Best Fatted Poems
Welcome to the world of Worldly
where we feast all night.
All those things you once thought wrong -
here they all are right!
Worldly’s citizens are many.
Membership is free.
Criminals are here as well as
high society.
Come here and forget your sorrows
and forget your past.
Leave your ethics at the door too.
Here they will not last.
Come consume the fatted calf.
Imbibe cherry wine.
Love is a four letter word.
Lust, though, is divine!
Little boys and pretty girls
are also here to serve you
(if you lean that way, of course).
All things are on the menu!
Worship with us at the alter.
The sacrament for sin
is your blood lust or that rush
you get beneath your skin.
We have got a secret leader
with the gift of charm.
Succumb to him. We will relax you.
Let us prick your arm.
Our special members love green color
and they love their gold.
You might qualify one day. . .
Just do as you're told.
Finally, remember this.
In Worldly you will be
with peers who think and act like you
(should you need sympathy).
Categories:
fatted, evil,
Form:
Quatrain
Meaning, ever bending, never ending-ly open to changing it's mind and opinions,
by moving around words and pulling and pushing in different directions,
until everything changes, rearranges pages in history
just for the mystery to begin again
with new songs, new players and these layers and layers
of summits and new beginnings.
Of openings back to where we came in.
New meanings are foaming and forming
within the fatted belly of doing and screwing until done.
Come watch a new one get sprung.
A new shape to take place of the old, behold
and believe in your prayers.
They keep coming these layers and layers
and faces of women and men.
Turn around just to begin again.
Categories:
fatted, introspection, life, on writing
Form:
Free verse
She makes love
like a hungry lioness
I adore her shadow
the way it arches
performing upon the wall.
Her black hair flows
age and experience
makes her hunt for a lover
jungle fever in my bed.
She desires a skilled man
stalking through the tall grass
growling along the way
I wait for her scent.
I would hunt and kill for her
bringing her a fatted calf
stuffed with wild fowl
to celebrate her return...
~ ~
Categories:
fatted, beautiful, desire, love,
Form:
Free verse
Anthem for a Veggie
Never gonna roast no chicken
Never gonna braise no steak
Never gonna grill no lamb chop
Eating meat, I’ll not partake.
Never gonna fry no sausage
Never gonna boil no ham
Never gonna barbecue burger
Feast only of the fields and Yam.
Won’t feast on Yuletide Turkey
Won’t feast on fatted goose
Won’t kill no moorland partridge
Saving pheasant from a noose
Won’t skillet no wild venison
Won’t stir fry country hare
Won’t eat any creature that lived
Because it’s wrong and so unfair
Categories:
fatted, animal, food, how i
Form:
Rhyme
The warmth no longer comes
it seems to only leave.
The furry ones, all
caught in hypnotic disbelief:
hardening ground's
taken root
where once
gardening grounds
(forsaken, mute)
were once and again
makin' fruit.
Each beast, shaking
like a leaf
(though, truth be told
I've only ever
seen 'em dance)
as if to compel
the sun to
sidle up
'n stay a bit.
The butterflies are all turned
to windblown, drying leaves.
The biting clouds of gnats
are now
the biting cold of early flakes.
All hatched and reared
(the secret thrush, the ungainly, splashtering loon,
the burly snakes)
as evening hurries home
to be home for the night.
It's so early, so late.
The fatted robin's gone
just as the field mice hid
from barn-now-lapcat.
This constellation of crows,
a raucous perch, tried
that hiding ploy: their clotted knotted
silhouetted faux-leaf blackening hide out
where the leaves’d lived but crows are not
meant to blot the low sun as they’d plotted...
And so it was as so its been since Oh, so ever since -
a bird of prey, answered their
plaintive caws with painted claws -
a fracturous startle from above
a crash! a cry! a scattering!
one down, one murder
still.
Nothing softens, nothing greens.
No flowering as Southern urges
force flocks into making V-lines.
Each nest left: all break routines.
Summer is souring, as frost emerges
and last-one-picked, the pines -
lefties left in left field;
icing soon, their needles their shield
and, the coach never intervenes...
The light more slow to show
more tugged and bent to slant.
The sunshafts seem to push
the cold ahead as snow by plows.
And for our part we too as well
well, we turn away, turn indoors.
We turn our dreams to
make-it-through this.
We turn our collars up,
and too, our eyes to floors.
We turn our (each seems to)
thoughts inside this shell
not towards Inner but
rather, of course, truly from-
far and away from the
Cold & Falling, closing crisp.
How unlike the Scholar's Cup!
Our husks indoors,
our thoughts follow
but burrow deeper still.
Don't blame the light
for not keeping company
so deep where hides
a fearful, frigid 'you.'
It's Autumn
all turns on
one point.
It's Autumn
Fall burns on.
It's Autumn
sun burns on
one point
(of light.)
I have never felled so alive
as now.
Categories:
fatted, autumn, philosophy, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
He was gone for all of that time
No one knew what his life was like
He could have been a thief or murderer
Only God knows all that he’s done
Why would Daddy let him come back home?
He destroyed everyone’s trust
He left here with half of Daddy’s belongings
Where did he live while gone?
No doubt he was with drunkards and harlots
People who live in the darkest thoughts
With only doubt, fear and despair
He was living with the dreaded devils
His life was shadowed by his failures
He shouldn’t have had the nerve to come back
Home, for him, should be off limits
He shouldn’t be allowed to live here anymore
But Daddy killed the fatted calf for him
Gave him the best robe and his ring
Embraced him with a joy that only knows
He is the beloved son, his heart and soul
Why hasn’t he ever killed a calf for me, though?
I asked Daddy why he was going to all this trouble
For a son who had only used and abused him
Given him nothing but worry and strife
Filled his mind with only regret, pain and trials
I asked him why, but Daddy only said…
**“Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.”
So Daddy killed the fatted calf for my brother
My resentful, bitter heart was spurned
But I know my Daddy is filled with pure love
And He loves the prodigal with a spirit
That can only be described as merciful…
Compassionate and tolerant…
Much like the forgiveness that God sends
To the one who repents and believes
His grace is like a light shining through
The soul who knows His love is the treasure
That every prodigal seeks to accept
And, I, the son who was righteous yet resentful
Need his forgiveness just as much
As the roguish prodigal…
All I need to do is ask, and God’s forgiveness
Will reach down and absolve me of my wrongs
I will ask and receive… because, like my Daddy..
God is always GOOD!
**Luke 15: 31 And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. 32 It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.
Categories:
fatted, faith, forgiveness, god, hope,
Form:
Free verse
(woman)"Just cause I didn't smile at you
Just cause I didn't wave
I'll not wear feelings on my sleeve
That's no way to behave.
But it could be, that I like you
Maybe like you quite a lot
You won't know because you've given up
My heart is tied in knots.
I'll tell you what you need to do
Come over to my house
Knock on the door, 'no violins'
You're a fiddler, not a Strauss.
And if I do not answer
It's because I'm mad at you
You've made me lose my temper
Something I swore not to do.
Now listen up, tomorrow
Come back and try again
Knock, cordially, about three times
But I won't let you in.
That's when you firmly clear your throat
And in your sternest voice
Demand I open up the door
Don't give me any choice.
I'm feeling pretty flustered now
Still we've got to iron this out
Okay, now where did I leave off?"
(man)' I guess I'm in the house.'
"Oh yes, that's right, I've let you in
Don't act surprised to see
My hair is done, my face made up
The hem above my knee.
Pretend there's nothing baking
Though the smell does captivate
Fresh rolls; a well dressed fatted duck
And cause it's getting late
You may as well attempt
To hold my hand, but no
Those puckered lips you'll tuck right in
Or out the house you'll go.
Some other would be wooers
I've kicked right out the door
T'was one or two, no there were three
Pray don't be number four.
I've planned this well and all is set
We've made it up the hill
Now ask the fated question 'Sir'
((man) ' Will you...'
"Of couse, I will."
RETA PRUITT
September 4, 2016
Categories:
fatted, crush, funny love, humor,
Form:
Ballad
across the table pink-eyed – not even Alice’s rabbit either – the impenitent sat – stooped – round as a fatted pig – full of pride in service – unabashed by his kill count – he spoke of philosophy Paris and London – his son following in his footsteps - Afghanistan his war – Perrier green glass sparkled – heat withheld – lust present & accounted for – lust for the military bit
across the table sat Alice - unknowing peacemonger – she observed his head turtling into his neck – she didn’t comment on his war stories – caffeine drove her to the precipice of honesty - lemming like she fell – but not for him – the hour spent down the rabbit hole passed – the sustenance she fed him swallowed - they parted ways
no company found – matchless – burnt-out flames – neither the better off for the meet
Categories:
fatted, age, betrayal, truth,
Form:
Free verse
Oh, damn, I get it, nowhowbrownsowcow-----that it's to be accepted on this site you need to be
the FATTED cow. Low of intellect, yet high on countenance, high on payment
and low on quality! Please forgive my lowly louse langiuse as I plead my
pleb pirrah poetic case in cause $$$$ celeb. RFR? do u take up the capitalistic
crotch clause that payment is prose promised to a clueless culture climaxing in
its own caustic circumsized circus?
Such fecal findings from finger felonies, that use wish words for regal for the future rangling rights to the right rear-renderings, renditions,
thusly l navel nauseous neverthelesses negatings, awkard thimble thoughts.
