Hitch-hiked along the East Coast 1968-70
multiple times
Picked up by mini-buses
marijuana high times
Dated a filthy rich gal whose 1971-72
backyard was Hamilton College
We climaxed every night, alright
but didn’t gain any knowledge
Pledged the fraternity where 1969
‘Animal House’ was shot
Quit the very next morning
learned to quit a lot
Got a D- in a Shakespeare class 1971
blamed it on the professor
Retook the same course
almost got an F from his successor…
They say the best teacher is Experience
~ I must have heard ‘Experiments’
_______________________________________________________
This is all completely true, so help me - gulp - G-d!!
The flowers bloom in the sunshine
As your love's appetite becomes mine
The soil settles down as it gets so wet
Your body absorbed my energy as it climaxed
The trees protect us from the heat of the air
Your kisses fulfilled my lust for you with a mighty stare
The moon starts to light up the sky at night
As we lie down together and hold each other tight
The morning dew makes the grass so, so green
As I lie intimately between your legs, while you cum in between
In the afternoon, we rest from the morning heat
The sexual arousal comes again as we lie between the sheets
The sunset amuses our eyes as it starts to go down
The night falls to perfection as we go another round.
Situation climaxed for Pretti, bad
Worse day the poor guy ever had
Murdered in the street
ICE turned up the heat
Now America is Pretti got-damn mad
Mothered inspiration birthed from the seed of my soul
send my mind in to a frenzy with racing thoughts hard to gather and control
Words roll off my tongue with provocative pronunciation
climaxed by the inflection of each insertion of punctuation
ejaculated thoughts wrestled into pleasure provoking position are gone over back and forth and back and forth until the work is at a its greatest peak and ready for submission
New sensations flourish as visual aspects of the write begin to grow
the girth and length of your creation are now taking shape and beginning to show
fingers gripping pens
Pens gliding over paper
Paper once plain white showing the stain from its ink filled raper
A master piece of your own perfection
each pen stoke bringing it closer to desire
pace is quickening now finished with sparks of blazing fire
Just another completed writting but written with such a hunger
It was meant to be innocent but may not be subtable for the younger
Wandering barefoot,
whispering sweet sentiments
of haunting pleasures.
A touch that never phased me -
a kiss from her heaven lips.
Tangerine horizons,
appeared like flames in brown eyes.
Lovebirds gazed in awe,
as her lust soaked my passion.
Night rhythms sang to the stars.
We lay until dawn,
adrift in love's melodies,
under moonlight's shroud.
First blink to our morning skies
was wrapped in her angel wings.
A Tanka is a type of short poem, similar to a Haiku, of 8th century Japanese origin which are often written to express self-reflection, love, or gratitude. A suitor would compile a Tanka and send it to a woman the following day after a date. The woman would then reply back in kind. The poems were like short, secret messages expressing gratitude, love, meaning, or desire, and often climaxed in a persuading message.
Would you on the spot succumb,
When someone told you “Welcome?”
The fine time to act a lamb
One’s closed door hold on its jamb
While the key to it arrives
And door-unlocking strength strives?
A woman I had seen, stopped
And besought by a head cocked
To quaff a bottle of stout
And perfectly look The Scout
She’d seemed to want to be
But couldn’t have from just tea…
And a bottle became Two,
Drinker’s mind divided, too;
Later, climaxed it to five,
Drinker no longer alive!
When he was Infant Bob
Often had had to sob
For a freely shared cob…
As Grown-Up Wrangling Bob
Angrily yanked off knob
After a half paid job…
Now Climaxed Adult Bob
Would at friends spit a gob,
Each time he missed a mob
That folks attacked to rob,
The lot shutting their gob,
Since they’d dared forget Bob…
Same Bob at each level
His one guide: The Devil.
My love,
the time has come
to turn a leaf, anew
for our union, succumbs to end.
So let's have our last supper, this evening
drink down the wine of destined times,
linger on luscious lips,
until next time,
My love.
12 July 2022
Radical Rictameter Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
Checked via Poetry Soup Syllable Counter
The Martian on Grape Lane
I touched the sea, the sea touched me,
not far from where the mermaids play.
Swaddled in a world where I could not stay,
I was caught in time, floating away.
I took her to York on a scheme
for love and black cherry ice cream.
Kittens, cider, the spider inside her,
her shadow strong against the wall.
The sun climaxed, the moon then waxed.
The curtains stirred, and she shivered.
Cool though the air, I had no warmth to share.
The hero's faded; Lord! I'm jaded.
Then I glimpsed
the Martian
trapped on Grape Lane.
I saw him on the street below,
my Martian lost, so far from home.
Out the door I ran and opened the gate.
The Martian turned; he stopped to wait.
The Martian's enthralled;
the mermaids have called.
Stardust and bones, the two are twined,
It's Heaven's flotsam sparked sublime,
even wasted tumbling adrift through time.
No, not this way! Yes, I will stay.
Now my feet are wet, but I don't regret,
I touched the sea, the sea touched me.
