Best Mammary Poems
embers of memory- solitude
a rugby inside me trembling
jerking off seeds, heat yolk
furtive cells melt in furnace
a secret pleasure perfumes
a little room an eve garden
my son learned how to erect
shadows still lurk -odorous
I felt soft sea froths salty
mammary pain oozing silk
oysters and lemons, orange
saffron, blue vain of throb
there I lay my child sinks
night chilly never had winks
Watch me walk through the sadsands of stupored time
trading youth for aged ashes, suredness for shyness
knowledge for retirement, candor for cowardice,
diligence for dunceness, eagerness for
edginess, fairness for flakiness, goodness for gonadness,
healing for hurting, idealism for idiocracy,
judgement for jealously, kandor for killing,
loving for lamenting, mentoring for miserating,
needing for neausating, optimizing for obliterating,
penetrating for pilfering, quieting for quaking,
resolving for rioting, soothing for stabing,
tramping for turmoiling, ultilizing for ultimating,
victory for victimization,
yearning for yelling, zeal for zone.
All the best concealed decisions edited for global hypnohypocratic
nil idea of future impress of evolution but merely a nether
juxtapose of keenly luminated momentous nothings
optimizing precarious quantum ridicules sanctioning
tantalizing ugly utilitiy post variant varicose wanes wantnot
noid xoids xenous yeast yearnings zillant aberants aplenty.
Go Fish.
zonality zeros.
Climb the dumb death grill gradiant with false feet
intrepid toe jam steps what is where i am going not going in a pre post past present
ghost future life emo impotenet fracture fried non sequetor séance
liquid lavid languish unloved resolved irrevernet motion milkmaid
sociomatrial screwstewed rejectional noncoitial negligant nilneo
nonconstriction deconstruction r u fing kidding me? ??
Let's be uni unfilterfied in our ugly uncorrupt incorporeal craddle of domesticoignoramous
social dysfuntionture aplenty assure. Pills pills my kingdom for some piss pills to ***** die
the ass sociative remenants that psuedo pusssurrounds my exo it unfulfills.
Dial don't dilenates of wailing wanting mommy masses of momentary
milkcents mammary malaise.
Get lost little ones, my device calls to me in its idio elloquence.
Love u though, don't tell your__________________r_.
LEGAL ROMANCE
Law,
Let me plague you
With the infectious love of my heart.
Now that I bear the aftermath of your infections,
And your cold blood boils in me
Like a volcanic eruption,
Let me make babies in the factory of your womb.
My amorous cuddlesome arms
That carry a legal contagion with them,
Let them rip you apart in the angiospermy of my farms
Till every cell in me carries the logo of your emblem
And the semblance of your physiognomy.
Law my love,
Let me be your troubadour,
And I will traverse all the corners of your contours.
With my fluorescent searchlights,
That can seek out all the unexplored
Juicy regions of your legions,
Let me be your spouse or your civil partner
Or at least your intimate cohabitant.
Allow me a minute into the gate of your thighs
And I will dig you damn deep,
Till I plant legal seeds in your flowery uteri,
And we shall fill the entire universe with prodigies
Greater than the Denning’s
Mightier than the Atkin’s
Weightier than the Uwais’s
And more Solomonic than the Tobi’s.
Law my love,
Your untainted mammary prowess
That dangles like a pendulum in their tabula rasa state,
Let it be the sole source of my resource
That waters my thirsty fountain.
Consort with me, and I will consult with you,
And let our royal consortium
Breed in me Lilliputians strong enough to gut Gulliver.
I love you, Law my love
And I doubt if there can be a better lover.
I love your Calliopsis hair
I love your Helen lids and lashes
I love your Cleopatra eyes
I love your Bathsheba nose
I love your Aphrodite lips
And I love the curviness of your womanness.
Law my love,
Let me sing to you a serenade sweeter than Senghor’s,
For you are my day, my night and my Naett.
And let me enjoy the irrevocability of being—
Your stare decisis
Your res ipsa loquitur
Your res judicata
And your issue estoppel.
-Bolaji Ramos, Esq.
copyright 2017
In a Texas commercial circus
the journey is set
vehicled by hormonal energy
beginning from the cashier's tag
well placed on her blue shirt
exactly on her very firm left Breast
with the name "Carmen"
The route of desires
his wants drive through
having a static attention
on her mammary glands
but the Life in him, already as far as Bremen.
