Long Menopause Poems
Long Menopause Poems. Below are the most popular long Menopause by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Menopause poems by poem length and keyword.
How dare goddamn Laura divorce him
After thirty years arduous pre dawn sacrifice
Menopause made her dismiss marriage on a whim
Told Rod he'd not have true love twice
Victim adamant to prove prowess
To construct his dazzling platform
Marina tower apartment, salesman finesse
Enamour for strawberry blonde, he'd perform
Abattoir visits supply excess meat
Too good to discard, soon crows found
Raw morsels upon sunny balcony heat
Slowly rotting, sixty metres above ground
Pleased frequenting feathered friends
Swoop hungry, hot tiles smeared in grease
While his platonic blonde sidestepping pretends
She's not ready to consummate their needs
Shimmer photoshoot illusion windswept strands
Whip her dazzled face in gold to behold
Pristine boat grid below, his meaty hands
Suddenly clamp her jugular, slowed blood cold
Duck egg irises fear increases, dance shoes slip
Held up by Rod's determination to murder
Strangled finally to submission in his sausage grip
Remote controlled bird saw and heard her
Floating microphone, struggled inhale caught
Quad propellers wing nimble, zoom eye snaps
Amor of flaxen haired dancer he sought
Filmed before her fatty floor collapse
Cocky Rod knows how to remove her corpse
Platonic blonde diced by cow carcass blade
Churns through her chaste, chest flesh warps
Chuck steak beak struck, friends caw unafraid
20th July 2022
Written for Contest: Start Sleuthing
Sponsor: Natasha L. Scragg
TEMPUS FUGIT
I seemed to be going through a change,
Maybe the male menopause.
Or perhaps a mid-life crisis,
But I had fun whatever the cause.
I purchased a Harley Davidson
To roar about the place
And I rescued my flares from the wardrobe
That I’d held on to, just in case
With a cowboy shirt and a shoe-lace tie,
I reckoned I looked pretty cool.
But my wife said they weren’t back in fashion
And I simply looked an old fool
I dug out my vinyl collection,
Mostly Bill Hayley and Elvis,
And tried to relive the days of my youth
On the dance floor, rotating my pelvis.
But, last week, I fell off the Harley,
Performing a series of dares
And it caused great amusement in A & E
When the nurse had to cut off my flares.
So now it’s out of my system,
I’ve reverted to acting my age.
As I sit with my pipe and slippers,
Dressed head-to-toe in beige
Elvis has gone back in the loft
And I have to say he’s not missed.
For now, for relaxation,
I listen to Mozart and Liszt.
5th February 2022
Latin Lessons poetry contest
Sponsor - Margarita Lillico
Menopause uggg
Adam was given work for his sin
Eve was given the privilege to produce kin
Never once was menopause mentioned
Who created this invention?
They say get an ablation, it’s the best thing since apple pie
You’ll stop bleeding and you don’t have to try
What they don’t tell you is, it doesn’t always work
But heck, the no cramping is a perk!!
Whatever!! It threw me right into the change
My life seems a little nuts in exchange
My kids think I’m lazy but in actuality I’m a lot crazy
I don’t sleep, and I stay wide awake
My moods are all over so the niceness is all fake
I wake in a pool of sweat
Only to later freeze, throw me the net !!
Oh the hot flashes are real
It’s great for sex appeal
The man says you must be hot for me
I just roll over and say no, I gotta pee
Weight gain is going at turbo speed
Chocolate is the number one need.
I just want to be left alone and not bothered
Give me peace and I’ll be honored
Don’t wish for periods to end
You’ll never be right again my friend.
Driven to war
As the horse is driven to the streams so was I driven to war.
Hardship in my mother’s house drove me to war of hunting for survival.
In my father’s tent where I was, you came and drove me to war.
The money offered; forced me to kill in the war that I never intended to fight
Papers obtained with hardship that are wasting in my hands; drove me to war.
Driven to war is driven to sudden death; and driven to exile is driven to untold hardship.
My quest for justices and fairness in sharing of the cake drove me to war.
I became like a woman approaching menopause that is yet to marry;
That is driven into a war of hanging out with married men.
War everywhere ! war everywhere! ……,
Who cares what is driven me to war?
Hands of the greed has driven peace and love into an exile, and war has suddenly taken her root down into the soil of human mind.
Everything in life has suddenly becomes a war, many are driven into spiritual war, physical war and battles of unknown, just to make a different in life.
There is no one left out of war, we all are driven to war.
In my exile, I heard of various wars and murdering in my father’s land,
War to obtain bright future in exile, seems difficult as the finger of war spread across nations.
Which kingdom war does not exist?
The kingdom of Jesus that shall come shortly.
Written by
Pastor Emmanuel Brown Omojevwe
Form:
~Female Menopause~
Skin that was so soft with the glow still upon it,
Smooth and luscious and warm to caress,
Young and lovely it used to be,
Not now, oh woe, my skin is a mess.
I shaved my legs my underarms too,
I never thought I’d grow a beard just like you.
Why did this happen and why is it now?
I’m not that age yet, no I’m not, no how.
