mirrors are flawless til observed ~ yet beauty dwells in a broken shard
yelled the beast stabbing it into his eyes ~ i’m beyond horribly scarred
still he laughed quite menacingly ~ as his aqueous humour discharged
#aqueous humour# (i’ll let you look it up) hms
By David Kavanagh
Tina was a prostitute
a lady of the night
By day she whiled the hours away
staying out of sight
Though she had repeat business
she earned no royalties
for bending over at the waist
~ or sinking to her knees
Once was on top of the world
A graphic designer, accolades were hurled
The glorious part
Of a glorious art
Wish I was still hearing those positive words
Promises made behind the veil
the self-committed to the unsaid
are realized in graphic bliss
tempered by impermanence
those lurid dreams of the obscene
exist beyond morality
harbored in the inky depths
where restraints tempt the fates
chains cast aside in pursuit
of revelation deep within
no longer held by the norms
a celebration pressing flesh
the dull sanity of the dawn
asks too much in exchange
when a longing for escape
begs for sleep instead of wake.
Some of the sexiest women are Vargas’s 1940 pinup girls,
They are drawn with long hair, sensuous legs, and the right kind of curls.
Enhanced in all the right places, there is nothing that exudes sex faster
Graphic drawings of cattish women are not the kind you put out to pasture.
Do you remember Cat-Woman drawn fearlessly by our old friend Stan Lee?
Hallee Berry brought her to life, but the one who graphically created her was he.
Betty Boop, a cartoon femme fatale’ had style, and sex that could make a sailor blush,
Disney’s artists’ did not draw a Tinker Bell without perky boobs and a little tush.
I believe graphic novels and cartoon classics are here today to stay,
Because the sexy superheroes – both men and women make the reader’s day.
Captain America and Batman have those enormous abs, and a teeny waist.
Jessica Rabbit’s ‘I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way,” was not penned with any haste.
Written 11-18-2018 Contest: Sexy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Lewis Raynes
Picture
hanging on the wall
The sky is dark with a
touch of gray
All mountains bright with snow
The land is barren
No one lives there
Graphic Art
the time is now as Reagan would say back in the days so young and fragile that continues to be extreme the best of the rest and trial and data is continued to promote the concussion of ones head injury and to become rather sophisticated In the reading of your own as you know jo and her past as I do too I am surprised at your accomplishments.. and the majority of timing to clarify the strength of warranty and to underestimate you for all that has been riddled in a sense of clarity and to remind the others of there presence and to open a door or window for light. And fresh air.
the alphabet is like a story of glory and pouring down rain. I am proud of you and all that you've been through is a revealing story of ones story.
In all my years as a graphic designer
At this ripe old age, there's nothing finer
Than to still be in the loop
And cooking up graphic soup
Better than wasting away in my old recliner
© Jack Ellison 2015
Sketching the image of you,
Will never be the same as
Tracing the figure of you,
With my fingertips...
standards fall
infinite divisions
of a space call
for creations base
" eat me "
the waters taste
of completion
Aellopus delivers
revelation
a connection
reopens
and a field explodes
in subtle elation
an ocean
births a generation
" opposites attract "
answers
a burning question
" and the beauty of a point "
marks
the equation
it's the holy graphic
of a single
calculation
My fair ladylove
How dare she saunters the halls
Taunting a man so graphically
She holds the very knowledge
That her figure is astonishing
It is to be concluded that she cherishes
Being the focus of my poems
She then exhibits herself quite flawlessly
Bearing equivocal fervor
The noblest man of england,
once claimed a peasant girl.
With cheeks redder than roses,
and skin whiter than pearl.
Bless the newly wed husband,
who forfeits his second right.
Knowing the order of things,
he quickly turned out the light.
A fine estate awaited them,
nobility would no longer wait.
He ripped off all her clothes,
"oh how she tasted great."
But night unlit the candles,
and darkness filled the room.
As he sparked another match,
his eyes were filled with gloom.
For what he saw of her,
burned his very own eyes.
She stood nearly nine feet,
and more than doubled in size.
Her hips felt moistly furry,
and eyes that radiated death.
She pinned him to a wall,
he tried to hold his breath.
The beast started to tear,
fresh limbs from every side.
Warm blood poured all over,
onto the ferocious bride.
Tugging on all his innards,
mashing of the organ meat.
She enjoyed every other part,
as her lively midnight treat.
The moon was emptying out,
the light lost in the sea.
A bride hung with intestines,
tightly knotted round a tree.