Best Pummeling Poems
The passionate...pulsating rhythm,
Of your tasty...temple of doom.
Pounds a pummeling throb,
While hunting for buried treasure.
A lustrous...look like acid rain,
A hopeful...heart, a buried jewel.
My whip...willingly...whips,
A love escapade unwinds.
I raid your beautiful...body
Looking for the lost ark in the dark.
Erotic...exploration begins;
I explore a deeper crevice.
Solely...searching a secret tunnel,
Investigating, probing, and panting,
In the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
With my trusty archeological tool.
Hot wax poured...sizzling burns
The crimson scented wax streams
On this secret quest for love,
A stimulating last crusade.
Drops of salty...sweat
Bead from my fatigued...face
Dripping into the abyss of covers
And on the glistening skin.
Contrast: hitting the shiny...skin
The splash sound...is amplified.
A magnified grimace of pleasure
Protrudes the dark silhouette.
Steamy...lava skin yearns,
For a cool touch to extinguish
The heat of human friction while
Luscious...lips call out Dr. Jones.
____________________________
*Posted for an anonymous request
To write more free verse...
I love how your long chestnut hair flows over your gentle shoulders,
And when the sun searches you out for a moment, your hair sparkles…
Because I lit a match and threw it into that rat infested hair ball that you
Waste all your time on. Next up is your head which I’m going to rip…
Don’t listen to him. I’m mesmerized by your deep blue eyes, when they lovingly
Gaze In my direction. I will never make you shed a tear, my dear…
But I’m going to kick you about this filthy house. It looks like all you’ve
Done all day is piss in the wind. And stop your crying; your baggy eyes are…
Ignore him, my love. Your soft, gentle touch upon my face arouses my senses to new Heights. All my cares wash away as your aquiline hand slowly glides along my arm…
What the hell does he know? If you don’t get your boney hand off me, I’m going to break it In half. And the next time I catch you trying to be nice I’m going to throw you out with…
Stop that, Hyde. Sorry, my love, but as I was saying, your body is a masterpiece sculpted out of the finest treasures. I’m in awe of its supple curves, how it flinches to the touch…
Oh, shut up Doc, you’re killing me. And speaking of killing, I feel like pummeling
The living daylights out of your emaciated, piece of good for nothing…
Please be mine baby, before I’m lost forever to…
I’m in charge, so get over here and take it like…
I’m fading, my love. Hurry, say you’ll be mine. Save us.
I’m going to tear you apart. You’re no baby, you’re a…
Save me, before the monster wins…
Too late, Dr., she will be all mine soon…
Just a kiss, my dear. Just a…
‘Slap’, take that b****...
One kiss. Now! -The Dr. and his lover kiss- Thank you, my love. Let that vile
Monster rest in peace, so that we will be left in peace from it for evermore.
Iguanas are falling from trees in Florida due to the cold weather. They are not dead, just very cold and they become immobile. I got this title from one television personality who called herself the Lizard Queen and who says she would be a lizard if she could. Reminds me of someone we on the Soup all know and love who presents many whimsical poems on nature and animals. This one is dedicated to Caren Krutsinger!
THE LIZARD QUEEN
Cold-blooded scales, fiery-hot, languishing,
As she dreamily falls harnessing the icy wind.
Dropping she recalls, and smiles feebly,
That she alone sits on the throne, this Lizard Queen.
All hail the pounding iguanas pummeling around her.
She’s not alone, this Queen who’s falling in the tropics.
Not all warm and cuddly but absolutely charming,
She meets her end for now - but not forever, subjects!
She will return and kick up scaley wonder, the living color
Of her world, kaleidoscopic and subject to her whim,
This Lizard Queen with slithering tongue, paintbrush in hand.
Yet she’s no match for the tropical blizzard demanding her attention.
1/22/2020
We stood silent
in the cold wind,
snug in the wrapped warmth
of our grandmothers thick coat,
my sister and I,
staring into the mystery
of a freshly cut and polished
marble headstone, the letters
spelling my grandfathers name
sounding out in our heads
as if recited in a reading class
at school. J - A - M - E -S,
H - E - N - R - Y.