Engineered by libido so troublesome
which takes it guns, even in no provocation.
Just usual bare skin
stimulates the production of his semen
and simple feminine curves
blacken his mind with bitumen
as part of him
slides down the huge lumen
of intense sexual intentions.
He places the General's rank
on his 'small head'
then the big one becomes void of all acumen.
Eyes fixed, body static, lips separated
all these, irritating the nearby women
as this middle-aged being
drops to the lowest point of all men.
Planning on a tour below her abdomen
his road trip revolve round her hymen
a well covered pretty damsel
yet he sees as flesh full of foramens
in a place far from a serenity of physical intimacy
yet somehow he falls for an unforeseen trap
of infernos desires.
His heart, the only villain
as it rejects any deal with this sudden natural cause.
A flood of laughter and jeers
welcome his total presence once again,
he tries to wave off the premonition of a bad omen
not knowing, to the corruption of his thoughts
his 'third leg' all along has been saying AMEN!
Blessed be the name of Lord Ha-Ha.
I worship at the altar of Ha-Ha.
In his blood I am washed.
In his raiment I am clothed.
In his breastplate I will conquer
And in his name I will trust.
The honor of his blessing I will seek.
The grace of his presence I will covet.
He leads me to channel 60
He splitteth my sides.
My cups runneth over with mammary juice.
The fruit of his womb is as ambrosia
And I will dwell in the house of Ha-Ha forever.
A Doe and Her Fawn
On wobbly legs, the fawn staggers behind the doe,
Who pauses to let the newborn catch up.
The fawn appears to be just a few hours old,
As revealed by its arduous locomotion
And the white, freckled spots on its back
Melded into its butterscotch-coloured fur coat.
The fawn’s softly adoring, oversized eyes
Plead for nourishment,
And the whitetail deer doe (patient, as mothers go)
Licks her offspring, bonding and cleaning,
As it instinctively nudges her teats with its nose
To stimulate her mammary glands.
The fawn suckles the mother’s milk,
Which provides it with the nutrients to grow.
The doe stares at me without fear
And lets the fawn satiate its hunger.
Its little head bobbing and its tail flagging
As its craving is abated and its appetite satisfied;
It is contented and ready to continue its journey
In the ways of nature and survival.
The doe slowly moves on as the fawn struggles
(Those steps must seem an eternity to complete,
Requiring a great magnitude of expendable energy),
Which the doe senses, and so she lies down,
And the fawn, from on its four legs, plops down
Beside her for a much-needed rest.
There is, in the Los Angeles area, a well-known brand of milk, called Alta Dena. Near also,
is the city named Alta Dena, and my grandson lives there. I asked him if he had seen the dairy there, and he told me that it does not exist. I then asked him if he had seen herds of milk cattle there and he said that he had not, and doubted that there were any. Of course I wondered why the milk had such a name, and jokingly asked him to look for at least one cow in the city, since it was well built-up, and there were no obvious open pastures at all. I told him that we could only conclude that it this had to b a very famous and rare cow that could supply all the milk needed by a large urban dairy, and thus must be insured, protected from the idle public, and secreted in some private home where she would not be disturbed. The whole story and speculation grew into a riotous family "search" for this wondrous animal. I, of course, ask my grandson each week when I see him, for a progress report on the search. Finally, I have decided to turn it into a poem:
A Search Continues
Something very hush-hush is going on
and Alta Dena folk aren't going to tell.
All cowdom secreted within its bovine lair
yet Bo would stare contentedly at us
with no incursive moo directed at the hellish
vine that she must eat, in lieu of meadow grass.
That ever-present cud must still
be masticated; yea, her celebrated udder
must be filled.
Yet none admit to having sighted her.
Beastiana though she be, no Altadenian
will dare so much as low on her behalf,
no bull, Eden-bound, is ready to exchange
his bold, testicular desire
to service mewling ruminants
who merely run away.
Nay, uncowed are they, though cowed they be,
and cowards not--and if you do not see
their wisdom, chalk it up to power,
Bo's mammary magnificence, so easily
in jeopardy before a single squeeze,
not of a nipple but a trigger
thus applied, and speeding out of sight.
