Best Lecherous Poems
Look closely, feel the harmless heat
enveloping black-diamond
petals in the glistening
garden of glossy geraniums.
There, sprouts rosemary dreams
from an untouched silhouette,
eager to be seen beyond
her perfumed pigments.
Her universe was sprinkled
with starry streams
of gleaming rays,
as she swayed to symphonic
serenades filled with hazel dust.
They may gawk with greedy
glares as wide as the night sky,
marking her with lecherous
objects that only please
shameless eyes.
She was never
in need of a sixth sense
to understand iron glances
that travel in nefarious packs,
with sugar-burnt hunger
washing all over her
unblistered flesh,
judging her concealer
as a manipulative facade,
seeking uncalled-for affirmations
that she never solicited,
misconceiving her thin lines
of red-river lipstick.
Her summer physique allowed
no consent for invasive intrusion,
yet carnal cravings become
unwelcome toxic trespassers.
Their immoral thoughts
believe shallow words
give them wanderlust wings,
while sinister stars in their sky
label her a soulless mannequin,
objectifying her
cinnamon-glazed skin,
sun-kissed hair,
and pecan-powdered~
caramelized voluptuous flare,
with their vehement
voracious desires.
Swinging penetrative thin blades
of opinions from miles,
oblivious to the fact that
she is the sanguine strength
that strolls in silver silence
across spiky swards,
suppressing the pain her
bones have endured with
every whiskering
whistle they wolfed.
There, if the mauve moon and
crystalline constellations look closely,
they would find versatile
mirrors of meaning
reflecting the times
she parades a smile too
comfortable to wear,
for they have concluded
her bed to be a shrine
of blenders and
overflowing thickened blades,
cursed by the biological
sins of Adam's ancestors.
Categories:
lecherous, deep,
Form:
Free verse
There once was a fox, as wise as can be,
He lived in the hollow of an old oak tree.
Not so very far from an ol’ Farmer’s Farm;
A farmer he knew would do him great harm.
Also, on that farm lived a lively young goose,
And he caused the fox’s dry mouth to juice.
Without a care, the goose gandered about,
Causing the fox great apprehension, no doubt.
One day they met at the edge of the farm:
The goose knew, for sure, the fox meant him harm.
Mr. Fox, I know you can eat me, he said,
But, I know a better way you can be fed.
The farmer has many an egg you can eat,
and they are more juicy than feathery meat.
I’ll tell you just how to gain your supply;
as quick as a wink, or the blink of an eye.
The farmer is rich and he doesn’t have need
for all of his wealth, and all of his greed.
We poor of the earth, he cares not about:
We should take eggs from the lecherous lout.
Sure, he feeds us, and quite well in fact,
But he profits from the sweat of our back.
We animals are brothers, and should take heed
About each others wants and each others need.
You can sneak around by the ol’ mill gate,
while I distract the hound, down by the lake.
His threat to you I shall circumvent,
and you can then eat to your hearts content.
The sly ol’ fox, he surmised this odd tale:
Hen’s eggs were delicious, he knew quite well.
Oh, this we will do, he quickly agreed:
Eggs, he knew, were quite delicious indeed.
So, the goose set off, the hound to distract,
And also the fox, to the mill gate out back.
But, the goose had another plan in his mind;
A problem solution of a far different kind.
He enlisted the hound in his subversive trick,
To solve the fox dilemma finally and quick.
He sent the hound round to the ol’ mill gate,
Leaving himself to just piddle and wait.
Then suddenly upon him with claw and tooth
Pounced the fox, ‘fore he could honk or hoot.
In this moral lesson we all can deduce,
Why no-one says: “he’s as sly as a goose”.
The SLY fox knew: “If the goose would betray
the farmer that feeds him, he will betray me too.”
Lionel
Categories:
lecherous, parody,
Form:
Quatrain
Old Zack Adams sits a slouch’n so sloppy drunk on a bar-room stool,
Wear’n his cheap-threaded cowboy suit and a stained satin shirt.
All the while a peek’n and a leer’n at women like an old poor fool,
But think’n man tonight—Oh Boy, I’m really gonna hit the pay dirt!
Old Zack in this small Texas town is reputed to be quite a lecherous hoot,
As he raucously and recklessly rolls old worn quarters into the slot
Of the old bar-room Wurlitzer while snicker’n and smil’n to boot,
And plays his tearful and twangy jerk-water music while smil’n a lot!
