Long Nudist Poems
Long Nudist Poems. Below are the most popular long Nudist by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nudist poems by poem length and keyword.
Noticed the Nude lady from the rear
Within the full moon
Such a unique image was imprinted in my memory
In my lifeless heart, it burned itself.
Ancient opponent's wailing can be heard in the distance
She approaches, grinning with her bare breast
She is Naked flaunting her wonderful curves while being utterly bold
She exudes a lot of confidence.
She suggested,
"Let's play the Naked Romeo and Juliet"
Under this lovely moonlight
We must emphasise our contrasts if we are to make progress.
Let's reclaim this night back from the animals, liberated and Naked
We will not bend or break because i am a kid of the moon,
And you are a child of the never-ending night,
And we shall remove their hatred by shaving it away.
They shouldn’t use barbed wire in a nudist colony
If they do it shouldn’t be much higher than your knee
At Christmas time in England, no-one expects nudity
Well I was nude and I did not expect a buzzy bee
I tried to leap the barbed wire fence to stop it stinging me
So now I’ve got some nice new baubles for my Christmas tree
My voice went up an octave and became a virtual screech
I dashed to bathe my injury down at the nudist beach
On the way I bumped into my camp-mates, Fran and Dennis
They saw my mutilation and said, ‘We’re so sorry ‘Tennis’
And then they said, in future ‘Tennis’, keep away from bees
I asked them why they called me ‘Tennis’, they said... New balls please!
What Intended To Be Praise Of A Cold Shower...
(became something else (tau welled),
and tolled at this hour).
Though hermetically sealed within
this temperature
controlled quite bare
able (sixty degrees Fahrenheit,
the lowest possible central air
conditioned setting) insulated
one bedroom unit at clear
lee maintained Highland
Manor Apartments (where
vacant units frequently available
at this low cost facility, (deer
and the antelope play amidst
a wooded strip) fair,
lee enshroud above this
tranquil, serene, and hare
wren there, a quotidian
refulgent quite pastoral lair
ideal nooks and crannies
to read, which
non paid for plug 'ere)
won can seclude themselves
from the madding crowd gear
ring up to see return
of the native sob
bummer, day dreamer, flounderer
Matthew Scott Harris,
whose shut eye evoked,
a place he did revere
within the outer limits of the twilight
named Willoughby, while in
deep sleep he did mare
to his quasi
(caught in moat oh) mistress
sweet heart Lady Chatterley
(in an storybook parable
setting) analogous
to Sleepy Hollow where
a lookalike of
Rip Van Winkle
only added insult to injury,
when the "FAKE" headless
donned horseman got trumped
by a transexual, *****,
nudist, k9, homosexual,
eunuch corn, where
a cold shower shook
and didst scare
away every last
vestige I swear
so realistic disappointment arose,
when vision didst appear.
For a man of the cloth, our dear vicar
is not very partial to clothes
He is almost allergic to trousers
and y-fronts get right up his nose.
Ev’ry Sunday as he climbs in the pulpit
(where the choir boys are sitting below)
His meat and two veg are seen swinging
And it’s proof that he is commando
The ladies who bake and do flowers
don’t know if to scream or to peek
but Olga the Organist’s smiling
and she’s practising eight days a week!
At this year’s summer fete it was breezy
and the wind, I’m afraid, took its toll
His cassock blew up to his waistline
as he served up the last sausage roll
I've heard when he goes on vacation
He suns himself on a nudist beach
and his wife applies his sun lotion
to stop his tush looking like a ripe peach
03/14/20
Halloween night is supposed to be scary
Peopled by spooks and goblins, most of them hairy
But where I come from it's quite festive and merry
Sugarplums dancing, accompanied by faeries
Then there's the time-honored custom of trick-or-treating
'Course, as any trick-or-treater will tell you, it's all in the eating
But where I'm from we dispense with the preliminaries
Just one thing on our itinerary -- confectioneries
Now as to the matter of witches on broomsticks, cackling high overhead
And the spirits and ghosts that allegedly rise up from the dead
We don't subcribe to that spooky nonsense
What we do is burn incense and sniff frankincense
Not to leave out the garish jack-o-lanterns' macabre grins
The eerie haunted houses with their swinging skeletons
Sorry to disappoint you, but we simply dispense with that stuff
~ In our nudist colony, where tradition's remade in the buff
October 23, 2018
This guy on the boardwalk is basically a tramp.
He makes as much money as a pickpocket in a nudist camp.