Challenge, indeed, our quest to find
this noble and prolific queen
who dominates with graceful quietude
her milky empire slurping quite
without a care, lush liquid destined
not to slosh within her, rather
in those tumescent tummies
ever crying out for more.
Would I betray them for a share?
Of course. Away with those content
to sour the milk of human kindness
with deception. Let the search go on!
~
breast cancer runs rampant within me late mother side
whar moost every female diagnosed with emotional ride
into the depths of despair where metastatic cells pried
their way into the appendages whar din o suckling provide
did initial sustenance prior to malignant growth lied
Innocuously within fleshy tissue til oncologist could not hide
Truth from females that birthed and availed motherly guide
among most ever Harris heiress, whence treatment fried
will power to live (I can only imagine) as rogue growth did elide
as nemesis to body politick where no boxes of tissues dried
the river of tears when such news shell shocked me – I cried
for indiscriminate injustice whence fate snatched me father’s bride
shunting any trivial tit for tat resentments re: grudges aside.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
no other priority but being alive matters when surgeon knife
for malignant curse forces impending mortals to value life
purposeless double mastectomy performed when invisible mass rife
with errant duty to destroy sense and sensibility commanding strife
whether circumstance involved me eldest sister (still alive) or the late wife.
me octogenarian widower father summoned breastworks when last breath
o me long deceased mother – vehemently opposed being sentenced to death
no matter visualization practiced – such as furiously swapping with broom
who truthfully cursed with ovarian cancer, which spelt her actual doom
an unstoppable toxic brew within her being that coursed as meandering flume
Time elapsed, yet still difficult to espy wedding pictures with handsome groom
that would be my 20 plus year old father unbeknownst ill fate would loom
occupying cellular wall street where awry growth jostled for room
a harbinger of lifelessness, whereby she chose creation versus burial in a tomb
many fifty odd decades after my youngest sister exited the womb!
by: matthew scott harris
The streak of grey hairs,
a tell tale sign,
A reminder of many
seasons,
Come and gone.
A signpost of phases and
changes.
The voice, an alter ego;
Pubic hairs and mammary
endowments;
A signpost of the changes of
many moons
gone past.
The full bust of a woman,
In the prime of life,
Like the Sunflower poised,
to the Sun in obeisance;
But only at noon day,
does the zenith of it's glory glow.
A signpost of the times.
The loins of a teenager,
Brazen with absurdities',
A signpost of the seasons
of development.
The cycle of life turns full circle.
This conjugal thing
Blissful before his arrival
Brief I thought, then loaned
In hope to wean our baby
The father’s allowed property
To take the right in dowry
Who truly owns her mammary?
The child or the payer of the dowry?
Suck not to dryness these oranges
My favourite little ornaments
To me her parents granted
The rights to suck and caress
Weak the soul of the mighty
Like a candle to the fire
Weak the heart of a warrior
When child borrowed his woman
An unborn baby,
From the womb,
Scratched the belly,
Over and over of its mom;
She minded not once;
But when was frequent,
Rubbing her belly she fondled;
Oh! You impish,
Don't tickle with your tiny nail;
No-no baby I feel too pain;
Again a scratch,
But this time it had sound;
O mu, ye ma-ma mu,
I feel thee, it's so sweet,
Thy touch embellishes,
My tender body,
My heart vacillates in festal;
When thou cohere papa in sleep,
I feel so warmth;
Stimulates my soul,
Feel like sleeping,
In the middle of both;
When papa flirts,
Thy 'no-no' vibrating sound,
Turns my ears on,
Feel thy playful deeds;
All I feel, thy surroundings,
Good mood or bad;
'O' my ma-ma mu,
Thou carry, endure all pain,
Thou made for me,
A doll of mine;
'O' my ma-ma mu,
I am so tempted,
Pull me out from thy womb,
Can't wait, no more;
Want to suckle and play,
With thy mammary glands;
I imagine in all my dreams,
Sexy suckling sound,
Ooon-mu-mu-moo,
Cohering thou, touching thy chest;
Thy lap is paradise,
Made of silky skin;
Let me take my place;
Please let me out;
© sadashivan nair
My favourite song is in play which moves me even when decapitated
shocked not to know where I am
nothing recognizable only my clothes, myself and the song
when about to begin its dance moves
a flash of time and space sweeps away.
