Best Groin Poems
This is for men, is there anything more painful
Than being hit 'tween the legs, no way to be graceful
You clutch at your groin
Animals do join
Baying at the moon reverting to their instincts prenatal
© Jack Ellison 2016
This is for men, is there anything more painful
Being hit 'tween the legs, no way to be graceful
You clutch at your groin
Some animals do join
Baying at the moon with instincts prenatal
If you break into laughter, I won’t join,
Facing us right now the need to hands join
And, fast, stripped body cover up to loin;
Neater clothes to fetch for the man’s bared groin
And no less veil for his wife’s announced loin…
Perhaps you want them to Adam rejoin
Or right there as wedded couple conjoin!
Mad beggars – yes – for as cheap as a coin:
But which shop picks from filthy hand a coin
And which food seller attends to leaked groin?
Then it’s a much fake concern: your tossed coin
Unless a cool, thousand of it you join
Villanelle : Don't we all cling to Life tooth and nail guts in groin
Don't we all cling to Life tooth and nail guts in groin
E'en if the insatiable Beast glowers close behind
No matter what nor how long the grind we bear 'n' pine
Merchants of Faith made in mythic images divine
Tell us all their gods have told them what lurks behind
Don't we all cling to Life tooth and nail guts in groin
Each in his own way nailed to some Alien loin
All assured this World's for the best of Mankind
No matter what nor how long the grind we bear 'n' pine
True gods are those Men who behind the scenes combine
Thrust up Leaders who lisp words for Them who us bind
Don't we all cling to Life tooth and nail guts in groin
Children grow up and swear by their words anodine
Believe rot Batman Hulks Wonder Woman's behind
No matter what nor how long the grind we bear 'n' pine
Till that day the bubble bursts the last word on line
Shows neither Nations nor gods mean well for Mankind
Don't we all cling to Life tooth and nail guts in groin
No matter what nor how long the grind we bear 'n' pine
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2018
Her luring loin
And her customers’ seduced groin
Once again join
With a freshly released gold coin,
Even as she wasn’t his type
For being a smoker of a pipe
To whom final quitting could never be ripe,
Until cancer took its paw swipe
And off her illusory joy wipe…
A nymphomaniac reaching out to ointments
Ahead of fixed appointments
For the enveloping of smell of cigarette
And show to valued customers that she could be considerate!
Now here in Aussie land, exists a very hardy native creeping vine
reputedly produces berry fruit that is tasting rather fine
Can one harvest fruit, now that's a leading question
It has long protruding sharp spiky thorns,
Maybe necessary to practice abstention
Now the man who took the time to give this plant a recognisable title, was he in lots of pain ?
affected by a thorn of the Cockspur, its common, but not botanical identifiable name