Best Groped Poems
There was sweat on my brow,
beads of them as I approached her.
I was a young man, still green.
She was a mature woman
like the long blades grow free
in the lush of nature.
My hand in hers
she took me
into her warmth.
Nervous, shy
you could hear
grass grow
in the quiet
of my fear
in the silence
of my lust.
I knew nothing.
As we rolled in the dew of sex
as I fumbled and groped,
I
in some instinctive wisdom
entrusted myself fully to her.
She set our bodies in a fluid motion
my virginity now neatly cut.
We spent days
as I explored
the fresh sweet air
of 'us'.
It was then I became a man.
Learned
how you hold a flower
how you manicure the stem
how you water the soil
how you delicately hold the petals.
It was then I became a gardener.
A gardener
worthy
to tend a garden
so vital.
It was then I learned how to love a woman.
30~12~2014
Armand
By committing to nothing, one retains infinite options.
I have hid inside these words for moons and seasons and New Year’s toasts.
The lone wolf roams fertile pastures unfettered.
The thrill of the hunt.
The chase.
An empty bed is the hope of a new body’s sleeping curve.
Tomorrow becomes yesterday.
“The mystery of mysteries is the gateway to marvels.”
I stopped looking long ago.
The faces have blurred into a montage of emptiness.
Come and go; came and went.
I never bothered much to be bothered.
There aren’t many memories
And I am thankful for that.
Wet fingers and licked lips’
Blood on my hands.
Wasted time.
The years run on like a favorite sitcom gone bad.
It all should have been retired years ago.
It is easier to stay afloat and roam the big waters alone
Than set up camp on an island and face a face.
No problems.
No worries.
No connection.
Freedom is all that you cannot commit to
And who surrenders to nothing is he who lives in frigid shadows of fear.
Maybe I have never truly known warmth.
I walk the streets like a war-worn shoulder.
A little cold, a little distant, a little too silent.
The words I have are recycled fragments of someone else’s life.
I don’t offer much.
Poker face.
Can you read my concrete stare?
I have an entire universe hiding in my back pocket
But I’m scared to show you.
It’s been so long since I groped or even fondled my own life.
I’m not sure what I do or don’t have to offer.
I just keep making bets and upping the ante.
They tell me that I must avoid feminism.
They tell me that feminism makes me hate men.
They tell me as a feminist no man will like.
They tell me all about misandry and not about
misogyny and after I hear them talk I am all for
Misanthropy. They tell me being manly is not ok,
They tell me short skirts are slutty and long skirts
Are prude and I. Am just. A sum of my parts.
They tell me not to walk alone at night
Or I might turn a man on.
Not to be to giving or might as well go along.
They tell me to clutch my keys for when
Bad men arrive
They tell me: “Hey girl, why not smile?”
And ask me what´s the hurry.
They tell me they are a nice guy, don't worry
I am in no rush. Let's just be friends, I have nothing
in demand. They tell me, with the same heart in their mind,
That I lead them on, and ask me why I don´t love them?
But I did, they were my friend.
They tell me catcalling is a compliment but call me
Arrogant if I thank. And if I walk by in silence they
Call me ****, they call me skank. They tell me those
rowdy guys in daylight light are just a bit drunk and
nothing more. And the way that they groped me more,
just let it go and leave before they get more.
They tell me how it is my fault on the day that I get raped.
Boys will be boys, I can not expect them to behave.
How silly of me, to think them human.
They tell me no arrests are made, and before the day after, They,
They tell me to get over it, and call me psycho when I flinch.
I think some have half the mind to rape me again.
“Why don't I trust them?¨” is all they have to ask?
But look at what you thought me,
You taught me not to trust.
That was not feminism, feminism was not my class.
It taught me better, that my voice will give me trust.
That I am not alone and you have not weakened me.
That boys are not boys and better than we make them to be.
That my body is my body and I should not fear the
Streets at day and night like I do now.
And every lurking danger,
is not the sum of my faults.
She wailed her way into the world...
An avatar they said, Goddess Lakshmi had taken birth...
Her parents' pride, her brother's delight...
She loved and shone her brightest light...
She smiled she laughed in her radiant sight...
She didn't notice the prying eyes...
Pirouettes and piques, with aplomb she leaped...
Fell back on the earth, for a second it hurt...
Not losing her stride, among the cries...
She walked ahead, with her head held high...
Its a man's world, she was warned...
Not true she said, and walked along...
For she was proud of the woman she was...
She did not know of the waging war...
She had no right to dress as she pleased...
Her shorts were labelled as a tease...
She committed a crime when she refused his friendship...
She was punished by a splash of acid...
Pushed and shoved, groped and cut...
