Best Ribald Poems
The farmer’s cock rises each morning
It signals a new day is dawning
His wife ignores him in bed
Says she’s got a bad head
Perhaps she requires pre-warning
NB I BREAK NO RULES POSTING BAWDY LIMERICKS - THE FORM IS BY NATURE ALLOWED TO BE RIBALD AND I GIVE WARNING THE POEM MAY CONTAIN INNUENDO
07/08/21
Categories:
ribald, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
Although the light long ago faded from my youth
Clarity of my memories tell one; go home,
If only to find the innocence and the truth
From whence I travelled this world, like a gypsy roam.
When the scroll misconstrued paths collide in the night
Unprepared for the dawning the golden sunrise,
Horizon awakened one of emerald bright
Freeways of poetry and words woven without guise.
The misunderstanding of the unrolling scroll
Gave one measure to digest the loss; the delay,
In sands of time ribald an everlasting toll
The scroll we have a new understanding this day.
The gypsy has finally found himself a home
Through emerald eyes seeing his sunrise; not alone.
© Harry J Horsman & Mandy M Tams 2014
Categories:
ribald, hope, lost,
Form:
Sonnet
Normally, I'd not "Dare" choose just one poet
to honor. This time I have, hoping I don't blow it.
I've chosen to break my "Silence" in "Gratitude"
for "Captain Tom," a man who has a great attitude.
He posts "Footle x 20" and genius "Covid Limericks."
Ribald anecdotes that make us smile, just for kicks.
I pay "A Tribute" to his cleverness and amusing wit.
He could stand at "Hells Gates" with "True Grit."
We've all enjoyed his "Lockdown Humour" on site.
He's not afraid of "Confrontation," and will fight
with "A Rattling Rhyme" written with "Sharp Sword."
Tom's historical epic writes never leave me bored.
He shines like "Northern Lights" in "The Night Sky."
Believes in God, if you read his Etheree, "The Magi."
Tom Cunningham offers "Wise Words to Ponder"
from many years of traveling, hither and yonder.
He's usually the first to announce poem of the day.
Poetry Soup is like "The Zoo" with lots of wordplay.
It's been a "Ghost Town" when "True Angels" left
leaving Tom feeling very sad and terribly bereft.
He wrote "If I Ruled The World" I'd have a goal...
There'd be no bullies or "Gremlins in My Soup Bowl!"
Then post "A Few Limericks to Lighten Your Mood."
Mark my words; Captain Tom can be mighty shrewd.
At "Daybreak" he might be hard to find, out of reach.
Likely, he's taking "An Early Morning Walk on the Beach."
A little "Red Wine" and he gets into "Mischief," and yet,
I doubt Tom often walked on "The Highway of Regret."
He's a man of morals, so "Don't Criticize" my choice.
"In Times Like These" I appreciate his fine poetic voice.
Tom is a loyal friend; who genuinely seems to care.
On "Life's Journey," he's not ready for "The Rocking Chair."
June 3, 2021
Title Wave Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Rick Lamoureux
In tribute to Tom Cunningham ~ gentleman and poet
Categories:
ribald, feelings, friend,
Form:
Rhyme
They say I'm like my daddy
I'm his kid through and through
I have characteristics
Of a man I never knew
Long ago he left me
Soon after my mom died
Put up for adoption
Couldn't count the tears I cried
But now I hear the stories
Of this man I'm like so much
The way he used to phrase things
His funny quirks and such
He loved his ribald humor
And loved to cook and sing
Played guitar and often wrote
We're alike in everything!
My sister says I have his looks
The Italian side of me
Sometimes enjoyed a glass of wine
Was nothing if not free
He dated younger women
Was quite the charmer too
Had so many dear friends
And had his moods of blue
Well now the years have passed by
And all these things I've heard
But daddy is long gone now
So I have to take their word
Categories:
ribald, daughter, father,
Form:
Rhyme
Inside a boisterous tavern,
a-light with drunken gaiety
of spilled ribald laughter,
he quietly sits alone ...
gently cradling his mead darkly
Brooding thoughts of past paid coverings
buzzes inside his head
Talking flies having the faces of the dead
“Have mercy, please”
This haunting cry, they all pled ...