Away at sea
for most of the time, he died
when we were too young
to have him set firm
in the then thickening
slurry of our lives. He lived
painted in the spoken words
of my grandmother, animated
in stories and short clips cut
from his life. Soldier, sailor,
adventurer, he was too large
to fit an ordinary name
walled within our childhood home
or chiseled in stone.
He lived on the wild outskirts
of an imagined, unwritten world.
Health ruined by the horrors
of the first world war,
he found relief from his pain
in the swells and gale driven
waves pummeling ships
on the Tasmanian run.
I still carry a picture of him
printed in my mind,
smoking a cigarette,
standing on deck with the sun
going down, alone,
looking out into the sad distances
of the southern ocean,
lost in his thoughts,
far away from home.
The wind persisted in blowing me about,
whipping the willow branches with its beat.
It continuously raged, a tempest storm,
a force of nature that never bows in defeat.
Now, its companion has soaked me through
Rain has chilled me right down to the bone.
It's brought weapons of hail, the size of plums,
pummeling me as if it were throwing stones.
My tears have mingled with drops of cold rain.
Gale force winds have taken me to my knees.
It sounds as if it's screaming my name...
I reply, "Release me from your throes, please."
If wind and rain could screech in laughter,
I'd swear I heard them cackling like witches.
My thoughts were scattered; I was filled with fear,
as wind hurled hail stones with well-aimed pitches.
I had no strength in me to fight nature's opponents.
Combined in combat, they held far too much power.
No longer could I hold either of them at bay,
I cringed and withered as if I were a wilting flower.
i amble through the corridors
of this comfortless life
...the echo of your footsteps
meander behind me
in shallow strides
bestowed by death
i feel the pierce
of your eyes
fall from clouded skies
slashing the core of my soul
the corpus of your being
knocking me back
through every tempest
of storm's breath
the lash of death
pummeling me
with the ocean's waves
stinging me
with its misty cries
erasing my footsteps
as i try to regain myself
and mend my soul
...i curse you again
beneath every sob
of childhood pain
that haunts my mind
with memories of you
Looked up and down, right and left
Wondering why life suffers a theft
Subtracted beauty from my chin cleft
If I deserved and preserved the best
My love could lavish to attest
Why my love passed a preset test
Under dodgy durations of circumstances
Pummeling endeavours made in instances
That diminished and dwindled distances
Acknowledged to reveal robust character
On a bus, on a train, on foot, on a tractor
Where we determined adversity no longer a factor
In consolidating the love we feel
Grows by leaps and bounds despite the bill
Your family sprang on me to deal and kill
The foundations you and I have built
Over the years to fight to the hilt
Any machinations to pour heaps of silt
Into our love cogs
Meaning love should don cogs
Saunter under coercion in bogs and fogs
To prove its strength
Walking on hot coals at length
If truth should pervade and invade love width
To delight your parents
So worried and harried by overdue rents
We owe for domestic tents
That accommodate our nights and days
Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays
Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays
Shared with supreme care
Far beyond compare
Even when evil eyes stare
Willing you and I could disintegrate
To delight the flight of the ingrate
Who wishes our relationship could migrate
Into Dante's Hades
Struck by full blown Aids
Enfeebled and disabled in beds
Where to detractors we surrender
Stuck owing bucks to the vendor
Who dares to crush our love in his blender
Administering his coup the grace
As we lie panting on yellow grass
Listening to soothing sounds of brass
Whispering osculation and consolation
Amid an attempt at immolation
Our love sustains not in isolation
But in tandem
With a hustled harem
Which sings its ultimate knell anthem.
Twelve rounds of excitement
Two rivals smiling in the middle of enchantment
The bell rang...
Both fighters were wild
Two rough hands still mild
The bell rang again -- end of first round.
Second round...
Gaiting horses, eluding kicks and punches
Baiting bodies, protruding hunches
Third round...
Fighters in merry-go-round
Hide and seek on square ground
Fourth round...
Faces smearing, eyes rolling
Bodies perspiring, allies chanting
Fifth round...
Feet hovering, foot work disintegrated
Temperature rising, hard punches connected
Sixth round...
Audience clapping; boxers hitting
Attacks jabbing, gloves slugging
Seventh round...
Whacking arm follows, gloves batting
Ulnar bone gallows, heads swatting
Eighth round...
