Best Faeces Poems
Famished and flagging footsoldiers;
formerly fitters and farmers.
Facing fatigue, fitful fever,
faeces and foul, foetid fungi.
Fostering feelings, frustrated,
for this faraway, foreign field.
Forsaking fissures and furrows,
forced forwards with fleetness of foot.
Firearms flash and fragments fly far,
feigning the firmament aflame.
Fighting so fierce and ferocious,
fratricide set free on this field.
Fuelled by freedom, nay, falsehood;
for their fellows and friends, foremost.
Forays so fraught with fine failure,
fatally fettered from the first.
Forged by such fatuous fawners,
focus firmly fixed on this field.
Forfeiting furtive and fiendish,
fulfilment was falsely forecast.
Fate flexes her fickle fingers,
future’s foretold and foreshadowed.
Faustian favours forthcoming,
for folly to feud for a field.
Families of fine forefathers,
fought fiercely, for fear we’d forget.
Forthright and filial feelings,
forgo fun and frivolity.
Familiar flora forms focus,
for the fallen in Flanders Field.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
8 syallables on every line (www.howmanysyllables.com)
November 2018
(This is my original / extended version)
I wanted to do something special - and a bit different - to mark the centenary of the end of The Great War (11 November 1918). This poem is dedicated to all the brave souls lost defending freedom during that terrible conflict (and all conflicts since).
Categories:
faeces, conflict, death, history, memorial,
Form:
Alliteration
Durin' the time I was passing my urine
My faeces were falling to pieces
Submitted to Juvenilia Contest
13th March 2015
Categories:
faeces, humorous,
Form:
Couplet
INTERNATIONAL!!
Criminals a'caught here.?
Send masks to cover faeces.)
Categories:
faeces, analogy, community, education, endurance,
Form:
Senryu
Naked death
…the barred and sealed cattle wagons
disgorge
at the Konzentrazionslager
the faux pas relief
from urine mud faeces sweat and tears
unkempt armpits buttocks best wear
turned to damp rags
reduced to moaning cattle
nameless
even the heifer wan straggly limp
Alles! Raus!
…the last quick dab of face powder
the lipstick dried blood tan
the felt hat lying soggy stained
through bellowed haste
on the mudcaked barrack floor
the wampumpeag plucked by the helmeted claw
stabbing on sole-cold cutting cement platform
averting glances on sapped sagging busts
shoulders hunched buckled in
fingers reaching to scratch loins
nostrils quivering
whose the naughty stench
then the trooped Indian file
stray belongings dumped
in a wasteproduct pile
the once highheeled gait
slumping to a side
from the hips down to a jaggedknee limp
prodding the miasmal mist
the exposed varicose veins
the knotty pubis
the mons veneris
the intimate warts and moles
last year’s Ceasarian stitches
the rump twitched less
the lack lustre sentry gazes
the unmasked leer
the disdainful pursed lips
neither shame nor pudeur
and then the last gangway to nowhere
the Ave-Maria road to Himmelweg
a reprieve
From the privately pub. coll. (re-worked 2016): longhand notes ( a binding of poems), 1999, 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 1999/2016
Categories:
faeces, bereavement, death, grief, hate,
Form:
Elegy
(continued from PART ONE)
Why I’ve seen him countless times, regurgitate old dog faeces onto fresh bread
And listened to his quiet voice exhorting me to do the same.
This fly was a born teacher.
There can be no greater accolade for a teacher than to be followed by his students.
He used basic good common sense, but spiced-up with a dash of excitement.
The well-known excrement-with-fried-egg, the easy-to-recognize urine-flavoured
Chips in the gutter, and the now commonplace saliva-over-spoon trick,
Are today almost standard delicacies for us all. Yet it was Hector who pioneered them.
He ignored the scorn and catcalls from younger flies, as he disdained a baby’s diaper
In some trash can, and went winging his way up to the second floor of the hospital
To select the juiciest old blood he could find.
No - Hector was independent, he was truly his own fly.
