Best Leering Poems
O beguiling crimson Moon
Fiercely blazing for want of thee;
Descending beneath faltering clouds;
Leering wantonly;
And She:
Her coy distractions and brazen
Enchantments
Laid bare and stripped rude...
Like the naked lightening tree.
Stealing forth his confoundments
Dealt by bloody, craven fingers
Which do betray and disavow
The sacred pledges
Made unto the black veils
Of night-time down...
When, drifting carnally upwards
Against your sleeping form -
Stooping to kiss upon that fiery brow...
Thus forged an incestuous alliance
Beneath the distant stars
Of a broken plough.
Categories:
leering, moon,
Form:
Rhyme
Strangers are attacking me;
ruthless men seek my life—
men without regard for God. Selah
Psalm 54:3
GOD SEES THE COURAGEOUS AT WORK
Wild-eyed disregard for God —
The mocking tone, the spittoon.
The leering eyes —
they’re tiger’s eyes.
They plop near the weights —
the courageous snakes, and
throw balls of cannon smoke.
They hope that we will choke.
The courageous throw acid
in a virgin’s angelic face.
The courageous pounds their rusted
nails into fragile wrists and ankle saints —
these innocents whose haloed guardian’s
see the illuminated face of almighty God.
The courageous divide fetus parts,
roll them like dice, put them on display.
The courageous pillage, rape and sodomize
thinking if there’s a God, he will see it as sport.
They drink deeply the heart blood and soul
but none can escape the Ancient of Days.
Life is a pit, a mere hole for the courageous
to drown. They’ve looked for a fiery dragon
And he’s been found, awaiting the demise
of as many curs-ed petals he can find.
Selah…
if only for a moment the dead blinked,
the light of day might have saved their hide.
The brokenhearted will feast at the King’s table.
with no need to fear when evil is deceased.
9/24/2019
Categories:
leering, abortion, christian, dark, murder,
Form:
Free verse
Fantasy sold on a 50’s bottle cap;
a party-girl side-saddle sits
on a double-edged crescent moon
up high —a silver scythe in glamour-night-sky
corners of her cherry mouth tilted up
her left hand raises her glass a toast to the stars
frothy head of champagne-beer flirts
with lips spooning the rim
right hand holds the bottle instead of reality
look! no hands on a razor’s edge
precarious hilarious
a redhead with bouncy-curls and a flouncy-skirt
boot-heels over head when she laughs and Oops! falls
clouds catch her without friction and pillow her fiction head ~
but you with wild escapade eyes fell hard
fell
hard
far beyond Earth with not a soft cloud to cushion you
glam-allure just a sexy lore a filthy lure
but once you’ve been star-dusted and angel-dusted
it’s all the same…
vintage Miller bottle cap
a perfect circle like the fattened moon face
leering through broken windows
shards glitter the floor like fallen constellations
your black pearl eyes two muddy puddles
life drained through rows of tiny needle holes
slip-knot above your elbow just tight enough
your pulse beats its fist against the restraint
—pounding —pounding —pounding
impatient to be bled and fed
you and this dragon’s den a dilapidated pair
abandoned and without family
you share the blank stare of broken windows
veins collapsed like crumbled staircases —
empty inside of empathy and dreams..
a junkie’s spot where shooting stars crash
embers in your bloodstream turn to dust
— you cook in a rusted bottle cap by candlelight
candle’s glow your Sun in a dirty universe
with your teeth you pull back on the syringe
this house unused by the living a cold corpse
but in the warm rush of your skin’s flush
your gaunt gray body melts like hot wax
pale horsehair walls a slouchy silent witness
... your soul escapes as it scrapes across the floor
flurries sneak through broken windows
whirl of wind whistles on its rounds like a jailhouse guard
rattling beam-bones jangling ghost-bones —
user-litter kicked around like a pile of old brown leaves
burnt fingertips and a junky "High Life" bottle cap
all you have left
Categories:
leering, abuse, addiction, drug, lost,
Form:
Free verse
A sword of the heavens did glean
From railings and arbors
of dead thorn and bramble,
where ghostly reminders remain
Fall droplets of blood ‘pon
a crimson embroider
left carelessly out in the rain
Our story begins
in a deep mountain valley,
a village so peaceful and free
When one day the darkness
did unsheathe its horror
with metal and death you will see
The army of Satan,
a wicked battalion,
Hell’s fire their sabers were forged
Dark Skeletal visions
in leather and armor
the depths of the earth had been gorged
With razor sharp weapons,
they slashed and delivered
such pain which had never been found
Through echoes of pleading
and lives quickly ending
in puddles, thick red on the ground
While women and children
were herded like cattle
in mass to the edge of the square
With onyx eyes leering,
midst snickers and cackles,
their captors insanely did stare
When on the horizon
a light brightly shining,
engulfing this nightmarish scene
A porcelain stallion,
its rider a shadow,
