Best Cuckold Poems
Do you dare to hear this story,
listen to the rant of a cuckold tale
This story will give you nightmares
if your masculinity has begun to fail
Despondent voice of said henpecked man
was recorded secretly at a support group therapy session
He swear he loves his wife,
don't know why he picked up the knife
Says he has a wonderful life,
but something is not quite right
Then he contradicts what he just said,
the reasons why are mixed up in his head
He confess that he just wanted to scare her ...
frighten her bad
But he wasn't too convincing,
she only started to laugh
She commanded him to put the knife down,
then started to throw her 130-pound weight around
Used sex as the ultimate weapon,
said love was going out of town ... indefinitely
He said he begged like never before,
pleading with her to please don't leave out the door
Said she just slapped his pride on the backside,
told him the bank account was gonna take a nosedive
Raised her eyebrows and gave a baleful stare,
then said he was having it too good
He said when she gets to talking like that,
he's learned over time not to say anything back
Letting out a small sigh, he said
he simply becomes a docile little boy
and go sit elsewhere
Says the only time he roars like a lion,
is when she tries to take away his adult toys
Trying to stop him from getting season tickets
is gonna cause him to make a lot of noise
So she just let him be for awhile,
let him calm down ... give him a warm smile
He said being henpecked ain't so bad,
he gets his favorite meal after breaking mad
Yet and still, he seemed kinda sad
Now that the group therapy is over,
he said his wife is gonna come get him
And make a point to remind him
of how he dresses so bad
That he's such a loser, just like her dad
"It's a cuckold I am!", Mick sadly said
"I'm after finding black hairs in me bed!"
"An' there's a relief!"
Sighed Ginger O'Keefe
"I was shure ye were aboot ta say red!"
Limerick : Once a Nanny looked for a Manny/Mannie
Once a Nanny looked for a Manny
And found the father of her Kiddie
Poor Cuckold gave assent
With his Girlie’s consent
Now all five live in One Bliss House free.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Take care, fellow, that you not a cuckold be,
for spring is in the air; the cuckoo sings!
Woo your wife and treat her tenderly.
Flirtatious whims can blossom into flings;
a woman left alone might test her wings!
Note: A cuckold is someone whose
wife has cheated on him.
For Francine Robert's Contest:
Wow Me in Five Lines
She walks in to the disco
Feeling pretty hot
Glances from the others
Tell her that she’s not.
Killer heels do just that
Lips a cupid bow
Drops her Prada handbag
Wrinkles start to show.
Downs a quick Bacardi
Drinking makes her bold
Confidence is growing
Away from her cuckold.
Geezers in the corner
Laugh into their pints
Quick one round the back
Better than a fight.
Twenty each, bet is on,
First one out the door
Get another round in
Won’t take long for sure.
Lads all start to cheer him
Barely heard above the beat
Sweat pours down his forehead
Glass beneath his feet.
Heads off to the ladies
Startled by harsh light
Best friend at her side
Two cougars in the night.
She looks into a mirror
Mascara down her cheeks
Wipes her eyes, full of doubt
The company she seeks.
Another bottled Breezer
The pain will go away
Think about tonight
How to make him pay.
First attempt, chat her up
Give out some on blarney
Flashy car, lots of cash,
Time spent in the Army.
Down in one, more to drink
Atmosphere is cool
Muscle flex, turns her nose
Starts to feel a fool.
Offers her a lift home
Does she want a ride
Drop off by the station
Should she keep her pride.
Love bite on the shoulder
Hopes it can’t be seen
Stomach churns with sickness
How stupid she has been.
Gets home Sunday morning
Feeling really cheap
Clock shows 4 am
Really needs to sleep.
Old man in drunken stupor
Whisky glass beside
Slithers into bed
Sleep is where she hides.
Later in the day
She’ll be chatting on the phone
Talking of the weekend
How she was not alone.
Was it really worth it
It doesn’t solve a thing
Bitter clouds descend
Floor begins to spin.
