Best Lothario Poems
Poetry on trial?
I’m going to indict poetry, for infecting my soul
Does it serve any purpose, or has it lost control
This may seem quiet strange, perhaps unorthodox
Peruse this if you will, whilst it’s head layeth on the block
No need for a foundation, build it in the clouds
But it does require structure, interwoven by shrouds
Mocks me with Humpty Dumpty, as my life falls to bits
Sends me down a path, of bifurcation and twists.
Yes poetry is stealthy, it attacks from every side
Attempting to outflank you, then pounces in surprise
Soon levity returns, it wants to chill you out
Where did this come from, shaketh your head in doubt.
Bow before it in deference, or leap into the sky
Cut to pieces on razor wire, see the birds that flyeth by
Pit Romeo and Lothario, in a competition of charms
Find a new born baby, dead in its mother’s arms.
Send shivers down ones spine, Hairs stand on your neck
Deal out a winning hand, then rearrange the deck
Be a photon of light, amongst trillions on our sun,
Reminisce ole times, when life beheld such fun.
Be scarred by it’s violence, Drawn into the mystique,
Blown away by the punchline, The havoc it can wreak
Drown in melancholy, or bathe in its delight
Overcome tragic heartbreak, awestruck by it’s might.
Empathize with the poor, in their cornucopia of dirt,
Curse the wealthy no better, in their hubris of self-worth,
Surrounded by loved ones, on your terminal breath,
Then Cryo-frozen in a machine, trying to forgo death.
So yes I’ve tried poetry, it was given a fair trial
Now to pass sentence, and do so, with some style
I condemn it to life, with no chance of parole
Simultaneously I grant pardon, for it’s me who lost control.
By
David Kavanagh
Moving On
Unfulfilled dreams and wasted time,
found out the hard way that you were never mine.
Moonlit nights must have made me loca,
stupid me, next time I’ll definitely be smarter.
How could I ever think I was your love?
My mistake - I was a blind judge.
Took me a while to see through your silly, fake smile;
took me a while to see through your practiced guile.
A masterful seducer, bet you think you are so cool,
yes, I feel like such a damn fool.
Weaving a web of deliberate lies and deceit,
your best subject is “How to Cheat, Cheat, Cheat!”
Don Juan has nothing over you,
your middle name is “Master of the Game Two.”
But never mind, Lothario, revenge is a dish served cold,
and you're nothing to me now that I've broken through the mold.
Blowing your cover,
it’s your loss, lover.
‘Cause I will certainly recover
- Faster than you think,
- Faster than you can blink,
- Faster than a shipwreck, you’re the one who will sink.
But forget you, fool, I AM MOVING ON!
I’m outta here – GONE!
05-08-2014
Contest: Moving On (09-12-2014)
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Placement: 8th
Contest: Slamming Season (06-17-2014)
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placement: 10th
I reckon you'll find this tale of romance less fact than fiction,
But please bear with me as I try to give it plausible depiction.
I was about half asleep, musin' on the patio the other day,
When my gaze settled on my ornamental iguana on display.
It reposes on a stump in my rock garden starin' back at me.
It looks so real you'd think it could scamper up my apple tree!
Nearby is a birdbath that caters to squirrels now and again.
(Those dudes have taken over my yard by eminent domain!)
A squirrel dropped by for a snort and after much twitchin' of tail,
Leapt to the stump from the bath, that innocent iguana to assail!
And I'll swear this to be true, he hopped on the iguana's back,
Assumin' a very romantic position that really took me aback!
He lay there awhile claspin' the iguana with his quiverin' feet.
(Peerin' with half-closed eyes I tried to appear discreet!)
Strangely, he glanced at me as if to say, "What shall I do?"
I thought, "Son, I'm not in a position to offer advice to you!"
That lothario fell asleep atop the iguana soakin' up the sun.
In that little tryst, 'twas obvious that the inanimate iguana won!
I pondered, "Should squirrels actually mate with iguanas,
Would not the jungles of Guyana be teeming with squanas?"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I just found out.....
