Best Muscle Bound Poems
Terracotta dreams alight
in rising Roman aqueducts
slipping in twilight hours of the night
where mysterious Spanish memories are plucked;
a momentary plunge
with Hercules standing muscle-bound
from which olden images are hung
as winds rise without a sound;
a flare in dance upon the castle floors
to pray a prayer aloud
beyond grand cathedral doors
holding visions authentic to each crowd;
slip in and out the corridors of legacy
Segovia and Madrid, the old Alcazar,
where history lay in wait splendidly
and time marches on, near and far;
these are mere images that remain
to tell a story old yet true
by which history is framed
a place, a legend, a story not new;
let it rise, let it stay
mysteries laid in the past
while awe and beauty grace the day
and visions and dreams race fast.
Arnold Schwarzenegger
Was California's governator.
Should have stuck to acting
Political savvy was lacking.
Arnold Schwarzenegger
Muscle-bound terminator,
Cheated on his wife, Maria.
Waving good-bye, she said, "See-Ya".
1/28/12
**I can't seem to stop writing these things.
Entered in PD's "Any one you've posted this week" contest.
Flesh on show and sun tan lotion
bodies laid on towels or sun lounges
By the ocean
Salty air wind blown hair
Music streaming from the near by fair
Baby screaming nappies full
Cool guys looking for babes on the pull
Sun shades and floppy hats
Grown men playing cricket with ball and bats
Sand castles and buckets and spades
Candy floss and lemonade
Father With binoculars pretending to look out to sea
Or read a newspaper but really looking at the bathing beauties
Bikinis and manknies G strings tight where the sun don't shine
Hot dogs and hamburgers the popping of corks from bottles of wine
Hairy legs and wrinkled skin
child almost drowning couldn't swim
Muscle bound Life guards with muscles to impress
Granma lost her false teeth
Dropped between her breasts
Ice creams and summer dreams
Young child peeing in the sea
Among the swimmers splashing about with glee
People playing beach ball and football
Mother calls come on all it's time for tea
Large Busty woman running like jelly on a plate
Wobble wobble
And nearly starting an earthquake
Sand between your toes
Sun burn on your nose
Sweaty arm pits sweaty bums
Toffee apples and bleeding gums
Sea gulls flying screeching high above
Clear blue sky pure white dove
Watching the frothy waves stretch upon the shore
Watching the horizon and tiny boats 10 miles away or more
Dogs running here and there
Sweets being passed around to share
Crabs and shrimps and other critters in a rocky pool
Children with fishing nets and jars to take them back to school
Para gliders pulled by speed boats high in the sky
Oh why do people want to risk life
As they could die
Postcards to write people on there bikes
The smell of fish and chips
Children with jam around their lips
Couples walking hand in hand barefoot on warm sand
Treasured memories and photo's to cherish
Suitcases packed feeling unwound and relaxed
Can't wait until next year when they come back.
Peter Dome.copyright.2013. July.
I don't look like those muscle bound jocks
as I stand wearing nothing but socks
so I bought some dumb bells
but can't use them, oh well-
since I can't lift the lid off the box !
21st Feb 2016
For Limerick contest II, sponsor Jan Allison
Trois Par Huit
AAB BB BCC
3,6,9,12,12,9,6,3
Workout
muscle bound
gaining pound after pound
triceps, biceps, lats, a cut up back.
Push ups, sit ups, crunches to create a six pack,
tuna fish, chicken, fruits and veggies for a snack.
Summer is here, I can't do without
Bronze body tan, so devout.
This work-out.
Jared Pickett
5/12/2010
Asavvy1
Have you ever dreamt of being a reigning queen
But then you woke up to find
You were the same loveable dude you've always been
Generous, charming and kind
Well it has happened to me quite recently
Got hemmoroids sitting on the throne
So I sits me down quite gingerly but it still hurts quite a bit
That's not thunder you hear, it's my groans
Never would have believed it was even at all possible
Me being a muscle bound dude
But if Bruce Jenner can suddenly become Caitlyn Jenner
Being Jacquelyn, ain't so absurd
Think I'll just stay male in the few years I have left
It's worked for me up until now
Been a raging bull through my incredibly long life
How does one become a cow
© Jack Ellison 2015
Golda and Goofus.
or how a young Baer lost his luncheon and found that man need not live by bread alone.
Deep, deep in a pine-wood in the Adirondacks,
the Baers owned a cabin. [Offset against tax.]
Daddy Baer, it was said, was a Wall Street tycoon.
Red-Hot Momma Baer never rose before noon.
Their son, 'Goofus' Baer, was a no-good lazy bum;
always scratching his groin and chewing pink gum.
On a fine summer's day, the Baers went for a stroll,
left the lunch table set. [which you may think is droll]
Meantime, up wandered Golda, a pubescent blonde lass,
in a bright gingham dirndl and brim-full of sass.
