Long Stark naked Poems
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with noticeable burgeoning bosom in the offing, ahoy
this baby faced blubbery bosom beastie boy
fast becoming a bra man,
and might hire himself out
as a male wet nurse for employ
ment, cuz when stark naked on shark tank,
I behold two bopping, brewing, busting
flap jacks in search of a frying pan,
which change in my physiognomy doth annoy
but, suddenly spurring,
this ordinarily calm, cool, and collected chap
positing even a more radical income idea
changing ma name to Chester, letting hooters
get suckled, though,
methinks they qualify as milk duds
tit two siamese twin guys christened ell and roy
offering accompanied with serving of cookies,
where adipose floppy blimps
rank popular as novel cheap toy
where art though washboard stomach,
where brestworks didst sprout
as if overnight a markedly increased
from flat “Joe” six pack chest did an about
face, with squishy, mushy, and doughy
sprang up without doubt
suddenly forcing a sexual identity crisis,
which freaky phenomenon makes me wanna pout
for weird, wicked woebegone
affects the psyche of this lviii aged lout
wondering what other transitions,
this fellow may indeed be on the look out
feigning to traverse (in me mind) badgering
rugged hormonal secretion terrain akin to a girl scout
on the prowl targeting a peeping tom,
whose foolery demands clout,
thus this imposed unfair punishment,
as some half assed irreversible decree
maybe hints of other surprises,
yet tubby revealed, which haint no fallacy
possibly being brewed up by a brood
of bruiting imps of the pervert with glee
some bot sized microscopic
anti bosom buddy hood stolen the genetic key
analogous to a pesky malware,
virus, trojan horse secrete lee
scheming to transform the sexual identity of me
perhaps waking up tomorrow minus
my little peppy ***** , and behold a pussy
should such an outcome prevail,
where media papparazzi
stake out this freak of nature re:
doubling efforts erecting fortifications
in a big old sassy tree,
especially if the press
(i.e. particularly meaning Wikileaks)
discovers ability to experience infinite orgasms
converting sexual predilection into electric utility.
Godiva a Saint or a Goddess her tale unfolds thru legend and folklore
Origin England a town named Coventry ‘tis where Godiva did dwell
Devoted to Leofric he set her a riddle/a love chase her ardour to prove
Devoid of clothing to come to him her feet ne’er touching the ground
Effusive Godiva riddle now solved her red auburn hair hanging down
Side saddle rode streets of Coventry, whilst townsfolk stayed inside
Stark naked but her long auburn tresses Godiva’s modesty did hide
Written 14th July 2020
Contest A Contest About a Goddess or God - Not THE God
Sponsor Caren Krutsinger
A striking statue of Godiva naked upon her horse stands in the city's central square, Broadgate. Sculpted by William Reid-Dick, it was unveiled in 1949 and is one of the few statues of horses outside London to be listed (Grade II).
Another version of a legend why Lady Godiva rode naked thru Coventry is…
In the eleventh century, Lady Godiva reportedly rode a horse completely naked through the streets of Coventry on Market Day. According to legend, her husband, Leofric, demanded an oppressive tax from Coventry citizens. Lady Godiva, aiming to help the citizens, pleaded for him to stop. Leofric supposedly said, “You will have to ride naked through Coventry before I change my ways.”
But somehow the first legend makes her more of a Goddess – don’t you agree…
She gets up
From the bed
Stark naked
Last night
She had got rid
Of all her
Doubts, inhibitions
Shedding her wedding ring
Before shedding
Her clothes
The ring
Carelessly cast away
On the side table
Seems to be
Chasing her
All the way
Her beau
Still deep
In sleep
Snoring “Satisfied!”
So was she
Was she?
“If he can do it,
Why can’t I?
Those vows
Of ‘Remaining together
Till we die’
Completely forgotten
All of them
The same- these men”
Despite her entreaties
There was no stop
To his
Extra marital affair
Her lover
Now up,
Reclining, smiles
“You were fabulous
In bed”, he winks
She’s all confused
Cannot clearly think
Quickly gathers
Her clothes
Heads for
The washroom
Her hand
On the door
Turns around
Another look
At the ring
"What I did
It was
The right thing
Why remain
Imprisoned in a cage?
