STINGING BLOOD SUCKING AWARENESS
There stood I,
As black as night;
My skin, buck-naked:-
A blood-sucking mosquito,
Painfully bit me with its stinger;
Causing me to slap it with my hand:-
Then I blew its dead body from my palm;
Giving awareness of gaining liberation:
We must become as liberty’s hand,
And our political oppressors,
As stinging mosquitoes:
Slapped and blown:-
NEVER ASHAMED
Standing buck naked!
No need to be ashamed:
Trees teasing winter:
CRUCIFIED RESURRECTED TREE
Sage crucified tree,
gray, and buck naked, granted
spring's resurrection...
Skunk or a deer -
what was the varmint?
'Cuz Noah's buck naked,
without any garment! (Gen 9:21)
----------
In response to Drunk as a Skunk by Gershon Wolf
Wife was feeling neglected and bored.
Hubby hugged her. Her low spirits soared.
She cooed, “Let’s go to bed.”
When he said, “Well, instead,
would you bring me some food?” she was floored.
Soon she came back buck-naked and bold
with a meal. Such a sight to behold!
Hubby said, “Lunch can wait.”
When he went for the bait,
She said, “Not now~~your food would get cold.”
It was the night before Christmas, and I couldn't sleep,
I got out of bed without so much as a peep.
And headed to the kitchen for something to eat,
buck naked, except for the slippers on my feet.
I didn't dare turn on the nightlight and wake my wife,
for the last time I did that, she threatened my life.
The house was dead quiet; I could not hear a sound
as I ventured downstairs, feeling my way around.
I got to the living room, stumbling a few times,
then I heard music that sounded like Christmas chimes.
So, I went to the window and pulled back the drapes,
thinking the neighbors were playing some Christmas tapes.
I forgot I was as naked as a jaybird;
till I heard the loudest scream I had ever heard.
The church quire was midnight-caroling on my lawn,
and in plain view, I stood bare-assed, not a stitch on.
Judging by the faces I saw scrambling to leave,
I don't think they'll ever forget this Christmas Eve.
It was never my intent to flash anyone,
I simply wanted a ham and cheese on a bun.
I saw your grandmother
in an old black and white photo
it was in a silver frame,
she was buck naked in a Buick,
I thought: 'Hey you.’
I saw you on a
`who's your baby-daddy' show
you were in the audience;
you had a pic of the killer
Ernesto (Che) Guevara
on your T,
he looked like me
and I said, ‘Hey you.’
Behind old photographs
all our secret lives
remain radioactive.
At the funeral home
I watch you enter the flames,
saw silver frames melting
and I thought: ‘Hey you.’
A good friend told me
"Tonight is perfect for moon bathing, "
So I am lying in the backyard
Buck naked on a mended blanket
and praying to God my neighbor
Has gone away for the weekend.
THIRD PLACE WINNER
June 13, 2021
submitted to "BITE SIZE POEM #6" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Line Gautier
FIFTH PLACE WINNER
December 20, 2020
submitted to "MAKE ME LAUGH WITH SOME HUMOR" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Tania Kitchin
FEATURED POETRY SOUP POEM
March 20, 2022
I saw you grandma,
you were buck naked
in a Buick
and I thought 'hey you’.
I saw you on a
`who's your baby-daddy' show,
you wore a pic
of the killer Ernesto Guevara
on your T -
I thought 'hey you’.
Behind old photographs
secret lives
remain radio-active
there is fall-out.
I saw you in a fishy tale
making out with hippy waves;
I thought 'hey'.
In the funeral home
a portrait of you
silver frame.
Hey, grandma!
I hear your silver laughter
see the rainbows,
the flowers.
Hear a silver song or two
as you enter the flames,
the silver flames.
'Hey you'.
I saw your grandma
she was buck naked
in a Buick
and I thought 'hey you’.
I saw you on a
`who's your baby-daddy' show
you were in the audience.
You wore a pic
of the killer Ernesto Guevara
on your T -
I thought 'hey you’.
Behind old photographs
secret lives
remain radio-active
there is fall-out.
I saw you in a fishy tale
about sleeping under the waves
and I thought 'hey'.
At a funeral home
you look out from
a self-portrait and its silver frame
I watch you enter the flames,
the silver flames.
'Hey you'.
What the fish saw
I cannot still unsee
Naked, stark naked
Sitting there was
Uncle sam and
The statue of liberty
Buck naked at
The playboy mansion
So much for old fashioned
I guess this has been going
On for some time
Our leaders our washingtons
Have hardly shaped a
Mountain side
United Free States of America (North and South)
Lady Godiva
Didn’t need a drivah
Buck naked on a mare
Those good chocolates stored where?
March 25, 2019
For contest sponsored by Tania Kitchin
If I overwhelm you, imagine me naked,
For that's how I treat you and find it quite nice!
Empty hand, naked body, what is there to threaten?
When speaking to strangers, it's quite sound advice.
I smile at your short hairs (but hope you can't see mine)
Admire too, the curves you may dream that you hide,
I've got actual 'fingerprint,' lasting forever,
Though presence is absent, I know you, inside!
To see you 'buck naked' takes us home to Eden,
'Acceptance of Grace' is our pardon from sin,
Naked thoughts so transparent, we all live in freedom,
(Who walks with the Father will know peace within.)
Brian Johnston
June 1st, 2018
prior to passing thru cervix, buck naked bare
this grandson of Aaron, the sole heir –
foreshortened to Sol Aire
evinced (as shown via ultra sound),
which at birth became crystal clear,
an obsessive compulsive prone
human being, endear
ringly cute as a baby monkey possessed fear
some countenance tipping the scales needled gear
greater or lesser than seven pounds
(minus or plus a few ounces)
with a mass of dreaklocked hair,
otherwise a gangly sack of many a lovely bone,
whereat obstetricians
could not help himself but jeer
thus upon exiting birth cana; found him twirling loose
kinky follicular fibers accord
ding to medical records,
a combination of his being bored
(with a really lee super strong arm penchant)
to sport dreadlocks, tough as hemp cord
an anomaly, which no app could com pare,
boot nonetheless highly adored
resembling inimitable indestructible filaments,
when taut could lift off the ground a board
dillow, which no reference manual could address
even topnotch experts queried, could not explain
KEEPING HOPE ALIVE IN THE WINTER COLD
Buck naked branches of Nature’s rooted skeletons
stoically raise bared arms—piercing chilled skies.
All around and through their spaces, the wrath of winter
reveals once hidden scenes leaves of summer and spring
so cleverly concealed from wandering, discerning eyes.
Despite the seemingly depressive cold sight this could be,
the “spoiler alert” of Nature’s circadian themes,
warm our hearts, fuel our faith, and keep alive our hopes:
We awaiting the unseen justice and liberty
that we hope the summer and spring will bring.
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