a sword of the heavens did glean
From steel hard as granite,
angelic depictions,
a handle of pure solid gold
Once heard in a fable,
when wizards were roaming
such power, the stories foretold
As swift as an arrow
he entered the village,
his steed all at one with the game
With blade silver glistened,
like lightning bolts flashing,
igniting a righteous born flame
Spinning and thrusting
as if a tornado,
a blur now incensed of the glow
With whirlwind fury
and dust clouded thunder,
he dealt them a terrible blow
The evil fueled army,
beheaded and fallen,
the villagers shouted and cheered
When to their amazement,
this heroic savior
as quick as he’d come, disappeared
So there is the story,
a sword made in heaven
is now part of history’s reign
Along with the rider
who wielded its honor,
and hopes he will come back again
9/13/18
Written for the UNSHEATH YOUR SWORD Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
Categories:
leering, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
it's not the same anymore
this is a haunted place
all the living
happy and smiling
writing a pretty line
feeling sublime
but....it's a ghostland to me
drab
drear
desolate
poets I used to know
those on fire
dripping passion
after a fashion
laughter resounding
keys getting a pounding
poetry driven
friendships? A given
throbbing...alive
Now? Memories survive
for slowly they perished
not being cherished
tired and sore
they couldn't take more
and they....walked out the door
dead to this place
they left just a trace
their poetic legacy
forgotten camaraderie
leering at me
word ghosts that haunt
rhyme echoes that taunt
empty places
forgotten faces
I'm one of the walking dead
your words alive in my head
So much left unsaid
The ghostland? It's here
more will leave, I fear
the precious, the dear
but as for me?
I'll remain...complacent and plain
feeling the drain
emotions slain
thoughts on the wane
I remain...I stay
hitting that replay
of your memory
ghosts of what used to be
your words living, breathing
here....
inside of...
me.
Eileen Manassian
*Since this has become POTD and will get exposure, I need to clarify something. This came to me, in part, after reading the news that Jack Ellison is thinking of leaving PS. He's a dear soul. I wrote this because there are several poets whom I miss....poets who are not as active or who have left altogether. This poem is not reflective of PS as I know there are many who are thriving here...AS THE POEM INDICATES. It's just my personal feelings. Thank you for respecting that.
Categories:
leering, community, poets,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Act One: the stage and scenery are set
I was told the play, I'd not soon forget
But if truth were to be told
More like the game, whack-a-mole
I needed a hammer, not a lorgnette
Thespians were vying for the limelight
Popping up everywhere, ready to fight
Sarcastic words ill spoken
The golden rule was broken
A princess rudely slandered by a knight
Act Two: the actors wrote their own stage play
A long soliloquy to have their say
The audience booed and hissed
"Put that one on the blacklist!
Kick that charlatan out," they did convey.
Someone had to quickly close the curtain
'fore the crowd decided they'd be hurtin'
the actor they were jeering
with sidelong looks of leering
meaning, "Fit for a role by Tim Burton!"
Act Three: Then Queenie tried to take control
Each part played, she admitted that she stole
Just another know it all
Boring with each scribbled scrawl
Showing up everywhere like whack-a-mole
Bad actors can't write plays worth a ripe fig
But criticize others to make a dig.
Negative comments given
Are they jealousy driven?
Wantin' to make the rules like a bigwig
The play, though not very well attended
is being recast with those commended
who are never rude and crude
and have a kind attitude
Instead of those whose words have offended
The next play is about a new dog breed
I heard it's called a boghound with a need
to chew on a bone until
its nibbling has caused ill will
and seats are all empty; audience freed.
Categories:
leering, satire,
Form:
Limerick
On the park bench in the starkness of a city facing darkness,
I was drinking, feeling tipsy, working on some poetry.
Close by me was something lurking; suddenly it started jerking,
and it seemed that it was *twerking!, How could I write poetry?
“Will you stop!” I fairly bellowed, “I am writing poetry!”
But it jerked incessantly.
I was reaching now my limit, but it acted like a dimwit,
covered up by nearby bushes. What it was I had to see!
Though the thing was well in my sight, how I wish I had a flash light,
for it had become a dark night, and this thing was close by me!
Poetry was fleeing from me. This thing was too close by me,
and it twerked incessantly.
I could see the bushes moving. It was like the thing was grooving.
But to what could it be grooving with no beat or melody?
What it heard, I was not hearing; in the shadows I sat peering
wondering if it was leering. How could I write poetry
if that thing was leering at me as I wrote my poetry?