Try and
get a regal rectal, sorry, reckoning of an inter-rational corporeal capacitical concept of a before u igno/after gnoi and a post graduated spiroscape initiate yours after our
psuedo poetic prowess, upon this site-------swells free of charge if u have half brain
and your wallet in awash in ego endless endeavors that u unengage in urine
intrepid word worn passages of I think I can, when u really can't sorry u suck,
and retry your gloomy gumption as to the positve **** retention given cause u r a
paid prosti soup sister,broth brother, no talent intended. Dreams given an expired
expertise that end clauses into a missed used muse of integral ignorant id
intentions. Sorry for our/your word worn wishful wisdom and not my fault that I can
crea command anall allowance of alphalbet antiques, amiable and accountable in all
annotomical acquired acquatinaces' as you try and make memorable in and of you
sorry, silly, shallow, socialized self, again
no pun intended. Ridicule not want not with not why not get not not. Prelude
your relative innane imagary and sequester your inability to that which is stiffled
well within and garb your you grievance by the gonads, look interpresent and fail
follow yourcreep mismatched mirror of what u compel that works. Call me, I'll tell u
what's what that's that, it's it, nots not and snot is snot. Go blow.
Categories:
fatted, allegory, anger, appreciation, change,
Form:
Free verse
Now gather around, ye lusty lads, a tale I'll tell to thee
Of jealous Gods, monsters and ill-fated men who sailed the sea.
My tale is set in hoary times when fickle fate was by divine decree.
Then men were men who faced all odds, much sturdier than you or me.
It was the time when the Trozans fell, King Priam's pride was turned to dust,
Odysseus' ruse of Trozan Horse, made him of the God's accursed;
For Apollo's faith was crushed by heel of Grecian fleet,
And rape and pillage, with lust and greed, was rampant on the street
But fair Odysseus, with wanton fill, mindful of the weep and wail
With his Grecian hordes and a dozen ships to Ithaca did set sail
With hope-filled heart, with fair Penelope and Telemachus in mind
His course to fair Ithaca was charted and well and truly defined.
But fate, I did say, was most fickle-minded, and had deviously contrived
A fate which would try their grit and test how they fought, and survived.
And so the ships driven willy-nilly by the North Westers and South Easters
Drove them by predetermined chance to the Land of the Lotus Eaters.
The Lotus Eaters were a race which the world forgot in their drugged state
With food of the Nelumbo, of a species time forgot, but did their hunger sate,
And drugged their minds to exclusion of world, to family, and other cares.
Odysseus , abstinent was he,, dragged them back on board, with crew unawares.
Thence post-haste did the ships set sail and sighted fair isle with fatted cattle,
Fair game for stocking provisions, but first a Titan Cyclops they had to battle.
Odysseus, full of guile knew that force would lead to hapless naught,
So crept he in, midst cattle din, and there sleeping Polyphemus sought.
And there as the Cyclops soundly slept, blinded his eye, which was but one.
Polyphemus, Titan, unbeknownst to Odysseus, was Poseidon's beloved son.
With prideful boast Ithacan King, in derision his name did daringly decree.
Wild with rage, and dreadful pain, did Polyphemus call his father from the sea.
Deeply hurt at deceit and guile by which the Grecians blinded his offspring,
Poseidon did curse and said, " May stormy seas and whirly winds calamity bring"
So tossed about were the dozen ships, windblown and tossed on heaving seas.
With heavy heart and tired limb went they to Aeolus, the Wind God there to please.
~11 Jun 2016~
Categories:
fatted, adventure, fantasy, myth, mythology,
Form:
Epic
Hello yea bonny wee pawky thing,
sittin' there tuggin' at ma hert strings.
Aye yer wee ,an' oan yer oan yer hard tae see,
niver mind wee thing jist let it be.
Withoot you, we wid hae a scunnered land,
aye wee thing yea think yer oanly a wan man band,
Help tho' is niver sae far away,
life's dramas are nae a'ways dark an' grey.
Yer mair important than yea think,
mair important than oanything that's gone extinct.
Withoot you an' aw yer like kind.
this wurld wid be in a massive bind.
So wee thing get rid o' that pawky look,
yer really a giant in oany history book.
Since the beginning, you have been there to provide,
so yer wee sel,' behind a bushel please dinny hide.
Yer no' stonnin' there oan yer oan yea ken,
yea hiv hunners an' hunners o' ither frien's.
Oan iv'ry country an' continent yea hav' many kin.
fur eons an eons that's a'ways bin.
Dayin' yer very very important job,
so ma wee courin' thing dinny sob.
Be a happy pert o' this wurld sae great,
yer up there in lights, aye wee thing, that's yer fate.
Yer fate tae provide fur aw this world's life,
withoot yer life givin' skills, we wid be in strife.
Naw !!no' in strife, cos wee widnae be here,
so ma bonny wee pawky thing, ston' up an' cheer.