On the other side of town
Down another street
A wife is full of tears
Her husband is a cheat.
well, woman has been around for a while
hypno-teasing men with her wicked smile
been known by many names starting with Eve
Boadicea, Cleopatra and Genevieve
she can fly-by-night, be out with the bats
purring and prowling with sly slinky cats
never a tame girl, sometimes receptive
with hidden secrets, deep and deceptive
see her in twilight, creature in the dark
flames flickered when she was Joan of Arc
think she has been here for just a few years?
think again, 'them' hills, they flow with her tears
woman has been teacher for aeons of time
wrote most of " Homer ", taught Plato to rhyme
as Archimedes' hand-maid, she had a laugh
when he shouted " Eureka, get me out of the bath! "
around when Adam gave out those spare ribs
her name is on parchment writ with rare nibs
her time here with us, a mere interlude
battles over centuries, a bitter feud
with men from the past and future I'm told
man on her arm, just her latest cuckold
well-rounded dame or seriously slim
cheerful demeanour or chief sister grim
close-quarter woman talking loud and fast
words over-taking like a blast from the past
so hard to keep up, so hard to break in
leave you behind in the wake of her din!
what's this I hear, is she now slowing down
pausing for men, is she wearing a frown?
perhaps she's starting to shuffle the deck
departure dreaming on a very long trek
maybe no point in moving on once more
the greater challenge is here at the door
as men they shout " I am invincible
I've the biggest Archimedes Principle! "
late at night she now walks the floorboards
seeking a new role, a song with new chords
" where and when will I go, who will I be
will I stay in this land or else oversea ? "
men of the future and men of the past
treasure this woman as head of the cast
whenever, wherever, whoever you are
she will always twinkle, shine like a star
bring her some chocolate, bring her some wine
make sure she stays and has a good time
but watch at midnight in case she's outside
all alone by the road hitching a ride
silver moonbeam and finest curb crawler
then down to the port and onto a trawler
far out to sea where she thinks of those days
when Gods fought Neptune for sight of her gaze
For those who go by his tentmaker’s rope
swing from one end to the other
though neither low nor too high
nothing will pass you by
if you swing not to the end of your tether
Let the tavern-keeper yell
no legs past his dream threshold
will wander before old Khayyam’s knell
accept at last your unwanted vow
no damsel will crash into cleft-stick cuckold
sweep away celibacy
take your heart in tow
Is there talk of yes who may be chosen
what role could your pain fill in bold
letters which you’d rather see in numbers broken
Come away come away from all this quarrel
Let those who wish to be weighed in gold
make much of their worth par rapport
à l’infidel
June 5, 1997
From the privately pub. coll. (rev. 2016): longhand notes (a binding of poems), Paris:1999, 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Limerick : Once a Toro in a Madrid prairie
Once a Toro in a Madrid prairie
Wondered why it had two horns, not three
Spaniards signal cuckold
With two fingers all told
So three for Spanish husbands in Paris ?*
*Paris : pronounced in French as : Parie/Paree
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Rose petals plated on caste mold
Savory patent impressed on manifold
From Nature's palate sweet oils doled
Essence of extracted beauty flowed
Into fashioned vial tinged with gold
Nature's, vintage aphrodisiac bankrolled
Mysterious guise, transparent, yet stunningly bold
Onto suave cheeks the charming potion scrolled
Distilled love massaged into every, ivory fold
Enamoring scent suitor's, impulsive glands to hold
With intoxicating fumes, ephemeral beauty sold
To the salivating nasal ducts of every, unwitting cuckold
Delilah's gaudy folio modern women have deigned old
But with the rose's alluring, timeless scent still cajoled
Unpainted, unmarked mask; devious designs unforetold
Emitting translucent vapors that mind's eye does behold
Alova ...
she’s the leaven princess
of oven bosom tear oppression
Her violet Persian neutering rug
has the sterile stench of
cougar mating feral aggression
It’s her purple passion
to Farsi emasculate with femme fatale hate
She’s a hardcase lover in a hardcore way
Alova is the Iron Mistress of Mellat Park,
a long dungeon drop from Brewster Bay
Alova she loves
scratching post, bent-knee coin proposals
Put her claws into the prenuptial loopholes,
and her lethal legal clause
always grab hold
of the moneyed beau mice —
Never letting go
At least, not until the cash settled divorce
is divided asset final: Platinum blonde mink coat credit portfolio
Golden parachute, silver safety net ~ Diamond and pearls ruby eject
Alova
Alova
Alova
is the self-flagellated chant of the Shushun purse palace sad
Alova is at her panther pouncing best at being sensuously bad
Alova ...
she’s the lynx queen of a cuckold, cheetah harem
The docile male lying pride
do as their told, with no nay say
Alova loves estrogen marking her eye bow territory
with an icy pleasure pheromone cold spray:
{Alova’s leather-tip tongue
make the powerful egos fetal prone beg
in every dog collar way}
Alova
Alova
Alova
how you treat me so bad,
is the “you’re no-goody” domineering chant
she loves to make ear kneel
every stiletto heel day
Black women in America,
let the sterile tabulating machine
tally your vociferous views
Loud women pridefully possessing
the highest voting demographics in the amber land
Have your passions changed America’s
cruel grain racial oppression ...