Well, I don't know how to say it?
Would you think less of me
If I say just the way it is?
I thought I was a Macho man,
A rollicking Romeo,
A lusting Lothario, A libertine,
A Don Juan, A Casanova,
A raving stud, A flirt,
A prowling philanderer, A womanizer,
A playboy, A skirt chaser, A lecher;
But by golly, I am none of the above!
I found.....
I am .... Well, I am,
I am GAY!
Aha! Gotcha!! Not so fast!!!
I mean HAPPY!
I am a HAPPY MAN!
~A Brian Strand Contest.
"Make their jaws drop" contest by FJ Thomas
He oozed charm, this aging lothario.
Gallantry was his middle name.
Yet, he lived in the past
in the glory days of football wins
and cheerleaders…
denying his saggy abdomen
blind eye, and fungus crusted feet…
Gallantry was his middle name
and he wheedled his way into the affections
of many lost and lonely woman.
When the only women
of true importance in his life
were his daughters…
He lived in the past
slept with his dog, and swam in Speedos
bald pate shining in the sun.
Once, long ago he was married to a cheerleader.
She’s stopped cheering, as his life filled
with their daughter and she was no longer his girl.
Caught between life, death,
and the deep blue sea, he swam.
Arriving at the home of each new prospective conquest
with the requisite flowers and small talk.
The glory days of football still danced
before his single good eye upon the giant bar screen,
where he served mimosa’s and other drinks with a wink.
He smiled with a well-worn charm, and didn’t touch the stuff.
Still, he tried. But, most times,
he felt more at home
with his daughters…
Like an artist with canvas, paint, and brush,
how then to illustrate (for you) in words
and in rhyme the throes of a bipolar rush?
For bookish and reserved, but manic, nerds
(like me), when I'm touched I'm inclined to gush
all over myself (for the pretty girls,
who'd blush like brides on their first wedding night;
as I flirtatiously finessed the twirls
of their sex-starved libidos with delight).
Yet the morn welcomed me with news of disgrace,
for I had acted the Lothario
with a Gorgon of a maiden:—whose face
was that of the Medusa's, the Gorgo!
To think, that I was so glad to escape:
seeing her with sober mind, I was agape!?
A ladies’ man, one of a kind,
to guileless females gave the eye
response highlighted by a sigh.
He had seduction on his mind
intentions hid behind a smile
he took them in with charming style.
Unwary victims he would find
their full attention swiftly grab
his forte was the gift of gab.
To love eternal he was blind
immersed he was in selfish aims
and boasted of Quixotic claims.
Fragmented hearts were left behind
betrayal tasted, bitter, vile
instead of walking up the aisle.
A ladies’ man, one of a kind,
He had seduction on his mind
Unwary victims he would find
To love eternal he was blind
Fragmented hearts he left behind.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Constanza
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
© 19th November 2017
The motorcycle rooooooooared~~~~~
Like a ravenous lion
Over fresh kill, prancing, charging, pacing
It
Moved through the hoard
Of migrating tourists, frightening the tamer
More passive vagabonds
Lumbering
Forward
On cruise-control
The nameless helmeted driver
Melded with his machine,
Head down. Spine arched,
arms extended on the throttles~~
Blue-jeaned thighs embrace the chasse
A lovers grip..
His forward charge parted the air
A back draft peeled the Harley black T-shirt from
His winter-white skin.
Spring had arrived late to New England.
Better late than never,
The road hog squealed
Sex merely a throbbing growl away
As our lance less Lothario leaves
His own testosterone trail
In an asphalt hail
On the road north.
Young girls, beware of purple flowers, once white.
Unbeknownst to you, nefarious knight
may draw flower's nectar, dab your sleeping eyes,
and as new day dawns, cajole you with lies.
April 27, 2020
taken from my poem, Midsummer Knight's Scheme written May 2, 2017
Fancy-Free Poetry Contest", sponsor: Julia Ward, judged June 2, 2017
Gregory R. Barden's contest Rithimus Divisa 3
Armadillo
Armor placed upon a knighted
Rat, defender of the gold, not the
Man whose crown adorns it.
