Best Sweat Poems
When brainwaves strive against my need for sleep,
I exercise to help my mind calm down.
When pressures get so bad I want to weep,
I do yard work or jog a while through town.
A dear pet or a loved one's home going -
out come the tissues, dabbing at moist eyes.
When sharp pains jolt with an electric zing,
the crying helps the sting depressurize.
When I feel insignificant or small,
the ocean waves provide a balm for me.
When life's injustice casts a darkened pall,
I pray to God as sun sets on the sea.
Salt water is the cure for anything:
my sweat, my tears, the sea - to these I cling.
"The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea"
~ Isak Dinesen
written 14 Sep 2020
Your silence,
a stillness of alluring patience
seductive in it's resilience,
suspicious magnificence,
unmatched beauty demanding vigilance
making this man rowdy and restless for your finesse,
distressed by this drama of love's test,
You're the only woman scratching this chest
with passion's raging arrest, nails of sharp zest,
the supreme Queen keeping me raw and hard, my only quest,
I'm confessing you are the best, the most luxuriant caress, my unhesitant request,
I want every feeling you're capable of conceiving Babe,
knowing and revering your eclectic emotions, your unspoken demands,
burning for your paradon and kiss, you will always know I am love in your hands
share with me the fuel of fervent fire, gems be our eyes, together, golden pulse we've made -
J.A.B.
Bike ride,
air through my hair,
sunshine dousing my skin.
Dirt and splashed mud cover wheels.
Sweat drips
heat rises, thigh to palm to cheek.
Music comes from nature,
leaf and rock crunch
below tire.
Don't sweat your looks... Forget the mirror
~ What's outside reflects what's inside
Seductive, swollen,
erotic—the Rose smells of
the sweat of lovers.
Drips of my chin
as I paddle my canoe
into the storm.
Summer sand soft and sultry,
Salty sweat, sweet and wet.
Wistless wind, waveless water,
Bathers baking, basking burning
Seagull scavenger of shiny sea
Searching, scurrying squabling over scraps.
Wandering women walk with will
Wondering why weight won’t wither.
Trembling toddlers take tentative steps
Towards towering tidal tempest
Cumulonimbus clouds clearing
Silent sky screaming
Silken sunlight streaming
Doting Dad daydreaming
Guts, Determination Blood Sweat and Tears
Who can say they have not used that combination
That is the combination that makes famous people, heroes and idles
What is the difference between famous people, heroes, idles and you
The amount of followers
Let’s look at a famous people/ heroes/ idles
They have the guts to do something different
They have the determination to do it the best they can
They have hurt themselves for what they believe in
They have cried when it all went wrong
They have raised a sweat just to get it right
I want you to look at your life
Through the eyes of your family
You have the guts to make your family get out of bed
You have the determination to help your family be better than you
You have lost blood for each member of your family
You have sweated your butt off to ensure comfort for your family
You have shed a tear more than once for you family
Why do we like famous people, heroes and idles
Because they do something better than we can
They make what they do look easy
Famous people give us ideas, dreams and hope
But most of all
Famous people, heroes and idles are people that we admire
You have become a master at what you do
Day by day you give love
Day by day you give hope
Day by day you share dreams
Month after month your kids keep coming back to you
With out knowing what you have done
You have year after year
Created a hero for your kids to idolize
You have given advice to your friends
You have shown kindness
You always manage to give away a smile when it is most needed
You have had a positive effect on others as well
You are:
My Idol
My Hero
My famous person
Sex,sweat and perfume
Still consume this room
The sheets washed a thousand times
Yet laced with our swansong
I lay on pillows new
But just like morning dew
As droplets of us are evaporating
I'm left...with all the aromas...and envisage what they bring
But there's nothing left to anticipate
A swansong heard now on death we await
To feel your lips upon mine one last time
Delicately parted by my tongue
My muse...my Alice Prin
Who brings forth unadulterated sin!
For the amount of canvases who have felt my strokes some may deem me amateur
Yet through constant connective awareness,readdressing and adjusting minute details
I have intensified my masterstroke so i fill the canvas and it swells to produce
Cream of the Crop
They said love conquers all
To believe that are you a fool?
To be questioned on passion, lust and love coexisting?
A question only asked by those still searching!!
For I won't settle for anything less
X
My anger boils deep down inside.
Yet I smile with sparkling eyes.
Hot blood flowing vie chamber to chamber…
Thumping heart beats vexed closer to danger…
Drinking in downpouring tears and cries.
Yet I smile with sparkling eyes.