Old Zack is this town’s “Jukebox Gigolo,” a real lover boy—Oh Boy!
He wears his patched cowboy hat and his scuffed silver-studded boots,
Meant to impress young girls and bar-fly floozies who have the Joy!
Of being with this bewildering, withered, weathered man and his boots.
Old Zack has a fad’n recollection of events and a silver mane of hair,
With a cigarette in his hand and cuss’n like a nasty little stable boy,
He downs whiskey shots and tequila seconds like no tomorrow on a dare,
While chas’n whiskey glass ice cubes and the tequila worm—being so coy.
Old Zack while a swigg’n down his whiskey mucho fast and direct,
He has now that blind courage to fight or to love—whichever is first,
While the old Wurlitzer resonates a rueful hick song for a teary effect,
But Old Zack can’t move now for this song has him sobb’n the very worst.
Old Zack with his nicotine-whiskey breath and his pockmarked face,
Personifies the image of an ideal loser of a man—with problems all,
While fight’n, scream’n, and punch’n others to gain some precious space,
He’s a showcas’n his reservoir of manly prowess—with problems all.
Old Zack was young once and not so wild, withered, weathered like now,
And he thought he was a really smart dude—all right moves and all,
But was really a man act’n far above his funny fake smart brow,
And now a cry’n on his bar-room stool and act’n like a fool before a fall.
Old Zack Adams—alcoholic as he truly is and sly and slick as a Texas fox,
Is not really so good with his women friends nowadays—for his real talent
Is in roll’n those old worn quarters pieces one-by-one into the old Jukebox,
Sing’n—“I’m the Jukebox Gigolo”—“a Drunk and a Delight,” that’s real talent!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (October 7, 2014)
(Rhymed Quatrain)
Categories:
lecherous, abuse, addiction, allegory, emotions,
Form:
Quatrain
There is a solace in his silence, a servant of his solitudes,
As he comforts in compliance, a jester to the multitudes…
He stands alone a neophyte, struggling within his confines,
Actions that do excite, impugnable inhibition when he signs.
Master of the satirical sad, a foreordained flounder of many,
Like a narcotized nomad, wandering wills a penniless plenty…
A calamitous circus in mind, his heart exposed in the limelight,
Dolorous detentions unkind, amidst filling his formidable finite.
A bombarding bombast, with words falling to the desolate deep,
Sailing with a maudlin mast, wearing a facetious frown as to weep…
Layered with lecherous lashes, upon wounding the sacrificial soul,
His anguish turns to ashes, within continuation of his dramatic role.
A buffoon protected by providence, metamorphic minstrel of laugh,
Lacking in canopied confidence, recklessly writing his eternal epitaph…
As he mimes until the morrows, living amongst a false fading reality,
With a smolder to his sorrows, court jesting as a nilpotent nobody.
Feb.28.2020
Repost From May 23, 2019
Clown at the Abyss
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Placed 7'th...Thank You
Categories:
lecherous, angst, character, conflict,
Form:
Rhyme
Now let me be the first to hasten to say,
And all your smirks and snide remarks allay,
That I've never darkened the door of a cabaret,
Where exquisite damsels are on display!
But (I'm told) they don't wear fancy tutus like in a ballet.
Heavens no! They're scantily clad (I'm told) and they sway!
And of their practiced gyrations (I'm told) there's quite an array!
Their hugging that pole (I'm told) will certainly spin your toupee!
They must be on guard (I'm told) to keep lecherous geezers at bay!
A few bucks slipped in their cleavage (I'm told) is their meager pay!
Shucks! This has piqued my interest - I must check it out some day!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 3 in Miranda Lambert's "Burlesque Boutique" Contest - April 2011
Categories:
lecherous, funny
Form:
Monorhyme
Lecherous Luther was wont to grope
He ceased to function at the end of a rope!
Here lies Cletus as stiff as a board
He slipped on the ice and busted his gourd!
Here rests our dear Ruby who failed to duck
She was beaned on her noggin by a hockey puck!
Egbert the boxer took a fatal jab to the jaw
He died on the spot for failing to yaw!
Interred below is Purvis rigid and prone
Alas, he choked on a chicken's bone!
How we lament the loss of Naomi our sister
She was whisked up and away by a Kansas twister!
Dudley kept in shape by regularly joggin'
Alas, he tripped and fell crackin' his noggin!
Phineas was laid to rest for his eternal snooze
He died too young because of his fondness for booze!