Better to move on
I've eventually
Turned the page"
For their sanctuary, some a garden choose.
Others in the mountains by a stream their stress will lose.
Some might take a walk to a secluded spot.
For some poor souls, a place of peace they haven’t even got.
For me the answer’s easy what the place would be.
It’s the most valued place in the world to me.
It is the place where privacy for certain I can know,
for only I and hubbie with our key can come and go.
Inside my sanctuary, I can laugh or I can cry
as loudly as I want. Just my spouse might question why!
I can curse or I can rant; I can take off all my clothes;
run around stark naked; paint the walls or paint my toes!
I could fill my big jacuzzi tub and soak in it all day
(if only I had time for that). Mostly I just think of ways to play.
I play around with internet, and with my friends I chat.
I play with words through poetry. I never tire of that!
I spend time in the kitchen, watching TV as I chop
the veggies! Anything at anytime I am free to stop.
Inside my home is freedom unless of course my spouse
is in a grumpy mood and tells me, “Straighten up the house.”
Inside this house my husband built I’ve lived for thirty years -
my half a lifetime’s memories -both good times and some tears.
Never for too long a time would I care to roam
away from what I love so much – my sanctuary - home.
Aug. 17, 2020
For the 'What Brings You Peace' Contest of Chantelle Anne Cooke
Into the woods on a bright summers day
With a basket of food for her Grandma
But before she arrived she would pick a bouquet
A gift for her Grandma on this her birthday
She noticed the gamekeeper passing her by
So called out his name as she waved him goodbye
Normally friendly, but today Wolf looked down
As she saw on his face an embarrassing frown
She decided to check if her Granny was up
So she got out her mobile to call and checkup
She heard a strange voice but the signal was poor
Grandma’s voice was too deep, said she wanted to sleep
Maybe visit tomorrow for today she felt weak
This made her suspicious she started to shake
For her dear sweet Grandma should be baking a cake
She decided to call on her friend PC Blake
For her instinct was telling her something was wrong
as she called him to ask could he please come along
So together they wended their way through the wood
Nearing Grandma’s chalet, she removed her red hood
As they reached her front door, heard a voice shout for more
So perplexed and alarmed they went in fully armed
But imagine their shock, not believing their eyes
For Grandma was getting a birthday surprise
Grandma and Wolf stark-naked on the floor
Cavorting and frolicking, they were making amour
So discreetly they left, gently closing Grandma’s door…
8th January 2019
Competition: Into The Woods
Sponsor: Silent One
2nd placement
A different take on this ancient fairy tale...
Contest BRIAN STRAND YOU CHOOSE
Sponsor Brian Strand
Dimensions of truth
Spoken or unspoken ,
written or unwritten,
expressed or ever shared
Endless words ,numerous perceptions
and countless misconceptions--
are different dimensions to
the truth.
It makes many people wonder about what it is
and can anyone really define it?
Truth is something which pricks/breaks your heart
or makes you vulnerable.
Might be a light invigorating,
which calms and brings peace
An experience which tests your very own
self and existence.
Mostly a power which many cannot handle
and afraid to confront it.
An encounter which gives us new perspective
and a tough yet content choice to live with.
Its hard and rude when you speak/articulate
and aggressive when you write it.
one has to transcend beyond himself and his mind
to know its nature and its course.
Though the time changes
and people turning to different people
but the truth remains same.
Truth stands alone,may come many
tornados and is stark naked
even when facing temptations.,
with head held high and looking into the sky.