The champ fighter grinning, nailing one hard scour
Second fighter fainting, flailing above the litted floor
Ninth round...
Stronger fighter grinning again with right hook
Left hook thrashing, down the second fighter of blind look
Tenth round...
Challenger flogging, kept on rising
Challenger pelting, the champ fell on floor gasping
Eleventh round...
Both warriors pummeling, whipping, jostling
Switching, clubbing, lashing, drubbing
Both fighters fell on adulated white floor
Before the ninth count both warriors stood tall
on wrestled floor
Twelfth round...
Last two minutes of peppering round
Both fighters staggering until the challenger dropped first and gaunts.
Champ still standing, waiting for the ten counts...
Last twenty five seconds of the final round,
First fallen fighter with a bigger heart stands
Champ dropped on his knees --
Laid flat on aproned, famed canvass
Ten counts numbered as confetti lands...
The winner and challenger standing in the corner, beaten and bruised
Bleeding profusely after winning a dream never cruised.
attacking with achiote
burns with botanas
challenging us with chalupas
deluge of dulce
elotes by the ear
frightening flan
gouged with guacamole
heaping on the hongas
isla isolation
jugo huge jagged jugs
KKKKKKKKKK
langosta lunges
monumental mezcal
no count nopalitas
organized ostion
pummeling pepino
quivering quesadillas
rebelling relleno
sandia sword fights
tortured tamales
uvas uprising
venting vedura
war of the no "W" words
xnipec xanadu
yerbabuena yells
zanahoria zealots
As I watch the magnificent waves out at sea, on their journey back to me, I think of all the brave sailors and fishermen who became victims of the fury I see below. The violence portrayed and the helplessness of a tiny ship caught off course. Tears moisten my eyes.
Lamenting over the erosion that years of this phenomenon has caused, and knowing Mother Nature knows best.
Forceful, mighty waves relentlessly smash against the cliff face, creating bountiful bursts of explosive white foam erupting against the rocks.
A magnitude of surging, tumultuous sea water bursts mercilessly against the battered land giving forth a silver mist sprayed high, to be returned to the angry sea.
The ocean like a furious banshee, pummeling itself, smashing against the rock wall, powerfully swirling a torrent of vivid froth, slowly disappearing as the ocean retreats once again.
Like an almighty cauldron, curling and twirling, stirred by the sea, it came bashing, as a torrential torrent pounded endlessly.
The wielding waves crashing and wafting spray, offered no mercy, so from my clifftop vantage point, I walked away.
THE TENTH WAVE
The rain drops prick the skin of the sea
Tumble with the urchins in the water,
The black water, so heavy, tired--
Watching it tic tac toe in millions of tiny rings
Tic tac toe, three by three by three
Up until infinity--
As scores of seagulls watched from buoys
Red sky at night, sailor's delight
Isn't that how it goes?
All hands on deck! All hands!
Until then came, out of the night sky, a wind
With the sound and fury of a thousand black horses
Pummeling down on the water, the great, fearsome ocean
And stirring it up like a bowl of soup
All hands!
The great boats all groaned in protest,
Their wet, wooden bellies full
Reeds choking shores uprooted and flew at the storm
The whole world seemed to be feeding the storm,
Which would not be satiated, but howled for more
Chunks of earth, wood, sail, even human souls
Would not appease such an appetite
And then, in the pulse of three hours, a brief
Quiet...
...an aching silence
where the sun deceived them
By shirking off the clouds for a moment
Hear the call of the birds...
Red sky at morning, at morning, at mourning
It was then that the waves began--
Undulating at first, feel the water breathe,
Soon rising, rising, black towers
Into walls of water no one could scale,
Ripping across the top in violent zig-zags
White madness, the open mouth-
-and they came, they came in rows
As tall as nightmares, even hungrier than the wind
And they ate up everything they touched,
Swallowing lives, swallowing that which made them
Pulling our dwarfed armies into the deep, deep
Dark, black salt water
Until then, after the herald, and the birds didn't sing anymore
A tenth wave, which rose colossal over the rest,
Moving like a lost city,
Over the darkness, a shadow covering this world
Silenced what was left to be silenced
Little sailors
Little sailors
All sailor's songs end
And On the Land
Your little wives
Will catch your songs on the wind
Will pick up those songs on the winds
Catharsis of a King
Twisted trees, gnarled and warped
by wicked winds, curled in crippling
curling toward faint warming of the sun,
clinging with clutched roots to rocky crags,
overhanging the crashing roar of foam tipped
breakers. Stone face of shear cliff etched by
fine chiseled rivulets, tears shed by dark clouds
pummeling a world below, shaping the prisms
for a future sunrise, deepening the chasms of
canyons, uninhabitable but for their beauty.
