Best Welter Poems
I begin as a covet, dulcet demure
pure in play, unbound to a dogma or tablature, a luscious lure,
I find that nerve of passion's verve nestled 'neath narcissistic comfiture
a covey of tingles taunting the ambition you serve, swift and swill I swerve,
in you I introduce a tempo of truth trailing a kiss along your spine's curve
a persuasion of perversion purring patiently in almighty allure,
reaching your pinnacle pulse I assure,
Entwining myself around your libido with nibbling nurture
binding you to the alter of painstaking pleasure I relieve with analgesic swelter
hoodwinking your will with a delicate dominance I am the prima donna capture,
embellishing the envisage of eros, I burnish organs keen with aphrodisiac welter
you become a devout captive to me, the divine dominator,
I am the matador confronting your impulsive power
the target of your sexual tremor,
spear tipped with warm vigor
into you I pound a wonder,
vice and virtue surrender
to principle superior in passionate plunder, for you become the conquer's lover,
taking my spirit from specter to flesh victor,
I will make a woman the vessel of volcanic velvet,
revolutionize female thighs, simmering the sighs in eyes,
make the wrap of a man's arms a hearth of healing heat soul felt,
his tongue a torch pinging with paced pause within mouths magnetized,
A coup de tat taken to your Shangrila,
weaknesses my wayfaring, strengths the servants of my junta
my sweet magic of mayhem laid upon your lithesome lips, the coup de grace -
J.A.B.
Categories:
welter, desire, lust, passion, spiritual,
Form:
Epic
They’re playing bingo in the lounge bar,
between ten and dinner time,
pensioners arrive from near and far,
to try and win a bingo dime.
I’m watching from me usual stool,
and hear numbers shouted out,
while drinking beer that’s nice and cool,
waiting for the ‘bingo’ shout.
While there is laughter and loud groaning,
depending on their bingo luck,
some others claim of their disowning,
because bad luck has struck.
They are not sitting at a bingo table,
but in a corner all alone,
knowing for now that they’re unable,
to leave the tavern comfort zone.
The Barley Tavern offers shelter
for the likes of Lukey Brown,
who’s problem’s not a mere welter,
but a simple wife put down.
We all know that a woman scorned
can breed disaster to a tee,
and many times a love is mourned,
that’s why I offer therapy.
I brought a beer for Lukey Brown,
who gave me a nod and smile,
and after I was sitting down,
I put Lukey up on trial.
“So what’s the go old Lukey mate?
Why are you feeling so morose?”
And Lukey took a while to state,
“Are all women bellicose?”
Lukey really had me puzzled there,
‘What does bellicose all mean?’
And Lukey states “it means beware,
the wife’s about cause a scene,
and all because she made remarks,
about a couple down the road,
and my reply it set off sparks,
and bellicose so quickly showed.”
Then I supplied more therapy,
shouting Lukey another beer,
to ward off living dangerously,
but to learn to live with fear.
“She pointed to a couple in the street,
who played a loving sexy game,
kissing, cuddling, and no way discreet -
then! Why can’t you do the same?”
“Why can’t I do the same I said.
Have you gone stark raving mad!
I got the stare that means I’m dead,
everything got worse than bad.
With crude insults I copped the hurl -
- can you get me another beer?
I said no way, I don’t know the girl;
and that’s the reason I’m in here.”
Categories:
welter, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
South Of The (United States) Border...
