dutch and more You feed me cherries, chocolate and above all, you feed me you: all I want is your sweet love, your life, your eyes, in which I see I love you just as much as you love me *** January 16, 2017


Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017


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Red balloon

At any rate, a boy was holding a red balloon Filled with helium, attached to a red ribbon. Swirling and whirling without constraints Having fun together they became fast friends, Teasing the boy, balloon went way up high Pulling away altogether seeking new heights, Showing-off prowess, swaying random flight Looking down to ensure, lad was all smiles, Higher and higher the red dot danced Getting swept away by a wicked day-storm. And the little friend cried for he lost his toy As no longer could he see it in distant sky, But it swung back oscillating in a windy dive When jumping with joy, the boy waved high-five. One nasty commotion, one final good bye As balloon burst to pieces in front of his eyes. Happily, the lad received an identical red balloon But unlike his friend, it refused to fly or bounce. That's when the child noticed first time in his life Difference between a friend and one who is not. January 22, 2018 At any rate contest by Julia Ward Poem of the day on 1/24/2018


Copyright © Vijay Pandit | Year Posted 2018


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Little Toy Soldiers

Little Toy Soldiers going off to war
None will ever live to  see age twenty four
None of them even  know what they're fighting for
Little Toy Soldiers going off to war

The world has always been this way
With Emperors and Kings
Fighting with toy soldiers
And the glory that it brings

Land, beliefs, religion
The basis of the war
fought by young toy soldiers
Who all die by the score

Time has taught us nothing
But, it's changed the way we fight
War is a full day job
Now that it is fought at night

The boards of little armies
Are now shown up on the screen
With all the little soldiers
Lit in different shades of green

They used to be all metal
Painted up in nice bright shades
With a General on horseback
Leading all his smart brigades

Then, the men were plastic
glued to bits of wood
Behaving as a unit
Just like a soldier should

Now, the war is different
They're up there in different hues
You can watch them fight in real time
Just like on the nightly news

The only thing remaining
The thing that's stayed the same
Is that nobody in power
Know the Little Soldiers names

Little Toy Soldiers going off to war
None will ever live to  see age twenty four
None of them even  know what they're fighting for
Little Toy Soldiers going off to war

April 29 2018


Copyright © roger turner | Year Posted 2018


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Rap God

Steps up to the mic and loses his cool
acts like a fool, way too cool for school
flunked out twice 
wasn't raised to be nice 
but you better believe he can pay the full price 
with his back to the wall, he falls back on his own
just when everything blows
he's spitting lyrics so hard when it hits you 
you know he does have some issues but that isn't the issue
its part of a plan 
to be bigger than Stan, or a man who abandoned him when he was born
fatherless can't be stressed when he's reeling in all of the cash he can get
won't look back not the way 
gone for now but to stay 
won't leave us not today
he isn't going away
media says he is getting depressed but they only see lyrics
they don't see his feelings
don't you run now 
you can only see how 
a little support raised this kid to be a rap god who took an 
a whole army and won
so don't say he's done because he's winning not won
and his song has been yet to be sung. 






Copyright © Nancy Beckman | Year Posted 2018


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To the Boy Who Could Not Sleep

You cannot sleep, you tell me
spitting forth frustration
angry sentiments of a scorned heart
Your dreams are robbed
You have been ridiculed 
all day 
in a world where 
You don’t quite understand the rules
every word you spoke today was the wrong one
You crossed lines unknowingly
doors were shut in your face doors
of opportunity
fame
Your love and passion 
which you felt was real
was mocked—
so you cannot put away such thoughts
You come to me frowning, heated
seeking sympathy
But son,
you are young
you know not what ropes 
truly bind the soul
what thoughts throttle the heart
in the darkness of night
you have been betrayed, deceived
by strangers amongst whom 
you sought fortune and acknowledgement
but this, I tell you
is no shame, no grief
you have not felt the cuts 
of those you thought dearest
those you thought you knew 
that hair those lips those eyes that heart
now coloring and darting away
leaving icy holes
in your chest
you know not yet 
that the curse of a sleepless night 
does not burn with anger
it is cold, so cold
and so lonely
So say not another word now
and go
Go
you may sleep in peace
for you are not a father.



Copyright © Grace EunSong Lee | Year Posted 2012


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The Outfield Boy

The outfield boy stands waiting all alone, playing the game that many children love. From the pitcher’s mound, a ball has been thrown. The outfield boy stands waiting all alone. The ball has been hit. See how it has flown straight into the glowing boy’s baseball glove! The outfield boy stands waiting all alone, playing the game that many children love. Written Dec. 2015 for the Oil Paintings 4 & 5 Poetry Contest of Eve Roper


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015


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Soldier Boy

Once there was a soldier boy,
young and brave and smart.
He had some questions bugging him,
they tore his brain apart.

He went along to ask his friends-
''Why there can't be peace?''
They just laughed into his face,
''Let us tell you what peace means:

';Peace means love, peace means hope
peace means painless, fearless trust.
There's no love, there's no hope,
all the fearless lay in dust.''

He went along to ask the trees,
the plants and flowers too.
Then they all replied to him
''Answers we have few:

People kill themselves and us,
they cut us up for fire.
And with the fire that they cut
the tension becomes higher.''

Soldier boy then went to war,
questions still in mind.
He kept on searching in the field,
for answers he can't find.

He walked up to the enemy,
beat starts to increase.
''Tell me, good man, tell me please 
why there can't be peace?''