Creatures that defy the bounds of “beauty”
yet define the artists form, call us to stare
at simple brush strokes. Explosions, eruptions
of hot, steaming lava, scalding and denuding
mountains, torturously flowing to a
roiling sea. Swirling vortices of
madness, vicious brushstrokes tearing through
the gentle country landscape as if change was
overdue. Humming birds and fireflies,
mosquitoes, gnats, and icky things
one feeding on the other,
the warring and the gnawing that would
discourage even mother. Sunrise in the
jungle, moonlight on city street, church bells
that daily ring, calling us to celebrate
the catharsis of a king.
John G. Lawless
9/18/2014
for Brian Johnston - God's Kind of Poetry contest
First there is spring,
For what can it bring?
Gifts in abundance to be shared,
Hopes for another wonderful year.
Kindness marks this season.
Rain showers its sweet blessings without reason.
Until time swiftly passes us by
And the summer's star is high in the sky.
Second there is the shimmering heat of summer.
She is sounded by the light beats of the drummer.
Oh the fire which burns in my soul!
Enough to fend off the winter's cold.
Sunlight stretches her arms across the land,
Her warm touch resonating from her hand.
We embrace her passionate fires
Until autumn falls on our desires.
Fall is here. He brings with him fear,
Torrential rains beating down on us -
Life withering into fine dust.
For winter is beyond all care.
Finally - the end of the year.
Winter with her icy kiss draws us near,
To her long, bitter, chilling nights.
No light, but only the snow pummeling us
Into a deep sleep...
Go on break its heart, don't be shy, ask it why
was it said in that way and not another?
Or maybe why the hell you even said that anyway?
A poem enters a boxing ring
gets beaten up, yet in the end
the loser is a winner,
the pummeling has changed its shape.
A seagull poops on your head,
kind of funny, everyone grins.
An eighteen-wheeler jackknives,
no one is hurt, poop does not kill,
but you're a poet, some kind of genius,
so you write about slippery bird guano
on a wet road,
a truck hydroplaning,
cars bursting into flames,
a trucker dying of colon cancer
long after that fatal accident.
Misery and joy must be manipulated
then handcuffed together.
You publish the deranged thing -
your mistake,
it's just another aberration of your nervous system.
Then you wait for some wiseass
to tear it apart,
and it serves you right.
t?sse?a st???e?a: ?e??
?e??: mainland china-
the year is 1930 and the
people of china have
been suffering for 2
years now because of
widespread drought which
caused famine in three
northern provinces, that of
gansu, henan & shaanxi---
said to have killed nearly
3 million people, the famine’s
strength had much to do with
the weak relief efforts of then
republic of china.
the winter of 1930 brought
with it snowstorms bearing oddly
heavy amounts which then
melted away quickly in the spring
bringing with it the heightening of
the yellow river, huai river & the
yangtze.
heavy rain pelted down upon the
already overflowing rivers & through
the summer months of 1931 this area
which normally receives 2 cyclones a
year, underwent the chaotic pummeling
of no less than 7 in july alone.
while estimates of those that died
from the destruction caused by these
floods range from 3.7 million to
4 with an overall 28.5 million “having
been affected by them,” it is
extremely difficult for a person
living in the comfortable convenience
of western civilization to fathom
the mass drowning & the expansive
coverage of land by water in this
natural disaster, which to this day is
considered to be the worst in recorded
human history.
on top of the deaths from the floods
themselves & the diseases like
cholera & typhus which proliferated
under such circumstances, the unique
chaos that came with the complete
breakdown of societal norms in hubei,
hunan, jiangxi, wuhan, chongqing,
hanyang & hankou brought with it
infanticide & cannibalism, as well as
the sale of daughters & wives.