Best Hormone Poems
Capricious, a long haired
Classical girl, long legs
Casually looks, eye
Contact, fiery young man,
Clearly hormones aflame,
Confidently walks with rose
Converse, fait accompli!
Entering Poem : Pleiades Poetry Contest
Sponsored By Joseph May
2020/10/02
Love is not pretty, it's hell and it's pain.
A feeling of anguish I try to abstain.
Love is cosmic, it is beauty divine.
It makes the world sing one hymn at a time.
Love is a beast who sinks a knife in my chest,
collapsed on the floor gasping for breath.
Love is an angel who engulfs me with warmth,
my senses explode my body transformed
Love is putrid, a smell I cannot bare,
hurling and wrenching gasping for air.
Love is a perfume so sweet and radiant,
a pomegranate honey-suckled filled fragrant.
Love is my destruction, it is also my savior.
No medium or in-between dwell in this behavior.
Love is a hormone of madness and commotion,
either a red hot elixir or an icy cold potion.
Ice, I must find and crush, to sooth this
Intermittent flush,
No, it’s not a blush,
It’s not my cup of hot tea,
Or our holiday by the sea,
It’s just what happening to me my darling Bee!
I must undress, but yes
I must confess, that was a sweet caress,
Let’s put it to the test,
And let the hormones do the rest!
I feel depressed and low,
I really love you Joe,
I’m soaking wet,
And so are you with sweat,
If we were to place a bet,
I’m sure that Doctor Sage,
Would agree with us, that
We have reached that stage
When our hormones, have come of age!
eternal enemy run for cover
we have caught up to your hide and seek game
the control cables have all been mapped
far beyond the billowy seaweed tangles
and the monumentalized insignificances
payday is just around the corner boss
the best of all worlds has just become better
less of a casino more of a recovery room
recovering from the greatest conundrum
which came first the hormone or the thought
a strange biology from the bubbling seabed vents
with stranger ratchet and turnbuckle creatures
clack clack clacking and pulling and stretching
the vents into school bus eating sink holes
every one a hard case with a big on/off switch
compulsive bling jockeys and hypno-fantasists
everyone knows no one is talking
down deep is hard to get to up here
for the shifty eyed endorphin pumps
I answered the door to my fleabag motel room
It was Cleopatra Del Monico in full length sequins
a 9mm in one hand a bouquet of nettles in the other
her edematous mystery begging release
from its threadbare prison of magnetized appetite
Dahling you look so transparent she entwined
I'm trying to avoid error I whimpered
I'll be your tart with no filling then
she rendered as her hands began my disassembly
apparently a background in human decency
is not required for a diploma from the Epidrome
so I could do little but comply endlessly
as her skinwalking feet began their trek
upon my sternum and its various addictions
her truncheon de amor got down to business
and a great ambivalence to meaning
made a message of absolutely everything
none of which I could ignore for several winters
until stone by stone an ancient fortification
fell about my ears with an absence of fanfare
that was deafening yet angelic
in its many comparisons
Nine months have quickly passed since the mind
was provoked to write many lines of rhyme
Does this stimulation arise from some type of hormone?
is there some thought arousing release of an enzyme?
Most it comes from memories
go back to when one was a child
A few from visualisation
just let thought patterns run wild
There is gratitude for hardships
that shape the growing soul
Sometimes a base for humour
that forms a playful role
One day upon a Zen Chai massager
body"s rockin to and fro
Seems Im back upon a steam train
stimulates poetic flow
Take pride that my daily way of living
has deviated from the norm
Poetry is a platform to support others
fulfils a desire to inform