She burnt she bled, he simply fled...
It was her fault, said those in power...
She ate noodles, she should have called him brother...
She shouldn't have been out, late at night...
Well, he was justified in playing out his might...
She should have brought a car in dowry...
She wouldn't be laying, a lifeless body...
She gives life, akin to God...
Yet her life is an irony, unwanted... abort...
Lying about the scar on her face...
She tells her friends she fell down the staircase...
For she didn't know how to confide in them...
Of the scathing beatings, by the husband she'd wed...
Killing in honour of the holy mother cow...
Raping the honour of the woman of their house...
They'd given her wings, asked her to fly...
She flew away, and then they pried...
How dare she fly away so high, she was permitted to fly awhile...
Clip her wings, draw a ring...attach her to their pendulum strings...
Stamped her fate, sentenced to a cage...
Live like a prisoner, you deserve it, they say...
Yet they fold their hands in prayer...
To a Goddess, for their share...
For their share of golden glory...
While her life becomes another cover story...
I pricked my finger
on a thorn of Voodoo roses
felt the stab of crimson
and sweet burn of saffron
in a tequila sunrise
I smelled apples but tasted oranges
as a clock chimed with mockingbirds
in the chartreuse trill of Spring
Summer's cerise burn passed
in a steamy haze
with the glistening sting
of hazelnut sand between my toes
and the white capped kisses
of salty teal on my face
before the cresting of absinthe foothills
One chill morning dew appeared
on pointed leaves as wisps of cirrus
sped in a porcelain sky
and salt lay on my cheeks
not of bright Pacific dreams
As I groped for apricot skies
rose petals fell and curled like ashes
acrid as whiskey and bitter as gin
lost in the gust of October's amber swirl
April's scarlet whisper was silent
in Autumn umber
the seasons having passed
in a sapphire moment
with the piercing shimmer
of Voodoo roses in bloom
10th Place
The Poet's Ear Contest
Sponsor: Greg Barden
Written: 7/16/17
-The Windmills of Your Mind-
To share a painful dive
deserves credit
I was terrified
Police groped blindly in this chase -
a psychopathic serial killer
A cold knife blade against the body
is in every way a mental abuse
Even if you're trying to gain control on all
the pieces that are missing in the moment
Run ... run ... run for your life
Beads of sweat drip from the forehead
taste of blood in the mouth
I have no idea where the forces came from
had to fight from start to finish
in this life-threatening situation
Run ... run ... run until you are exhausted
I did not have much strength left
But the alternative would have been horrible
The world suddenly turned black
I woke up in the hospital one day later
No one can distance themselves from this feeling
The experience is forever in my backpack
10/08/2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
INFLICTIONS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
2nd place in the contest
- a fictional poem :)
I Remember Fierce Storm That Blew My Life Apart
I remember fierce storm that blew my life away.
Images burned into a sad, finely tortured mind;
reminds me of that epic and dark fateful day,
tears falling down but no good answers could I find.
So in love with my sweetheart but soon hope gave way,
when drug induced Nirvana flew into our home.
Easy now to see it in slow motion replay,
when I groped in darkness wherever I dared roam.
Raging clouds gathered within the uncertain West
as thunder spilled over into each haunting hour.
No joy in simply knowing that I did my best,
while I saw the destruction of my wild flower!
I remember fierce storm that blew my life apart.
Its massive crushing winds destroyed my aching heart.
Robert J. Lindley, 1-11-2016
Form- Sonnet, I used 12 syllables instead of ten.
Syllables Per Line:
12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
Total # Syllables: 168
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:
Total # Words: 124
i have kissed beneath summer’s sweltering
fragrance your array of spackled decay
in lovely gardens; sweet roses weltering
plundered and plucked; an incidental lay
beneath your satin I have run my fingers,
trembled as famished breasts groped my
own; your mellow poetry still lingers
imperviously enriching - and when i try
to kiss another i feel your haunting roots
encroaching my tingled thighs and i shake
beleaguered by your lavender; heat shoots
through laboring reeds sprouted mistakes
pale panhandlers passionately proposed
then by your tender
i’m awaiting... (so you suppose)
4/8/17
I TOLD YOU
I told you that Uncle Danny touched me
It hurt and made me cry
I told you I didn’t like him
You said I shouldn’t lie.
I told you my bra got snapped in class
That I was treated like a toy
Your response was simply
That boys will be boys.
I told you I was raped
By a man that I knew
Despite my tears and anger
You asked what did I do.
I told you a man came in my dorm
Violated me after breaking my door
When I reported to campus police
They asked me what I wore.
I told you my boss
Grabbed my breast at work
I wanted to file a complaint
You replied just ignore the jerk.