I’m nearly old enough to be a granny
Never mind a loving wife,
It crept upon me with stealth,
Through the days of my short life.
The telly, it tells me each and every day,
That my skin looses elasticity
I’m sick of the telly and the creams that don’t work.
I ply them all over with a spade and a fork.
My skin needs some moisture, or so they say,
I’ve found a good supply, a bottle of white wine each day
My skin now still glows, but it’s covered in sweat,
I’m dripping and ripping my clothes off and yet.
It’s not in the heat of the moment that I do it,
No passion, no lust, I just find I’m going through it.
I never thought I’d have to ask you,
How to shave my chin and get it smooth too.
I’ll be invisible, bearded, fat and ignored,
So sign me up now for a freak show abroad.
At least in the sun I’ll have reason to sweat
No on will know but I’m not finished just yet.
©~GG~2011
~The Male Menopause~
Did you know girl's, men run on hormones too?
They are not so different girls from me or from you
But when a man reaches his fifties he becomes unstable
To blame it on the woman though, - that he is still able.
He never likes to think that his hormones are shot
He fancies all the woman, and still tries a lot.
When his fancy lets him down it never is his fault
He blames the woman he’s with - she’s not worth his salt.
They like to talk dirty it gets them aroused and all hot
But talking about dirty clothes and dishes, is what we have got
They have strange fancies and talk to each other
“What I could do for her never mind her mother...”
They never once think, that what they have got
Is certainly what all the girls want - NOT
Their hair grows in their ears and in their nose
But from the top of their heads that’s from where it goes.
Their brains seem to disappear, along with their hair
Gosh hormones are hard - life isn’t’ that fair.
The male menopause it tends to be of a shorter length
But they think its your fault when they begin to lose their strength.
Things start to fail and they may look elsewhere
But whoever would have them - has already been there
They are too old for the young, yet to young for the coffin
So just carry on loving them and try to stop scoffing.
Tell them they are still - muscular and hot
They do it for you, even if they do not
They will repay you your kindness when your turns comes around
They will show you how to shave, when your beard does abound.
They will pretend that your sweats, is them making you hot
Just let them get on with it because it happens a lot
When your hair goes thin they will say they love it more
That’s what a loving relationship and growing old together is for
©~GG~10/07/2012
She cut the ties
The good
The bad
The menopause
Finally, the long pause
Followed by the loneliness
Days became weeks, became months
It was time
Life begins at forty
Did it, end at forty-six
Swanky bar
Lights, music, fear
She felt that drowning sensation
Maybe to early
She felt eyes upon her
Smiling, teasing, no words
Her guard was up
It’s impolite to stare
Sorry, I was undressing you
Never in her life
Reality hit home, indignant
And tell me, how far did you get
All the way down to your inhibitions
Twenty-three years worth, she thought
The ice was broken
Tom was the first
John wouldn't be the last.
World Poetry Day , March 21
You help us talk less with wit
We are not quick to sit when vicissitudes pull because words make us fit
We are the dreamers of the world
We breathe into life with the ink and tongue
We make the world forever young
For when our inks stop menstruating, the world experiences an intolerable menopause.
When emotions heighten, our words cause them to pause.
We make hearts' heads toss
To every mood the word is the boss
We foretell, prophesy, preach, teach and rewrite history.
We are the sons and daughters of poetry.
We appreciate you poetry.
Shouts out to every poet.You are the dreamers of the world.
happy World poetry day.
Inside a woman’s head is a dangerous place.
They’ll be many iterations for them to save face.
They’ll see another woman’s lipstick on the rim of a cup.
Which was Gin and Ruby Red that you just turned up.
They will beef and squabble, erasing any ********.
Then, blame it on you, calling it major rejection.
After that your are charged with booking booty calls.
You wonder if its pre-menstrual, or pre-menopause.
You are truly befuddled on where its coming from.
Don’t look for logic, ‘cause there’s absolutely none.
Patience is truly a virtue at times like this.
Just keep your mouth shut and endure the ****.
This too, will pass, you keep telling yourself.
While wanting to wop that ass, asking God for help.
A woman swoops down on you like a military drone.
With thoughts out there somewhere in parts unknown.
First picked Summertime cherry
Dew glimmer marble blood clot
Taut fruit platter embitters sweating cheese
Liver pate shivers jiggle jelly
Nepenthe Mountbatten hidden chicken
Lays a tablecloth festive
Red checkered rewashed faded
Season with sea swell returns faithfully
Sickle slender silver moon smile harvests
Follicle forests expanding to full
Bright verve verdancy bursting
Peril of temporal balls
Metered to melt before resuming build
Knife blade moonbeam ripens the coming crop
Basket bulge fibrous beckon buyers’ bids
When the ceremony’s over
Feasting has ceased, linen’s off
Pink penned love letters are scrunched up thrown out
Reform engorged nightcap warmed moon omen
Sun demurred eclipse naps, menopause opaque
Unborn bends branches for Mary
Dulia in bloom banquets
Written for Contest: Seven Ten
Sponsor: Emile Pinet