Earth a nurturing breast
richly filled with delightful sensory pleasures
at behest
sights, tastes, touch, smell
hear singing nightingale treasures
life’s swell
swimming
ocean leisures
spring
Earth a nurturing breast
hear singing nightingale treasures
spring
————————————
Placed : 6th / Premier Contest
April 26 : Sponsor: Mohan Chutani
Who taught the Shakespeare of a prosody
Or a book of words comes and coalesced
In every verse of Shelley romance and tragedy
'To a lady,with a guitar'escaped the summit of breast
For every physicians why the feather decents
For the every poets how they flutters
Not a hedonist but prophetic soul of fancy presents
And humns and shored on their mossy cutters
Kings and folks,sailers and merchant
Brethren and sistren speaks of bard of Avon
Thracian Orpheus wept in Shelley's mastery of poetic ardent
Therein the sullen dorado scowl in river of Devon
Ever hoped to greet mine those pierian spring
The pen snug in because mine thumbs are ageing
The man in the elevator was all a flush
A lady just told him pull your zipper up
He hadn’t noticed his fly was open wide
For looking at a woman he thought a DD breast size
He turned facing the rear to quickly zip it up
But then unluckily dear his Willy got stuck
He let out a scream and then passed gas
The people weren’t mean but all had to laugh
I woke up one day and I felt a lump
My thoughts went astray
And I fell into a slump
I googled online for an answer
What came to mind was I had breast cancer
I thought about pink ribbons and clever T-shirts
I thought of all the women who died
And all of their pain and hurts
I thought of my bald head
After rounds of chemo
I’ve never been mountain climbing
I’ve never been to a casino
I’ve never been horseback riding
I’ve never been to Reno
I started writing a will
And all the bills I had to pay
And it wasn’t until I called the doctor
Who diagnosed me right away
My breast began to leak
And it was all in one section
I was relieved and couldn’t speak
It wasn’t breast cancer
It was only an infection
red lips long blonde hair
bbl silicone breast
natural casket
cold water swimmers
have got a VERY apt name
they're called 'The BlueTits'
There is a silent visitor inside you now —
softer than fresh-baked bread,
more precious than gifts from wise men of the East.
A second heartbeat,
gently echoing beneath your own.
You carry more than a name.
You carry memories yet to be made,
a mirror of past souls,
a vessel for tomorrow’s joy.
So walk gently,
eat wisely,
rest fully.
That bottle of cider —
it whispers lies.
That puff of smoke —
it scorches what is still becoming.
Feed this life with love,
with hope,
not with chemicals that dilute beautiful expectations.
Go.
Sit with those women in white —
the ones who read charts like oracles,
plotting the rise of a king or queen within your womb.
Let them weigh the weeks,
count your months like blessings.
Endure the prick of needles —
not just for you,
but for the strength of the life to come.
And when the countdown draws near,
remember:
Swollen feet will give way
to first smiles.
Too much sleep
will surrender to sleepless nights.
And sleepless nights
will bloom into stories —
told by the very angel
you now carry.
by Davie Kaliu
In the shadows of pink, a story unfolds,
Whispers of courage, of battles retold.
A journey through darkness, where hope finds its way,
Together we stand, bringing them a light ray.
Each ribbon a promise, each tear a prayer,
For the warriors fighting, showing we care.
In the heart of the struggle, resilience ignites,
With every heartbeat, they reach for the light.
Through the pain and the fear, they rise from the ground,
In unity's strength, true healing is found.
Awareness, our armor, knowledge our shield,
In the face of this foe, together we wield.
Let’s speak of the silence, let’s shatter the shame,
For every voice lifted, we’ll never be the same.
Early detection, a light in the dark,
With love and support, we’ll leave a mark.
So here’s to the fighters, the brave and the bold,
To the stories of hope that are yet to be told.
With hearts intertwined, we’ll carry the flame,
In the fight against breast cancer, we’ll call out your name.
Naked and Revealed,
Sexy or Lewd,
What can I do
If I have them on me?
Inseparable, heavy beads,
Bulgy with shady teats.
All you care:
Is it concealed well beneath bra strips?
Gasping for breath,
Sharp stabbing in my breasts,
Lying on the bed,
Nausea till my neck -
All due to the unbearable clasp at the chest.
Tell me,
Is it still my fault,
If a brassiere is not enough for my ample busts to exalt?
Should I cut them?
Or should I burn them?
Since I can't stop their charming dance,
For those
Who only know how to objectify and sexualize their existence,
Without any rightful cause.
It's all you care about.
Maybe what suffocates isn't the bras,
But the disgust for what's beneath them -
And that's what I care about.
Lay your head lad, upon my breast.
Stay safe in my arms, Mama's nest.
Take from me nourishment you need.
Wake for a time so you may feed.
Then back to dreams of angels song.
Been away from them, not too long.
For from heaven, you came to me.
Your destiny waits, but now... sleep.
Thou art eyesome among all bosom
Filled with holy milk
Ripen and bowing to earth
Oh! Thou art humble
Cans't thou see how marvelous thou art
Even he is in awe to thy wondrous taste
For thee who think thou dost flow milk of honey
Woe and woe I sayest to thee
In the face of man thou art the finest
Everyhow, no bosom beats thee
Is there cause why thee should overween
For thy risen bosom shall fall alas!
Thy petite figure shall die with old age
But my fallen bosom shall stand the test of time
Forever fallen but never lost its glory
.
Top what hern exposed
top that swollen mound
Top
Her mamma
mine eyne
unto hern excited
bulbous mammillae
Mine anxious
eyne
duke's digits
Mine
lips
tap
Soon, sunlight will yawn on the edge of dawn
and I'll welcome the warmth of his morning rays,
but never could I liken them to the great love born
when I feel your sensuous touch that sets me ablaze.
Anxiously, I wait while my heart is yearning
for daylight's journey to cast shadows over me.
Restlessly, I watch the hands of the clock turning
until the hour when the sun surrenders into the sea.
When skies are awash with an amber glow
I become eager to touch the breast of twilight.
Watching as grains of sand in the hourglass flow,
knowing when comes the moon, dreams take flight.
A pearlescent gem, she lulls me to sleep
when gracefully ascending upon her throne.
It's then my reverie descends in slumber deep,
and ardor's silken threads are passionately sewn.
With our hearts ignited by a stellar flare,
we circled the moon on diaphanous wings.
In Luna's lair we made love with savoir-faire
while starlight dreams caressed my heartstrings.
Impatiently, I feel passion mounting
before the moon rises to her zenith height.
Hours move much too slowly as I'm counting
the hours when I can touch the breast of twilight.
*a repost
Ain’t life sweet
So light on my feet
Cause I got my cancer beat!
While the hours away..
To have this worry for so long,
Then suddenly realise it has gone.
I sit and while the hours away,
Nothing to think and nothing to say.
It’s strange how consumed
Your mind can become
Your feelings fester and overrun.
Then before you know it
It has disappeared,
Your darkest thoughts
Of what you feared.
Are nothing but a distant memory now,
You want to move on
But don’t know how.
So you sit and while the hours away
Nothing to think and nothing to say.
Physical scars are now what’s left,
Emotionally you feel bereft.
But at least you are still here
To think and feel,
Those fears were thoughts
That never became real.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.