Best Expletive Poems
I can offer you sympathy,
try to feel you through empathy.
But if you take it for granted,
silence will be your remedy.
Remember the seeds you planted,
when unnourished will bloom slanted.
Hearts yearn for balanced devotion,
like birds sharing what they chanted.
When there is too much commotion,
tears seem to fall in slow motion.
Will you give my soul an embrace,
try to sense its deep emotion?
Ego only portrays disgrace.
Some actions are hard to replace.
Judgement is harshly negative.
Selflessness should be your showcase.
When the conscience seems tentative,
your heartbeats become expletive.
But if you've helped quench someone's thirst,
the thoughtful become sensitive.
Before the heart and soul immerse,
the eyes observe compassion first.
Awareness brings sweet harmony.
A purpose that should be well versed.
(An Addingham Poem)
Clashes of old tainted galvanised buckets
against the stone flags daily ring out across the manor farm yard,
profanity given proficiently if the swine catches Father off guard.
Lusty teats await emancipation of release ‘Friesians’ frolic in resolution,
‘Pete’ the old boss Bull awaits the dawning the perfect scene for evolution.
The purple haze of Rombald’s moor embraces the horizon
while the aging grey ‘Cat-steps’ hide within the mist,
yet sparkle with dew in the sunlight.
David, the youngest in the family given to shepherding,
some lambs endure many a bastard day, here springtime never early.
The plough a relic of the nineteen thirty’s cuts through the soil
like a knife through butter, till it unearths a boulder, and Joe is not best pleased,
expletive aggression does not fix the problem, but his brother Abe does.
Magpie and Crow recipient to all that exist, as long as it does not move,
screaming Owls grace the heathland, their screech complementing
the never-ending whistling winds.
Come what may, farming a commitment
a promise a guardian to their yacker* of God’s earth.
© Harry J Horsman 2021
*Yacker Old Yorkshire for acre
From the smallest of handbells to bells that are heavy,
bells of all types make a large bevy.
Small bells are often the tinkling kind
like decorative ones in some stores we find.
There are ring-a-ling bells and bells that jingle
like jingle bells ringing when merry folks mingle.
Sleigh bells on horses evoke for me
lovely white wonderland imagery.
Other small bells women wear round their ankles.
An alarm bell that wakens me, oh, how it rankles.
There are waist bells the belly dancers often will wear
while big bells on churches call people to prayer.
Some bells sound randomly; others on queue.
There are bike bells, school bells, and cow bells too.
Of bells that chime melodies, there's more than a few.
That's what the bells called Carillon do.
Bell bottom jeans were used back in my day
and Hell's bells is an expletive some say.
The most famous bell, what might it be?
I think it's the one that's called Liberty!
Most restful sleep since... being in utero
Courtesy restless leg syndrome
spouse called me expletive rat fink
ousted me out the bed with plink
as lovely bones almost got extinct,
whence consoled self singing ditty
Skidamarink a-dink a-dink
makeshift burrow of pillows nsync
shuteye analogous to grateful dead,
Elysian Fields I did drink
yours truly fast asleep
found repose within eyeblink
awoke rested minus
knotted knobs entire body kink
metaphorical twisted human pretzel,
yours truly did not shrink
though disabled to walk,
hence mobility regressed
circumscribing me ambulatory
range to crawl and slink,
no matter paralyzed
(albeit temporarily), I think
above mentioned rectifies
Quandary whereat legs
shimmy and shake
keeping the missus awake
she requires daily at least
twenty four hours
of beauty rest to slake
lest she renders me into
chopped liver and/
or skewered beefcake
nuttin I divulge "fake,"
courtesy this corny flake,
who years gone by
a scoundrel and rake
straying against marital fidelity
triggering psychological earthquake
present crisis pits less at stake,
thus forgive wordplay
much more age
appropriate than pattycake,
perhaps slight hyperbole
thee only literary gambit
up figurative sleeve,
me ain't no magician,
nor gifted with holiness
able to walk across lake
thus harmlessly,
kiddingly, purposelessly...
cavort, frolick,
before darkness, when I
unduly forced to betake
self and disappear hoping the morrow
will find most bushy tailed wideawake.
