Best Curse Poems
A man with a quiet demeanor
was cursed with a miniscule wiener.
He tried lotions and pills
But not one cured his ills.
Now he's a silent nail hole cleaner.
BY DALE GREGORY COZART
His todger though tiny still worked.
When he went for a wee it jerked.
He could still have full sex.
It was rather complex,
but when it was over he smirked.
BY JAN ALLISON
His wee-wee was indeed very wee
to the extent that no one could see.
When asked, “Are you a man?”
He replied, “Yes, I am.
You can follow up stream when I pee.”
BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Went out for a night with a hooker
Blonde but thick and no looker
When she saw his todger
Said my dog is bigger
You're taking me for a sucker
BY SEREN ROBERTS
A silent curse shrunk his wee to a teeny thing
I swear it is no bigger than a lil chicken wing
For sex a useless reject
Can't tell when its erect
We make jokes about his miniature ding a ling
BY MARTI
Wait a minute please, I won't tell a lie
isn't always small, it's big as apple pie
the winds were mighty chilly
affecting my poor old Willie
now you hurt my feelings, think I'm gonna cry
BY TIM SMITH
Big Bertha said, "It ain't the cubic inches
nope, the part for me what clinches
is strokes per minute
while they's in it
not a tool needs movin' with winches."
BY LIM'RICK FLATS
if you want join in the fun!
I’ll not be the mask of your madness
I’ll not be the whip of your demands
I’ll not be the drug of your habit
I’ll not be the dough in your hands
I’ll not be the doll that’s your play thing
I’ll not be the container of your need
I’ll not be the victim of your anger
I’ll not be the object of your greed
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’ll the bread that he feeds on
I’ll be the water that he drinks
I’ll be the cloud that he walks on
I’ll be the thoughts that he thinks
I’ll be the tent that he dwells in
I’ll be the heaven that he dreams
I’ll be the angel that he wants
I’ll be the sparkle in his stream
I'll be the star that he follows
I'll be the sun’s warmth on his chest
I'll be the moon that allures him
I'll be the treasure of his quest
I'll be the fairy of his woodland
I'll be the seductress of his need
I'll be the breast that he lies on
I'll be the dogma of his creed
I’ll be the honey that he savors
I’ll be the dessert that he craves
I’ll be the sea that he dips in
I’ll be the virgin he enslaves
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I would have been all that to you
I gladly would have made you king
But you gave all that to another
Now you must taste my bitter sting
You must watch his hands caress me
You must see his mouth devour
You must hear my sighs of pleasure
You must curse the betrayal hour
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I do not like your mobile phone.
I do not like its ringing tone.
I do not like it here nor there;
I do not like it any where.
I do not like it on a plane,
nor when I’m on a crowded train;
not in a bus, not in a car,
not even in a crowded bar.
I do not want to hear it ping
or, even worse, Madonna sing.
I do not like the sound of pop;
that wretched noise has got to stop.
So let me make this mighty clear,
your phone, I do not want to hear.
And, should it ever start to ring,
I’ll come and smash the wretched thing.
~
'On the Loose' Contest for G.Rix
Once Upon A Curse
She’d pricked her finger, and for years she slept
inside the castle in her pretty room.
Her parents and the entire village wept
for she was cursed, and they knew only gloom.
True love’s kiss was needed to break the spell.
So many handsome princes tried to wake
her up, but all they ever did was fail.
Was this a spell that nobody could break?
There was a small red frog beside the door
of Sleeping Beauty’s room. Each day it came
and watched her sleep. But let me tell you more!
This frog was once a person with a name.
The frog, for being different, one sad day,
was told by a bad witch, “Here’s what I’ll do.
I’ll change you to a frog. A frog you’ll stay
until you kiss a girl who thinks like you.”
The frog adored the Beauty, and at last
the frog got courage; hopping to her bed,
the frog kissed Sleeping Beauty’s lips. Aghast,
her parents watched as Beauty raised her head!