It just jerked incessantly.
Though my heart was filled with such dread, boldly I spoke up and I said,
“You there, like some kind of pervert, just how crazy can you be?
Show yourself. Why are you irking me, like Miley Cyrus twerking
in the bushes where you’re lurking oh so close by me?
But the figure uttered nothing though it was so close by me
twerking on incessantly.
Finally I got much bolder. Getting up, I walked right over
to those bushes where the figure hid. I had to see!
What I saw in New York City in that park was not too pretty!
And for me it was a pity, it destroyed my poetry,
For I’m finding out now when I want to write more poetry
it flows not incessantly.
In my mind it stays forever. Will it ever leave? No, never.
What I saw still haunts me when I try to write my poetry.
I just see that creature lurking in the bushes ever jerking
with its tiny butt a ‘twerking. What an ugly creepy monkey
Why the heck can’t I forget the sight of that dumb monkey
twerking there incessantly?!
*If you don't know what twerking is (one poet didn't) see About this Poem for the link!
(A parody on The Raven, trying to use the same meter and line length of Poe's poem. My apologies if I veered too far off course in how it inspired me!!)
Categories:
leering, parody,
Form:
Rhyme
'Twas a dark and stormy night! (OK - so I'm being a tad histrionic!)
The Earl of Pence was lounging by the fire sipping his gin and tonic.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared sending shivers down his spine.
Even his hound, Lord Percival, was so upset that he began to whine!
'Twas well-known thereabouts that phantoms haunted the earl's castle,
And on such frightful nights they were bound to cause a spooky hassle.
Nefarious deeds had occurred within Penceshire Castle walls in the past,
And were replayed in 'spirited' form leaving generations of earls aghast!
A shriek from the bowels of the castle sent the dog into howling fits,
And brought the earl bounding to his feet, scaring him out of his wits!
The blood-curdling screams were from a former Earl of Pence who in 1642,
Was hung by his thumbs in the dungeon for a fair maiden that he slew!
Suddenly, the ancient organ in the hall began playing eerie chords.
Heard on the floor above was rowdy dancing by ladies, knights and lords.
Ghastly emanations from the past paraded through the terrified earl's room,
Antecedents all, leering and grinning and predicting the anxious earl's doom!
Lord Percival sensing trouble long before, across the moat had bolted!
The storm subsided and the apparitions faded leaving the earl quite jolted!
He felt a bony hand upon his shoulder that took away his final breath.
'Twas his valet who offered a gin and tonic to the earl who now lay in death!
Categories:
leering, england, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Princess ballerina
Comfortably numb
Hidden from the world
Holding angels ransom
Princess ballerina
With ivory inked thighs
Legs swallowing purity
Prying pink eyes
Princess ballerina
With sin studded threats
Slicing delicacy
With pierced pirouettes
Princess ballerina
Leering from afar
Come out of the corner
My jaded sultry star
Categories:
leering, angst, introspection, people,
Form:
Quatrain
Axe the old Don, a trump peter n piper
of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
ha air brushed pompous ****
Sunkist in Macy's window
then like a jackal hound, he doth run
after public outcry yelps
for his hide leaving
proletarian discord re: pyrrhic victory won.
Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination
while kissing thing kith
darting forked tongue sharp as bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed
expletives toward lass
sees – especially Fox Television
news anchor woman Megyn Kelly
(quite so many ill mannered indiscretions ago)
inducing said personality
to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults sacrilegiously
maliciously, noxiously, opprobiously
incriminating, hellaciously,
desecrating opportunistically as hiss oh piss
so…NO amp pull VOTE of confidence from me
(thus far ohm host halfway to 2020 election
toward such a volt char quite rude, snooty
arrogant simian with sass.
I van (terribly hard pressed)
to describe while sitting on me rump
how he oh bomb in lee rages
gnashing false teeth
Wilma backside doth slump
still blasting Democratic nomination
(pa hill a reed) as sham –
from special interest bro and sis turn pump
he, the epitome of
crass bloviation, a malignant lump
whose rants,
sans presidential outcome a shame
bullying with his millions beds this,
that and another woman to bareback jump
disseminating gene pool
birthing more Quakers
and additionally doth hump
the mass media as some foolhardy charade
and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape erected Taj Mahal
phallic symbol, where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash
for his kitty, as if that cachet
to grind and bump
lambasting with maniacal
like "Stormy Dan" yells
leering oafish ill pout
while hair rum
(of red follicular) bulls ad hocks
atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed locks
resemble a flock
of bronzed sea gulls mocks
heady measly shaped Muppet Ox
dis eased cranial hologram shocks
of a cretaceous, facetious tocks
(sic) exogenous, insidious, and obstreperous vox.
