Long Bawdy Poems
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On getting up I looked in the mirror
and to my amazement I saw I was a man
what fun I thought lets have some fun
I dressed in a man's suit and went to work
Driving there in my new porsche
I gave the pretty girls a wave
I got lots of smiles and a few winks
laughing I arrived at the office
Getting a fair few back slaps
as the guys drolled over my wheels
some winks and nudges, suggestive remarks
Hey Joe who's your lucky date tonight?
With this machine the worlds your oyster
listening to their bawdy jokes I hide a smile
And relish the tall tales of their own conquests
so this is what goes on in the men's room
How they would cringe faces red if they knew
that no man was I just a lass who awoke a man
driving home my husband was cooking that night
dressed up to the nines in my best black dress
I had to laugh as he tottered on my stiletto heels
boy did he made a nice woman wearing a long wig
the food he made was no great shakes just uggy
but the love making more than made up for it
Next morning I approached the mirror
and soon saw that I was back to normal
Joe looked at me and grinned in delight
He said I made a better man than him
But we had better keep it quiet
as his co-workers would not live it down
I enjoyed my day as a man very much
seeing life from the other side
written 05/04/2014
contest Gender Blender
Platitudinous ponderosity
All these nouns sound so silly
A bawdy outward display from ostentation
A twist or fold from overt placation
An act, an instance or state of expansion
Increase in size from flatulent action
Assuming what is not natural or real
A false display of affectation or zeal
Pretension and haughtiness
It’s distastefully adorned with gaudiness
Promulgating esoteric cogitations
Articulating psychological observations
Ingesting superficial sentimentalities
Beware of platitudinous ponderosities
Resolution:
(And to all those who attempt to fleece
I have made a call to The Dream Police
And if you must know, his name is Rick
And he’s in band called Cheap Trick)
Standing at the tavern door,eyes dark and brooding
Neath his floppy hat, stared into the crowded room,
A Raven flew from his shoulder settling in rafters high,
He smiled a sardonic smile and ordered a mug of ale.
All turned to look at this dark eyed traveller tall,
His leather boots dusty ,cloak trimmed with mud,
And from his belt around his coat hung a dirk long
No one thought to say a word they tried to look small.
Around the smoke filled room his gaze did wander
Settled on a crowd of rowdy sea going lads noisly
Drinking ale and rum and telling bawdy tales,
Just back from foreign voyage across the seven seas.
Within their midst a vision sat with a smirk on ruby lips
Long hair framed her face like waves of swelling sea,
Like kelpie mane, ran that hair ,her eyes like deep sea green,
And at once his dark eyes shone beneath that floppy hat.
The night wore on, the air grew warm, the raven fluffed his wings
From somewhere a shot rang out lodging in rafters deep,
Laughter raucous and shrill cut across the misty room,
Silence fell heavy among the gathered crowd.
He slowly turned his head in the direction of the rowdy lads
Dark eyes flashed as stepped towards where they sat,
As one they rose and laughed in his face,swords drawn,
In his hand a wooden staff and they laughed no more.
Faces stunned into disbelief at what they had seen,
Around his feet six men lay still blood seeping from their wounds,
He turned on his heel and slowly went through the door,
The Raven cawed, spread his wings as he flew out the door.
Standing by his horse the sea going beauty waited patiently,
She smiled as he approached with a swagger and dark eyes flash
He tipped his floppy hat and beckoned with outstretched hand,
She went to him in full embrace held him like a band.
They travelled the land, the sea faring beauty and the dark eyed man,
Their tale told throughout the fair sun kissed land,
From village to village and taverns where seafaring folk met,
The legend grew of the Dark Eyed traveller and his mermaid bride.
Andrew Provan McIntyre © 2015.
Glitterin' gold wuz struck along Alder's Gulch in eighteen sixty-three!
Potential prospectors came frum as fer away as Knoxville, Tenn-o-see!
Hordes uv soiled doves and gamblers migrated to the Gulch as well,
Along with platoons uv ruffians and barkeeps, their potent booze to sell!
Fellers labored hard all week pickin' and a-shovelin' at their claim.
But Sundays wuz set aside to raise 'oly 'ell, much uv it to their shame!
Baptist preachers thumped their Bibles tryin' to preach above the din.
There warn't no churches so they preached in saloons aginst the wages uv sin!
Hurdy-gurdy gals roamed about 'neath the steely-eyed gaze uv their 'madam'.
Guns and bowie knives wuz rife and wuz brandished by the dudes that had 'em!
Brawls erupted resultin' in blackened eyes and numerous bloodied noses,
Leavin' heaps uv rowdies sprawled on sawdust floors in grotesque poses!
Pie-aner players added to the din beltin' out their bawdy songs!
Preachers gave up and said to 'ell with it and joined the festive throngs!
Poker games wuz proceedin' in ever' saloon, usually endin' in a ruckus,
Since there seemed to be an excess uv aces held by some cheatin' cuss!
Fallin' down drunks wuz nuisances that bouncers simply booted out the door,
But they somehow meandered to another pub to imbibe a little more!
On Sundays they had their spree - on Mondays though sick and broke,
They panned fer 'dust fer another Sabbath frolic - the aim uv ever' bloke!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
One evening Bob nervously said
I kinda like three in a bed
She said I’ve got friends
And each of them tends
To share the desires in your head
The next night as had been arranged
His ankles and hands were in chains
His lady walked in
With Rodney and Jim
And that kinda messed with his brains
His girl was a leather clad gimp
And Jim looked a bit of a wimp
Rodney said ducky
Time to get mucky
But Bob was decidedly limp
*
Time to collaborate...