(Reigns A Welter Of Disorder)
Caravans comprising multitudinous
peoples plodded a steady course
analogous to iron filings drawn by
strong magnetic force
gravitational pull generated
by North America
an irresistible source,
which tug felt
nearly all the way round
webbed wide world beckoning
for waves of humanity
figuratively donned as spawning fish,
toward which currently dimming
beacon of democracy flickr
Trump might extinguish
though tis quite heart
breaking to experience
vicariously as one collective soul,
these desperate folks
ambitious to seek asylum,
(and eventual citizenship),
while this "FAKE" president
invents many a...holy SMOKES
outrageous, nefarious, and malicious
dagger o type cruel barbed wire
accusing, condemning, and emasculating,
(I could continue),
but ye dear reader would tire
unless individuals
affected by xenophobia
countenance same stance
as Commander in Chief,
or contrariwise some
like minded
thinkers, rack coon sitter
the migrant situation dire,
would effectively serve me
as preaching to
the Unitarian choir,
yet any sensate
person must admit
tis quite upsetting, lamenting,
and agonizing to witness
hordes of persons treated like
some pestilential
eyesore dagnabbit,
yes this chap can
endlessly spout flibbertigibbet,
though thee crux of my opinion,
inspires a poem express
sing supportive emotions
particularly acknowledging,
how these masses (thousands)
of vulnerable individuals
show true grit,
nonetheless yours truly,
would be hard pressed
for an immediate
humane solution to corral
this extensive kit
and caboodle, though this generic guy
with a poetic knack
shakes his noggin
watching armed flack
delivered from border patrol agents/
United States military, lack
restraint, and who outright attack
trespassers at point
blank range that pack,
a deadly (Judge Judy ish
huss) punch smack
king young ones
upside the head forcing
everyone to backtrack
to their homeland of
persecution by crack
headed gang members, which thugs
violently land a deadly whack!
Categories:
welter, abuse, america, break up,
Form:
Ballad
I fell to my knees and wept
Bound in aged skin
With the scars designed
I wept in chains
And though the tears flowed
Still I burned again a hundred fold
As I lay my fist on quiet Earth
And died within the heartbeat of everyone else
Every sob tore its mouthful of food from my throat
Each wretched and bloodied second
A whining bullet for my soul to fall upon
And I drown within the pain of someone
……….. This quiet blockade
Such a taste upon my lips
Of all the vicious felt this stab into my back
And to my heart echoed such sorrow
When at last my eyes were opened
In such agony have I lived
Mindless, dumb and clueless
In such a welter of deceit did I exist
To be blinded by the promise of comfort
And such is a the price I paid
When my soul beat vengeance on this quiet blockade
And by the divisions of wealth
It was I, who had become a slave
I cannot count the grains of rice
Nor the bodies strung out in a corpses eye
And I can only bleed within my heart
To witness such insanity
I do not stand there among them
The butchered bloody collateral damage of hatred
Yet die each moment with them
My family of children, my brothers and my sisters
Categories:
welter, forgiveness
Form:
Free verse
~~~ {There's a crowd, there's a crowd, there's a crowd of
loneliness} ~~~
Here I sit surrounded by party people bizz, buzzing gleefully.
But I'm in the pits down in my zone, So I can only see me.
Thus, death to the chit chatty tones and slurred speech.
For their voices become catty echoes far from ears reach.
Got up to walk down beaming streets stepping hip to side
unable to speak.
Gulping squawk sounds, of steaming weeps ebbing, drip and slide
down unstable cheeks.
Can't hold back forsaking eye contact my prides' destroyed
as I try to avoid the grandstand of gaudy faces, gaudy
clothes; of hand to body collision. For lonely teardrops
cloud my vision.
~~{I wish it would rain, I wish it would rain,.....
I would sing it if I could sang}~~~
Head butting and unsorted collides. Zombie strutting in
morbid strides. In search of a safe haven. A wide
divide's what I'm craven, of needed segregation to hide
in heeded dissociation.
Joyful laughter, gleeful merriment and happiness all
about. While my lungs fill with hot winds pressed
against my chest in demand to be let out.
The voice of silence, the quiet stillness of the night.
The pains of yearning for thee with all my might.
Curse the agony of my plight.
~~~{Can I please, can I please put my mind at ease}~~~
Where art thou, Oh shelter... Ye place of refuge? Do
not leave my spirit to wilt and welter. Grant my soul
your peace and grace. Nae of down pouring tears deluge.