Lost her way in the woods; she was hungry, footsore,
so without hesitation, she knocked on the door.
No answer, walked in, saw comestible display:
Daddy's cold chili 'carne, she passed sans delay.
Momma's limp spinach salad met with sheer disdain,
But Goofus's jelly doughnuts! She couldn’t refrain.
Washing down the repast with the Baer’s best root beer,
she felt so damn' tired - almost fell on her rear.
Climbing the stairs for much-needed repose,
she passed Daddy Baer’s chamber just wrinkling her nose.
Momma's chintzy boudoir was too outre to suit,
but Goofus's macho haven was darling and cute!
[Papered with Harley posters and pneumatic nudes.]
Golda dropped off to sleep - dreamt of muscle-bound pseuds.
Hungry from exertions, the Baers slavered for food:
adults - minor tampering – Goofus’s wakening was rude.
“My favouritest din-din’s been gobbled!" was his whine.
"They only nibbled yours, left the mere smell of mine!
I'm going to bed: don’t expect to see me soon.
There’s goodies stashed there: I'll work-out all afternoon."
Captin revisionist Cat
Okay my friends now let's just see
Do I have any weaknesses of my own?
Nope, after careful investigation
I find I'm just perfect to the bone
I'm a doggone stunning specimen
Of a *****sapien supreme
With bulging muscles everywhere
My tummy is tight and lean
So muscle bound, can't even bend
To tie my oversized shoes
Haven't seen some body parts
Since nineteen sixty-two
What's my secret you may ask
To my Greek Adonis form?
I chew on nuts and alfalfa grass
Celery and cobs of corn
Not your cup of tea you say?
So keep up your over stuffed ways
Like the very famous Goodyear Blimp
You'll be drifting away in the haze!
All in jest!
© Jack Ellison 2012
pump em’ full of roids
don’t give a *****about baseball,
don’t care about basketball,
could give a **** about football,
could give a piss about the Olympics
& i wouldn’t watch the Tour de France if
you paid me,
but i know one thing---
if i was one of these schmucks who
shell out an arm & a leg
for a seat in the stands to watch the
pituitary cases run round on a field
in their little uniforms,
i would want my pituitary cases
pumped full of roids,
writhing with performance enhancing
drugs &
buzzing with stimulants of all shapes &
sizes,
because i would want my goddamned
money’s worth---
all of these athletes who used &
succeeded, surpassing the sloths who
chose not to, are the real
entertainers &
is that not what these muscle bound
maniacs
get paid to do?
entertain us mother****ers!
entertain us
&
worry about what all the drugs did to
your body,
when you’re sitting home,
old, senile &
surrounded by trophies.
I feel the need to say a real loud poem,
A poem full of WAILS!! HOWLS!! and YELPS!!
It doesn’t need to be about anything at all,
But if it is then I guess that that helps.
AAAARR!! Now that feels better,
BOOM!! THRASH!! BAP!! WHAM!! and BAM!!!
Just like in the comics of old there’s a VRAP!! SMACK!! ZAP!!
Then a CRUNCH!! and a BIFF!! and a SLAM!!
Actually, in the comics of old, it was profoundly loud,
With all the yelling and fighting.
Those words were in yellow, in bright red shiny stars.
It was all so thrillingly exciting.
With a KABOOM!! and a THUD!! the hero saved the damsel.
Then a POP!! and a sudden KABANG!!
The hero was muscle bound, long hair and strong jaw.
Always one man against a whole gang.
Imagine writing poems where words can be invented,
Just block letters with two exclamations.
BONK!! or WHACK!! followed by WHUMF!! or PHOOMPH!!
Even your words are your own creations.
Written 19th march 2016 but never for any contest..... Till now :)
My story’s quite incredible, but every word is true.
I’ll add no wild embellishments, for lying I eschew!
I’m thrilled to have this opportunity to share with you
details of Bubba’s unique life with no further delay.
The morning he was born, this baby slapped the doctor back.
Then Bubba wanted “pancakes, y’all, a golly-whopper stack
with half a pound of bacon, three fried eggs, and coffee—black.”
His folks saw challenges ahead, so they began to pray.
At age five, he was muscle-bound and towered over Dad.
A hero to the weaker kids, he punished every cad
who bullied them. He made the entire neighborhood so glad;
all idolized him, hoping he would never go away.
He was a college grad and Mensa member at thirteen.
His IQ was phenomenal and surely knocked the sheen
off Einstein’s and all Mensans’. It’s for sure no one had seen
the likes of Bubba. In all circles, it was his heyday.
I’d be remiss if I left out he’s now a billionaire,
inventor of the wildly popular THE Perfect Chair
(mychair.com), famed dancer who is better than Astaire,
and well-known chef—all by age twenty. Is there more to say?
