Best Mating Poems
screams pierce the night
primeval mating
wise owls winking
we learned to live on breadcrumbing
to orbit without return
haunting for love
a kittenfisher smiled
through borrowed summers
a catfisher built an entire moon
we endured benching
cushioning
roster dating—
hearts lined as spare chairs
after the guests had gone
I practiced love bombing
you future faking
the skilled preferred negging
one small faultline opening under load
and a place to live inside it
we drifted through situationships
through talking stages
through the annual migration
of ghosting, zombieing and hoovering
a hard launch
a soft launch
then pocketing
banksying taught us
how to leave without leaving
ghostlighting taught us
how to return without arriving
meanwhile the wildflowerers
flowered
the slow daters
kept their own time
every exclusive
promise
stalled at a DTR
frozen at the lip
of the relationship escalator
watching the steel teeth
flatten and disappear
red flags
snapped in the wind
green flags
semaphored
beige flags overgrown
in the yard
one night the throngers
argued hot takes beneath the stars
I felt the ick
you went delulu
someone else shrekking at last
laughed with their whole strange face
and for a moment
nobody was performing
just two people
standing outside the slang
while every
label we had worn
blew past—
confetti and bleached receipts
a failure to launch
breaking open in beach grass
energy spent
the moment met
a nod of her head
their future set
honeysuckle breeze
pollinators paint the air
fast colorful wings
floating like prayer
illuminated by sun
mating dance romance
blue crane undeterred
wings flap and emotions spurred
raspy sounds are heard
Contest: What's the Buzz
3rd Place
She meandered through
new spring grass, startling bugs
shortening their lives, taking her fill
seemingly unimpressed
with grandeur displayed
solely for her benefit.
His swagger almost took him
airborne, his tail feathers spread
into a fan of splendor
his princely prance seemingly
not even a blip on her view
Our appearance on the scene
assured his utmost strut, trumpeting
at us as we laughed and mocked
his silly gobble
Yet his strategy succeeded
She now sits on her nest
at the edge of the yard
under the hickory tree, just beyond
where the mower runs
Dumpfer Trommelschlag
Der Balzruf des Auerhahns
Vom dichten Wald her
The muffled drumbeat
Mating call of the capercailzie
Across the thick woods
Golpe del tambor sordo
El celo del urogallo
Través del bosque denso
Guitar, Bass Guitar,
Sharing one vertical stand.
I think they're mating.
Well,
You know me,
I'ma busy bee,
And you're an eager beaver.
Let's get this den shakin'
For we know it,
Spring is gunna be here.
Who gives a damn?
We can make our own,
And pollinate.
Make our own brood, who Caccoon'd in your own womb.
Sing our own tune, Lay together and watch their soul's bloom.
their eyes
they flutter
or is it propel
either way
a subtle prelude
to a kiss out of sync
their conversation
an amalgamation
of giggles and smiles
more telepathy
between hearts
than anything else
their legs
entwined like shoestrings
on a pair of old sneakers
seem to imply
the mating ritual
of hoverflies
Mating Season
flashing bright plumage, peacock attracts mate
dowdy, brown peahen quivers...
monsoon rains on the way
06-07-2014
Contest: Any Poem Under 15 lines #2
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placement: 8th
In fertile bowers,
from swollen vents perfume flows
mating passion grooms
Hear all that croaking?
It comes from the lily pads.
Frog mating season.
Robert Pettit for Sidney Lee Ann’s Lilly Pads and Frogs Contest.
The warm evening breeze
Caresses my skin as I sit
Beneath the old garden elm.
The chatter of birds echoes
Through the trees as they perform
Their spring mating ritual.
Redbirds, mocking-jays, and hummers
Scurry from limb to limb, jealously
Chasing foe from new-found lovers.
Enjoying the serious antics,
I hear the voice of the mourning dove
Calling its forever mate in the distance.
My thoughts turn to my own mate.
No longer within my sight
I remember your every detail as last seen.
You have left me as a bird in winter:
Sure to return to this nest
As time marches slowly,
And yet I ponder the burning question
Weighing upon my soul.
"Did you take out the trash, Dear?"
Uncommon me
with rhetoric and fancy shoes.
Uncommon me
for what else do I have to lose?
Uncommon zeal
and half an ounce of courage too-
Uncommon me
and certainly, uncommon you.
(for Johnette)