It’s fall of 1888, the south of France,
In the verdant fields of Arles,
Two artists shared a single dream,
And so began their quarrel.
Vincent paved the way for Paul
With bold sunflower sprays.
Paul dissembled, stating plain,
“More practiced effort pays.”
“Don't smile before December,”
Said the mentor to his charge.
And the student pegged his better
As a bon vivant at large.
So, their tenure at the Yellow House
Grew troublesome and dark.
Their artists’ shared collective
Strayed a long way off its mark.
Dry and cold, the Mistral winds
Spread madness like a plague,
To infiltrate poor Vincent’s mind,
Whose memories grew vague.
Mania, delirium, anxiety, and fear,
Climaxed when the voices told him,
“You don’t need that ear!”
He’d heard no praise, regardless.
Dr. Rey used his sorry portrait
To fix his chicken coop.
Then Theo got engaged,
And Paul sailed away to Tahiti.
Now time’s become history,
And that paint smeared canvas,
Nailed to a chicken coop
Means to claim a hefty sum.
And Le Fou Roux lies cold in his grave,
Unmindful of the legend he’s become.
THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR
STARRY NIGHTS AT SAINT REMY
A vage blush;
her bloom sojourns
within its female purse,
yet this bright morn
Adam is rampant,
his stamen a brazen phallus.
A raindrop alchemy,
charms and countercharms.
Genders gather together
as one blossom on a single stem.
By evening, Eve will return
to fold moist lips
around her twilit womb.
Adam will sleep
at ease in his dreaming sap.
A floral erotica
has climaxed to silence.
Ying and Yang
have rung their temple bell.
the orchestra played full volume in the theatre of her mind
thoughts and emotions vied for undisturbed attention but
her misplaced applause failed to settle restless blind screens
decoupages tapestries and fabrications of her imagination
whole movies and symphonies arranged on fast auto replay
spooled forward and backward until vision blurred into one
epic film tear of overload exhaustion and impenetrable void
hungry children
uncivil wars
deforestation
xenophobia
fission bombs
subjugation oppression marginalization genocides homophobic attacks
power money greed opulence decadence and seeming banality of evil
for the charade that life was she needed to close plenty of curtains
unveil at the same time what had been hidden behind a solid façade
when the cacophony climaxed in crescendo staccato and discord
she knew that her voice of conscience would lead her the way
03rd June 2021
HER
the chains —
roses tied ‘round hands and feet,
apple-scented la forza del destino.
the buds claw down her back,
send shivers down her spine,
her head climaxed —
delicate, her perfumed breath.
the thorns gently nibble at her neck,
the wine it draws,
the tongue collects.
HIM
his waist, she grips
with everlasting rose-hips,
the crystal chalice overflows
with deliciousness.
full blossoms, of golden pressed
like a prisoner’s garb unto his chest.
he heaves so hard, suffocating
beneath this veneer of tremulous beauty.
Together
they beg to be released,
their vines intertwined
and fate interjects
with wounds of perspiring lips
solicited to one another
in a kiss of bon chance.
liberated to master their winded flutes
of cherry parfait served with
whipped cream.
7/2/2019
Contest: Slave to Love
Sponsor: John Hamilton
La forza del destino - The power of fate
Bon chance - Good luck
Cherry Parfait - also a type of rose
Pelvic desires arise when turning manic!
It's an all-powerful ejaculation
(from mania that feels keenly orgasmic)
Pelvis and loins ablaze like fantastic,
and engorged with such climaxed sensation;
Pelvic desires arise when turning manic!
Eros peaks, then runs wild and Jurassic;
and hunts for instant gratification
(from mania that feels keenly orgasmic!)
To burn with unrestrained lust is horrific;
but the red-hot flames of this condition
force coitus to break out when turning manic:
oh! to explode without control like a sex addict,
and copulate with total abandon
(when mania feels so keenly orgasmic!).
So, call it mad, but don't call it poetic:
this disease demands total expression.
These pelvic desires arise when turning manic,
from a mania whose possession is so fiercely orgasmic.
You watched the eagles
Reach for the stars.
They had scars
From duels
Against all odds
And winning made them bubble gods.
You were a carmel
Ridden by an Arab in you.
Your dreams were few
You sought for a way through the eye of the needle
You chose the way of a fool
You followed on like a tail.
You've seen stars fall.
You've seen star dust
You fought noisy Lust -
To refuse the glory hidden in a fool.
Through the hot Kalahari
Your feet trod
Without a word.
The vultures that thought you were dreamy.
They called you a dumb ass
You were a potenial carcass.
You found the one-eyed gate;
A portal Wisdom waits at the banquet.
Your mad pursuit climaxed with more mockery
But you were too frigid to fall for the seduction of misery.
Here you are
Where stars
Are soap bubbles
Children play with.
Now the eagles
Cover their faces
Praying for the carmel's dreams.
You were a fool for a night
Squeezing through the needle's eye.
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.