Best Prudish Poems
Unlikely
this romance between
Miss Cricket
and stodgy
Buddy Biddle, so stagnant
set in his ways, stuck
While Cricket
eighty-nine years young
dances rings
around him
full of impish energy
mischievous antics
He proposed
but Miss Cricket won't
marry him
knows better
she's outlived countless lovers
and won't be tied down
She's having
way too much fun- so
fancy-free
no one to
boss her, tell her what to do
woman on the loose
Anyway
he's too old for her
'though only
eighty-four
he can't keep up or begin
to understand her
And he has
hang-ups about sex
proper, prim
prudish ways
appalled at her passionate
kisses, advances
Waggish grin
wild, irreverent
she enjoys
shocking him
with outlandish behavior
incorrigible
Some days he
says he can't take it
she's too much
gone too far
with her pranks- but he gets so
lonely without her
And 'though he
hates to admit it
life is dull
without her
she makes things interesting
by being herself
(NOTE: Although I listed this as a Free Verse, it is actually in Shadorma form...)
Pure virgin flowers,
Kissed by Winter’s frosty lips:
Prudish affection.
Them dancers, singers there on MTV,
why do they grab their crotches frequently?
I've tried, but I still can't figure it out
just what on earth that dance move's all about.
That crotch-clutching flick of a mannequin
must be a part of hip-hop hand routine
with nothing there that's meant to be obscene,
but which these prudish eyes just now have seen.
But then if it's because of poor hygiene,
it's time to see the doc, to check what's in between;
if they won't wash and scrub themselves real clean,
like chimps with lice, they'll scratch, they'll make a scene.
But sure, they know too well what should be done:
if they don't scrape the itch, it will be gone;
well, Michael Jackson, dance king of all climes,
at fifty, clutches still his crotch fifty times!
Don't bastardise the limerick form
and deviate from Edward Lear's norm
Poet’s writing form wrong
Should not deserve a gong
Some efforts were just truly lukewarm
The syllable count and rhyme scheme
Ain’t something that folk should demean
Limericks can be rudish
Not designed for folk prudish
Of writing poop poems I'm Queen!
He calls me "son"
come here, lets learn
it's easy, you can earn
I will teach you all I can
life is easy, it's fun
all you need is a span
of ecstasy and swan
I got a poke
on Facebook, it's a joke
seems to choke
it's serious, it's a mock
but I still rock
you are free to stalk
I just need no talk
am not stupid am fine
come, let's dine
I don't do wine
it's just in line
with my principles, they are mine
you seem so foolish
it's out of hand, it's prudish
you need to polish;
out the sissy and sheepish
character; you are childish
sir I got no chance
tell me about renaissance
all you need is a lance
if irritated, vamoose to France
there, you will have no glance
of this silly Brance
for your sake, am brilliant for once
blueprints on freelance
check out, you got chance
I want to be happy, I really am
what's behind my pen, my right arm
scripting down lines that keep me calm
all for the sake of being firm
I got no issues, I don't harm
something destroys me, I let it sting
putting my emotions to swing
going about like a ring
sorrow hits, it grows
it's too much, no one knows
if you are keen, it shows
pain oozing out of my pores
it's life, it's a course
all I do is hold on of course
enough for now, it's rare
I will buy you lunch, I care
only if you swear
to live your life, and don't dare
bring this topic to air
Somewhere on this pretty planet,
There is a heart made of granite,
Indignation its pulse would take,
The soul’s machine fear'd trust too fake.
On righteous wings glory’s noose,
Hangs the head of war’s best muse,
Her eyes befit the worst of times,
The look, the stare defies all rhymes.
Reaching into forgotten tales,
History chose armored males,
Dusty tomes on hidden shelves,
Books in tongues for tiny elves.
Here’s to He who broke the bread,
A promise too many came instead,
Land so fertile flowers swooned,
Food to heal the people’s wound.
Abundance wreaks what dreams deny,
Riches breach thy neighbors cry,
Winds begin like soft whispers pass,
Fear the tempest that might amass.
No one heard the approaching storm,
The blind saw not the eyeless worm,
Man’s great cities it came to breed,
A pathos so hungry it began to feed.
The poor of mind hailed this time,
Its witless soldiers stuck in crime,
But this was no Christian phase,
Powerful waves, everyone pays.
Morning took hold, the sky was dark,
The bow was bent and knew its mark,
A book of facts, a thousand lies,
Verse so deep frozen beauty cries.
With thunder’s yoke rains wash took hold,
On tides ebbed out went all once old,
Upon spring flowers hope took turn,
Lime and ashes make death’s love yearn.