The man pointed his gun to him,
aiming to his heart.
''I'm sorry, young man,'', then he said
''I really hate this part.''

---

Once there was a soldier boy,
young and smart and brave.
He had some questions bugging him,
they took him to his grave.


Copyright © rose mary | Year Posted 2015


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And We're Gay

     We run, we jump, we cry, we laugh, 
     We sit, we stand, we're weak, we're tough,
     We're fat or slim, we swag and sway...
     We love like you love, and we're gay.

In morning light, you slumber still:
Familiar form against my chest,
It is your favourite place to rest.
I tickle you with senseless skill.

You make espresso, I fix bread
We yawn in unison, and smile
You dress in orange, your own style,
I love you (I already said)

     We run, we jump, we cry, we laugh, 
     We sit, we stand, we're weak, we're tough,
     We're fat or slim, brown-haired or gray
     We love like you love, and we're gay.

You push my chair, we walk the dogs
The weather nice, trees green and lush
You kiss my lips, I chastely blush
Only observed by croaking frogs

          We're not so different, 
          Can't you see?
          So don't be ignorant
          Just let us be.

     We run, we jump, we cry, we laugh, 
     We sit, we stand, we're weak, we're tough,
     We're fat or slim, we work, we play
     We love like you love, and we're gay.

***

March 18, 2017
Sponsor Laura Loo
3do place in Contest: Any Poem Written In March


Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017


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His Little Boy Inside

Behind the rough and gruff facade,
amongst the sternness and the pride.
Along with calloused hands and the scars
A little boy still resides.

in spite of responsibilities,
the hard days, daily grind.
There within a man full grown,
that little boy still hides.

In the crooked grin, stuck out chin,
mischievous twinkle of the eyes.
Crazy antics, chances taken,
a little boy joy rides.

Eat one more cookie before dinner,
spend all weekend, playing outside.
Put off mowing the lawn one more day,
that little boy decides.

Work extra hours to pay the bills,
don't let that "Honey do" list slide.
Do anything to see me smile,
His little boy is justified.


For the contest; Anything
Sponsored by Matt Caliri


Copyright © Paula Swanson | Year Posted 2011


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School boy lessons Erotic Humor

She said "I'll show you mine
if you're willing to show me yours."
I didn't waste a second
I promptly dropped my drawers!

I was rather embarrased
She looked and started to giggle
My little man was at attention
While the boys  did their jiggle

After she stopped her laughing
I thought it would be my turn
Me an eager student
willing and able to learn

In the end I learned my lesson
She wanted to look through my tests
But my young mind was occupied
Transfixed by her beautiful breasts

So I quickly pulled up my pants
Time to put the two boys away
My little man sadly shrinking
Disappointed that he couldn't play

When she seen my embarrassment 
She said "okay come have a look."
Please let it be her Yoo hoo
and not just some silly book

Holding out the band of her panties
She said "go ahead and reach in"
I was a happy explorer
Extreamly eager to begin

As the girl started moaning
I was sure I had got it right
She said "if you want to find it,
perhaps we need a little light."

So she started undressing
A vision there before my eyes
Her breasts a bit of perfection
Perky and just the right size

She said we'd have to work quickly
Before her parents came back
She pushed me down on the bed
and promptly began her attack

With force she ripped of my trousers
Thankfully she knew what to do
I let her have her way with me
The boys were no longer blue

She looked at me with a smile
Told me "it's time for you to go.
The next lesson will be better,
I'll teach you how to be slow!"





 
















Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015


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Prison-Boy

Prison-Boy came home one day
To find his love had gone away.
When he asked "why" with tears in his 
eyes this is how his love replied:
"If you lived a decent life
I gladly would have been your wife,
but since you lived a life of crime
Prison-Boy go do your time!"
The next day Prison-Boy lay dead
In a letter this was said:
"Dig a hole and dig it deep.
Lay a rose upon my feet.
On my chest a turtle dove 
to show the world I died for love."
So to all you laddies keep in mind
a Prison-Boy is hard to find.
So if you find one love him true
because a will die for you.


Copyright © Dominic Mayes | Year Posted 2006


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Playboy Model.

Sweet sensual skin
wears scruples thin
until you see your own true sin.


Copyright © Gerard Keogh Jr. | Year Posted 2010


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Boys with Toys

inside white fences boys play at war with toy guns miles from their nice homes. . . villagers tremble before a rifle-bearing child’s glare Aug. 26, 2015


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015


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Little Boy

Little boy with a toy gun
Dreams of all that might be fun
To be fully clad in combat gear
And go into battle with no fear
A hero he would like to be
Even though he cannot see
That heroes today are hard to discern
From the victims created without concern
By politicians who think it fine
To support an economy based on crime
Who is it that wins in war
Politicians corporations so many more
Who never see the horror and gore
Just sit at home adding up the score
Measured by profits next quarter’s gain
Riding the military gravy train
Little boy think real hard
You mustn’t ever disregard
What life would be like to come home scarred
Or in a box with an honor guard
The government issues you combat boots 
Then leaves you homeless and destitute
TBI PTSD paraplegic or amputee
The VA tries to serve them well
But the government that sent them to hell
Makes many promises then builds a wall
Cutting off resources creating a pall
So many veterans waiting in pain
Ignored by their country
Such a great shame
Little boy with a toy gun
War really isn’t very much fun
Put aside your dreams of glory
Listen to the veterans sad true story

H Tunick  July 2015


Copyright © Howard Tunick | Year Posted 2015