First ‘up’... Jan Allison
Bob swallowed six Viagra whole
And soon was like a flag pole
Much to his delight
He stayed up all night
The threesome all enjoyed their roll
*
And from Tom Cunningham...
Poor old Bob was a pitiful sight
His girl decided to put things right
She produced a pump
And worked on his stump
And Bob was like a stallion all night.
Old Bob was so grateful for his girlfriend
But all things good always come to an end
With too much thumping
And all the humping
His thing deflated and started to bend.
*
And Belle Bellevue writes...
Bob went to see the doctor with his crick
Asking please could he do something with it
Doc gave it a jerk
That really hurt
But it became bigger after the visit.
That put a smile a mile wide on Bob's face
He strutted proudly all over the place
The more people looked
The longer he stood
With swollen head penetrating airspace.
Bob begged his girlfriend to bring some more in
The home fast becoming a den of sin
They came three by three
A sexy grand prix
Which ended up with Bob in a tailspin.
*
Mark Koplin adds...
Old Bob was a motherless soul
He liked bears, sheep and woodchuck holes
All three gave him a grin
On his chinny chin chin
Next time he’ll add a few moles
*
And Tania adds this...
Bob was enjoying being wildly bad
Posted a dating site with his fun add
So anxious he couldn't sleep
After being banned a creep
He was now left a frustrated poor lad
*
I need meat on Valentine ’s Day
A Love Sausage was on display
We will eat one tonight
And to hubbies delight
Much later he will get a lay
But hubby keeps pestering me.
To see my ‘pasties’ after tea.
I will give him some hassle.
About my titty tassle,
Cos they are not very comfy
I admit, yes I have to confess,
A love sausage brought from M & S,
Is a valentines treat,
Cos I do love my meat,
And there’s ‘pasties’ under my dress!
Fictional Poem For Libralori who loves eating Croissant's, thanks for the inspiration!
*M & S is a British Store, they are selling 'love sausages' for Valentine's Day
02/14/22
I've roamed the halls of Poetry Soup for nearly nine years
and had lots of ups and downs, cried happy and sad tears
Some poets are super duper people that I call my 'friends'
There are some snoopers who have need to make amends
Soupers are a varied lot from different backgrounds in life
But never should there be reason for enmity, vitriol or strife
I've laughed at humorous scribblings of many bawdy limericks
Shook my head at rude comments that have caused conflicts
Those few are in the ranks of poets I call 'the party poopers'
And there are some who enjoy interfering ~ 'the bloopers'
They spread rumors that cause chaos in the soup kitchen
The site would be much better if they would stop b****in'
I cannot claim my innocence for I've battled a time or thrice
When bullies and trolls have said things that weren't very nice
I've been called a 'mean girl' but it's a name I take in stride
Bet money on it being said again and I'll say, "Let it Ride!"
I've written for other poetry sites, but I remain in the Soup
and if you question why I've returned, well, here's the scoop...
There are fantastic men and women here that I have met
who are sincerely kindhearted. I owe them gratitude as a debt
I prefer to ignore those who cast aspersions with a snicker
But like most kinfolk, there will be times when we bicker
As a community of artists, we are writers of poetic verse
with a common interest shared across the entire universe
We should strive to be united with the same goal in mind
'Respect each other as Poetry Soupers and remain aligned'
Positive comments are encouraging. Ladle them and you'll see
That supporting Super Soupers will keep the site hassle free
The Rocky Horror Picture Show ~ Starring Tim Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter,
Content Warning: Schlock Horror
Elements of the unintentional humor of B horror
Ripped fishnet stockings, glitter, and a shapely contour
A kitschiness and campiness that seems to be winking at you
Shades of burlesque, cabaret broad and a bawdy review
Glam era, British popular culture “Glam Rock”
Working title, They Came from Denton High provoked talk
All the while filming took place during autumn
Seductive sequined gold swallow-tail coat slit on the bottom
A tribute to many a horror movie from the 30’s, a parody
And the science fiction genre threw the 70’s exuding hilarity
From concept to cult, the grin and the guile
A classy campy clown, red ruby lips, and a flashy smile
The midnight showing at the Vogue Théâtre, you’d find us there
A classic musical-comedy and bone-chilling delight we’d share
Remembering Tim Curry RIP 1946-2026
My auntie wears 'Bridget Jones' knickers
But last week at tea at the vicars
She’d purloined MY lace thong
It was morally wrong
T’was the cause of very loud snickers
My thong’s wedged between her butt crack
Stuck firmly between front and back
But it’s not a surprise
As it’s not in her size
There’s no room to cut any slack
Aunt waddles around like a duck
Like a chicken she begins to cluck
‘Yes I took her G-string
Get me out of this thing’
Stop gawping, help me get unstuck
The Vicar say’s I’ll get my pliers
On reflection it’s what this requires
The vicar doesn’t shirk
As he gets down to work
But after an hour he tires
My auntie’s visage is not pale
(Her embarrassment is off the scale)
When my G string gets cut
It pings clean off her butt
It’s a shame she’s the tush of a whale!
For a ‘sweet’ friend BB xx
07/22/21
Long poems, short poems
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Who knows what's in store
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