Categories:
leering, 12th grade, abuse, anger,
Form:
Imagism
The feline is stalking
without any talking;
her silhouette walking
in temptation.
On prowl she is searching
for someone who’s lurching,
or prey that is perching
in frustration.
Her raven hair shining;
her looks so refining;
her thoughts are designing
on sensation.
Her green eyes are peering
with looks that are leering
for someone appearing
in fixation.
At last her eyes spying
a vision complying;
a gentleman trying
for flirtation.
Exchange of small talking
without any balking,
and off they go walking:
culmination.
Categories:
leering, desire, love, lust, woman,
Form:
Rhyme
Flies in the dark black as night
Cloak waving like wings… such a fright
It gives all the people, who are watching close by
Leering face makes children cry.
Always an angel with wings of pure white
Nearby….. waiting to put all things right
To wave a magic wand with a gentle smile
Making people smile again…. for awhile
Life is like that, shades of black and white
Days of depression cannot see the light.
Along comes someone who with a smile
Lightens your load…. Just for a while.
So the pantomimes at Christmas really reflect life
Stories from long ago so very lifelike
Dark followed by light happens in all of our lives
Like a checkerboard of black and white strife
Penned 15/2/2017
Categories:
leering, life,
Form:
Rhyme
I saw a young lady today who had a tattoo that covered up her arm,
It wrapped it up completely but it only added to her charm.
The tat she had was bold and it caused me to do a double take,
Because on her body was tattooed a coiled and smiling snake.
Its leering head appeared from over the top of her left shoulder,
And it gazed down the front of her shirt at something even bolder.
From the neckline of her tank top was revealed some kind of fruit,
Her bosom was changed into a tempting apple, to hide it now was moot.
Even though I could only see the stem, my imagination filled in the rest,
I tried to not think about her orchard but it put my will power to the test.
A lesson about temptation was being taught to all who came to seek,
I’m sure that it will lead some Adam astray if he should sneak a peek.
Her tattoo was ripe for the picking and it seemed she had a bumper crop.
But just like Sir Isaac Newton’s apple someday hers will also drop.
So let this stand as a warning and be careful which symbol you select,
Remember that the artwork that you choose is the image that you’ll project.
At nineteen nothing is cuter than a pair of angel wings so feathery,
When you’re old they’ll remind you that the end is near on skin that is so leathery.
But she did inspire me to get a tattoo and so to the parlor I did go,
I got the universal recycle symbol on the bottom of my big toe.
So when my time is done and I’ve finished my walk along life’s path,
They’ll attach my toe tag in the morgue and I’ll get one last laugh.
Categories:
leering, funny, life, me, ,
Form:
Light Verse
Her chapped palms smell of
-ungrateful jasmine-
roughened by shrewd plays of world.
And in the creases of
- youthful forehead-
sleeps an orphaned childhood, old.
Among distasteful leering,
ineffectual rags of
-modesty cries-
unfortunate beauty trapped among
-lechers-
pawn broker and hawker alike.
-Nobody’s Child -
gazes high UP , at the
S
K
Y
S
C
R
A
P
E
R
S ,
elegant unreachable stairs
winding beyond clouds yonder.
S L O W L Y sighing,
At the dreams hidden, on the dark side of
half bitten moon.
Categories:
leering, daughter, life, sad, social,
Form:
Free verse
LA CHUPACABRA
In the thickets green, it waits, hunched
On all fours.
Leering, its piercing eyes set aglow,
By passing cars headlights.
Slowly, the creature moves, almost
Without a sound.
Creeping across the road towards
Its quarry, and salivating.
It's a sharp-toothed critter, the size of
A small bear, lies in waiting, for
His victim to take a misstep.
Weaving back and forth, it
Strikes against the prey,
Until satisfied at the raw
Experience of death, has
Been concluded, to it's
Bloody satisfaction.
Flesh to bone, a killer
Feasts in the night, leaving
Devastation in the wake behind it.
Claws dripping, with leavening remnants,
A vile thing, an experimental
Chameleon blending into it's
Surroundings perfectly!
It hides in the shadows unto dusk,
Stalking, ambivalent to danger,
And ever aware of its surroundings.
The La Chupacabra, sits motionless,
In the underbrush waiting.
Where does it come from, is it
Fact or myth?
Evidences wrongful creation by
Misidentification.
Only future generations may
Discovery the truth.
But until then I'll watch closely
At night, and if I were you,
I'd do the same.
One never knows, what may be
Lurking the darkness?
Or whom might be looking,
Right back at you,
Hiding in the black shadows of night!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
leering, evil, halloween, holiday, horror,
Form:
Free verse