Pissing out vengeance, bourbon and wine.
Bowels rumble loudly from the hate I dine.
Hands wipe away sweat of brood and brine.
Cap rim shadows inhuman thoughts of mind.
Gut pit energy peaking and on the rise.
Yet I still smile with sparkling eyes.
Guard my steps' quick smooth strides.
Make not my eyes deem you unwise.
To be successful in this life of ours
We must be prepared to be in it for the long haul
Grab the brass ring and hang on for dear life
It's surely not for the weak of heart
It takes a lot of intestinal fortitude
To make it through, to be content, to be happy
A total commitment that no matter what obstacles are in our way
Our approach allows us to circumnavigate them
And enjoy life to the fullest
We only get to go around once so make the most of it
Listen to me... as if I'm some kind of expert on the subject
Throughout life, it's a learning process
Some of us never understand that and ever get it right
For those that do, the rewards are magnificent
We're very fortunate that life is so forgiving
Few of us ever get it right
To sum it up, don't sweat the small stuff
© Jack Ellison 2014
A triangle top
A square foundation
A picketed white fence guarded
by
two spotted dalmatians sitting on the
shaggiest rug that reads
"Home Sweat Home"
No lines mark her bronze skin
as she lies in the sun,
bikini top undone.
Small drops of sweat begin
to form salty rills, in
sultry air they glisten.
Deep sighs through crusted lips,
hand on top, will it stay?
A quick glance, it's okay.
Reaching she rolls her hips,
and from gripped cup she sips,
another long hot day.
Languidly she hopes she'll
increase her sex appeal.
08/17/15
Satan over the years has been known for tricks and deception
Not only covering up what he is doing, but what he has done
One has to give him credit as he is very successful, but beware
He and his people are always looking for a new invention
And he is one tricky old son of a gun
Very private about where they worship if you can call it that, don't want you there
In the old desert around El Paso, Texas, can be very a dangerous place
The scorpions and rattlesnakes are tame compared to Satan
The Mexican border, Drug smuggling and devil worship are on a rampage
With the rotten and evil, he will show his face
Again they will try to cover it up if they can
But when discovered, they are filled with rage
Native Americans have used "the Sweat Lodge" for hundred's of centuries
In the religious rites to cleanse a spirit or a soul
Their way of getting closer to God, sometimes they use peyote
Now Satan's people have stolen the idea, it is uses varies
Where they think in drug altered minds that they are in control
And once again old Satan is the coyote
At their rituals it looks like a white plastic covered igloo
In the middle of tall mesquite bushes near a bonfire
In a large fire pit in the flames, lava rocks are left to bake
Around a bonfire they dance and chant, do what lesbian witches do
In the sweat lodge, drugs make all of Hell go haywire
Drugs are poured on the molting rocks, the steam is a witches dream
Not man Native Americans in El Paso, that use a sweat lodge
So there is no legitimate reason for one to be there
But to devil worshiper, it is just a desguies
And another way for Satan to corrupt the sweat lodge
But all is seen that goes on there
Nothing hides from God's eyes
Form:
No Sweat Revisions (Booze Helps)
Poet speaks:
“To write a poem you can easily revise
it’s best to use free verse,
for it requires so little thinking and
besides with thought could come content
revisions just might lose.
Why take any chances?”
Reader speaks:
"Whatever does he mean?
My God this guy is deep!
Most modern stuff is so opaque,
but here the words are clear. Though
purpose perhaps is over my head,
I feel like I’m really hearing it!”
Poet speaks:
"Why write at all," I hear you say,
"If folks can't understand? Well,
because it makes revision work
a snap for any poetry class
where content can be subordinate
to breaking writer’s block.
Why sweat the big stuff?
Free verse must be free!”
The Muse breaks in:
"Why you could spend your life on one poem
and ignore your experience completely,
just writing stuff in stanza form,
an indent here, enjambment there,
here an indent, there enjambment,
everywhere a piggy, piggy, piggy piggy!
Old MacDonald wrote a poem
E-I-E-I-O”
Poet Speaks:
“I’m confused! Without content
what makes the poem mine?
Is my writing it enough?
Though I’ll confess that scanning
published literature seems unlikely
to reveal any plagiarism.
Can writing without content
ever be copyrighted I wonder?”
The Muse muses, ponders philosophical possibilities:
“Well if you have revised the poem
and the new version is clearly no worse
than the original, who cares
if it is no better?
You really tried after all.
You followed instructions.
What’s in a grade?
And no new title needed.”
Brian Johnston
May 26, 2015