Since his last bath or shower, it’s been at least a week.
Don’t get too close to him. He certainly does reek.
This bum will ask you for change for a cup of coffee.
In desperation, he will do just about anything for money.
Whatever the guy says to you, it’s bound to be mendacity.
He may ask you for a few bucks to go back to New York.
To tell the truth, the dude is just a local dork.
If you give him a few dollars, do you know where he will go?
The tramp will take your money and run back into the casino.
THE ART NUDE REALITY
Stained with the acrilic and emotive,
Pour us a drip of creativity,
Paint us colors of the rainbow
But still less appreciated
By the prioritizing inordinate ambitious
and flesh-conscious world.
Purchased with hard-earned money,
the brush, the pen and crayons.
Sketch us our hopes and dreams,
Paint us our now and future
And erase our rough past on canvases.
Even though your art states purpose,
style, size, color, character, and effect,
Our yawning yields lust, nude-addiction,
naked-body, physique & attention-seeking.
The world isn't on the same page with you;
Flip yours while we swipe ours
after our eyes has been well fed.
What's the fuss about this whole weird thing
associated with being unclothed?
Stripped images gets our muscles ripped up
as if we don't strip down for complete naked shower.
Why spend so much time idolising bodies,
divestment of draped attire?
Why's fragility hidden behind pointless social constructions
about what sells and drives society crazy,
about these lack of raiment vogues
conniving with carnal voices in our heads?
Why so much tempting and complete exhibitions
meant to be the private trek of someone else,
now openly played out in public square,
without remorse, except to honor certitude.
Social media empowers those who flaunt physique
imbued by deity, by desperate willingness to express,
the expression of beauty's form.
We term blessing by the display of skin's gamut.
So then I inquire of you: who is blessed?
The artist or the nudist???
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright© 5th November, 2021
Writing poetic confessions is akin to visiting a Nudist state
Well, the concept sounds good, but all this exhibitionism --
The Naked performing unsteady cartwheels, their dangly bits --
Makes it seem like a bad idea.
Taking a break in the pleasant air
Look at how happy they are,
Dancing in a circle and jerking up and down, like children,
Praising one another for being authentic and emotional.
Allowing the clean aroma strike your nostrils
And you say to yourself, "damn, all this Nudity is attractive,"
While also recalling the how much fun you could have heard
If only you became a Nudist earlier.
Fatima was always dressed up fittingly as any occasion called for
Today one might call her a performance artist but she was
A hippie and child of God always good for some drama though
Was not taken seriously in the reviews in the Paradise Gazette
All she wanted was to be seen as playful serene and sophisticated
First thing it were dates that started the show in the garden
And she had never performed in the nude let alone seduced
She played Hamlet and Noah Mephistopheles and Juliet
Let her hair down to climb down from Babylonian towers
Her repertoire was enormous and to her chagrin so was her bust
‘They always look at my bosom and never hear a word that I say
Fake voyeuristic news and when things go wrong I get the blame’
She was made for the stage in the Big Apple not dated palms’
Tried olives but they were too small and peaches far too symbolic
Bananas were phallic and there was no couch in the garden
‘Fatima at her best again a gorgeous woman with forbidden fruit
But she covers up and her sidekick Mohamed bears the cost
She must reveal more of her natural talent and not hide her loins’
Her mountain quivered in disgust of the lecherous media and
Pressed for fame she developed a different plot with a twist
‘Mohamed let’s be traditional and awaken the punters with apples
We could juggle and whenever we drop one we’ll take off some clothes
The last one with fancy knickers gets to skin the snake as a prize'
High into sensational air they went but could not catch the globes
It was not divine as such but they created the first nudist camp
Once all garments were ripped off the good Lord smiled as they pleased
History must not be falsified and the legend carried on for millennia
Evangelists spread the message and facebook has millions of hits
Finally the audience got a full un-redacted view of naked scripture
Fatima was a transgender man and the serpent had a pearl for an oyster
01st Agust 2019
We have seen every national forest in all fifty states
Waterfalls in six and mountains in five
We backpacked through Europe in the sixties
When it was considered safe
We have bungee jumped, and been to Iron Man
We have lived in a commune and a nudist colony.
We have been part of a spiritualist revival.
We have made our own soap, and our own way.
We have been musicians, singers, and songwriters.
We have had able bodies, and lively limbs.
We have danced our way out of danger.
We are getting older now.
Our knees need replaced.
Our teeth are broken.
Our minds are fuzzy.
Where do we go from here?