Best Pouting Poems
You tempt me
As I sense your presence by my side
The whisper of your flowing silken dress
A whiff of fragrant jasmine scent.
You tempt me
With each flicker of your doe-brown eyes
Shadowed in lilac hues and full dark lashes
A smile, partly concealed on pouting lips.
You tempt me
With curvaceous waves of long black hair
Cascading by glowing peach-rose cheeks
Rising, falling on your breast with every breath.
You tempt me
As you stand against the evening light
The Aphrodite of my dreams and fantasies
Seductive, alluring and desirable.
I temp you
As gently I pull back my straying hair
Nestled on the fullness of my breast
Exposing what your famished eyes are feasting on.
I tempt you
In silent expectation my body glows
With purpose of fulfilment I slowly make my way to you
My haloed shadow dances on your rigid form.
I tempt you
Breathless, you lean against the wall
My desires surging at this sign of weakness
Within inches of your body, I languidly pause.
I tempt you
Sensuously, at satin ribbons my fingers pull
Until my struggling gown hesitantly quivers
Before it glides and gathers at my feet.
I tempt you
Grounded by wanton cravings, I look you in the eyes
I simply smoulder there within your reach
The final vestige of abstinence still lingers in the air.
I tempt you
Then I lean in, my breath is warm upon your check
Against your heaving chest my breasts now brush
I breathe and whisper softly “Come to me.”
I tempt you
Inveigled in this rare moment, my heart bursts
As you crush my body tightly against yours
You taste the temptress kiss that frees your needs.
I tempt you
For my heart has long been tempted
By strong unquenched desires
For you.
A Repost of a collaboration with Paul Callus
Categories:
pouting, passion, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
You tempt me
As I sense your presence by my side
The whisper of your flowing silken dress
A whiff of fragrant jasmine scent.
You tempt me
With each flicker of your doe-brown eyes
Shadowed in lilac hues and full dark lashes
A smile, partly concealed on pouting lips.
You tempt me
With curvaceous waves of long black hair
Cascading by glowing peach-rose cheeks
Rising, falling on your breast with every breath.
You tempt me
As you stand against the evening light
The Aphrodite of my dreams and fantasies
Seductive, alluring and desirable.
I temp you
As gently I pull back my straying hair
Nestled on the fullness of my breast
Exposing what your famished eyes are feasting on.
I tempt you
In silent expectation my body glows
With purpose of fulfilment I slowly make my way to you
My haloed shadow dances on your rigid form.
I tempt you
Breathless, you lean against the wall
My desires surging at this sign of weakness
Within inches of your body, I languidly pause.
I tempt you
Sensuously, at satin ribbons my fingers pull
Until my struggling gown hesitantly quivers
Before it glides and gathers at my feet.
I tempt you
Grounded by wanton cravings, I look you in the eyes
I simply smoulder there within your reach
The final vestige of abstinence still lingers in the air.
I tempt you
Then I lean in, my breath is warm upon your check
Against your heaving chest my breasts now brush
I breathe and whisper softly “Come to me.”
I tempt you
Inveigled in this rare moment, my heart bursts
As you crush my body tightly against yours
You taste the temptress kiss that frees your needs.
I tempt you
For my heart has long been tempted
By strong unquenched desires
For you.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Co-written by Paul Callus & Eileen Manassian (Appassionata)
Categories:
pouting, desire, passion,
Form:
Free verse
One swift move tempting
sunburned curls to find
a whole new place
across her face
around vanilla shoulders
dress clings to hips
purple arranged on pouting lips,
kohl around almond eyes
calculating,
investigating lustful look
~~~~~~~~
twirl, swirl,
oh yes girl
High heels tango, abrazo,
hand on back, barrida
full stop... freno
breathless hunger
Tango. Castigada
***
May 15, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Categories:
pouting, beauty, dance, music, together,
Form:
Rhyme
Swift nibbles, tentative licks
small diamonds of broken moonlight
on ebony waves
symphony playing with my toes
Silent yellow light
quick curious pouting lips
and bites, silvery little
fishes around my legs
A wish to push far into the black
seduction, to sleep there
evermore
To kiss a final poem, disintegrate
into filaments and atoms
join and surrender
***
April 21, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Categories:
pouting, dark, death, emotions, self,
Form:
Free verse
Tonight is my birthday and I'm in for a surprise
My darling desires to thrill my eyes
The living room is set and the lights are turned low
Scented candles are lit as I await what she shows
Soft ballads play from rock bands we adore
To my left she enters such beauty amour
In sexy black lace with traces of deep red
Her curvaceous shapes play with my head
Teasing and taunting in her gypsy style dance
Erotic she is, my eyes captured in trance
Pouting she writhes alluring my clutch
Staying out of reach, denying me of touch
Scintillating movements as she edges real close
Her perfume entices my desire to pursue
My hearts now pumping in manly crave
As I catch her kisses in loving threw
Closer she dances as she takes my hand
As I arise and join her as we take to the floor
Embraced we are on this special night
Passion awaits with my girl I adore
Touchingly we kiss as our hands declare
Revealing to each other our bodily joys
Blissful caressing declares our time
Our bodies unite in loving employ
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-14.php
Categories:
pouting, anniversary, love, passion
Form:
Quatrain
Under the ocean where King Neptune rules,
multiple species of fish form schools.