See the impacted eyes, heavy
and the frozen heart, begging
to be released; the tongue
dry, but the cheeks like a flume.
See the round table keep things
close to their chest, lest they spill
the fragility, each glass fragment
that stabs, glues together like
a madman’s vase, complete
with a bouquet of black roses.
Indecent the descent of disheartening;
refusal to believe in uncoupling;
what a crap shoot, show, expletive.
See touch, the tangible eyedropper,
mike drop, warm shawl; a momentary
squeeze of a lemon. Lies go down the drain -
momentarily, mightily, momentously;
bubbling up as a panacea when drained
of all kith and kin; their comfort
and understanding underwhelming,
often pitiful, a pittance. what is needful
is others likewise in a sinking boat,
keeping one another just above
the water line; bailing out each
other’s pain; finding camaraderie
in the breaking; the flowers in the vase
turn dark blue and purple - deep.
See the healing begin, for some.
Some run, some squeeze the lemon,
some rely on the lies. See the death mask
tremble, then a phantom’s half;
never quite whole but jewels
replace the wizened half.
See the pain, the cuts, and crimson eyes.
Don’t become a master of disguise.
See the help, the forest through the trees,
remember your honeybees
given to eternity; find them in the honeycomb.
"shimmering satin!"
slim man is going crazy
for what he can't have
-------------------------------------
2/20/2017
Contest - Sexyku
Sponsor - Richard Lamoureux
3rd place win in Premiere Contest
Your arrival predate mine by two generations
Five weeks now since
Your permanent departure
Internal thoughts conflicted
Forever reminiscin’
Your heavily influenced overture
13, a younglin’
Curtain rise’s inception
On my personal narrative
Shaped by your first instruction
Of the working traveler’s adventure
And the stupidity of the expletive
Return to the current
The destruction you’ve forgotten
Placed on those survivin’
Untold secrets unearthed
Potential debts realized
Your true legacy questioned, reminded
15 and rising
Through my own personal ranks
Of adolescent confusion
You provided the tough shoulder
The ethics of work and moral
My own personal boulder
The passage of space and time
I slowly began to realize
The truth of youthful blinders
Your treatment of your holy union
Your honesty toward my path
Gradually affected my thoughts like a re-winder
20 and extended
Family now a subplot
Of my evolving tale
Your conversation overheard
A secret three-word exchange
Hammered in my story’s first act’s nail
Defining decade now in the rearview
A passage of peaks and valleys
Bringing about my current trajectory
Your skeletons undug
Of four adulterous decades
And of your duplicitous victory
Your praise of adventure
Of old-fashioned ways
Once lived in my inner core
The darkness revealed
Taints the memory
Of your eventful lore
The days move forward
The pain of your loss lessens
But not to the point of forgetfulness
Difficult as it and I may be
To forgive your fables
But mention, I will, of this
As the curtain closes
And the chapter ends
Of this insightful arc
I’ll remember the personal moments
Our private interludes
That left a permanent mark
A symbol of perfection
For that you may have striven
But I’ll tell you a secret
You were merely a human
An occupational hazard being flawed
Bound for inevitable regret
Our time here is over
But forever you will exist
Until my own curtain call
Then may the Great Beyond dictate
We join forces again
And traverse the Celestial Hall
Based on a line from Bob Marley.
“Some feel the rain, others just get wet.”
A rainy day - a deluge pouring from lowered clouds;
a chorus of grumbling curses, from scurrying crowds!
Winds, swirling capriciously from every direction.
Describes the inclement day, with absolute perfection!
Traffic spray drenching scurrying pedestrians, bent
only on getting home! This being their sole intent,
but over the sounds of traffic and splashing feet,
is heard a cheerful whistling, coming down the street!
Suddenly, out from out of the gloom and slanting rain
there appears a fellow, whistling a cheerful refrain!
Prancing and pirouetting, whirling his gamp,
without a raincoat or hat - he was a trifle damp,
but it seemed not to bother him one tiny bit at all!
Bowing left and right to everyone, he’d smile and call
loudly to exclaim - “what a lovely day it is today”
“so why not join with me to dance along our way!”
