Long Menses Poems
Long Menses Poems. Below are the most popular long Menses by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Menses poems by poem length and keyword.
I'd met you, like a lad meeting his neighbor little lass,
Charmed to you at very first sight, I stood like a dumb ass;
As tabooed lover admiring his darling, I stood far,
Thirst of bathing in your love, yet, blazed in me like tar jar...
I looked like a hippy cowboy in my rustic boyhood,
You're a celibate Tamil lady in blue maidenhood;
Your charmed me; I was like iron-dust attracted by magnet,
I'd fallen in your beauty as a fish in a dragnet...
I stood in bewilderment as you grew in great beauty,
I sensed being your devotee is my august duty;
Your treasures I ignored preferring your simplicity,
Pearl and ruby seemed nothing before your complexity...
This adoration got doubled, like seasons in full bloom,
The times I'd failed to visit you, had been my greatest gloom;
Your wonders, like star-dusts, in huge microscopes I did zoom,
Your water-beauty resembled Arabian perfume...
It's then, like volcano, the caste-creed concept erupted,
Folks near you from folks from far got mutually abducted;
Folks, once, stood bound in garlands of fragrant fraternity,
Found each one engulfed by enmity of eternity...
Religion, like daggers in tragic plays, reasons did raze,
Violence started writing on humans bloody red rays;
Massive stones and boulders, thundered, splitting shoulders and chest,
Dragging them in nets, like rough sharks, some drowned them with full zest...
You turned a meeting-place for transmitters of violence,
Great market wherein one could buy and sell ethnic vengeance;
Hallmark of your beauty, lily-like purest innocence,
Had hidden its head under dark hideous insolence...
Thenceforth, your sapphire blue got turned into coral blood red,
It's not menses-cycle of change; you seemed seeking blood-shed;
Like Scylla, and Charybdis, you stood swallowing the dead,
To the guiltless folks around, you proved to be a death-bed...
My love of meeting you often, then, like sunset got shred;
As a beast least bothered in love, I, thenceforth, went ahead;
You beat loudly all through day and night as though calling me,
Will first love, failed and faded, yet, easily gain its glee...?
(On a sea near my hometown, I fondly visited during my boyhood, changing into a center of cast-creed violence)
15 December 2021
amidst cavorting delightfully, enjoying thorough
frolicking gingerly, foreign hick hating slo
hip-hopping insouciantly sustaining row
biological status quo
kvetching lamely moreso mother became pro
naturally physically rumbling,
heard all the way in Oslo
supposedly twerking, undulating vivaciously
wantonly x2c wisely yielded – nada no
zona pellucida anchored byte size seaman,
potent embryonic fetal moe
newlweds nocturnal merriment
moma's Menses marked march 1959
lovingly joyusly, insemination happened ha low
bullseye clenched diploid fertilization
guaranteed germinating heiress
while squaqking lichen Apache at Diablo
ma late mother did should know
upon awakening upon tautly stretched exertion
during dilating cervix, which jiggled like jello
three score orbitz round el sol, warmed cockles
and muscled away brutally cold degrees
tab billed an igloo,
or circa six decades
drafted exuberant ho...ho...ho...
cuz, i.e. thencee at 362nd day
baby in belly did fully grow
December first nineteen fifty seven
sanctioned newly minted papa
to sing a capella for he's a jolly good fellow
quintessential nascent
kickstarter heady everflow
though wintry dark,
a “hi” beam illuminated
newborn girl with dayglow
sans, mechanical engine ear
papa (an honorably discharged army vet)
all spit and shine groom,
who wed a bride somewhat callow
first time parents with giddiness did saul fully bellow
Boyce and Harriet Harriet countenance
twas (like an elf on Christmas eve) all aglow.
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear Sis – I knew not what else to do
thus, this poem crafted fur ewe
a doe ting maternal gal – whose time on Earth flew
post an atom.
we need one.
subversions
differentiations
of Chantal Akerman reading the Ladies Almanac.
grandpa was jewish,
maybe this summer i'll go to Israel
and visit the mother of all mothers.
The trapezoidal parallelogram
the exponential function with a base
which does not equal a.
Curvatures and theorems
calculating the dimensions
of delta and the centroid.
lables + schedules + links + locations +options=
to label a schedule provides a link to a location which has many options.
israeli prime minister of home land secularity.
the pope is new. the pope is old. the pope is apparently the pope.
the pope cares?
the pope does not care?
the pope is the puppet.
the pope is not a puppet.
the puppets laugh.
as the pope popes.
the poor muslim mans.
the poor muslims.
why create so many gods.
say, just for an instant,
that it is just an idea.
an pretty clever idea.
when was the last time you thought of an idea called 'god.'
what was your last idea?
could you map it on the visible spectrum?
so your bifocals could cerebrally focus?
and sync to the mystic monthy surprise called a menses.
the divine comedy.
it is a comedy.
wag the tail of a beloved.
rip the tail of the beloved.
fall into a pit.
come out of the pit.
eat a pit.
choke on a pit.
spit the pit.
the pit grows into more pits.
someone else picks the pit.
eats the pit.
chokes on the pit.
dies of the pit.
[enter hypothetical scene]
squirrel!
A person can learn,
Through his eyes.
Through his ears,
Through his tongue.
A person can learn,
Through his knowledge,
Through his experience,
Through his dedications.
A person can learn,
Through his lies
Through his tries
Through his smiles.
A person can learn,
Through his discussion,
Through his appreciation,
Through his contribution.
A person can learn,
Through his willings,
Through his feelings
Through his healings.
A person can learn,
Through his divinations,
Through his relations,
Through natural creations.