My favourite song is in place- unbelievably in a car
with a girl I dated more than a decade ago
same face, same smile, same voice but on a bigger anatomy
and mammary glands I never had an idea of
resisting her urge to follow in dancing
the growth of the anxiety of my lost exacerbates.
My favourite song is in play- both of us freely seated
and none driving a car in full speed on the highway.
A truck coming to give a head on collision,
so much screaming opens my eyes
to realize but only my favourite song in play.
Oh that favourite song!
Translated into my dreams from the alarm
A, B, and C
These letters won’t do you justice
But when I use these letters to create word that can describe your mind and body
I am able to set fire to your senses that command you’re every thought
As you sit here and read this your able to feel as I feel tell that even the complexity of this
poem
Show you that I can express my feeling even though the words on this page
The words that I can use to describe your body firstly
Powerful Words like soft, beautiful, smooth, divine
Then we can use technical terms like I can run my hands over your Gluteus maximum
Or over your Pectorals Major where your mammary glands are held
The power in words can make you even forget the world around you
Words as simple in complexity as love and hate can have an endless amount of meanings
But when these simple world are use to describe you and me the world that comes to mind is
Great!!!!
This word can say that our relationship knows no limits the way we can express the feeling that
comes over us
The way I can wake up and still feel you next to me even when hundreds of miles away from
each other
As I get to this point in the poem I can feel that you want to cry
Because of this overwhelming expression of feelings someone has never had for you can come
out in only one page.
Well my love I just show you THE POWER OF WORDS
Seven ribs made from a single bow
fragile like the morning glow
shaped like an hour glass
bosom like a molded brass
skin like the finesse lace
Thought to move with grace
All from a single rib
Oh what a gem to behold
Her tiny belly
Carries a life within
Out of the tiny verging hole
Comes the cries of a whole
A pain beyond words expressed
A cry to life the young express
Tears not enough to explain
Memories from the mid-death plain
Oh what a site to behold
From her mammary comes the
ceaseless flow
Food to make her young to grow
Sleepless when the fever stems
tear like flowing stream
Filled with fear for the baby's life
Never drained of hope as the tot
strife
Moved from weary to worry
Oh what a misery to behold
Weak as though she's called
Bold as mountain she stands
Her strength lies within her tears
A frail looking being
A giant within
The woe in man
Woeman
*tot* > a little child
(alternatively titled eldest daughter despises us)
Eden (beloved eldest daughter) icy
flat tone of voice spoke volumes,
when she talked with the missus and me
courtesy cellular telecommunications key
December twenty seventh
two thousand nineteen
unwavering listless dull verbalization see
I subsequently told spouse, she
thy super smart self reliant progeny
fending for herself approximately
last half dozen years exhibits je
ne sais quois profound loathing
predicated growing up dirt poor free
quint lee lamenting deprivations re:
guarding legal tender adequate specie
i.e. money - at least compared to every
MainLine millionaire flush with dee -
suppose able income, and oft times
lovingly, pleasantly, unexpectedly...
receiving largasse gift horse courtesy
zayda (my father), who art not yet
in heaven sprung monetary help, ye
this second born and only son did
profusely think him (papa) lee
ving voice messages on his landline,
and tracfone, plus wrote heartfelt poem,
similar acknowledgement modus operandi,
when said offspring
became twenty three
years old - five days ago, nonetheless thee
admirable, dependable, honorable... née
holds Matthew Scott (namely he),
who helped beget
darling feels angry,
and doth plainly exhibits contempt
(you) dear reader guessed correctly
towards sorrowful dada,
where inescapable thralldom
doth invisibly chain
(think ghost of Marley)
apologetic sir, whose
precious kinder, I
will unwaveringly cherish
forever love and Revere
despite up Paul ling
destitution, grinding linkedin penury,
and red hot poker faced
anger, yes... dismay
prevails how unforgiving
once (Benny sent) baby,
inside joke, I attest neigh
scent "star student,"
now grown young woman,
no longer - figuratively
wrapped around yours
truly her finger
father who fell short, natively cree
hated abhorrent within re
cent mammary, bosom (hers)
harboring scathing unmasked vee
hum mint, blistering, rancorous,
seething, volcanic withering...,
no matter disgusting revulsion
toward aging mommy
and repentant daddy,
I LOVE YE EDEN + SHANA!