Polite replies were seldom given, and any heard
were only the odd expletive, or disdainful word!
But he was not angered nor for one moment upset,
and as for being damp? Wetter he could not get!
So I thought to stop, and decided on an instant whim,
to ask why he acted as he did? Had the rain affected him?
Laughingly he replied, but of course, and it always will,
for often life can be boring, and I always get a thrill
when I can enjoy a rainy day. It lifts my spirits high!
One should not need only a sunny day and a blue sky
to enjoy life to its fullest extent. Cool rain is to feel!
Besides renewing energy, it excites my latent zeal
when it touches my skin, for it brings me alive,
and I get this “joi de vivre” feeling and my drive
reaches heights which in other ways I never get!
Yes, I love the rain, despite my getting soaking wet!
Rhymer. February 16th, 2017.
You are looking at me as if I did that to you.
Ah, whatever damn fool!
I am sorry for the expletive.
I did not mean to curse you.
However, I swear you looking at me quite obscene.
You put yourself in these dumb things.
Invective you must be.
I do understand.
Whatever, however, is all I have to give.
A discussion of what has transpired means nothing.
Vilification is your daily panorama.
Your response is these are your friends and family.
They just be playing.
All I have to say is whatever.
This is because I know an insult is an insult.
Nevertheless, you continue to hang out with the boys.
Maliciousness you call me because I tell you what really is happening.
I tell you the mental abuse that you let fester in your life.
Abasement is not transgressed.
Whatever is all I have to say.
You had better get yourself together right now – today!
[Whatever, means that you better stop the lying and strive man!]
Worried about who loves you...
Have you thought about what friends are true?
Ask yourself are you a damn fool
To take their insults the way you do.
Every time they snap you up
Verify for what.
Ears are burning to hear them defame.
Realize they are not playing!
I love you...
[WHATEVER...]
|__________|________|______________________________________|
Penned on June 08, 2014!
Philosophical: If you did friends into family and family into friends, whatever!
Amelia she loves to chat and tells an amusing story
But dear readers BEWARE – this one’s a little gory
She worked long hours at night as a barmaid
It was a job she loved and good wages she got paid
She’d had a busy day and her pits were a little whiffy
So she had a little bath – it would only take a jiffy
So into the bath Amelia got, she sank into the bubbles
But this was only the beginning of Amelia’s troubles
Amelia did a little fart but unfortunately followed through
And in the bath was floating a little bit of poo
Amelia got out quickly and left the bath to drain
But unbeknown to her the turd it did remain
She got dressed and ready to go - she had to get her lift
To the pub she loved to work in she always enjoyed her shift
With the customers Amelia was always a big hit
She didn’t let on her secret that in the bath she’d done a little poop*
But it was a Wednesday night and a quiz was on this day
Amelia she loved this challenge and she would always play
The final question stumped many people but they wanted to be the winner
Which barmaid crapped in the bath tonight and could they name the sinner?
The one in the white t-shirt some of the customers did shout
Amelia went as red as a beetroot- she couldn’t wait to get out
But the customers they did shout and cheer
And poor Amelia had to pour them another beer
Now Amelia no longer works in the bar
She works as a receptionist – she’s really come far
She loves her new job and always likes to talk
But to stop her following through now she always wears a cork.
· I had to change this from the S*** word as I know swearing is not allowed – but the expletive does make the poem flow better.
Jan Allison
19th March 2014
~submitted for contest Take 2 Free poetry contest sponsored by Nette Onclaud ~
- Unplaced in contest 'tickle my funny bone' sponsored by Francine Roberts ~
~ Please see notes about this poem ~
Reprehensible Savagery ©
'Pon reading tragic headline...,
aye experienced grief alone,
no matter the killer (Chris Watts,
thirty-three years
of Frederick, Colorado) unknown
to me, the sheer brutality,
whereat he killed Shanann Watts,
Bella and Celeste,
his once adorably beautiful,
now ceased wife
and daughters ages thirty four,
four, and three respectively
(purportedly via strangulation)
reflexively did i groan
particularly, the propensity to kill
with in sinew weighted bone
times gone by,
where expletive laced epithets
incessantly did drone
nearly activating trip wires,
a blood dripping knife,
would be shown
to police, unless...I took my life,
cuz immediate regret would well up
resulting with an agonizing moan...
