Best Urge Poems
I think no stimulus could be
as potent as the one to pee.
A feeling frequent and innate
is this - the urge to urinate.
It comes each day to everyone
at work, at play, or on the run.
It comes sometimes as home you drive,
and soon you're hoping to survive
the bursting of your inner dam
while sitting in a traffic jam.
Then down the street you drive distressed
with thighs together tightly pressed.
You wish so badly it would cease
and then you pray for sweet release.
And as you drive, you ache and ache
and curse that drink you had to take.
You want to speed, but big surprise -
a cop's behind you. Squeeze those thighs
to keep inside what wants to flow!
You do not dare to let it go.
Few impulses can so compare.
Oh, how you'd love a diaper there!
Then home at last, you do a dance.
You run while pulling down your pants.
And horror, if when once inside,
you find the bathroom occupied!
WEll, just be glad it's mountain dew
you're holding in, not number two!
Disoriented dreams
Freedom without snowcapped tops
Artificial hunt.
Horizontal wish
Waiting feather tips to grow
It is not too late!
for Carolyn's contest "Bald Eagle Contest"
My metaphorical interpretation of the picture
www.scripca.com
He stopped in his tracks.
He could not believe his weary eyes.
There she was, young, lithe and beautiful.
He felt something stirring in the pit of his stomach.
He had to know who she was. It was imperative.
It suddenly became an urge,
And it would drive him mad
If he could not know more about her.
Madness! Perhaps, but the urge to follow her
Pushed him to the limits. He would never rest.
He saw her enter Wal-Mart.
He cursed himself.
His dress was nondescript, threadbare.
They would not allow him in the store.
Trust to luck, he thought.
At last she came out and he followed her,
But she seemed to go in circles,
Now stopping at some shop,
Now at some hairdresser’s shop.
Finally he saw her enter a police station.
Incredible for within a few minutes
He found himself arrested and accused of stalking.
He looked at her and saw her angry red face.
She had seen him following her.
The old man smiled and asked the officer
If he could open his wallet.
They checked him for any weapons and found none.
He opened his wallet and took out a picture,
An exact replica of his wife.
She was dead now and they took away his only daughter.
Perhaps she was his daughter.
He had to find out. The urge was too great.
He assured her he had no bad intentions.
And it turned out he was right.
She was her daughter.
,
10 November 2021
Subject URGE no. 4
''U'' Contest, New Poems Only Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Dedicated to Many
Your wings are beating,
your claws are dug in,
but my urge is fleeting -
doubt sits on my skin.
Now I ask you sincere,
“Why are we still here?”
What was a simple
black and white time
now bears a dimple
that ripples my feel
and crumbles my belief
that our together appeal
will truly grant either relief.
Let us pass on by
this physical attraction.
Let us bear in mind
this logical reaction.
Later, years from now,
should I think of you,
I will know satisfaction
recalling nothing happened.
Suspenseful, sweet air
of my lordly cathedral...
hum my faithfulness.
Urge To Smile
By Nate Spears
The morning sun rises
My flesh is set back
Due to my body needing
Much needed rest
I wonder
Does anyone else feel
the urge to smile?
I know right now
I'm feeling sour
A grin attached to my face
That lights up the sky
Behind my clouds of joy
There lies a lie
With everyone wondering how?
How can he smile
with so much going on
Rapidly by the hour
People losing their homes
Some can barely feed their kids
The government is gone
They rather spend our money
On billion dollar drones
Never the less
We're blessed
We're here to see another day
Being healthy and relevant
Gives me strength
To soar into a new day
With unlimited fight
Packed up under my wings
Another day
Another chance
For tomorrow
Thanks in advance
As long as I'm living
I can better my condition
It's mandatory to smile
A privilege to be living.
That Imperious Urge
He said the Golden Years are all the rage
Aye, it was more a shuffling two-step dance
thus did I run to greet this coming craze
of those just old enough to take the chance.
Classes I assumed would teach the Rumba
my glasses and my hearing aid – but props
bones that clatter in pursuit of Zumba
gyrations fear – the racket will not stop.
Trapped amid memories in the attic
my doctors say I must stay hydrated
now that I’m a homebound geriatric
my bladder feels constantly inflated.
Thus do I stand and wait for water flow
to quell the urge that said I had to go.
