Best Stench Poems
Pungent scent plays on the breeze ~ what a stink!
One I think, makes me sneeze
Gagging with each breath, I wheeze
Because of that moldy cheese!
Her fake perfume smelled of cheap musk,
tobacco and passion flowers,
the stench of betrayal lingered long
after she had shiftily backpedaled
Musk is a class of aromatic substances commonly used as base notes in perfumery. They include glandular secretions from animals such as the musk deer, numerous plants emitting similar fragrances, and artificial substances with similar odors. Ewwww.....who knew? No wonder.
Wikipedia of course.
When I looked in to her eyes,
In it I saw a prospect of a paradise.
A paradise whose entry was not
contingent on my righteousness.
My days of startling agony, still battled my
hope of finding true love.
Like the Battle of Armageddon,
I always came out a looser.
But meeting her... yea the Vault of Heaven,
was like proximal to the Book of Leaves.
Her countenance and demeanor,
whispered melodic symphonies.
And her meekness and charm,
transited me into a world of ecstasy.
Covered In fine linen and sapphire,
she glowed than a continuous spectrum.
Her beauty was an Achilles hill,
that all men that saw her failed to vanquish.
Just like my maiden father Adam,
In her I saw the hidden part of me.
As a woman, as one I will be spending my life with.
I have never felt this conflagration before,
It was apparent she was my dream woman.
What can be compared to the taste of crimson honey,
The more it reddened the more it sweetened.
I have never loved like this before.
For her I was willing to exchange my soul,
To be with her till eternity.
But cunningly she unmasks her real face.
Beneath her could not be compared to an iota of grace.
She was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Who entered my life to distort and annihilate,
My hope of bliss.
All these while we paddled and flew high,
In the crescendo of our emotions.
It never crossed my mind that it was all a hoax.
A calculated sham just to make away with all I ever had.
Now am left with nothing,
Since her angelic face and docile pace,
Which I thought was the elixir my unending conundrum,
Was rather an emotional and psychological torture,
That has rendered my life defunct.
When I imagine her driving around town,
Adorned in my hard earned luxury,
There is only one moment I wish ,
I could re-write.
And that was the day I met her.
I always tell myself that sometimes,
It is better some people don’t come into your life.
But here I am know,
Wishing to right my wrongs and alter the past.
But it is so sad that I cannot have my way.
I know in the annals of time,
When my saga is being told,
I will be know as the moron,
Who killed himself because of a girl.
Though it may sound and look stupid,
I deem it a befitting penance,
For my obsessed illusion of love,
Thus love is an illusion that,
Emotionally disrupt sober discretion.
What can be compared to the stench of a broken heart.
“Useless Source”
I know some men called, big shots,
Who are filled with much bull snot.
Be careful of it’s use,
For of it there is no spruce.
A men of substance, but no real plot!
“Political Fleas”
Most all of strife’s parasitic forces,
Most always found driving their Porsches.
Poor seen of lesser degree,
Haven’t a pot to pea.
For common good vote out useless sources.
“Stench Isn’t Cheese”
Useless sources, political fleas,
Men of means, pass the bailout please.
Poor have given it their all,
As Uncle Sam called .
The stench on the hill, is not cheese.
I watch a procession of trucks, cars
as the last vehicle passes and silence returns
before evening is replaced with gray ash,
when my breath feels the stench of litter
from remnants of today's industry.
It is the moment when poisoned air
becomes thick , assaulting my vision,
the mind, this very being...
how the stink of commercialism
grips time's unbecoming realization.
As the light in winding tunnels disappear,
my instinct takes over: a raw escape
to inhale moon's pure fragrance...
yet, a suffocating fear consumes me
while I wrestle with next day, and the next,
barely alive from toxic emission--a ghastly brew.
For Stink Contest of Anthony Slausen
10/4/2016
The Stench of Prejudice.