hence after perusing morbid
(somewhat inexplicably fascinating)
screaming tragedy ado
admit sadness overtook this chap,
what wrought motive,
(albeit premeditated)
for him to construe
such an atrocious, ferocious,
heinous, et cetera grew
some crime toward innocent wife
(she supposedly knew)
intuitively felt and possibly
foresaw the slew
how her life (a grotesque
mass square aid )
would meet one gross violent death
intimating marriage frayed
ranking as "FAKE,"
or Eff for failing grade
yet tidbits publicized twas shaky match
from get go, no heaven made
nor wedded bliss -
her precious life paid
as well two preschoolers
(cute as a button),
and expectant third progeny (male fetus)
existence extinguished by, "killer"
the husband, who went
into a deadly tie raid
now guilt upon
his conscious heavily weighed.
Sovrinty’s a grand ole gent,
But sovrinty don’t pay the rent.
I got six kids’ moufs to feed.
Sqeezin’ stones don’t make ‘em bleed.
Theresa gal sure went and blew it,
But oo blimmin’ else is there to ’ do it?
Oo else is there to clear the fog?
Wot’s your take, mate? That toff, Reese-Mogg?
Oo ever duzzit, do it fast!
‘ow long’s this Brexit lark to last?
A glossary of terms for the protection and benefit of young learners of English
soverinty - sovereignty
don’t (third person singular present tense - doesn’t
ole – old
gent - gentleman
maufs – mouths
squeezin’, goin’, - -ing
‘em – them
gal – girl
oo - who
blimmin’ - expletive filling word like bloody, damn, etc.
toff - a sometimes derisive term for member of the upper class from a non-member of that class's point of view
duzzit - does it
‘ow - how
21 Cents
The information blackouts
Are drawn at Whitehall, while
Our controls are being hacked
And hijacked, those freedoms
That our parents fought seem
Threatened by a dangerous dream.
Eugenics shadows of the past,
Mechanics to assist or replace.
The voluntary amputee goes
Beyond the boundaries most
Would wish to traverse, or
Rather climb the distant
Himalayas, where we pollute
The air with words, transgress
Modest and grounded beliefs.
An arrogance to assume, that
Our world is superior to theirs.
Powerless in a Powerful flag waving
Nation, grounded as a rusting ship
Waiting to be made over or reborn,
Expanding families lock the door
Against the illegal money lender,
The smooth talking politician
Who wants his cut and your vote
A partner leaves without a note
Of explanation to clarify your pain.
Respect is not inborn but taught
School rules that parents disavow
With every new expletive, give
Example to a powerless refrain,
Singing in the shower, not the rain.
Extinguishing the guiding light within,
To look intently, seeing crouched inside,
The eloquence of well-spoken lies and
The stuttering of an expressed truth.
Lain in bed dreaming
of hallowed whispers
spoken in baritone harmony
Mind manifesting cries
in instrumental song
that sing soothing melodies
to my wailing heart
I'm held by a symphony
of falling teardrops
that dance
to a love like ballad
of drunken romance,
while hymns I pen,
and my crushed comforts
are captured
by cracked stanzas...
My poetic cure will
forever be tuned
in chords
of expletive
love
Lay
Golf courses are beautiful to look at.
Green vistas in a blasted world.
Birds twittering all about.
Growls, hums and whirring sounds from traffic streaming by.
Children screaming and laughing.
A shiny ball watched suspiciously by a couple of crows.
Electric carts, a quick margarita, a five wood.
Where else will you see bright green plaid shorts and red shoes?
What a bunch of fine forms.
The course is speckled with white sand traps, responsible for the loss of many a golfer.
White chairs and white tents and people getting married in the conventional style.
But I think it's the trees. And the rolling hilly vistas down the course. A world within a world of care and worry. A place to forget, for a while and just listen.
The occasional expletive elicits an empathic smile.
Bright colors in this world belie the garish anonymity of the world outside.
A little way station on the way back to Purgatory.
A little rest before the war resumes.