Truth may be alone most of the time
but it gathers true friends -honesty and bravery.
time placed beyond
stairways star-wars
galactic leverage
Universe betrayed
stream of consciousness
tipping an ice berg
pick axe in hand
frostbitten soul
whose kingdom came
poker in the manger
stark naked emperors
food banks in loin cloths
hallowed be the halo
candles burn dry twigs
just a bloody night mare
and no stallion in sight
stellar state of affairs
spare one thought only
wrapped in a comet
bursting the bubble
circus clown’s sorrow
safety net in tears
droplets of madness
cot death for the Lord
22nd December 2020
Densest fog hovers over the mountains,
Blue ridges reformed, now steely,
Gray as the moment just before dawn,
When silence bleeds her dreams
Through the still, cool light
Graceful as the sigh,
Wistful as the music’s rhythm
Sustenance for fires,
Breathed from trembling oaks, birthed by hearts,
Grieving as the December storms,
Shattering the moments, stricken by burning
Promises, echoed on the shadows,
Filling the moments,
Erasing the naked branches
With mists in hues of muddled misery.
Rain sprinkles, showers - nervous,
Shuddering and shaking,
Breaking through the reticence,
Rhythms in puddles,
Muzzled by the rocky moments,
When hope explains her dreams,
Hushing the wind,
Refusing to let the rain’s gentling,
Stir the mystery,
Anonymous liquids, melting the feelings,
Blown carefully into piles,
Across the deep woods, heavy with wet,
Aching to be dried by the fires of the sunlight,
Reflecting all the poetry
Growing its wonder from stark naked limbs,
Shattered by the past,
Who still listens amid the smoky grief,
Melting away the peaks…
Quiet mountains, cerulean hills –
Tempted by drizzling streams,
Hesitating, torrents
Flowing over the nights, blessed with dreams.
Rain, wistful and full of peace …
Stirs the shining emerald stones,
Muffled by the soft cadence,
Rain, measured – pulsing, a melody,
Lifting the hymns from the hills,
Agile as melancholy breaks
Through the dreams,
Dignified and lissome, willowy
As the edges of a forest
Where dejected stumps and decaying leaves,
Breathe out a dismal affection,
For the layers of lasting peace, serenity
Poured out over the blue ridge mountains,
Who grieve quietly for November’s thirsty tedium,
October’s gasping glory and September’s
Soothing psalms, promising
Wonder that will last all year long,
All year long – as the rain pelts the thoughts…
In breathless tears poured out
From bleeding clouds, milked by December’s doubts.
They sat around me in a circle
with brushes and paints all to hand,
their heads bobbed behind their easels back and forth
as holding an apple I stand.
Stark naked and still like a statue
I pose while they practise their craft,
I only wish that they would let me turn round
as somewhere I'm feeling a draught.
They'll certainly use all the colours
my body has got quite a few,
from the grey of my hair to the green of my stare
and my varicose veins are deep blue.
The copy they paint won't be faithful
since totally nude is too far,
so from that I have shied and one bit of me hides
in the tube from a Cuban cigar.
For contest 'Naked', sponsor Anthony Slausen.
I saw a man stark naked there unexpectedly,
who in his masculine fashion, though not apprehensively,
went gliding (or was he striding?)
down the center of the hall.
He did not glimpse me at all
as my gut called out, What gall!
So brazen, so reckless this peculiar entity
appearing as if from nowhere to step in front of me,
not elegant or slim as I’m fond of men to be;
but neither corpulent nor stocky -that cocky buck he
with a smooth protruding rump, rather like a girl’s,
yet by his gait betokened “straight” with nary a frill unfurled.
Frozen to the floor, gawking all the while,
I tried to surmise what could prompt in one
such imprudent, impudent style.
Was he merely meandering in some somnambulism state
as his simple sex is wont to do even while awake?
Or maybe this curious man had behind his head an eye
from which, though facing forward, did enable him to spy
the stupefied stranger staring at his rounded bare behind.
For he seemed to be parading his rear assets just for me,
which I deemed, as I beheld them, excelled in simplicity!
Though nothing was exceptional, I smiled begrudgingly
at a finely curved back with firm legs attached
in resplendent nudity!
11/11/16 for the Naked Contest of Anthony Slausen