At twenty-five, he aims to make the most of precious life.
He has two awesome children and a lovely, brilliant wife.
The couple just invented the amazing Perfect Knife
(myknife.com). This hero’s wondrous fame is here to stay!
Mensa is the largest and oldest high IQ society in the world.
April 11, 2022
entered in Jeff Kyser's Tall Tales 2 Contest
Muscle-bound goons. The kind that rape the world. Self-satisfied, in no hurry to devote their remarkable faculties to understanding another’s mind. Such wise men. Stares as blank as summer nights, red and black, tricolored, golden star-stung steel: twisted features, leaden, pale, inflamed; hoarse guffaws. A grim onslaught of pretense. To hear what these kids would say about Cherubino in their rough voices and violent ways. They’re heading to town to get it from behind, all decked out in sickening luxury.
A violent Paradise of runaway sneers! But no match for your Fakirs and hackneyed theatrics. In costumes sewn together with all the taste of a nightmare, they strut through assorted laments, tragedies filled with all every brigand and demigod missing from religion and history. Chinese, Hottentots, bohemians, fools, hyenas, Molochs, ancient lunacies, sinister demons—they slip savage slaps and tickles into your mother’s old chestnuts. A little avant-garde here, some three-hankie stuff there. Master jugglers who use riveting comedy to transform players and scenes. Eyes ignite, blood sings, bones stretch, tears and red rivulets run. Their clowning can last minutes, or months.
Only I have the key to this savage sideshow.
:: 07.31.2022 ::
one bloodied pencil stub
If “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger”
then I’ll have one muscle bound corpse
and one bloodied pencil stub.
Let us define death
as the absence of ….
innate qualities
life’s essentials
buried beneath
the fear of exposure.
And strength
…..let us describe strength…
as the tenacity of life’s
indefatigable longing
to survive
……to persevere
…….to triumph
over the doubts of
…….death’s doomsayers
To be exhumed
…….from the fear
………of writing
…….By writing.
73 words February 24, 2017
submitted to – What Doesn’t Kill Us – Poetry Contest
Flies buzzing around the glass.
Sweet nectar of warm iced tea.
Summer sun on the porch.
Tanning their pale, winter skin.
Side by side they sit,
waiting for it to rain.
Discussing the blue overhead,
without so much as a cloud drifting by.
Up the walk they see him.
Muscle bound as can be.
To shake up two sisters
On a hot summer’s day.
Fanning themselves they smile.
He gives them a seductive grin.
Freeing the shirt from his torso
He begins to mow the lawn.
They flirt in competition
Batting eyes, precious smiles.
Coos in the name of love.
They wonder if he notices at all.
Daddy rolls his eyes in disgust.
Mama smiles at the girls.
She shoos her fawning daughters
into the house to do their chores.
Out the window they peek.
Giggles carry on the summer breeze.
A long hot summer now arrives,
Summer sun shines on the porch.
December 2nd 2013 4:00 am (o400)
Detoxing from drugs pychotrophically speaking
My couch was an aroma of deadened sweat too putrid to mention
You came to call not long after I thought I was pregnant by my boyfriend and
coididently was at the time of my detoxidation
night sweats for weeks
and yes he had my key
He messed up my hair and tangled it a bit
as I cried when hospitalized at the cutting my hair (tangle free)
You, John Cayton spoke to me lovingly
of everafter all in a lifetime
You went to town, home on a personal leave to see me
and all the women thought you were the most handsome, a perfect form
as I expressed to the hardware store owner he is really overworked
I'm not too much for the muscle bound type
You loooked at him in despair I heard,
as our blue eyes had met before
when he said to you that I was concerned
and all that small towns attention was upon you
You got us a condo
Then you left after leaving me full of desire of a close encounter of another kind
John, I truly do not know how to explain my days on a log
I have no itenary to show when we will see each other
I do know that when God puts two people together it surely will happen
I've tried to block you out of my mind and I don't know why
I know that each and every star has its reasons just as the money hungry in Cali have no rights to this heart of mine
but as I explained, I would feel secure with him
I would never be tempted to have relations and could sleep by his side
and rest well
You look good now
You are perfect and I find myself shy to you because I feel like an out of shape over 40 country girl and have
the stretch marks humanly to prove so
You say, well that is why I love you so, because while I've been away,
you've harshly been handled and I only want to hold you for my life's worth
Far beit to me to rain down on you as my tears fall, I know how I feel, that is all
Words do not compesate the very soul
yet though tired and worn and jagged around the edges I am loved for me by you
only you, and God has His hand upon us
Sincerely, Lucinda Lu Cayton
To: Sir John Cayton
( we are not related but carry the same last name- Dad would be astounded! We are not French (related to Joan of Arc) and his family is) what a story of America and beyond! Perhaps we will agree me acting like another ancestor BraveHeart is a poor choice.