The most fantastical fish you'll ever see,
is a mermaid in her long-haired glory.
Sirens of the sea are they,
their voices one with the ocean waves.
Half human with a fish's tail,
they appear to watch the ships that sail.
Known for their beauty and seductive ways,
their lives consist of frolic and play.
Sailors beware their beckoning cries,
pouting lips and sorrowful sighs.
Don't give in to their playful allure.
You'll regret it, that's for sure.
For if you join them in the sea,
they'll keep you with them indefinitely.
They'll play with you until they tire,
then leave you to King Neptune's ire.
So if you see a mermaid fair,
Enjoy the view but do take care.
11/7/15
For Julia Ward's Fantasy Fish in a Fantasy Ocean contest.
Categories:
pouting, fantasy, fish, ocean,
Form:
Couplet
I’d like to pretend that my hands aren’t dirty
from the soap of mental suppression,
that the callouses are from hard work,
and not from picking my bones back up
off the floor on a daily basis;
ragged, dry, and weary.
Every fairy tale has a root,
stapled into the hard soil of truth.
They all have a moral,
some sort of clerical error
born from life’s shadow.
We watch, hoping to learn
from the missteps of someone
else’s intrepid imagination,
some 4D revelation singing
lullabies to the young heart
of humanity.
And they bend to the fickle
will of greedy creativity,
making the yoke less bitter
so that we can tongue the purge
of denial without pouting.
I’d like to pretend that my hands are clean,
that I don’t whisper cold lies into your palms,
watch you drink from the frosted glass
of my sincerity; Hope that you don’t blink,
that you won’t notice the blood bubbling
up, and over my shiver before you finally
finish this story.
I just want you to understand.
This isn’t poison.
This is merely me bleeding out,
and hoping you’ll learn to love the
taste of fire kissed oxymoronic metaphors,
served up with juiced will and the vegan
flesh of my inhibition.
So that you can see through my eyes,
know where I have been,
and how it felt to be consumed.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
Categories:
pouting, imagery, introspection, life, memory,
Form:
Free verse
This Is No Picnic
We packed up the grill and my uncle took us to the lake
I was hoping for a burger, maybe even a juicy steak
Amazed was I to see the cooler packed with frozen shrimp
What kind of picnic is this? My smiling lips went limp
“Stop pouting,” said Uncle Tim, tossing me a fishing pole
“This here lake is filled with huge trout. It’s the best fishing hole”
If we wanted to eat lunch, first we would have to catch it
Seems his picnic invitation this info did omit
The hours dragged past and we hadn’t had a single bite
Our clan was growing hungry and grandma seemed uptight
So she took charge and lit the grill in spite of Tim's protests
But he could not do battle with her so he acquiesced
Mosquitoes were drawn to scents of shrimp on the barbecue
Then a horde of hornets found our camp and buzzed on through
We screamed and scurried about to avoid their bites and stings
Till Uncle Tim doused the grill and took us to Burger King
He ordered burgers to go, placed a blanket on our lawn
Till this day we still laugh at the antics we’d undergone
Written for Carol Brown's Picnic Time contest
Categories:
pouting, family, funnyfishing,
Form:
Rhyme
I have a cat that wears no hat;
though her paws do love to bat,
her mice and balls,
all through my hall.
A clever cat,
a feisty cat,
I made her a nice catnip rat;
my hyper-active tabby cat.
A cat with tail all poofed and fluffed;
her claws are never, ever rough;
they’re so sharp and needle-like;
my god, they’re really more like spikes!
All through the night she bounds and plays;
sometimes in a catnip haze.
All day long she’s in a snooze;
fortunately, she doesn’t drink any booze.
I know she’s been on my computer,
looking for a kitty-suitor.
The claw marks on my keyboard tell,
without me hearing her collar bell.
Her favorite website, “Kitten Caboodle”;
actually sells tuna noodles.
I know because my credit card,
had more than thirty orders charged!
A confrontation did ensue;
she wound up with her ego bruised.
Pouting cat took paws that bat,
took out her frustration on catnip rat.
I tell you honestly,
I tell you true;
be grateful she doesn’t
belong to you.
Written 3-7-19
For Contest: "Honoring Dr. Seuss Poetry Contest"
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner
Categories:
pouting, animal, cat, cute, funny,
Form:
Light Verse
Lincoln never imagined
today’s white victim zeitgeist,
pouting persecuted supremacists,
their clenched jaws and fists.
Civil war rages in limbic memory.
Encoded somewhere,
the panic attacks and mirages.