Addled pretender to the throne,
Dunce, in hidden jesters robe
Ill bred, ill tempered,
Lothario, pompous preening,
Lecherous serpent seeking
Only the safety of self.
For PD’s contest
Acrostic Time #1
7/3/2014
Little Lucy likes liver
Long legged Lou loves Lucy
Loquacious Lenny laments loudly
Lovely Linda listens little
Listen Linda Listen!
Laborious Leroy lives luxuriously
Lethargic Larry lies levitating
Liberal Lillian languishes longingly
Looking languid, lacking levity
Lexical Lexi, legendary lewd librarian
Loves licentious liaisons
Lecherous Lucas lubricious libertine
Looks lustily like leading lothario
Lugubrious lyric, ludicrous lines
Lacking lucidity, looney lunacy
Lightheaded lexicography!
Lucrative limerick?? Laughable!
He hath become a Lord among us peasants then
A well used bed he lined with pleasant men
And eyes he batted at the ladies in court
His tennis balls they bounced for sport
And here he came again at leisure
A heady mistress mixture of pleasure
He dove her depths digging for treasure
She rose to meet him measure for measure
A man he won at the slaver
His endurance will never flag nor waver
Slow tongue dancing, one must savor
A delicious man of finest flavor
The knight of the beast with two backs
Oft called Lothario until jealousy attacks
O dear anointed priest of the mattress sacks
He makes up with wit for the strength he lacks
Well, I don't know how to say this?
Would you think less of me
If I say just the way it is?
I thought I was a Macho man,
A rollicking Romeo,
A lusting Lothario, A libertine,
A Don Juan, A Casanova,
A raving stud, A flirt,
A prowling philanderer, A womanizer,
A playboy, A skirt chaser, A lecher…
But by golly, I am none of the above!
I found out.....
I am .... Well, I am,
I am Gay!
Aha! Gotcha!!
Not so fast.
I mean HAPPY
I am a Happy Man!
I love you so much!
He pretends not to hear her-
He has many toys.
The Girls Have All Agreed
On Some Things, All Women Need:
A Supply Source For Our Vanity
… and The Eveready-Flashlight-Battery …
Going Down A ‘Random’ Road
In The Deep of Night, When Life Has Slowed
Down … or Car Comes To A Stop
We Need An Energizer or Copper-Top …
In The Deep of Night, Trying To See
And Feel Safe, Thru Our Ambiguity
When We Need More Than Flicker-Flattery
… Give Us A Flashlight Battery …
… Your Flashlight Smile
Your Flashlight Style
Your Flashlight Confidence
Your Flashlight Manliness
Your Flashlight Ego
Is A Flashlight Hero
… and The Flashlight Form, Most With It
Is The Flashlight, Jared Pickett …
… Incorrigible, Adorable, Really More Than Capable
Hot, Poetry-Soup Staple And Palpable
With Appetites, Insatiable
Your Poetry is Quite Potent-Pleasurable
So, Flash On, Big Screen Valentino !
Lead On, With Lines of A Lothario
Casanova, Would Be Your Acolyte
( ‘Cause Even A Lady Needs A Flashlight )
Flash On, In Sensual-Satisfactory !
Give A Taste of Testosterone-Trajectory
No Girl Can Stand Before A Man, In All His Glory
This Is Factory-Tag… and It’s Man-datory
If Dura-Cell, I Got A Place For You
So, You Can Keep Doing, What Cha’ Do
And Power-Up, Like You’ve Alluded
‘Cause This Doll, Needs Batteries Included …
And Pour Me A Real-Strong Daiquiri
Put On Favorite CD, Slow-Dance, Track For Me
And Come Here, You Copper-Top-Skinned Honey
And Beat That Drum … You Energizer-Bunny
To: Jared Pickett … The Flashlight
and The Romeo Of Poet-Writes
This One’s An Original – Just For You Kiddo …
Your Poet-Pal,
The MoonBee