He stuck with pioneering ideas like the then-untested skid techniques
For escaping fly-swatters wielded in kitchens. It was Hector’s brave soul
Which brought standardized fly-patrols into being to catch a greater proportion of
Unsuspecting open-mouthed sleepers at night.
Uncle Hector went where no fly had gone before, and he did it with style.
He often said,“If you can make it on this heap of cat-dung, you can make it anywhere”
And there’s the lesson for us all today, ladies and gentlemen.
Let us not grieve for the loss of such a fine fly, but rather
Celebrate his life of discovery and progress. Let us go forth from this cat-crap
To a brighter future illuminated by the searching curiosity of Uncle Hector’s mind.
Younger generation, you must go forth boldly and find your own rotten cucumbers,
Your own half-eaten porkchops, your own dandruff-laden combs,
And be not afraid to mix them with relish as you choose from the delicacies
Of the knacker’s yard or the remains of a crow hit by a ten-ton truck on the road.
We stand - or hover - now in silence for one minute, as a token of respect -
And as we enjoy the gentle aroma of this cat-crap heap,
Allow the memory of Hector to inspire us.
God bless you all.
Categories:
faeces, funnyold, old,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Famished and flagging footsoldiers;
facing fatigue, fitful fever,
faeces and foul, foetid fungi.
Fostering feelings, frustrated,
for this faraway, foreign field.
Forays so fraught with fine failure;
forfeiting furtive and fiendish,
fatally fettered from the first.
Forged by such fatuous fawners,
for folly to feud for a field.
Forced forwards with fleetness of foot;
firearms flash and fragments fly far,
feigning the firmament aflame.
Forces fight so ferociously,
fratricide set free on this field.
Forthright and filial feelings;
families of fine forefathers,
fought fiercely, for fear we’d forget.
Familiar flora forms focus,
for the fallen in Flanders Field.
- - - - - - - - -
8 syallables on every line (www.howmanysyllables.com)
November 2018
Entered in Brian Strand's "Contest No 515".
(1st Place)
I wanted to do something special - and a bit different - to mark the centenary of the end of The Great War (11 November 1918). This poem is dedicated to all the brave souls lost defending freedom during that terrible conflict (and all conflicts since).
Categories:
faeces, conflict, death, history, remembrance
Form:
Alliteration
Sloth hangs upside down in a tree
I look up and unfortunately
Golden pee it releases
With a week’s worth of faeces
I’ll admit I am far from happy!
A sloth only excretes once a week and can lose a third of its body weight
A little poetic licence, they actually excrete on the ground
10/21/21
Categories:
faeces, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
(Continued from Part Two - 2)
While those that lay claim, nay, boast of
to the largest democratic state
a bi-cameral constitution
simply inherited from Westminister
as much as the unifying language
and the soi-disant socialist stamp
transported lock stock and tablier
from a Cambridge freemasonic lodge
by the Nehru dynasty progenitor
look the other way
with thumb and index closing on nostrils
when their pariah cart their faeces away
and still after millennia acknowledge and uphold the Brahmin
the self-proclaimed superior priesthood caste
those who speak for the Godhead Brahman
albeit speak with Him in the only sacred Sanskrit tongue
thus to be enthroned
on the highest pure-blooded pedestal
Can there be an Asia
the cradle of quarrelling Gods
which can listen to the little voice within
the voice of innocence
Is there an ASIA
or
are there asias
As there were warring Euro-nations…
[ to be continued ]
© T.Wignesan 1996/2001
(Written between April 7th and 20th, 1996; revised February 2001/2012 and published in The Asianists’ Asia, Vol. II, March 2001, an on-line journal [from the “original version” in the collection: longhand notes (a binding of poems), 1999]
Published in T. Wignesan. Rama and Ravana at the Altar of Hanuman: on Tamils, Tamil Literature and Tamil Culture. Chennai: Institute of Asian Studies, 2006.