Nobody is qualified because everybody is responsible.
So many whites have graduated from the struggle,
showcasing their diploma from the mill.
Lincoln never imagined
modern virtual vitriol,
merciless memes lashing out at specters,
infusing, inciting depravity among the sleep deprived.
These words are battleships aimed at the reviled.
The unshielded summon civility.
They beckon familiar principles.
But rabid cougars wait in hiding, eager to pounce.
All the feeble markets for platitudes have failed,
as subliminal cavities endure each generation.
Mental lynch mobs, rebel flags, supremacy’s utopia.
Lincoln never imagined
a 21st century cartoon president,
a white nationalist clicking social network epithets,
a whining overgrown tormenter
with a cult of Stalinist believers.
Where are the intelligible?
How is all this animated fury converted?
What is the lesson plan?
Who will bury the code?
How long this agonizing journey into normality?
Lincoln never imagined.
Published Tuck Magazine 04/ 2019
Categories:
pouting, america, discrimination, freedom, hate,
Form:
Political Verse
Pretty soon, night will fall upon the city,
And lives of crime animate spasmodically
As Gene Pitney croons “A Town Without Pity”
And the clubs and the gin joints open methodically.
Hepcat jazzmen smoke reefers, shoot junk,
The pimps clean their nails with switchblades laconically,
Fedoras pulled low as they mind-jive to funk,
And the neon lights crackle and buzz electronically,
Breast enhanced blondes catch the eyes of their johns,
Pouting and winking, the sale of depravity,
For a price any vice can be practiced upon
The surface of flesh, any crevice or cavity.
Cops pound the beat twirling nightsticks around,
Turning blind eyes for a bribe taken willingly,
Failure to pay brings the world crashing down,
“It just ain’t your day,” the cops whisper chillingly.
Wiseguys hold court in an old pizzeria,
Smoking and drinking and eating the scenery
Their empire of family governed through fear,
The rule of the gun and Sicilian ancestry.
Corporate needles pierce veins of the damned,
Chalk drawings map lines around death’s ideology
Cigarettes sparked and the siren howls slammed
Through the meanest of streets of pulp fiction mythology.
In the world of the scribe, this pulp writer hack
May exaggerate slightly for sake of the narrative,
Yet film noir seems grey when reality’s black,
At the end of the day everything is comparative.
Categories:
pouting, allegory, death, history, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Caught in emotion
She went down to the ocean
To where the cliffs are extremely steep
And there she wept
Then finally lept
At a place called 'Lover's Leap'
But while doing here pouting
The tide took to outing
And now the tour guides to show
Where lost love and gravity
Made a large cavity
Far far on the beach below
Categories:
pouting, 12th grade, absence, funny,
Form:
Light Verse
New day, the same circle conversation!
I slow speak my felt truths,
You stumble-spin lame accusations
And another valid topic will thrash itself mute.
We should just get a tape recorder.
Instead of arguing, we’ll just play that
And save emotional voices the bother.
You may not know what happens next,
But I know, I have memorized the steps:
Your chin will raise as your fists flex and
You’ll accuse me of thinking I’m perfect;
I’ll give up on your ability to reflect,
Execute stern hushing for my quiet effect
And we’ll live stiff with no sign of upset.
Stormy emotions from this current singe
May taint our bond with their imprint,
But our love violins aren’t in quit’s bin.
Our imperfect love remains heart-hinged.
We know when this new circle conversation ends,
I’ll be a silenced pinch, you’ll do a pouting binge,
Until need finds us easing for embrace again.
Categories:
pouting, conflict, cute, love,
Form:
Free verse
She absolutely loved it whenever I would playfully call unto her, 'Boo Boo...
Twas so very adorable within her pink cotton dress, as white canvas tennis shoes
Ever this bright her dreamful eyes; a favourite attire and us being children would giggle ?
Beautiful, the expressions upon Angelica's face when concentrating a bit too hard; pouting
Velvet lips glistening when suddenly as ofttimes precious kitty Mercy would hop atop mingling
Colours only to find his whiskers once more painted in blue; tossing these tiny cups aside; hearts
Of a new song ? Pulling time's notes from my shirt pocket; ocean tides poetic, emerald skies....
Love, while the years passed by; carousel kisses, she read then wept a tear to taste rainbow hues, beloved.
Categories:
pouting, art, baby, cat,
Form:
Bony knuckles raking gloomy halls
Chambers echoing fate’s footfalls
Slumping shoulders and deathly grins
Recounting on fingers, countless sins
Shuddering, shivering in godless fears
Admonishing my guilt, the end, it nears
Cowering in silence, holding my breath
Smelling foul odors of impending death
Grasping and groveling a final chance
Embracing, mating, in fatal romance
Facing my fears in a sorrowful stare
Fingertips gracing my tendrils of hair
Ghastly screams erupt pouting lip
Into the darkness my soul does slip
Categories:
pouting, dark, death, destiny, fate,
Form:
Rhyme