Best Whip Poems
O
the bane
of being so slavishly in love,
to face another bloodless sunrise alone.
Myself, I’m spun in silken strands enthralled
yet, still stung by the whip of your selfish whims.
Your fleeting presence flashes like iridescence in light,
an elusive rainbow whose colors escape my grasp.
I pine for possession of one I cannot possess,
my burning being’s bewitched.
This yoke of yearning pliantly possesses me;
ensnaring me in the exquisite twist
of the fervent temptations you weave -
as your amorous play strums the lusty lure
of a gossamer thread I wish to follow to your soul,
whilst my purring thirst is captured -- then ignored.
O
the woe
of being caught
in the frill of desire’s web,
aching for the thrill of arching pleasures,
craving to be melted by our molten fusion,
longing forever, wanting and waiting breathlessly
for your wanton appetite to ravish me
always and again.
Susan Ashley
July 3, 2019
N/A
Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 4
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ Poem Of The Day ~
July 5, 2019
~ Third Place ~
Premiere Contest: Slave To Love
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Down where the lavender wisteria blooms.
For the first time this spring, and early in the morning
I heard the whip-poor-will sing its intriguing tune.
Later, when I looked out the kitchen window.
Birds of many species were swarming freshly filled birdfeeders.
House finches, red cardinals, and sparrows as well
Doves upon the ground nibbled and were well fed.
Birds' melodies mix with the sighing of the pines.
At the faint light of spring's dawn
How nature's symphony fills the morn's air
An awakening of all my senses,
Beauty exploding everywhere.
The Whip-poor-will's haunting call,
Echoes through the misty hollow
A song of deep mystery,
A melody touches my soul.
Wisteria petals dance with the gentle breeze,
Their fragrance intoxicating,
As the birds flit and flutter,
Feeding on the bounty
In this moment of quiet reverence,
I am reminded of the interconnectedness,
Of all living things in this world,
Bound by the threads of existence.
So I listen to the Whip-poor-will's song,
Though brief, letting it carry me away,
To a place of peace and harmony,
Where the wisteria blooms forevermore.
whip-poor-will's first call
this spring comes at midnight hour....
ignites memories.
The man with the whip takes the terrible trip
Fools slide and fiends slip...soon they all land in his grip
On a sinking slaveship in a sea full of sorrow
Subtracting from souls...soon they beg and they borrow
No today
No tomorrow
The man with the whip makes his money multiply
While innocence slowly dies those guilty birds fly
Bringing broken dreams on a billion broken wings
Still he smiles like the sun hatching his plots and plans and sinister schemes
The man with the whip never slumbers or sleeps
Like a big bad wolf always feasting on sheep
Angels weep where demons creep
Where his lunatic laughter has long length and reach
Where his servants and slaves they sow and they reap
The man with the whip is a lecherous leach
Draining lifeblood dry
Bringing death to the weak
Summers of years ago windows open --when
On those many nights, young love romance, the
Air moved freely night sounds of the-- Whip-Poor-Will
Remember, remember when they--sang
No longer can I hear the great sounds --when
We were young, for the windows are closed for--the
Air conditioning to work--Whip-Poor-Will
How in great tune were our voices when he--sang
Supple, limber perfect leather
Graceful in it’s agility when I
wield it by hand.
Supple are the contusions upon
your back as I teach you
to tease my attack-
When I train you, bull whip in hand.
Supple is your insolence- soon it shall
No longer exist,
after my punishment.
Darling I love you so supply and intimate.
The whip-poor-will entertains.
His song crisp and fresh today
His voice is not inhumane.
And leads my few thoughts astray.
Running was the Bovidae
Outside my open window.
So, I could hear faraway
Dance of the painted pinto.
Just for fun, no there was no Bovidae nor painted pinto.
Written: 5/18/2023
it flip and dip
also pops
makes your boby hot
its turns
make your boby burn
you have hot dripping lips
the
WHIP AND BOBY SEX
Never had a feeling
like this ever felt so degrading
back and forth with mind and heart
continuously racing
bumping side-to-side
along the walls just grating
against with skin
and pain eminating
from flesh, becoming bare
the eye can see what looks
to be painful as if
a bundle of hooks
tearing apart and away
the body to pieces
though still going back
still moving on
this love has in it
something terribly wrong
Why must one endure such
agonizing pain
how can one keep going back
knowing what this love contains
whip-lashed over and over again
and again
crawling back towards this love
this love is a doggy-tail
wagging between it's legs
This feathered friend
Was new to thee
Until Sara Kendrick
Introduced me
It's the Whip-poor-will
Delightful night-jar bird
Who forage at night
During the day, rarely heard
Of mottled plumage
In blacks and browns
Deciduous habitats
But rarely towns
This beautiful bird
Departing souls it catches
But in our heart
Admiration as it latches
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature2.php
Inspired by and sung to "The Whip It" tune by Devo.