I got groped at the club last night
By this guy who was a punk
I wanted to call the police
You told me that he’s just drunk.
I’ve been telling you these things
Happen year after year
You say you are listening
But do you really hear?
I told you these things happened to me
As you laugh, scoff, and snort
Blaming and shaming endlessly
And you wonder why we don’t report.
I wonder when these excuses will end
Even though the road seems insurmountable
When will society stand
And start holding abusers accountable?
Until then I will continue forward
With my words as proof
I shall walk in the light
And stand in my truth.
broad shoulders, six foot three
Rolex, Stacey Adams
suit by Armani
and she said yes
soft spoken, warm hands
piercing eyes, a Harvard degree
business law
and she said yes, yes
a dance
to Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
witty, charming, a nightcap
and she said yes, yes, yes
Mercedes Benz, Pacific Ocean
gated community, ten thousand square feet
pool, sauna, jacuzzi
and she said yes, yes, yes, yes
John Coltrane caressed the ears
Dom Perignon the bloodstream
kissed with the eyes, then the lips
and she said yes, yes, yes, yes, yes
wait, wait
grabbed her, cursed her, rippped her dress
slapped her, groped her, pinned her
mounted her, took her
and she cried no, no, no, no, no–no
she could have been
his sun
to light his path
to far away
meadows
he could not stand
her piercing
brightness
he settled
for the moon
the night came
the moon
dimmed him further
he groped
in the dark
and wished
for the sun
only the sun
was way beyond
the horizon
of his past
quietly
mooning
over another
in a
faraway land
I watched as silence danced with shadows,
Playing the melody sung by my mind.
Its blanket covered the darkness—
broken only by a ray of light through a crack in the cave wall.
I groped through the dark toward the stone,
but the gale was too thick for my arms to swim.
I imagined a ghost whispering—
yet only silence listened.
Echoes, like thunder in a deep ocean,
ricocheted fear like a trap set to spring.
Ghosts rushed out from the corners they lurked—
only for me to hear silence whisper: “Come out of there.”
Its voice flowed like a river of serenity through a forest.
I begged silence to stop its torment,
but it had ears that could not hear.
I tried to run, but a boulder blocked my path.
Then I screamed.
It was then I knew—
the light coming through the crack was my father’s flashlight.
Through the dark, through the gloom, through the still like a tomb,
Groped a girl through the canyons a-crying;
She could not see to stop when she stepped past the drop,
Down the cliff to her death she is flying.
Then whispers of light came and scattered the night,
And a hand held her back from the granite;
An angel so sweet from God's shimmering seat
Came to rescue an orphan named Janet.
Through the air, through the sky, over canyons so high
Flew the angel, embracing the child;
Little Janet she set where no storms would beset,
And the skies aye are sunny and mild:
Where whispers of light guide her way through the night,
And there's youthful companions abounding;
For angels are nigh every day that goes by,
And by night they are always surrounding.
~By Isaiah Zerbst~
~February 19, 2014~
How my raw heart raved
At the news of your departure
For them that can read
The sands of a forlorn heart
Will the rains ever come again
And hover my lover back to me?
I groped for the blind guide
Swore to fence his inner sight
To eternally end his thieving me
Of the only pearl
That my heart longs to keep:
That my eyes long to behold!
I cried on my mother’s lap
‘Let me be; I must have her
I must fly after her!’
Was all that forsoothing
No more than just a hoodwink-
A coquette’s meanly premium?
These torrid passions
Of a lonely heart
Have torn an unforgettable path
Thru’ the hows, whys and wherefores
Of a gallant search
For something to treasure!
Were I a prince, a poet or even a pauper
I would lead a chaste life
I would attend to my calling
Forget all the wicked nightmares
And attune to a life of celibacy and negritude
I would forfeit the worldly harvest!
You who travel to her nooks and corners
Will you tell me what’s behind the horizon?
What clouds hide me from her skyline?
Is there another star under God’s heaven
That shines brighter in her heart1
Tell me- my vigilant sensibilities.
After all,
he taught Bible study
at our local church.
Mother caught him
kissing her cousin, Marie,
in the kitchen.
He groped cousin Anna
under the water
as we swam in the pond.
Anna’s mother told mine.
My thirteenth birthday,
in his eyes, meant
that I was fair game.
I resisted, threaten to tell.
Again, Mother caught him
lying on the hall floor
before an open door
with head hung down
to watch sister and I
shower in the basement.
A lifetime of dread
for the next incident
when, or what, or who.
Always uncomfortable
in his presence.
Thirty-five years,
the ugly secret kept,
for Mother’s sake.
In my heart,
sweet relief felt,
on the day he died.