A person can learn,
Through his divisions,
Through his multiplications,
Through adding subtract nominations.
A person can learn,
Through his behaviour,
Through his clavier,
Through his diver.
A person can learn
Through his essences,
Through his menses,
Through his hunches
A person can learn,
When he needs,
When he feeds,
When he teased.
A person can learn,
When he walks,
When he talks,
When he mocks
A person can learn,
When he faces,
When he races,
When he traces.
A person can learn,
When he tears,
When he fears,
When he cheers.
A person can learn
From up and downs,
From different crowns,
From different mourns.
A person can learn,
If he is willing to learn,
If he has jealous burn,
If he wants a turn.
Did you know the Gecko cannot blink ?
No I did not, but it sounds alluring that image
Of a focused lizard reptilian in glorious intent
From hide bound tail to protruding cheeks and jowl
So I blink, too tired to contemplate the enemy who stalks
Unruly neighbor holding night long juice jointed jamborees
Where alcohol steams the atmosphere with its truth venom
Inhaling vapours that create this courage that carries cowards
Yes I will blink, sleep deprived laborer courting reluctant pens
Refusing to yield hidden gems and buried treasures like jade
And tanzanite blue rhythms that accompany melodies and dirges
Legend has it that only the cry of the lion is met with sympathy
That of the lamb actions firing coals and flaring wood piles
Eager to consume flesh of the flesh returning it to the soil
Crosses are only temporary and sting in Easter
If carried by the many Simons that dot our unholy lives
Mother was the first and most enduring taken for granted
Only Gecko’s know the patient denuding effects of focus
Turning this pages that refuse to yield riches
And daily only seem to offer me
The menses of aborted dreams
My wrapper loose day after day
My motion and emotion unstable
I forget to think
But I wasn’t drunk
I remember in a trance
Stable I was
My wrapper tight on my torso
Not divulging the firm breasts
I remember vividly when it began to loose
Days turned nights
The sun withheld its radiance
I mourned unending
Breasts tumor I had
Oh! The pain hurts
One more ill has befallen me
A spinster at 50
Severally dumped I was
By men on trial
The life I live was wreaked
My heart fell apart
Picking up the fossils
Amidst courage and optimism
Dreadful incidence I traversed
Since my birth, early 60’s
Aargh! I’m bigoted
But utmost myopic
I wasn’t sleeping
Merely a spinster’s vision
When at 52
Men on trial returned
I had miscarriages
Pains were inflicted
53, I would be
The wrapper has slipped off
Revealing the sagging breasts
My legacy is gone
I’ve missed my menses
I’ve wept all day
I pled against miscarriage
But all hope is not lost
Because I’m pregnant!
OMEBE RITA
Did Become Perfectly Delighted
Seems like there always is so much to say
My poem does ends up making your day
Read throughout whole day and all night
On and on as hard as you may or might.
Poem has potential for being so splendid
Want it to go on and never have ended
On your face put and place a nice smile
Telling truth and not beguile for a while.
You become wise and welcome as can be
Relieve pain and set heart and soul free
Open up your mind so in you can confide
And a big stunning steak eaten rarefied.
Open eyes in head and each ear to hear
Able to avoid catastrophes ever so mere
Then start to cheer coming to senses
May mince words with those in MENSES.
(Always make sure you meet all suspense's.)
After climbing up or descending the stairs
To bed do be sure you say all your prayers
When in each dream sky rockets are ignited
With God's great sights be perfectly delighted.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Into my head stink in mythic one hissing
of running are ratters, as I hated by
up nearly level of piled woodsheds rottenly sites
at weediest the backyard’s place,
of my neighbor’s unit close edged up wards
side by sides, feet away from my place . . .
Once lucky I bound at woodsy near duty
she a terrier if the ratters in her site been gone
over willowy apart, as roofless patio
the backyard's sensory stain at royalists’ land . . .
Upper away of gallant converted living by
out of mind, she the pureed-bandit around
bazaars think backfill thy new world
in menses aid raised velvety clubs by wards.
Miserly her space and empty from kindliness
consorted in byte ratters her terraces
downfalls by sight, in careens simply mode empty
my home unfair or caustics up a side,
at silly carrion backyards as waste as hissing
up I needing help from as careless chick!
Walked inside and fell asleep...in my dream you were the song that I sought to learn and
then you opened the door that opened me and all I could do is flow like a minstrel in the
midst of menses a sight to see more a sight to hear for pictures are more to the soul
clear...the pieces of my shattered past lay all around my feet and the shards of glass
sought to penetrate the deep of my thoughts yet there was still a sound of tinkling glass
falling and I was there not the least appalling for in the breaking I saw a releasing a
mending of sorts and the heart that longs for melody found it in the cacophony of the
chaos so-called and herein lies the puzzle with its pieces all pieced together and I under
the umbrella of you become wet only from the dew of the mountain top upon which we
momentarily chose to stop...again....my friend, you and I!!!
A Little Boy’s gun with a barometric trigger,
showed a Fat Man how to
blot out an Empire’s rising sun.
Proliferation’s need pushed
Sellafield and Kyshtym to trip chasing Manhattan.
Twenty two years later and just
three miles south of Middleton,
failed safe assurances lied again and signed
Pripyat’s some thousands years lease that left
eighteen billion rubles around one elephant’s foot.
Fukushima’s seven year menses – Pacific stained –
west coast tide pool colors an invasive green
as Chinook escapements fill five year graves.
Intractable cesium hangovers bleed MOX cocktails
Nostrils blowing bubbles over damned lips
fused to the tit of a beast we can’t tame.
-----------------------------------------------------
Contest: Remembering What You Want to Forget
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
Date: 09.04.18