Are your males still getting brutally beaten and killed?
Did your strong vocal pleas
get heard by your Egyptian queen of heaven?
Such burning Pharaohic desires
you have for your flesh-and-bone idols
Will your queen of heaven
make the earth shake up the superior attitude
the pyramid clouds have towards you and your children?
Can your queen of heaven
bosom vibrate a gushing Milky Way,
which will break the levee of hate that’s dam drowning
you and your weak, cuckold men and chalk-face erased children?
Guess your queen of heaven
is waiting on her four-year period again
To cast another bloody ballot
for your next new favorite lying politician
Black women in America,
which serpent did your queen of heaven send
to do the lip-service saving?
Whose bifurcated tongue
does she demands your freewill to knee bend
Dark spirit women,
you and your beggarly men,
go kiss the queen of heaven’s colored cloth
freshly wiped on her celestial rear end
Let your doting, voting lips reek of rejection —
demo-crapped on once more again
As your faith in man be smeared like dung
over your sun-darkened slave skin
Keep on Baal worshiping the queen of heaven,
until holy brimstone rain
melt your idol iron chain souls from existence
We read concupiscently
of little women and little men
of entertainment,
great singers
of our littleness
and of the greatness of their pools
and of their ty flirtations.
We read of their anxieties, their dark periods,
of the cuckold subtly bent
to a discount psychology,
of how they mess with it with their accountants.
Who cares about the slime
and the jubilation of these unpunished demigods,
of their plastic haloes,
of the navigated sons of es,
of the tinkling glamour
and the vermilion colours of their lips,
that hide smiles
winking at the queue on the red carpet.
off
Then big people
from the small glow of bodies
but from the great glitter of placid mirages
and lovely, die.
Little old world friends die,
that you read on Facebook,
and yes, you grasp the meaning of things
you get dizzy, caught up in the futile whiteness
of the infinite number of universes
with infinite stories, wavering
but proudly resist to the anonymous
sepulchral,
to the slow fading,
like tears in a toxic rain
and dirty with mud
and oil.
This is my world,
theirs is a mirage I hope does not come true,
even if it tempts me.
Here the closing there is not,
Here the closing is the world that will come,
if it will come
Your lies much more exciting,
than any truth you never told
Stolen moments of pure delight,
a fantasies cuckold
Your touch hides what your eyes cannot,
my dreams you come to steal
Your body moves, your heart lays still
love’s reality—unreal
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Upon the mango tree I hear a cuckoo call,
Its call returned by it’s beloved one,
Sweet strident songs upon my eardrum fall.
Harbinger of sweet scented summer squall,
Just before sweltering summer's done,
Upon the mango tree I hear a cuckoo call.
The crow builds nest upon crannied wall,
The cuckoo lays eggs, on its fill of fun,
Sweet strident songs upon my eardrum fall.
The cuckold's crown to the crows befall,
‘Tis a well-known tale, known to everyone;
Upon the mango tree I hear a cuckoo call.
Summer makes me stay in cool and shady hall,
The cuckoos sing, mate merrily in the sun,
Sweet strident songs upon my eardrum fall.
I’m sure, like ne’er before, this’ll make a cuckold gall,
As it echoes through street and wayside stall.
Upon the mango tree I hear a cuckoo call,
Sweet strident songs upon my eardrum fall.
~kcm
"Exit music for a bad movie"
that shining kingdom
waits and watches
numbed now to nightmares
its falling cuckold leaders
deliver fools gold
hungry homeless open palms receive
broken promises overflowing
forgotten hymns and collection plates
souls are worth blood in buried pain
borders are drawn all are caged
the marriages not made in heaven
shelved for another day
Candide Diderot. ‘25