Once the deluge heavy airs broke,
Weeds and vermin went with a stroke,
Poison and bile, cancers two friends,
Fell to the grounds hungry amends.
Trees laughed loud and grew their hair,
Opulent green color’d the air,
The crowds were gone, the coast was clear,
Butterfly songs for all to hear.
Know you man’s hopeless devices,
Always waiting for a crisis,
To stick a sword in another’s heart,
Man’s most pathetic lost dead art.
Wolves and tigers follow no rules,
Never betting on prudish tools,
Blaming not the world as given,
Their jaws obey love’s laws arisen.
Eons ago a vow was made,
Years before words lost to trade,
The path before you poets know,
Only your heart can make life glow.
Pointed fingers hide three blind mice,
Beware of crowds and mob’s advice,
J’accuse writ large holds guilt away,
Thumbs up to She who holds her sway.
No body parts
Not in the arts
No rhyme or play
Can these display
No satin, lace
just covered face
Yet still it's real
The sex appeal
It’s not the parts
That grace the arts
But prudish minds
That call for blinds
The sculpture weeps
The ink blot seeps
And Donne is done
Without that sonne
Under attack
Is the Bard, Shak
His bawdy bleak
His plays all weak
The Musee Louvre
Has lost its grove
No statue there
Can be seen bare
Each painting veiled
For pruds prevailed
Enshrouded art
Without a heart
No pleasured taste
For pruds, a waste
Just nature scene
All else, obscene
Forbid if love…
What it’s made of
Comes into light
And brings delight
Though sacred writ
is full of it
and Song of Songs
Is read by throngs
Passion replete
Makes man complete
No body parts?
Not in the arts?
No love or lust?
Just covered bust
No painting fine?
Or tale sublime?
Forbid it all!!
Art takes the fall
But what is sin,
dwells deep within!!
No body parts
Not in the arts!
but please confess!
Don’t fear redress
Life comes to be
In you and me
When these parts merge
There is a surge
And life springs new
That life is YOU
No body parts…..
Not in the arts
It’s only in...
Reality!
So let it be!
Let Art be free!
Eileen Manassian
Her Longing Heart Seeks Love's Relief
Pretty young lady, my how you steal the show
how many admiring eyes look back at you?
Perhaps a secret admirer is gazing back you know
longing to be in your private booth too.
With that handy fan hiding your shy smiles
you're features are an enticing mystery.
Clever use of your female charms or wiles
denying him such an early discovery.
What of the high stage, you alone dare grace,
could your setting look more like a throne,
or your beauty reveal more of a loving face,
while desiring you, should he walk out alone?
Alas! Society restricts such daring bold acts.
Yet, a longing mind can always find some way,
to defeat the prudish rules society enacts
she's sure there's time to steal away to kiss and play!
Robert J. Lindley, 1- 10-2016
Painting number six
Poem number six, Ekphrasis (rhyme)
Inspired by- the painting
(Theater, by Mary Cassatte 1879)
Debbie Guzzi's 10 for 10 challenge
Ekphrastic: Writing on Art and Art on Writing [this site ACCEPTS reprints] http://www.ekphrastic.net/submissions.html
4th December 2011 ,sernabatim,Gois shack,
By Sashi .Prabhu(ZEAUOXIAN)
Calm waters come engulf my scorching mind,
Pour yourself in through my eyes, burning embers find.
Fumes of devilish sorrows, be engulfed so fast,
Peace to look forward to, wash away memories of the past.
Tranquility drench your serenity into me,
Happiness corrode my skin and char it with peace to be.
Entwine your auric wings of joys around my heart,
Ooze from it pink flames, so darkness depart.
Edify myself with joys of life
darkness gone , light piercing through like a sharp prudish knife.
Welcome to my body all joys and peace,
Let it override the ebbing currents dwindle and decrease.
a new year dawns a new begining,
i will take it on my chin......
placement: third,
contest:show me any form/any theme max 15 lines,
sponsor: Brian Strand.