except the halo head ones
“I forgive you”
This they all compassionately say
in time dispersed unison
The self-muted giant rubs his eyes,
still in somber inner disquietude,
at this troubling sight he has seen several times
Witnessing a bright, shining glow,
which radiates all around the tops of those
who call themselves Christian disciples —
before descends the sharp, quieting blow
It is by his liege, Caesar’s command,
to eradicate the scattering vermin radicals,
that he daily swings the severing blade
The duty-bound Herodian executioner
must always stay masked
when the murdering performance ensues
This is by privileged decree:
the entertainment requirement rules
A black cloth covering,
sprinkled with scarlet droplets,
is the terror mask his masters has him use
Rabid crown sycophants love their crucifixions,
the Roman preferred method of capital punishment
But, his under-lord, Herod, still adheres
to the ancient Molech ways —
Death by the beheading blade
Sighing, the brooding giant gazes about the riotous inn
with roaring, unspoken disdain
Even without the ritual Deimos mask on,
all within the tavern knows his occupation,
evidenced by his massive frame
They yield a fearful wide berth to him,
no one sits in the seats around his hulking presence
Looking down at his Pilate-cursed hands,
he sees the blood of the guilty and the innocent
Bloody hands that can’t be washed clean ... never
As long as he raises his arms,
and lets the body-separating blade swing
Categories:
ribald, dark, death, judgement, wisdom,
Form:
Narrative
Mercurial, mischievous minx
Amphibious air swirling in turquoise tang
Ribald thief of restrained relief
Capricious caress in cobalt clouds
Hale blown heather tickles the daffodils' flaxen dress.
3/01/19
Categories:
ribald, change, seasons,
Form:
Acrostic
He walked on stage, the puppet in one hand
as the audience was clapping, for they knew
the act of this ventriloquist was grand!
His puppet was a sailor dressed in blue,
and quite a sailor’s mouth that puppet had.
As long as his “sailor boy” had a joke,
the puppet master’s show could not go bad.
Such ribald words his lips, unmoving, spoke;
however, the ventriloquist was shy!
Without the “boy,” he had no words to say.
One night a lady winked and then said hi.
He said, “Let’s get together the next day.”
The gal fast came to the realization -
sans puppet, he had no conversation!
June 21, 2018 for Anthony Slausen's Ventriloquist Contest
Categories:
ribald, light,
Form:
Sonnet
An Ice Fishing House, Abandoned, in Need of Repair
That same shed waits
by the trees.
Waits on its skids
for the lake to freeze,
and the for the creaking
joints of bickering
stoop-shouldered men
as they push it out to the center
of a pool of glass.
It houses the stories of fishing
in winter, pulling sustenance,
wriggling, through chiseled
portals into another realm.
Old men would wait
like death, slow,
their breath
turning to steam
until they could abduct
their prey from the world below.
Trout would flop
with the thickness of a muscled fist,
striking ice like distillery rage unhinged.
They would twist and corkscrew,
mottled black and silver slapping
the frozen pane of the lake,
waiting for suffocation to take them,
as the old men drifted up in
the steam of twice-warmed coffee,
and the willow-the-wisp exhalations
of ribald stories, retold, and finally forgotten.
Categories:
ribald, environment, father, fishing, humanity,
Form:
Free verse
Twas the night before my cousin's
wedding
He reluctantly gave in to the
bachelor party vetting
A burlesque, tawdry strip club was
the setting
Unbeknownst to him, the bridesmaid
was his appetite whetting
With gratuitous lap dance, began
the ribald feting
In drunken stupor, the enamored
groom his fealty forgetting
Released his inhibitions all of his
clingy garments shedding
Strode platform, in sync with
bridesmaids erotic moves duetting
In tantric rhapsody, she released
pheromones his testosterone
subletting
Enraptured with his riposte jaunts,
her matrimonial bond shredding
The enamored bridesmaid with lust
his bare essentials began petting
His betrothed parts to her
dominatrix will indebting
As the groom climaxed, his phallus
got entangled in her fish netting
Two truant souls now writhing;
spent body parts bloodletting
Dislodging their carnal chains, into
frothy night jetting
To hotel that lodged devoted bride;
their remaining passions bedding
Lurid, tawdry tryst not regretting;
but o'er bawdy exhibition sweating
Wedding contest
September 14, 2012
Categories:
ribald, funnynight, night,
Form:
Rhyme
Naked as the day of my birth, I lay upon the floor
coverless and chill, eyes fluttering, closed, yet aware...
inwardly I stare, counting chest rises, in despair.
My fear of onward life is more than I can ignore.
Outside, a fluttering of wings seeking to explore,
the haunting howl of wolf, whose mating call taunts, beware,
both harbingers of death; I grasp with each breath of air,
sending scorching ripples through a shaking fearful core.
Moonlight cloaks my sentient form, and heaven guards my plight.
Covers tossed, comfort shorn, I search for ribald tales
to return to me a bit of warmth and playful light.
A hoot, a yip, a chirping melody, which prevails
reminding me of the paths beyond the pale that invite,
for I am just a dreamer tossed, on night's dark coat-tails.
Date: 9/26/12
Contest: Dreams
Categories:
ribald, imagination, me,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
There was a girl named Caledonia
Who would often state, I will phone ya
She met a man called Fred
Who did ring her instead
And she simply said, guess I owe ya
Author's Comments :
Fred knew his line was not dead so he called around to see what Miss Caledonia was
putting down...