Though true love’s kiss had waken her, it was
no charming prince who now before them stood.
‘Twas “Little Red.” Their daughter woke because
she loved the frog with last name “Riding Hood.”
Feb 4, 2016
It afflicts king and queen alike.
Brought to the castle
by the master of infildelity.
He moves smoothly from one to the other.
He swiftly takes them
as is his right, he believes.
Only to have his fill
from the fair maiden
to the sullied trollop.
He sees them all equally
in his adventures.
He spreads his curse
from one to the other.
It robs it's victims
of their eyes and senses.
Over the years, it slowly degrades
their intelligence and lives.
It can bring down the greatest Empires
if given enough time.
Joy and pain are joined at the hip
Can't we yet untangle that grip?
While hurt has a fang
Yin’s mad about Yang
Though sadness appears on the trip
My soul yearns to wander
the thoughts of beauty
where my dreams drift endlessly
on winds of wishes
when I read the words
forming in my mind
as metaphors scatter cold
and sentences run wild
and I'm drawn toward
mystic meadows of wordy mists
where illusions are scribed
in wondrous wonder
to become crumbled pages
of poems that could have been
Tonight I'll cry for my unwritten words
as I sit before the fire
and toast to my heart
beating like a drum
calling out the poems in my mind
that vanished, leaving me empty
drowning in darkness
Deep in the earth, a crypt of rock
slumber guarded by casket locked
Lips grope silence ‘ever more
rasping thought, remembers whispered lore
Outstretched palms the roots do clench
tranquility stilled by festered stench
And eyes, sleep caked, are propped ajar
ignites no life, but collapsed star
Burned blades sigh, Winds’ dying gasp
bones brittle snap within her clasp
A lonesome howl the moon does draw
vigil broken, it twists its maw
Upon an arena of endless stone
the granite gates they’ve passed alone
And entered a world of burning eyes
eluded the judge of smoldering cries
A faultless gait, no stumbled draw
a reaping brought by scythe and claw
Opal edge which shrouds a cause
aberrant blade shapes nature’s laws
Dictate a script, the stars can share
an open secret, a language bare
Steps continue, feet are drawn
across gray grass, undying pawn
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
Facebook I wonder if you are a blessing or a curse?
People Sharing their pictures and videos of their best and worst.
Clever sayings, obscenities, prays and vulgarity.
Show up on your pages with some form of regularity.
You will find people you have seen or haven’t seen for years.
Laughing one minute and then shedding a river of tears.
Selfies of woman showing what God has given them to cherish
Proudly displaying themselves when they should be embarrassed.
Religion and Politics is a good way to stir the emotional pot.
Both thinking their right when you know for sure they’re not.
You can share your likes, dislikes and give a comment or two
But be careful not to be too honest or you might just be removed.
Games of every kind you will find here for your pleasures delight
Sending requests to people even when they don’t want your invite.
Facebook is a place people display their everyday life with others
Making statements that could hurt or showing love for your mother.
Facebook is not the one I should blame for what it shows on its feed
It’s just an empty space to fill with life’s true nature for others to read.
So before you post your thoughts and feelings in this open space
Ask yourself would this be something I would be willing to share face to face?
It arrived in total silence
unobserved and in disguise
crept deep-rooted undetected
then it took us by surprise.
Some declared coronavirus
was no whirlwind, nor a blast;
like most objects ‘made in China’
they assumed it would not last.
Till it spread to every country
like wild fire, beyond control
causing havoc amongst thousands
and the lives of many stole.
Quarantine and isolation,
panic, stress and bouts of fear;
above all signs of depression,
the way forward, dark, unclear.
Now it’s time to stick together
find the strength not to succumb
to the foe, but with conviction
we shall rise, we’ll overcome.
- - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - -
Placed 1st in Brian Strand's
Pick 2 Contest (April 2020)
The Curse of the Dead Sea
Dark ghosts traveling through the chilled air mist
where rare rough rivers, eddied and revolved, in
twists around into a violent, furious funnel offshore,
as this turbulent salt sea of iniquity opens up its storied,
salted bowels with its turgid moving fluids drowning
into a space of predestined bedded death—for all who
unknowingly venture into the embrace of the Dead Sea.
For knoweth that Poseidon, the ancient god of the sea,
may not be there in time to spare thy life that be in the
fatal grip of this salted deadly destiny, and its jeopardy,
as it’s written in the “riddle of sands” that remain blowing
as this earthly desert speaks to thee, spiced by the coldest
of raindrops carried on winds held deep within, as dark
clouds escape with their droplets running down into the
mountain “waters of life” that feed and form an evil river
that pulsates through the deep veins of existence, as drums
inside heartbeats play to a harmonious harp filled with a
mystic music dancing to visions of a salted angel who lives
deep within the Dead Sea.
Falling throughout the depths of time in the history of this
ancient sea of sure death, are grains of sand and pure white
salt which hold misted gems that speak to each and every
human footprint, leaving an imprinted, indelible image true,
behind the frame left crowned in the deep well of a forlorn,
shimmering pond that presciently knoweth that this ancient
Dead Sea, with its “salt of the sand” shall explain to you,
in kind, of the dangers that lurketh within the waters of its
salted, deadly grip, if thou chooseth unwisely to venture in
knowingly or unknowingly.
For Poseidon shall not be there in this “modern age” to
saveth thee and thy immortal soul!
Amen.
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – December 16, 2018
(Narrative)
Loki:
Sigyn and Angrboda know their wyrd well
Even the far seeing eye of odin
Does even the all seeing eye have its faults?
The curse of knowledge or forgetfulness perhaps
Angrboda is born of the blood of the volva
She knows well the fates and
wyrd of men and immortals alike
The mother of wolves, my lovely consort
Sigyn my love,ever loyal and in morning
Has resigned herself to the fate of her wyrd
She too burns for revenge against the aesir
For you have transformed one son into a wolf
Only to have him kill his brother Nari
Then to transform poor vali back
Then to despair over his brother's entrails
And to commit an agonizing death
For what crime did my sons do,
Lord Odin as you proclaim yourself judge
Jury and executioner
And for what wrongs did my children
Jorgamundr, Hel, and Fenrir do
They were but kids when you had them
Imprisoned for Half Fashioned prophecies that
were made by three old wise women,
Have they not had their intuitions
misinterpreted before…..
So my children pay for my mistakes
You aesir who claim to be fair
Is this the famed fairness of the aesir
The destruction of my family
Driving us apart
I think that hardly righteous or fair
Instead of being a chick magnet, my vehicle is a curse.
No woman will go out with me because I own a hearse.
I bought my hearse because it runs great and it was dirt cheap.
But when women see it, they slap my face and call me a creep.
I finally got a date with the woman of my dreams.
But when she saw my hearse, she ran and screamed.
Women don't want to make out where corpses have been.
Because of my vehicle, they won't date me, they find other men.
If you already have a bad love life, making my mistake will only make it worse.
Women will not date a man if he drives a hearse.
(I got the idea for this poem from a TV show that I saw.)
Where else do you want to mock me?
That my Sister is a Whore?
And she owns miserable men under her Lure?
Or is it that I have intense body Odour?
Maybe you will taunt the clothes I once wore
which you already tore.
So, what else is it? That I snore?
Or that a drunkard is my Family's Core?
Is there anything more?
Or something laughable you really saw?
Perhaps, you just realize I'm poor?
Please anymore flaw?
If you're bitter, it isn't my fault
don't use me as the Salt on your wounds.
I know, I stimulate the stretching of your Catapult
and my smile makes you want to join a Cult
Even with the Insult,
never forget that I'm mere Human
who can halt; despite not giving a damn
just to make you understand
that I'm simply a friend.