CRACK that old age whip
Give it a pink slip,
Step on an elliptical,
Old age shouldn't have come this quick!
Now whip your bod,
into shape,
tone it up,
its not too late,
to whip it,
and slim it up good...
When old age comes along,
you must fix it,
before the youth cream sets out too long,
you must mix it,
when wrinkles come on too strong,
you can lick it,
Now mix it,
mix it good,
pour it on,
its not too late,
to be using,
some Retinol and Oil of Olay,
And if that doesn't work,
don't give up now,
theres still a botox doc in town,
go and get some,
you'll look puffy for awhile,
but don't worry, you'll deflate soon!
Don't nix it,
till you try it,
its not too late,
don't be frustrated,
get some shots
of lots of botox,
And always as a last resort,
if that doesn't work,
call up a plastic doc,
there might just be some glitches,
can make you like Michael Jackson,
and in that case, you'd better zip it!
Now go forward,
move ahead,
its not too late,
to go into debt,
so whip it
whip your card out!
She stood by the citronella
staring at its jagged leaves
hoping they would grow and carry her away
Rooted in the ground, eyes drawn into its foliage
the caretaker peered over his cigar at her despair
removing the belt from his waist
his "sword" of fury
she called it his sword
for she did not know war
but she knew pain
the sword of fury thrashed down upon her back
she collapsed forward to the ground like a wounded soldier in battle
her face in the brown dust
blood seeping from her nostrils
igniting the soil with red
the caretaker smirked at her pain
she looked up through tear filled eyes
and saw a callous soul
the citronella plant was more righteous than him
in her desperation
she silently begged that the citronella
could lift her away from this hell.
THE WHIP OF TORTURE
By Immaculata Ortner
In the loss of Maiden’s head
In time briefly spend in pleasure
The glass of her treasure is broken
And tyranny like a babe is molded
With frames of friendly brain
And lames of deceitful claims
Sparkling like lightning in vain
But freeze blood with hate
Like a tragic tale of viper’s sting
With whip of torture, thou toss my heart
And wrapped my mind with fear
Oh pains of an angel lost!
Oh tale of a lost gold!
Oh love for a rose that grips in vain
Crack thy shell and free thy slave
Thou love that stiff and sniff with choice
Raiding like rain in the moonlight feast
But though a heart must love
Shut my eyes and deafen my ears
Fix my feet’s on rocks
Which flood of fear, it can bear
Rain thy peace oh gods of peace
Teach thy tools oh! Thy heart
And write with us oh! Thy will
For there is where truth dwells
Whip Whistle Garden Spot
There is a garden.
It is in a small town, in the middle of the park. A place has been dug up on purpose.
No one was angry when it happened. It was just fine, with all concerned.
If there were people that had doubts or troubles over the matter,
they were either silent or planted, later… we can discuss that as it goes.
The size… the beginning, only 100 paces square, but it soon did not stop there.
Mr. Harvey brought his back hoe. Taylor brought shovels by the truck load.
Grandma, brought treasure. Seeds from a 100 years of history, saved.
“They can try to erase us, but we come back, a thousand times stronger.”
Just like the weeds… that bring the bees, in early spring.
The children lined up. They each had gloves and aprons and smiles.
This was a good day all around. No one was sad.
We were planting the future together.
Water, sunshine and time, thyme willow and bark, larks, hummingbirds and eagles…
The Spot. The magic spot. Everyone came from all around.
The Garden Spot to be…
near a tree, for free.
The highway put in a special off ramp, a sign that read, “Don’t miss this.”
In large letters.
A few drove on. Some did not.
Then others. Then no one went by without saying hi.
This was Whip Whistle… the beginning of everything….
On the road to where you should not be going in the first place.
We laugh we cry we are one. Stand together under the sun.
Feed the birds, water the carrots, and hug each other…
but what ever happens…
Make sure you find the time… to come by….
Where things don’t matter,
Bad things are taken out in back and beaten, then grounded…
or made into dark mulch and used properly among the fauna.
God give you a good day.
Whistle all the way…
Come by when you can…
A friend.
Whip cream listing makes all things better
in this cream and air is the life of mystery
Some add it to pies and cakes but others play with it
It will give you pleasure when place on ice cream with cherries
open your mouth lick at first then take a bite if you like
whip cream could it be just a dream
I know some would scream for whip cream
on chocolate it is devine take the can and squirt it into you mouth
it is the best no doubt
Placed in the hand it is cold to the touch but it will delight
You can smear it on a date if you dare
With this whip cream it is truly what you dream
In your mine it becomes what will nobody minds