When silent prejudice strikes
in living rooms with plumped-up sofas
a quietly insidious venom begins to seep
into the consciousness of the chattering ones as they sleep
The beliefs held so true and so deep
appear stripped of all feeling
empty and hollow and without compassion
as the conceit grows in the chests of those with righteous passion
the prejudice once firmly entrenched
is worn like a warm and comforting shawl
needing precious little to compound and to mutate
into the doctrines of superiority and of aloofness and of hushed hate
we are all guilty of succumbing to this silent pervasive plague
as we sip martinis and laugh and shovel more food on our heaving plates
and as we slip into pleasantly inebriated moments we dare not care
to smell the stench of hate & prejudice & greed wafting in the cool evening air.
wrinkled woman hums,
plants flowers round her hovel
at the garbage pit !
The bog of Incredible Stench
Not a place I knew of when young
Not a place I'd ever contemplate going to
Not a place I'd recommend – learning cure?
@Not a place I want to be@
Why do so many do so many regrettable things
Evita – no regrets?
They wish!
Borrow a life or two – hind – no regrets?
≠
I knew bizarre wear of the Emperor
New life – borrowed life
New life – better life?
New life – old strife
♣Invisible hands to help the Emperors into their robes♣
Invisible mantle stolen on view – star wear
All on show invisible bizarre wear
Star wear - star war
Poor star?
Poof gone?
Mantle gone!
Stardom gone?
©
Catch a falling star for the pocket
New life – borrowed life
Catch a falling star for the pocket
New life – better life
Catching a falling star for the pocket
New life – new lies
Catch a falling star for the pocket
New life – old life, old strife!
Will you go
To ware stench?
Will you go
following
stardom?
Does it
happen
or
is it
taken
Nurtured thievery
Kept not given back
Thievery of many to greedy to know
They're Emperors on Show
I want to tell you lastly
The smell of you is ghastly.
no one knows him in the room
except by loss of breath
greeted as unwelcome guest
his stinking scent is death
noses wrinkled in disgust
when sensed this gust of wind
all souls beneath his sickly scent
are far too quickly pinned.
inhaled in gasps of shortened breath
each person feels impending death.
Surprised, all eyes begin to scan
so desperate for a breeze or fan.
Feeling faint they seek escape
from reeking odor, lungs in rape.
A paler pallor faces all.
noses seeking some release.
knees so weak they nearly fall
from lungs too weak to call.
Those outside hear tears and pleas
so open doors for those on knees
finger pointing, whispered tone
but none the smallest fart will own.
Small fart dissipates and leaves
crowd relieved, all sigh.
A slow goodbye that no one grieves
so glad to see the open sky.
No friend the small fart has, he knows.
He comes and goes by wrinkled nose.
All he does so quick offend,
wish to hell he'd swiftly end.
Hammock made for two -
the smell of his shoeless feet
so ripe and pungent
Needed am I, as bait to hook all wronged
My fall gives home to all the unbelonged
And your creation was my destruction
Christianity, a Jewish faction
Stewed regret begets
laments like mythical ents
puts legs on old scars
that haunt and herd the present
tense with stench of past reborn
leaving the stench
of extinguished species
across scorched dirt
beastly commercialism’s
love of the green lining pockets
born from tomorrow may never come
prompts consummation of resources
and without manners of a cat
leaves unburied their
poop and piss of pollution
gagging every earthly creature
Feeling a rumbling deep in my gut
I'm not quite sure what that’s all about
as I clench the sphincter in my butt.
Something rank is trying to get out
and based upon my bloated bowel
it's going to succeed; I've no doubt.
I might need to throw in the towel
as past experiences affirm
and yet, I fear its stench could be foul.
An internal pressure makes me squirm
and I’m counting down to the blastoff
when this gassy build-up comes to term.
There is no way I can put this off
and yet, to concede may not be smart
even when it’s disguised, with a cough.
What if it turns out it's not a fart,
but its embarrassing counterpart?
Terza Rima
04,04,2019
quirky tercets poetry contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter