Best Vulva Poems
I need your ultra desperation
your ultra conflagration of love making exhilaration,
I want your ultra shout and pout
give me your slap attack
the amber of your abuse, the saffron of your emotions,
I crave the playful plenitude of your ultra uppidy attitude,
you let me experience hyperventilation at your disappearance
then inflation of euphoria in my Heart's utopia by your reappearance,
I want to know your ultra sadness
that song you share with the twilight of despair,
your ultra madness, your vortex of female complex,
I desire your hot and haunted psychology
your genius of ultra ingenuity, the pulp of your passion,
sometimes you love me most when you hurt me
a pathology of love cut sympathy that I can handle best,
earning the ultra soft surface of your pillowed chest
where I can rest the weight of iron soul, and slumber at your behest,
I want the whip of your hips and the sip of your lips,
I want the pleasure plethora of your ultra vulva
to access the pagoda of your sexual yoga
to concoct in you the froth of organic soda,
I want your Gospels and Revelations
the Path and the Wrath, your cross of ultra conquest
the morning of your ultimate ascendance
the midnight of your ravishing bite
the bounty of your breast and the burn of your brimstone
give me the lyric of your ultra breath,
your ultra love keeps me alive!
J.A.B.
Categories:
vulva, beauty, desire, devotion, love,
Form:
Ballad
L'Origine du monde
smegma musk odors of clit
pervade my night sky
L'Origine du monde, the first realistic painting of a vulva in Western art (Oil painting by Jean Désiré Gustave Courbet 1866, Paris: Musée d'Orsay )
"I am fifty years old and I have always lived in freedom; let me end my life free; when I am dead let this be said of me: 'He belonged to no school, to no church, to no institution, to no academy, least of all to any régime except the régime of liberty."(Jean Désiré Gustave Courbet)
©rajat kanti chakrabarty
16 December 2014
Categories:
vulva, love, , western,
Form:
Haiku
Animalistic body craving
Deeply erotic
Flesh, girth, horny
Ingesting Jiz, kinky
Lewd mind
Nipples orgasmic
Physically quivering
Racy suggestive thighs
Under vulva wanting
Xenogenous yearning
Zeal
23 September 2015
Categories:
vulva, desire, feelings, lust, senses,
Form:
ABC
A cunning linguist is my Romeo,
whose tongue has tasted ev’ry inch of me
ravenously from head to toe and—Oh!
in between—that I’m wet with ecstasy!
With lips on breasts, he kisses my firm nipples
first, then bites and nibbles on them like candy;
now wet with excitement, my genitals
beg for the strokes of his tongue to eat me.
Supine, I spread wide for him as his hands
prime my vagina—first the labials—
then my fluttering vulva—which expands
like a bloom for all of my man’s essentials.
Then, his lusty tongue slays my ********!—
so I then beg for the cock of my Horace.
Categories:
vulva, body, candy, for her,
Form:
Sonnet
What can a bewildered brotha’ say,
it happens every unnatural day
Sunshine is labeled as shade,
crystal clear is called opaque fade
Did I make a left turn
into the wrong dimension?
Now I’m seeing curvaceous things
that Nana never mentioned
Me rearview mirror eyes are
side-swipe swivel swerve widening
Was there a hot-iron cool downgrade,
firebrand placed
on my Ocho Rios dreadlock upbraids?
Puff kings are turning into drag queens ...
strange flesh doings,
I-and-I now be-be first-hand witnessing
Boys are turning into girls,
and those goatee girlz are turning into scrotum women
Lord knows,
I feel like I’m living in
Sodom and Gomorrah again
Girls are turning into boys,
and those bosom boyz are turning into vulva men
Now, I’m not for sight sure,
just what glassy gaze starry eyes blurry,
rest beyond the dress curtain
Surprises a-plenty are in store,
when it’s uncertain
what’s behind the gender door
Don’t wanna make the wrong turn,
and roll into the surreal fifth dimension
Twilight Zone neon strip is on burn,
whatcha’ see
might require psychiatric intervention
Girls are turning into boys,
and those boyz are turning into Venus men
Lord knows,
I feel like I’m Sin City living in
ancient Egypt Greece again
Boys are turning into girls,
and those girlz are turning into Mars women
Puff kings are turning into drag queens ...
strange flesh doings
It’s an open-closet psychotropic skin scene
Another brother daisy duke
exhale exigent cross-dress pollination
Pubic bramble bush adolescent tumble,
take a different genitalia turn from
a same sister butch duchess
Boys are turning into girls,
and those girlz
are turning into testosterone women
Lord knows,
I feel like I’m Zion living in
Babylon Rome again
Girls are turning into boys,
and those boyz
are turning into estrogen ova men
Momma drag queens
are the former Daddy puff kings
Nothing on the surface is
quite biological what it seems
Id feelings of a sorrowful kind,
have me heart sprout creeping ivy
of eunuch tear yearning
for a Garden of Eden spiritual awakening
And impotent thoughts of mine
are starting to grow
down below, in-between
Categories:
vulva, gender, perspective, society, wisdom,
Form:
Ode
The Female Migrant
A customs official found a suitcase with a forgotten
Syrian refugee lady in it, he took her home blew life
into her and he was no longer alone.
Bought her sexy underwear skirt and blouse and
a bicycle pump and no longer did he bother going out
drinking beer with his fellow officers.
A perfect little refugee she was so undemanding
and silent not for her to turn her back complaining
of a headache and other female ailments.
After wild night they had done it five times, she had
she had shrunk a morning there was a tear somewhere
in her vulva, that could not be repaired or glued.
With manly logic, he blamed the refugees swamping his
country living off the fat of the land doing nothing and
thus, a love story ended on the scrap heap of humanity.
Categories:
vulva, abortion, age, anniversary, arabic,
Form:
Blank verse
In the funky train,
All the hoo-ha-noisy end in fisticuff;
As the crumpled greenback hand-out cough,
The law has nothing to handcuff,
Maneuvering on the sloppy storey hill
A frantic dance of dead-drunk crazy masquerade;
Man-handling the dare-devil by weary drenched soaked in
talisman man,
Springs from a ream hole in the floor
Hand-shuffling on long iron pole gear,
Wrestling with reckless white knuckles of steering wheel;
A nipple for torch-light knob looking tough headlamps,
A bare-face speedometer, a mare decor;
Rear is bare, except fanning out putrid fart in
defecating vulva;
And a pumping brake failure refused to catch,
Disaster looms down a glitch away,
Marijuana induced braggarts, bang at the battered dent
body;
All acted in the climatic anti-climax role in the tragic
play,
As horn and side mirrors, villains make do,
Ghastly farewell garland to stranded passengers on
departure;
Welcome to hellish shore of grimacing dismember carcasses,
From the extinct scratched my backside please dense
Bolekaja view,
Stigmatized masses muck arranged tight,
File in wooden slavery mule;
And the pompous promise land looks a light years away,
Now on the garish cold rusted cut steel,
Buttocks crammed on planks for seats;
Knees folded to gangrene stroke roost,
Pillaged and pilloried, rasped and gasped for a slice bread
of life,
Staled sweats seeped and poured decayed stench on forms;
***** squeezed queued on narrow alley,
Romancing buttocks swell sips to bursting through;
And the lushing rhythmic beating drum
Re-enters lock and brake,
Dilepa dilepa dilepa duro nube o!
Omokunrin kan ti daran nube o!
Ofowo kanmi loyan me solo!
ofowo kanmi nidi me solo!
Toku toku lona nkan boyi o!
Komo ipe kolokolo lahere wa!
Categories:
vulva, urbanme,
Form:
Free verse
THE WOMB OF MOTHER NATURE
Before the womb of Mother Nature, stands
two offspring's, feeding off her old life's hands
One day, a long way down the road of time's passing
they will stand tall before the memory of her place.
MOTHER NATURE'S VULVA, ******
A flower before the beauty of Motherhood,
one day, a month ago, before me stood.
To day, in the photo, the vision became clear
as I enlarged the picture, bringing it near.
Life's journey, before these eyes, was there
for all to see, if but should they care.
Imagination in me runs wild
at the sight of man's stillborn child
looking out at me from within her ******,
past the beauty that is all vulva.
This unborn child - so old - of man,
his skeletal skull, eyes so sad
slipping into dust, as all before had,
kissing the lips all life passes by
on it's long, long journey to be.
This unborn child - so old - of man
reaching up it seems, trying to hang on,
but out into the light we all must go
past the gap between Mothers legs
we must, he must, as dust, fly
out into the great expanse of blue sky,
living a life fated, dictated, or chosen.
This in a photo - this day - caught my eye.
B. J. "A" 2
May 24th 2009
Categories:
vulva, nature,
Form:
Free verse
This place, this time, this way
Oh, that place
It’s just where one feed the wind.
Walking to the river
The lover girl with eyes and heart in center
Her body with smoke and desire
Goes to find one place where she
And her lover friend stopped on the banks.
The Sun has its tide home going
Flashing the light thru the bush
Over the stream.
Love is on the same line of the river
And their Love is like a wheel.
She dreams with the only man to snore
A comfortable life.
Probably not?
She laughs at first looking for lover friend
Suddenly realizing his freedom only
Thinking to fall in Love
Toy with divertice
Even if he did blow over just being able
To pick up and come.
-Man, presence/absence
Is what makes this place so tolerable?
With my man I wll not be lonely
I will sense no mistake.
She feels her lover friend behind her
With a smile wider than his bronzed face
Saying:
-Pretty, do You want to dance with me?
The Lovers pretty much
On their own into the shrubs:
The space of Love here¡
Translucency privileged to see
The union of sky and earth
Because they lived at the edge of Love:
Boy traveling her openness
In his girl venture now
She saying to plant a flower in her patio
And he saying then throw that check away
Lady “because I want to seal yr urn”.
-Love me, sir¡ she exclaimed.
Love exploded with them
Saying She:
Our bodies producing two flowers
And only together do we form a whole
He:
We feel in Love with these pieces
Of sky and earth
Let us hear the pure light
Shining steady thru the Vulva
Opened for FireFlower
And be content.
She:
Love has gotten us
Into this Ecstasy.
Categories:
vulva, adventure, allegory, allusion, appreciation,
Form:
Free verse
THE little tree is life
the mouths of first born
man and woman say:
"I don't care -- I(can't
)won't so go away go away
--> so i am he has you
are we and we are together:
see how they run from spirit
-->so we die.
Sitting upon a
rock with burning sun in a
smiling walrus face and so
pretty are the Souls ; crying.
Pulled up to a TigerMart
searching cigarettes and
black tongue tar pit lips:
Left my .357 inside my Mind
and asked for Silver label.
Don't walk upon my Soul *****
so self-assured: i am one
man who has gone his own way
IF a lifetime is lonely but
without freeze-brain stupid
flesh knees: "yes, yes, yes,
oooooh yes" I wasn't once
convinced: the vagina must
be slain. Must be bled
once and for all.
:: 11-04-2017 ::
Categories:
vulva, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Thirteen
Oh! Woe! Woe! On pubic islet the dirty deed’s done
Bloodied needle leaves stain the Zen-rock cobbled garden
The derelict torn womb spills seminal fluids on the ground
Fallopian tubes shredded by the elements count down
Her mons veneris rough-scaled and crushed by bombarding rams
The cicatrised wooden ramparts no more serving as soil dams
Not a lamina of palmate leaf even so much as shaking hands
Where the maple tree once swayed to vulva-lapping tom-toms
This soggy desolation of mud and gangrened charred rock
Three weeping willows drooping wan lifeless at the water mock
Where even the wild fowl desert the juicy period spoils
Tell-tale signs of the Lady Lake’s pilloried grief in stock
Where the surgeon’s thrusting irons reigned now stands the shiny
bridge
Three dark as dungeons evergreens bear lurid witness knowledge
Of an unwholesome demonic deed done to the locked-in Dame
Look! That Ancient Bard of Nishapur will surely acknowledge!
Hark! The tulip-lipped Lass from Lahore walks downcast on stones!
The Maiden of the Main lifts her head to utter bye-bygones!
Pale Ol’ Khayyam still roams dreaming of the Dame of the Lake!
Yet the foul deed still resounds up to the highest heavens!
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Categories:
vulva, dream,
Form:
Quatrain
Timeless island woman,
I am the daughter
of the sons of Mil.
I am Badb, Derdriu, and
Medb queen of Connacht
dancing in our fertility festivals'
flickering firelight.
I watch my warrior go
naked into battle
with sandals on his feet,
the torc I wove golden at his throat,
sword and shield in hand.
I listen for the distant
possessed scream of his warp spasm
(a fearsome howling from the throat
and bulging of the face)
that with the screech of pipes
will bring defeat to our enemy.
I sit fiercely smiling
holding open my parted vulva
in anticipation of
coming home passion.
I am sheela-na-gig
Celtic god.
__________________________________________________
The inspiration for this historical piece is from a photograph in
Thomas Cahill's "How The Irish Saved Civilization" published
by Doubleday 1995.
Categories:
vulva, history, people, places,
Form:
Narrative
Now my hands buried
In my pant, my hair all mated
Resting on my warm:
In the back of my head
"The vulva is an altar, and the pubic hairs are the flames upon the altar."(quote)
resting on my warm...was your imaginary hands,
Your notification startles me
A cold bed, noisy neighbors
And all I want is you.....
You are my one and only desire,
I crave your body, your soul
Your heart, and your only yours(quotes)
July 8th, 2022, I fly over the cuckoo’s nest
Here I am today with you feeding my addiction
this admiration without love is the fruit of reflection
Your values, my custom, and my abilities to comprehend:
One day you will search through the lonely earth for me,
However, would I be there,
Would I at the moment in time care?
My library card is overdue/ or it my libido (??
Don’t make me beg, don’t make me cheat
My friends said to me,
The sweetest lips deserve a kiss
But whom am I to ask for this (quote)Pj.)
My true confession of a low sX.s .s drive, chick.
Categories:
vulva, abuse, adventure, allusion, anger,
Form:
Blank verse
i
when the sun is erotic
and the moon lyric
the winds turn tempestuous
in the orbit of love
legs slide by calls of nature
ii
you and I alive
in cold winter night feeling
warmth of your body
through erect nipples
after days of abstinence
iii
before the foamy
water could sting her vulva
a jelly fish passed
through the crotch making her shy—
the sea whispered a new song
iv
swirling spiral
of her skirt spills tides of dream
and memory:
I breathe fire in the dance
forgetting bends and twists
v
when I wanted to change
seats my friend said she can
only if the door’s locked
the light out and her mom
in another city
vi
when I have no home
I seek refuge in the cage
of your heart and close
my eyes to see with your nipples
the tree that cared to save from sun
vii
the smile you weave splits
the sun I lose my direction
in clouds that cover
the banks darkening the white
of the lake moon kissed
(From: my collection of poems Sense and Silence: Collected Poems
(Jaipur: Yking Books, 2010, pp. 200-201)
viii
love’s spirit descends
and melds into her body
lending it new life:
I’m amazed how the unknown
becomes one with her beauty
Categories:
vulva, body, love, senses, sexy,
Form:
Tanka
Behind high Walls
When I opened the door to my cabin was met with a summer day
that felt like a lingering kiss by the love that will one day say goodbye.
Sneeze and make a haiku words dotted on paper napkins while
waiting for the bill three glasses of wine and a packet of fags
At the outdoor restaurant, I was trying to remember about my
experiences what I have seen, heard and read becomes a ball of threads
swirling through space and I try to get a loose thread to make sense of
my life but I have to act fast the idea I had disappears in the sand of time
and through the din of stillness, another glass will not come amiss
I no longer live in a forest I never had a garden, and I now think about
robot sex with a vulva of silk I will train to love me and when I die
It will lie beside me in the coffin and when we are found a skeleton and
a bit of rust; come to think of it a dog is a robot in its early stage still
obedient but tries to fool its owner into loving it.
https://allpoetry.com/poem/12745053-behind-high-walls-by-benafim
Categories:
vulva, autumn, basketball, best friend,
Form:
Blank verse