Categories:
faeces, inspirational, voice, voice, ,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
The bird said to the bee"I am the best",
The bee replied "the best is in my nest",
My sweet waste serves as honey,
as your singing is funny,
buzzing or singing we fly like the rest.
The bird added"though your faeces is sweet",
"I move with my two wings like a fast fleet",
Your sting is very painful;
much annoying and dreadful,
But,we are both dancing to the same beat.
Categories:
faeces, animals, satire, bird, bird,
Form:
Limerick
An in-patient named Mustapha Dump
Said his faeces were wedged in a lump
His diet must improve
So the blockage can move
Or his treatment’s a huge suction pump!
08-29-17
Categories:
faeces, body, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
My toilet was blocked, what a bummer
I texted Curtis, he’s a plumber
He got out his long rod
Gave my blockage a prod
If lucky t’will be fixed by summer!
The plumber has read a food thesis
Why faeces aren’t falling to pieces
If you go the whole hog
You will poop a bog log
Our diets needs more oils and greases!
Occupation chosen Plumber
Limerick's poetry Contest by Joseph May
syllable count 9.9.6.6.9 both poems
checked with how many syllables
1/4/19
Categories:
faeces, house, humorous, work,
Form:
Limerick
A professor has published his thesis
On removal of impacted faeces
Use the end of a pencil
Or a kitchen utensil
to dislodge clumps of faeces in pieces!
Told you it was a crap poem!
05/14/20
Categories:
faeces, body, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
We're furry and coloured grey, brown, or black
Be-whiskered and sleek and reeking of fat
We'll squeeze through a hole, a gap, or a crack
For rotting flesh or dry bones to gnaw at
Four-legged dealers of lingering death
Malodorous creatures crawling with fleas
Exhaling our pungent foul-smelling breath
Urine and droppings on foodstuffs we squeeze
Our bellies swollen feasting in famine
Scrape on the ground as we scurry in swarms
Our carte du jour is often Scotch salmon
But our tastes transcend conventional norms
Some hang up meat to improve the flavour
We like ours scabrous and oozing with pus
Seasoned with still soft faeces to savour
But with or without we don't make a fuss
Our long yellow teeth are honed to the point
Where nothing's too hard for us to devour
Bone marrow, muscle, fat, gristle, or joint
We’ll crunch them with relish in half an hour
You clearly love us – we’re treated like kings
The streets are knee-deep in tit-bits half-chewed
Hot dogs, hamburgers and delicious things
Like deep fried chicken or vomit you've spewed
We're stealthy and brave there’s naught we don’t dare
To avoid rat-catchers putting us down
But once in Hamelin pipes played a strange air
That drew us deep in the river to drown
Next time you hear a scuffle or squeaking
In a cavity wall or from the floor
It might be us foraging and seeking
To build a little nest and breed some more…
Categories:
faeces, animal, dark, horror,
Form:
Rhyme
The scavenger dog
Moving along the dirty streets
With its standing ears down
Sored at both tip. No gametes
At sight sex unknown no proper noun
Running away from stones
Well targeted, thrown by the jocular juveniles
For showing interest in contested bones
They laugh unhappily as their best friend flies
Feasting on the black round faeces
Of well fed fat goats
Or a week old lorry ridden rats or rotten Pisces
Puddle. Lucky when it sees a bone that floats
Playing seriously with Latrine flies
Who always surround its nine vivid ribs
Sucking nectar where it wounds lies.
In its hair dead ticks build their cribs.
Lying comfortably on the puffy street sewage
Allowing the fighting mice to lull it to death
It was after a drink from the drainage
And barking on a scorpion which it later ate.
Shaking helplessly on the road
Till the lead trailer ran pass it.
It was buried by cars and buses full with load
The worms and flies could not just die with it
It was a pregnant dog.
Categories:
faeces, death, people, sad, social,
Form:
Ballad
A student at Turdbois Uni
Is studying Scatology
Sue must write a thesis
On impacted faeces
She admits it’s a crap degree!
Categories:
faeces, humorous, student,
Form:
Limerick