Best Navel Poems
The universe
In my navel
Where it all began
From the mother of all mothers
tongue tied
to a tree
naked
No wool to pull over these eyes
They're up here by the way
Pondering the microcosm of a belly button
The flora and the fauna
Crazy when you think that
By the sum of our parts
We are outnumbered ten to one and
Eve didn't even have a belly button
How do ya' like them apples?
11/8/2017
Polynesian Island
In the Pacific south east
Starved of trees
For a transporting feast
Stone idols
Moai, they are called
Some unfinished
Standing tall
This island of the extinct
Three volcanoes in all
Terevaka, Poike and Rano Kau
As years passed
Statues were toppled
Civil war and disease
This island buckled
In this modern world
With Chilean Citizenship
Over 3000 remain
No longer past hardship
This volcanic island
Called Rapa Nui
Is Easter Island
To you and me
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/history.php
What are those dangly things hanging down to your navel
Are they melons... you can rest them here on the table
Glad I don't have those
They add charm I suppose
Pretty dang sure though, they'd make me unstable
© Jack Ellison 2015
I could write to you about what it feels like to be
unhinged, untethered, to float on a breeze of malintent
But what would it matter to you?
Thinking random thoughts anchorless,
adrift in a typhoon of emotional baggage
for which you have lost the claim tag.
In this flash bulb, pop snap, presto-chango world
where the only sane thing to do, or be, is to be insane,
I could talk to you of that……
Of the parenting child, wiping up the vomit
of a blighted gene pool.
Of the wound-up, pent-up,
morally straightjacketed, youth who has no example
of the rightness of creation or the necessity of destruction.
All this masticating, ruminating, procrastinating
does not stop the clock,
the pendulum continues its swing….
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes within an all too ego driven self,
I assume you don’t know this!
The masses of opiated, upward looking
stiffs, passing through, and over their
pap driven lives don’t know this?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ah, but after realizing I realize nothing
I conclude… you have been there haven’t you?
Perhaps, your realizations did not arrive
from the same lessons as mine.
But after searching through an exorcism of soul
I would think You know,
in your heart of hearts you know.
In one form, or another, at one time, or another,
you have all been there blessed with insanity,
in a world which leaves few other outlets
between life and death.
For the sensitive’s in life are surrounded
with knifes, and guns, and drugs..lures
to cut the tethers, burst our bubbles
and rock our boats.
navel kissed hungry
lips relax honey trickles
down to mellowness
Depends on what shirt I've been wearing
The colour, the texture and pile
I may get a mountain or molehill
I know either way it smells vile
My navel resembles a cauldron
A mixture of cottons and fluff
And each time I dip in my finger
It comes back all covered in stuff
And after a dig I can't help but
sniff what my digit produced
I've tried and I've tried to quit it
I give up, this quitting's no use
The button I've got on my belly
designed for a rummage and pick
a haven for my tummy boogies
I bet now you're feeling quite sick.
14th September 2011
NOONRAY IN WINTER
Noonray in your navel
a locus for language light
whale wave wishes
in water songs kisses
as July just jokes along
Winter wonder words waffling
storm crown chakra baffling
cold she stirs potted iced rice
as rain rigorously roars
Noonray holds the dice
On hailstone highway she
instantly marries marigold
instinct with indigo intuition
timing tactical thunderbolts
favouring floods for nutrition
Noonray in silent shiver
shake or hide shelter seek
a game of glum greeting
Winter knows no flotsam
fathomless figure awaiting
Noonray no wee whimpers
or white wisdoms waste
in a wineglass she slithers
six seamless seasonless
sweets simultaneously
… then quivers !
©GhairoDanielsPoetry&
Song2024
A gullet of flesh choking on coarse hair
or more like a whirlpool spitting lint
and gritty, wretched pus.
The navel is barely a poetic subject,
that is unless you consider disgusting portals
to the murky inner self a philistine concept,
which many might.
Fools.
The heat weighs the air down.. down...
it say shoosh~ it seemed to steam
as it wafted from white sand to damp the blue skies.
Long green frond's stir the scene mint in a julep glass.
Quiet invades each opened pore at high noon
as the froth of salt foam caresses toes
and hollows the sand beneath
somnambulant sun worshipers.
Gulls circle in silence
as beads of sweat roll from forehead
between the mounds of Aphrodite...
into the navel of longing.
*Woman God's gift to man
Depends on what shirt I've been wearing
The colour, the texture and pile
I may get a mountain or molehill
I know either way it smells vile
My navel resembles a cauldron
A mixture of cottons and fluff
And each time I dip in my finger
It comes back all covered in stuff
And after a dig I can't help but
sniff what my digit produced
I've tried and I've tried to quit it
I give up, this quitting's no use
The button I've got on my belly
designed for a rummage and pick
a haven for my tummy boogies
I bet now you're feeling quite sick.
What are those dangly things hanging down to your navel
Are they melons... you can rest them here on the table
Glad I don't have those
They add charm I suppose
Pretty dang sure though, they'd make me unstable
i smell you on
my sheets though
you've never been
here and
yet here you
are and i cat like
cough
up a belly
button lint ball
Form:
she pierced
the luscious skin
with a deep
plunge
of her thumb
sunk her teeth
into its
juicy pulp
she felt
the joy
of biting
in the sun
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on February 21, 2021 for contest ALL YOURS (FEB 23) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND
Originally posted on February 21, 2019