9/16/2016
submitted to – Which of the Four Would You Choose – Poetry Contest
rusty cars,tattoo women
empty bottle of wine
and music blaring sin
I'm tired,
and I need to get some sleep.
But I'll spend most of my night,
in a self-imposed fight.
Trying hard not to write
about how I, right now,
must write.
I'm caught in a bloodless battle
where no one gets killed.
But in this altercation
only ink will be spilled.
No chaos or carnage,
or even subterfuge.
I’m just facing a reality
knowing I'll always lose.
I'm a victim of inspiration
a slave to my passion,
and seduced by an epiphany.
I have no choice
but to pull out my pen,
and lord help me,
let the writing begin.
You see I feel a desperate urge,
a great need to write!
And I, like a junkie looking
for a two-day fix.
Must write and right now!
Each word pounding on the paper
like an intervention.
I need more of the soothing sensation
of a pen in my hand.
Because writing this piece,
was never my plan.
Oh God help me,
I'm a Poet.
Meet Otis; drug addict and alcoholic.
He walks the razor's edge of life daily.
A sad sack of a man bedeviled by stubborn demons.
Swimming against the tide of recovery; crying out for help.
Surviving one day at a time;
struggling with addictions threatening to submerge him in a quicksand,
wrestling with harrassing voices in his discombobulated head.
They keep swirling around him like a noisy, bothersome flies.
He's pulled into a rabbit hole of temptation
everywhere he goes. His gnawing urge...
to drink alcohol growing stronger and stronger at happy hours.
His addiction to cocaine and heroin is just as potent.
Each day, he tries his best
to stay sober, but can't do it alone.
Submitted for...
Writing Prompts - Fragmented Spaces - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Theme: sadness in life
Dates posted: 07/29/2021
sometimes we wish the freedom of sunset's pink clouds
that cross the sky in ribbons
sometimes one urge piles on top of another,
the gathering bounty of spring
like
an urge to run through April rain, overcoming arthritic pain,
an idle wanderer within
an urge to shake off the Blues like Jello loosened from its mold
an urge to spring clean clutter, messy like seaweed draped
over a walrus
an urge to stifle stress that sizzles like bacon frying,
displacing contentment
an urge to flush a slush pile of "to do's" that gag sleep
an urge to watch birds at the feeder, tutored travelers
chattily sharing stories
an urge to inhale the solemnity of church to void
the wounds
of striving
no longer subdued by the clean clasps of cold,
nature nudges newness into empty spaces
for winter leaving lifts the script of cold unforgiving,
like a child reciting rhymes
Poem composed April 17, 2023
A SUDDEN URGE
I suddenly feel the urge
To tell it all
You want to taunt me
Go right ahead
My own mind haunts me
Jump out of bed
The wicked one said
Soon I will be dead
Fearing my life
Ending it all
Enable me knife
My name you do call
As dumb as they come
I frost all the air
You heat up the light
A game, I strip and you stare
A game with no love
I do not play fair
I' LL still send you a kiss
For not wanting to care
I call it a truce
Just toss the coin in, my dear
The last fresh air I use
I know you will be there
A puppet you say,
Abuse me you may
In time, it won't matter
I am yours any- way
Tormented, I' m not
Later I' LL rot
Watching over me
Is that all you got?
A sinner by day, a sinner by night
Spilling the milk, spilling the beans
You have my attention, you know what I mean.
by: The Lovely POET DESTROYER
Cheerful hummingbird,
please visit my bright garden...
promise is golden!
Come down hummingbird,
serenade this sad flower...
it's a daisy's urge!
Entered in Sydney LeeAnn's contest,
" Sweet Flowers And Hummingbirds "
Written by Andrew Crisci
Had an urge to purge songs which were a dirge
And on many spiritual songs start to splurge
Which will really liven up the whole place
And put a smile on each and every face.
We sound like being in a period of mourning
When all around us is always adorning
Which is none other than God and Jesus
Who can cure my many cases of enuresis.
When I go to church I get so excited
Because by Them I have been invited;
On God's Son Jesus I have a big crush
Then go to bathroom and have to flush.
I have an experience which is really moving
I started to rock and roll and am grooving
After giving it my all and whole entire
They actually want me to join the choir.
James Thomas Horn
www.poetrysoup.com
THE URGE TO CUT HER HEAD IN HALF
LEAVES ME AGHAST
AT MY PENT UP ANGER
AND DULL BLADE