U nderwear was once taboo
N ow is flaunted on t.v. screens
M en's boxers/briefs, women's bras/panties
E volving (or declining) moral values
N egate former prudish sentiments
T ampon commercials now the norm
I gnorant minds become informed
O ur private agonies are fully aired
N ausea, diarrhea, erectile dysfunction
A ll formerly private matters
B ecome readily discussable
L eaving no subject out of reach
E nlightened minds say "let it all hang out"
S oon nothing will be unmentionable
For Debbie's Unmentionable contest
Gratitude attitude grow
Peacock attitude away throw
Though temptations line up in a row
Pointless, heartless any soul you to hurt
Under no circumstances invective blurt
Because so doing grows you curt
Achieving trinkets, reaping limpets
As you blow trivial trumpets
Deriding, riding, restless strumpets
In your city where contempt
Fashionable in an objectional attempt
To parade low grade hair unkempt
For aeons under neon lights
Illuminating prudish, brutish fights
Meant to ignore the snore of plights
Street kids endure under the watch
You observe at close quarters to catch
Miscreants and recidivists who latch
Onto corruption
To catalyze the eruption
So blatantly witnessed in the disruption
Probity suffers as wafers
Vanish into thin air when quaffers
Poke fun at a senile souse who suffers
Ravages of loneliness
You regret in the context of silliness
Egrets and open secrets endure as holiness
Suffers its biggest reverse
To learn men of the collar deemed so averse
To child molestation in vows so diverse
Embarrass your church
Leaving doubting Thomases in the lurch
As for meaning and direction they search
Wondering if hypocrisy in this crisis
Should call and recall paralysis
To promote or demote dialysis
As a cure for the malaise
Believers suffer in the craze
That undermines set standards in a maze
In which a plethora of anguish
You bear as you strive to distinguish
Reality from fiction. Your faith don’t extinguish
Or else you throw baby together with bath water
In the church and in your quarter
To deny you opportunities for malfeasance to alter.
I am a child of the universe
The one to have begot, on this earth, her rightful place
I am a being made of flesh and blood
A being with a soul, with sensitivity as her ruling word
I show to the world a side of me that does not really be me
I show to the world, a woman, being yet a girl, one so bold
Fearless yet frail at the same, strong, detached
One dedicated to her duty, one who does yearn to be accepted
I show to the world, a girl bent on creativity
One who does find her peace only in works, being so literary
One who does enjoy only her own company
One who does be a loner, as well as a boring entity
But then, the one I do really be
Does be made of magic and mystery
Why, I do believe my real abode does be the skies
They do be from where I fell and to where I shall rise
I do really be overly sensitive
So much that I do show not that I do grieve
I hesitate even to forgive
Out of fear of being once more, rebuked
I do really be made of an open heart
Yes, the whole of humankind does be my sweetheart
But then, showing my empathy does be useless
See, the world itself does have an aim, so senseless
I do be still a child inside
Yes, in being pampered do I pride
For the child in me does yearn still for my carer
The one who does be my mother or yet still, my grandmother
I do be a complexity for the rest of humanity
See, I do live my life fully while claiming to be in love with spirituality
Why, of holy verses I know naught
But then, for their revival shall I fight
I do be a girl who does be high on morals
Indeed, I do live as a prudish one
Allergic to that which does be immoral
Allergic and of course, to evil, never being prone
I do be a girl yearning to be appreciated
So far, my writings have been to me, my hymns so well accorded
Pray, wish I for such to be so still
Yes, for only in such do I get a sort of artistic thrill!
I do be a girl relishing some good food
Why, of the looks of a nice pizza and a glass of wine, have I always admired
So much that for me, such does be prized
But again, a little dieting would be much needed
Pray, the side I show to the world does be only a part of what I do be
Should you want to know me
Then, you should read all of my poetry
Indeed, only in those rhymes do I bare my soul!
Two young nudists went to lie down and bask
Along came a cop who took them to task
Thought they broken the law
For basking in the raw
Then the cop said" you're not wearing face masks"...
The nudists thought it was some kind of jest
Both cursed the cop and started to protest
Reinforcements were called
The nudists were appalled
When they were charged and placed under arrest...
They were both before the judge the next day
To the young nudists he had this to say
"Maskless face is a crime
So you will both do time"
They got four years and were taken away...
And two more from Belle Bellevue
Wonder if the cop's prudish or a creep
Who just couldn't resist taking a sly peep
Was the mask excuse
To get a good view
Does he count naturists when he can't sleep.
Four years is too long for not wearing masks
Who the devil pays their keep one might ask
We all well know who
It's us, me and you
Free bed and board, it's not bad for a bask.
Written 15th August 2021
Hisham Melhem
insists it must be either us or them
that prudish box
such a peculiar contrast to those Berlusconi jocks.
This Shepherd boy hath long lost his flock,
Daydreaming in a daze
Not a thought I gave to the Time on the clock-
For those are the prudish ways!
Live in joy and merriment,
A Happiness without end? Ha!
I could never be more content
Than to have my Youth again!