In my sorrowful demotion to bear the toil of these
boisterous turmoil secures the coiled and shrouded
aloofness of my crowded loneliness.
~~~ {There's a crowd, there's a crowd, there's a crowd of
loneliness} ~~~
Supreme balance is a hand toss.
Today it is I who bear the cross.
Categories:
welter, surreal,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Wednesday, while waiting for the waiter, wanting some waffles at the Waldorf,
a woeful, wimpy, wall-eyed Walter,
witnessed a wicked, wanton woman (who was wearing a wacky wardrobe and
wiggling her whoppers)
waddle in walking with her Welch terrior
winking, wooing with wily ways,
wanting to weaken Walter’s willpower. Willing,.. Walter whistled
as wife, Wanda, walked in. Well, Wanda walloped Walter with welter-weight wrath!!
Response :
Wonder when the workmen will wash Walter off the walls at the Waldorf?
Categories:
welter, funny,
Form:
Alliteration
In the sea of swirling dust that is our infinity
Held together by the breath of Divinity
Infinitesimal microdots are we
Yet megalomania rules our see.
Do ants blindly view themselves as lords of their world
In their intricately marshalled social whirl?
Does the Higgs Boson,if it exists,
Boast worlds invisible to our questing wits?
Majestic laws govern our creation
With life's jigsaw of interconnection
Which mere accident cannot explain
In the welter of our cosmic pain.
Marooned on a piece of grit
We fondly believe that this is it.
We can solve the mystery of our fate
As Dawkins and Hawking blithely state
Improve our instruments to deeper fathom
Into the once indivisible atom
Enhance our telescopes to peer further into space
Life's mystery aye remains to bewilder our gaze.
It is in our DNA always to explore
But no matter how deep nor how far
Our scientific knowledge we advance
Life's mystery aye leads us a merry dance
Yet we must to our nature be true
In trying to find a clear way through
So that we stand proud,tall and justified
But we still remain small and mystified.
Relative is time,the conjuror,
With its tricks of smoke and mirror
In a world that seems so solid
While shimmer its particles pellucid.
Our senses feel that they truly see
But we cannot know reality.
Categories:
welter,
Form:
Rhyme
Tongue twister line:
From the rustic rover to Samuel Sanders, they try to tickle the tongue with tricky tongue twisters.
1. A rustic rover round the ricks ran restlessly, and restive, he rushed to the nearby rural rill to reinvigorate himself. Then whoever he met, he ranted and raved with him or her with reckless arrogance. Revivified and rejuvenated, the vagrant straggler across the riverbank rumbled and rumbled , and trounced a regal recluse that triggered a fiery ruction. Then another rowdy ragamuffin slapped him hard and a furious rabble raised an unprecedented rumpus.
2. Samuel Sanders, a saucy salesman with sable brow, had an ancestral house in Sussex, but since he was a man of gypsy psyche, of late he strayed into Surrey and settled there for squarely six months, and then set out to straggle across the Sicilian seashore seeking psychological solace in the serene and suave sound of the seawaves.
3. You can't put a better bit of butter on your platter because a martyr did shatter the packet of your butter as it did welter in the gutter, but that waiter did cater you this later, muttering about an utter butter-hater from Gloucester with bitter hauteur.
19th November, 2016
Categories:
welter, fantasy,
Form:
Alliteration
Only one scar, from a kid in Montana.
His mom had him placed in a field of lantana.
The kid was still smiling as smoke from his vest
plumed when the bullet slammed through his chest.
With a split second draw as smooth as fresh cream,
another man falls just short of his dream.
He doesn't pull quicker to take the man's life
but to save the man years of a gunslinger's strife.
A welter of faces has challenged his game
but the soles of their boots all look the same.
The fame he once sought now plagues him in curse;
too many men he's lain in the hearse.
One day soon he'll give a slight pause
and a younger gunslinger will take up the cause.
They'll come for him too, from the east to the west
and he too in mercy, will lay them yo rest.
