Best Torsos Poems

Stood I there, that last day,
On an iron bridge...
An aqueduct by design,
Where, looking dreamily out over
The Ernes Lower Lough,
My compressed shadow 
Momentarily paused -
To contently recline:
Amidst coy Junes radiant beams 
of sweet benign!
All was stilled, all was hushed,
Save vast reed beds sided by the
Shallow hills...

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blank-faced the page calls
each pounded pore of rice waits 
brush tips dance on pointed toe 
or fall like curtains
stark poser of questioned light
much more is left than finished

softer surface calls 
needle prick the skin of white
adorning torsos and limbs 
shaded dragon roil 
as biceps flex...

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On a grassy bank beside a trickling stream
I view her ebony locks of which I've dreamed

Naked she is bathing in translucent crystal clear
As I long for her shapes to shadow me near

This short distance between us in natures surround
For soon we will be in clinch...

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Now,
   as the rain falls in tiny droplets on the ground
   and the breeze is wafting scents of petrichor,
   a soothing oil released by dried decaying plants
   that longed in thirst for reprieve from the burning heat;
only
...

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Is dance a metaphor for sex?
You’d think so if you knew my ex
(at least the barflies all believe
she’s hoarding something up her sleeve).
But what makes people want to dance?
An aural frenzy? True romance?
Would Hamlet, Shylock or Macbeth
ever dance themselves to death?
Strasbourg is the kind of...

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In that meteoric moment
she exhibited eternal qualities of wonderfully wrought womanhood,
calm,disciplined and candid,
adorned with few distinctions from the rest behind her
the loving leadership was projected in painstaking posture,
brutal perfection,a suffering of diligence amounting to total serenity,
she being a gem amongst stones,
for inexperience a cure,
synchronicity simple...

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When a rough day is behind me
And all the tension is still there
When rage is flowing through my veins
And I'm tearing out my hair
 
When the evening sky is as red as blood
And my anger as full as the moon
You can feel my fury burning...

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Knock knock as she opens her front door
It's her beau whom now stands before
With a bouquet of flowers
All different colors
For his girl whom he loves and adores

After some chatting about this and that
What a scoff I'm gonna get fat
With a glass of white wine
I know...

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The date
July Twenty Eight
The year, 1914
The War which we feared 
It began, something we could not foresee
This date, still haunters me
To this very day
Those bewailing screams
And those traumatic scenes
Words to do not to justify 
The violence I've seen
Those images cemented in my brain
I still have...

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Need a fender?  A replacement hood?
J.D. Body Parts won't do you any good.
See, here you'll find ankles and feet in aisle 3.
Torsos on aisle end-caps, for all to see.
Heads and genitals in the refrigerated section
in the rear.  This week we have a special...

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No one asked her to dance at their Prom that night
It beggars belief in me, what's wrong with these guys
Her beauty is all I see, personified within my sight
To not even to approach, I'm in total amazed surprise

Moving now to the present, although pasts have...

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A damp, dank odour pervades the saturated forest; pungent. acrid;
The stench an assault on the human senses:
Working subtly, slowly permeating every pore until it compromises the very heart of the forest.

Seeping easily between the debris; the residue of countless winters past; 
adhering each to the...

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morning breaks like a crack shot through bone
the needs are frightening that i must possess
this hunger in my womb

head out to trenches
crawling on concrete blood
tanks and diesel
mortars and pestle
clouds of promise
blind my way
the kings in control
but the ghosts
are there
and their
and they’re
in hoods of faith
to cut...

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While lying there ‘neath summer stars on blanket in the yard;
just you and I, the Moon and Mars, with Cygnus keeping guard.

I gaze into your eyes of green reflecting in the night
our destiny was not foreseen, this love of ours so right.

Your alabaster skin so...

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Our naughty crafts in sex workshop
are all placed under a constant rewind.
Your accurate curves and warm planes
covered in moisture like a soul’s Vaseline
is an awesome park for the leisure of my lust.
Hormones from both ends,
acting like the descendants of the same goddess
grind the coal to...

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