Wilfried didn't heed the warning regarding the curve
He met his doom in a Lamborghini for failing to swerve!
While breaking a bronc Tex was abruptly unhorsed
Perhaps the task would've gone better outsourced!
Categories:
lecherous, death, fate, humorous,
Form:
Epitaph
Kinky boots ...
kicking naked truth
Stripped bare
down to the nightshade roots
Temptress gaze ...
collecting laundered money
off the dirty parquet
Her pay-for-play
get the tilted short cups
ice cubes rattling
See the lecherous throats
swallow the fermented, lewd offering
Let ‘em feel the venom sting:
Allow the paid, slow death foreplay
to snake swamp drain into their pee brain
Seduction Fay Wray eyes
swinging ‘round a metal pole
Medusa headdress affixed at the top
Turning men’s lusty ape bones
into limp chimp stones
Got a Cleopatra guillotine bed,
ready to give
scissor heads a mean Herodian lop
Liquor urging lip gallows to put
a tip squeeze between the bust
And a little rump jiggle
have ‘em groveling in the dust
Baroness Von Knaughty,
she-devil
of such enormous bosom beauty
Daughter of Baal,
Arch duchess of hell
Quenching taboo thirst
with another flesh set of sleaze
Shakedown the pockets
of the bottom feeders
with flimsy lingerie leggy tease
Baroness Von Knaughty,
she of buxom royalty
Vixen kitty, who shows no pity
Feline daughter of the first unveiled dancer,
who STD burned
every lost soul guest
at Hades inaugural purge orgy
Categories:
lecherous, allegory, sexy, truth, wisdom,
Form:
Burlesque
budding beauty blushing
not coy but provocative
adoring flowers kissed her lips with color
wove a clasp to hold her long hair
tattooed their image on her face
she lives in a castle tower
prisoner of a would-be lover
scorned prince makes her dance weekly
intoxicating lecherous men in his court
they know she cannot be touched
elegant crimson ring on her delicate finger
prince’s claim on her well known
nightly she stares at the moon
enchanting celestial stars with her beauty
as tears of loneliness fall
knight on white steed approaches in dreams
fights to free her from solitude
fortress of stone weeps into its mote
lithe and lean, Violet slips through the turret’s bars
prepared to plunge into dark water
magnificent eagles in flock rescue her
grateful Violet winged to freedom
now she dances nightly
tantalizing only one man with her sultry ways
loving knight who could not scale the citadel
befriended savior eagles on a hilltop perch
while gazing at her face bathed in moonlight
* For the “Tell Her Story” contest sponsored by Constance La France ~A Rambling
Poet~
by Carolyn Devonshire
Categories:
lecherous, fantasy, people
Form:
Free verse
The man with the whip takes the terrible trip
Fools slide and fiends slip...soon they all land in his grip
On a sinking slaveship in a sea full of sorrow
Subtracting from souls...soon they beg and they borrow
No today
No tomorrow
The man with the whip makes his money multiply
While innocence slowly dies those guilty birds fly
Bringing broken dreams on a billion broken wings
Still he smiles like the sun hatching his plots and plans and sinister schemes
The man with the whip never slumbers or sleeps
Like a big bad wolf always feasting on sheep
Angels weep where demons creep
Where his lunatic laughter has long length and reach
Where his servants and slaves they sow and they reap
The man with the whip is a lecherous leach
Draining lifeblood dry
Bringing death to the weak
Categories:
lecherous, corruption,
Form:
Blank verse
Raised in a somber household where she could do nothing right,
she would flounder in every chore her parents had her do.
Picked on by classmates, she would smolder with rage.
Eventually, she came to feel
that every single thing in her life was dolorous.
She could show nothing of her real self to the world,
for she was swallowed up by inhibition
and a profound lack of self-esteem.
Gathering the strength one day to leave her parents’ home,
she walks away.
It feels to her like divine providence
when warm, outgoing strangers not much older than she
latch onto her and bring her into their fold.
They introduce her to their charismatic guru.
His daily preaching of strange doctrines, though sheer bombast,
resonate deeply within her, for his words are the life line
which she's been reaching for; he reels her in!
A zealous neophyte the girl becomes as she -along with other females -
gives herself over, body and soul,
to the lecherous diabolical
leader of the cult.