Categories:
welter, destiny, irony,
Form:
Rhyme
Whether the weather
necessitates to anchor
myself as a tether
when the frankenstorm
socks the east coast
shredding terrestrial
zone like soft leather
i may end up attired
in esprit de corpse
being tossed hither and yon
to and fro like a feather.
If...the forecast imbues
meteorologists flooded with folly
making a mockery
of humanity run amuck
in panic mode - by golly
this mortal male will don himself as
"the chief garbage" taster
with a garland of holly
shuffling along the
boulevard of broken
tin cans and rubbish
feigning to be melancholy.
This getup a throw
back to a costume
adorned this papa when
he attended grade school
eons ago, where corporal punishment
prevailed in case
student disavowed any rule
such as smoking in the boys' room
cigarette such
manufactured by Kent or kool
or lambasting any unlikable teacher,
(whose bookish face) at
receiving end of
pranks rather cruel.
So...presume that Halloween
will take place without any axe
of nature to grind monster
brewing at sea
and picture this poet decked
out dumpster diving
for the most fetid trash
and materiel with cracks
to be affixed upon
a heavy duty sack
with goop from
sullied foodstuffs -
a cause for glee
rotten meat infested
with maggots, shards of glass,
crushed metal cans,
et cetera to the max
will be haphazardly splayed
(Jackson Pollack like)
on this sturdy cloth
that will drape me
spurring a conga like of hungry beasts
ready go pounce – menacing
ferocious wolf packs
adding to the welter per helter skelter
of decayed detritus distributed
from head to knee
and a set of punishing
pronged antlers spiking out
in all directions upon
ma noggin-hence to tax
utmost fear in passersby, and quite
an abominable sight to see.
Categories:
welter, autumn, boy, dark, holiday,
Form:
Free verse
(The Kyoto Protocol, an international
treaty signed in December 1997, commits
member states to reduce their carbon
dioxide emissions. The United States is
the only First World nation not to ratify
the treaty.)
Spend it, squander, swill down, swallow,
waste it, wassail, welter, wallow.
There's no "I" in America.
(Well, maybe one.)
Billow, burn up, bloat and burgeon,
Don't stint (see stomach-stapling surgeon).
There's no "me" in America.
(Well, maybe one.)
Blow up. Bulge. Indulge your senses.
Guzzle, grab, gorge - don't heed no fences.
There's no "crime" in America,
no restraints, no consequences.
(Well, maybe one.)
Categories:
welter, environment,
Form:
Rhyme
Your ungenerous heart forbear
Can not understand why
From me a generous reply
As from my easy chair
Face storms of life must them welter
Need warm heart to shelter
Don't understand in life your part
Sometimes wish for release
From stingy ungenerous heart
And go to my grave in peace
Categories:
welter, introspection, lifeheart, heart, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Pelter fell on a welter of papers
A hell of a mess with all the wrappers
Police chased the pelter
Who ran helter skelter
And struck up a tune to all the rappers
Pelter/Limerick Copyright (C) Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty 23 November 2014
Categories:
welter, fun, nonsense,
Form:
Limerick
You can't put a better bit of butter on your platter because a martyr did shatter the packet of your butter as it did welter in the gutter, but that waiter did cater you this later, muttering about an utter butter-hater from Gloucester with bitter hauteur.
Categories:
welter, fantasy,
Form:
Alliteration
A welter of anxious faces gawks curiously at him,
But by now he is immune to the consternation.
His effervescent expression glows,
As he swigs down their viscous repulsion.
He knows that they will desecrate his graveyard,
Punishing him for his denial to be superfluous,
For his denial to permit flexibility in himself.
But will they incarcerate him in the walls of his mind?
His guilt has been proved in the lifelong adjudication,
Yet he never mocks their paradoxical thoughts.
The site is given a last perambulation,
And then spasmodic gun fire ends The Tale.
Categories:
welter, death, depression, introspection, life,
Form:
Verse