A limerick is a five-line, often humorous and ribald poem with a strict meter. Lines 1,
2, and 5 of have seven to ten syllables (three metrical feet) and rhyme with one another.
Lines 3 and 4 have five to seven (two metrical feet) syllables and also rhyme with each
other. The rhyme scheme is usually "A-A-B-B-A".
Adell Foster
Copyright 2007 © Adell1
Categories:
ribald, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
SCROLL OF LIFE
Although the light long ago faded from my youth
Clarity of my memories tell one; go home,
If only to find the innocence and the truth
From whence I travelled this world, like a gypsy roam.
When the scroll misconstrued paths collide in the night
Unprepared for the dawning the golden sunrise,
Horizon awakened one of emerald bright
Freeways of poetry and words woven without guise.
The misunderstanding of the unrolling scroll
Gave one measure to digest the loss; the delay,
In sands of time ribald an everlasting toll
The scroll we have a new understanding this day.
The gypsy has finally found himself a home
Through emerald eyes seeing his sunrise; not alone.
© Harry J Horsman & Mandy M Tams 2014
Categories:
ribald, love,
Form:
Sonnet
Hour hands clock back sixty minutes of Autumn
Round about this same of month every year, what a bum
er, and inconvenient truth diverged from this chum
purposelessly manipulating a hold over
sans yesteryear doth drum
a sensation of jet lag (with earth in the balance)
as if flying within time machine at warp speed from
this station, where bumpy ride invariably finds me
feeling a bit ticked off and glum
and in no mood to rhyme, nor be leer re: cull
juiced barely tantamount to gather scattered wits
sin tide, and express mood as hoe hum
fortunate, this chronological seismic shift nada wide, ah assume
nonetheless, mein kempf cerebral hemispheric plate tectonics
comb pluck hated off jangling black keys helplessly boom
fancifully drifting and booring into quick ribald sand trap doom
ming an inducement for emergency convoy, when pitched from
sea to figurative shining sea – gram ma mother earth glum
where live yikyak wired vanguard trulia tried optimism to hum
nonetheless, swallowed down behavioral sink went – me mum
bling bloviation, once worth matchless peerage, now pitched numb
lee into morass of temporary confusion, where plumb
line delineating circadian rhythm offset, when athwart pilot rum
man strait ting and bickering with Lilliputians slum
bring within islets of langerhans defiantly thumb
ming nose, where body, mind & soul weeknd viz a bully did cower
hence mister clock, who got high-jacked 3600 seconds per hour
experienced head, thorax and abdomen diminishing in power
wrought indistinguishable Whitsuntide as sour
grapes imposing ill fitting sea legs, which folded like a faulty tower
crumbling skeletal carapace, resoundingly surrendered,
and back slid vis a vis space/time continuum did devour.
Black hole event horizon indeed kept lock step as das joint mill hoard
Sucker punched the band wagon of father time, whose riffs a silent chord
nsync with atomic fractional second bored
quirky shenanigans toying with chronometers
counter point of view shifted to oppose this minute accord.
Categories:
ribald, allusion, assonance, autumn, fun,
Form:
Free verse
Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder,
But Whiskey makes you frisky.
Clerihews and epigrams are fine but
Do not tell these to one lost in love
Except when you mean to cheer up one
Fevered with temporary amourous setbacks.
Gift them the gift prized by one and all
Humour - evoking laughter or perhaps a smile
Inviting a participation in the balm laced with
Jokes, both ribald and a bit of the plain
Killing the gloom of mindless regret and remorse.
Laughter is the best medicine, they say,
Mightily potent to dissipate every whiff of gloom
Nostrum for broken hearts and the flings and arrows of life.
Ophidian ilk are friends that are wry, shirking a shoulder
Pretending with masks to smile away misfortune yet
Questing to wring out sweet savor from other's calamity.
Roar unto the wind a bit louder than the storm
Spoiling what they seek with your tuppence attitude.
Take what is yours, let no one deny you your share
Under any circumstance do not relent for what is your due.
Verity is a virtue that'll stand in good stead,
Warmth towards your fellows won't ever waste.
X-factor's something natural not something you fake,
Yearning for glory like a harlot who'll sell.
Zing is the thing with this homily, my friend.
~27 May 2016~
Categories:
ribald, character, friendship, inspiration,
Form:
Abecedarian
A snow bound silence descends now
upon my hallowed home,
the traffic's gone, the streets unplowed
and I'm engrossed in tomes.
A ribald tale of myst'ry roils
the knights have charged the breech
the bard sings tall tales of old
of maiden's love's unleashed.
The pendants mark the battles course
as Saxons face the Celts
unarmored men fought Saxon's, Norse
in naught but paint and pelts.
And so it was, and so it is
as men live or die for a kiss.
Categories:
ribald, fantasy, life, love, on
Form:
Sonnet