June 9, 2019
For John Hamilton's Eight Word Free Verse Challenge Poetry Contest
8 Words Used: 1. Neophyte 2. Inhibition 3. Flounder 4. Dolorous 5. Bombast 6. Lecherous 7.Providence 8 Smolder
Categories:
lecherous, woman,
Form:
Free verse
Of late, nature moans inside a scraped womb
As her lush environ FLOUNDERS breaks out…
Played like a trusting NEOPHYTE from woods to rivers
She endures the BOMBAST of dirt through man’s crimes:
Awaiting kindness …amends remain undone
While LECHEROUS deeds persist without guilt, why, why?
More wrongs ravage innocent fish and flora
Infecting her very marrow, to drain away.
Loot, SMOLDER, rip a body ! Time runs out.
Mother Earth answers through bloodied jolts…
By will of PROVIDENCE, she whips a storm without INHIBITION
Halting indifference, her fire scalds air’s layers,
A battle citizens might grow DOLOROUS over--
Until her soul is nourished back, till she moans no more.
-----------
Eight Word Free Verse Challenge
For John Hamilton’s Contest 6/13/2019
Categories:
lecherous, abuse, environment,
Form:
Free verse
I watch the smoulder in your eyes ... rise
Flames licking inhibition, searing our entropy and ache
I am the yang to your yin, the neophyte to your authority and ease
Your gaze pulls me inward like the claws of carnal chaos
And I submit to the spin ... flounder in your fiery forge
I have died a thousand times in your sight, burning
I have held your heart in my hand, and felt the pulse quicken
Your smile and sinews, the swords that bleed my soul
They and I, weary of lust's bombast, and the lecherous spirit of love
(Love defined to a lad as the physical things ... the flesh and feel)
Yet I welcome the dolorous passion that devours me
The wild providence of conflagration that consumes me
And surrounds our world of selfish sensuality
I look deeper and say a prayer for mercy
But the blaze is too malignant, too wonderfully wicked
Reaching its tendrils to wrap me
I close my eyes to imagine I am you
To imagine the heat of my reflection as it flickers in your eyes
And melt ... like molten madness.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Eight Word Free Verse Challenge" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
lecherous, appreciation, beauty, metaphor, passion,
Form:
Free verse
Give me some dancing shoes
Move out of my jazzy red suede blues
Let me whirl my bipolar absolute truth
Who is that? Is that dead husband of Ruth?
Give me my high heels, silver, sassy and large
I’ll take a burger with fries; make it a charge.
If I step on your toes, be sure to squeal.
That way I will know that you are delightfully real.
Give me some space. Bring me my fur coat.
Give me whirling room, you old lecherous goat!
I need to howl and I need to swing.
This life could really bring me some absolute zing.
Giving me love will just break your unhappy heart.
What else to say? Where could this old heartbreaker start?
Stay out of my way, you cannot control or cage me.
I’m dancing my truth, single with jazz, here I’ll be.
Categories:
lecherous, music,
Form:
Rhyme
her thoughts, dolorous, often smolder in her mind
long before they are penned upon paper
often crumpled and disregarded
like kindle for a fire
they call them poems anyway
she is inferior, a mere neophyte
fueled by inhibition
that flounders her way through life
and on the page alike
yet they call her poet
perhaps she has the providence
from her youth as her guide
to rid those memories
or spark the fire that burns
as she pens what they call poetry
she doesn't see her worth
between her words
or lecherous stares
cast from unworthy men
that burnt through her soul
she remembers only
a collection of bombast thoughts
that haunt her mind
as she writes them out
then damns them
through the flames of memory
yet they call it poetry
June 12, 2019
Categories:
lecherous, emotions, poems, words,
Form:
Free verse
Quite a few of them tried rather fervently
To reach the light that hangs in bows
Sent sideways perversely
Through shadows of mist-like moonbows.
Or like a sundream cascading down memories
They’d trap in their heart’s chest-like the irony of the lion
Loving the lecherous acts of temporary reveries,
While believing and denying the truth of their carrion.
Like the lambs of our lives, the ancients walked with their lips
From the caves to the clouds they sung their pain
Turning self to others and rocks to ships
They gave us a sweet emptiness that had no name.
They shot beams of shades of truth and fire cries
And sung the leaves at night their stars and knelt grass
With bugs that served us plain through bark and breeze
Tries hard to not see the discrepancy between the moment one passes
And the moment one has to pass.
Categories:
lecherous, son, song-lyrictruth,
Form:
Rhyme