Ston' up ston' up, fur heaven's sake,
Ston' up ston' up, a great bow, please take.
Nae langer be a wee quiet gentle pawky thing,
cos great nourishing life you duly bring.
Oh ah ken it's no oan yer oan yea achieve sae much,
miracles oan yer oan there is really nonesuch.
But wae aw yer mullins an' mullians oh kin yea have,
yea kin feed them aw, like the proverbial fatted calf.
Yea see noo, yer nae langer a wee pawky thing,
wae aw yer greenie pals tae the world , greatness yea bring.
Taegither yea will clan, an' nae langer be a wan man band,
wae aw yer kin an' their amazin' skills at hand.
Aw yea amazin' wee verdant clever thing,
yea ken noo join wae yer pals tae bring.
Feed the masses aw aroon the world,
let yer flag of knowledge be unfurled.
Yea thocht yea wir jist a wee singular thing,
but now yea ken yer pals arrr 'around, tae bring.
Aye, aw yer pals, arr' a touch o' class,
nae langer ma wee thing are yea jist wan wee blade o' grass.
The Auld Yin.
Categories:
fatted, nature, life,
Form:
Quatrain
Scripted
Euphuism
and "I decrees"
High school
dropout~
six degrees.
the slight
deviation
of parted
lips laced
with lipstick
tasting temptation
trailing off on collars
painting necks
and sensitive subjects
the way LSD
creates psychedelic
sightings
I feel feelings
all over me.
Snapping fingers
trying to remember a
word, what word,
what word
-what word?
Her kiss created
jazz, Ignited
Ursa Minor
reflecting light
off the moon
and like a wolf
I wanted to
consume
the morsels she laid
along a hallway
to the bedroom door.
Hearts race
dive in
disaster.
she controls my
commander's
override
and squeezes
the trigger,
ever so gently
a fatted calf slit
viewed through
smoke.
an Iraqi
baking bread
before prayer
Crosses
adorn mosques.
Sniper's scope,
a throat, gulp.
In blood I wrote:
heaven must'n
have means
to erect
war memorials;
no angel feuds,
No gold or silver,
oil or riches,
just a place
flowing with
green pastures
going no place
particular, well,
maybe one,
~~a kiss~~
that births a son
another war begun.
Categories:
fatted, kiss, symbolism, war, ,
Form:
Free verse
I belong to no Party.
Or political wing.
Social, Tory or anything.
My club is me.
I am free.
No woman has me engaged.
No ring or marriage arranged.
Never been on my knees.
To say my pleas.
My heart belongs to me.
I am free.
Drink I take as I please.
Beer or Spirits.
Leave me cold.
A glass of water,
Is like gold.
I am free.
Eating in a refined way.
Vegetables and fruit.
Have there say.
Kill not the fatted cow.
Meat I eat not, nohow.
I am free.
Drugs, I take not.
Stuff or grass.
I want to live.
Not doped out.
I go without.
I am free.
Money does not grip my mind.
Riches in friendship I find.
The best things in life are free.
The air sky and sea.
I am free.
.............................
Categories:
fatted, inspirational, me, drug,
Form:
Idyll (Idyl)
From hills and orchard row to the Queen’s chain
plume the toetoe, the ponga’s silver gild -
in planted grove and fertile dairy plain
droved is the fatted calf and the earth tilled.
White breasted native wood pigeons cooing
leap bearing fruits and leaves to feed among,
and up above in splendid chorus wing
the tui, bellbird, and grey warbler song.
O’ to see that autumn sun’s gentle fade
on the dew shine of fallen crown of leaves,
and macrocarpas betwixt light and shade
when April rains fall its bowers and eaves.
Soon the solstice will a changing invoke
and idle woodfired stovepipes fill with smoke.
Written: April 1996
Categories:
fatted, autumn, seasons,
Form:
Sonnet
Seven A.M., feet on the floor, pajamas in-car
for a favorite drive-through fast-food treat? No,
it's the coffeepot, and turn on the broiler, less of
a spoiler, but kudos in Heaven. Breakfast's in the works,
she'll reserve the perks, (pardon the pun,) for when Mass
is over. For now, the egg fries, but the 'frigo' door spies
no cheese for the muffin, What? no fatted calf?
and even worse, no Half and Half. It brings back
the chorus in "How to Succeed in Business," the lament
of the scent of No Coffee, NO COFFEE! But memory
reminds of a Champs Elysees' Ave., where an American
institution gave restitution to exiles like her in an
elevator ride under upscale retail, its costly fashions
to Golden Arches beneath Paris town, destination
a Mickey D's you can't imagine: rows of televisions
ornamenting each wall, an Egg McMuffin perk
in easy reach, and a coffee bar, its center station
a Gallic invention for the hurried intentions
of blase' Parisians on their way to work.
.
Categories:
fatted, food,
Form:
Free verse