Long Thieve Poems
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Hurriedly enroute to her royal majesty
porcelain goddess throne
whereupon earlier today
March 28th, 2022,
after incomplete defecation
sitting pretty on pissoir,
I jiggled and wiggled posterior
(analogous to performing
the bum bared hustle)
until gasping for breath
though unable to shake loose
dangling dingleberry yours truly
nevertheless synchronously praise zing
a mostly functioning sphincter muscle.
Gross and smelly
as human excrement considered
expelling fecal matter comprises
important function, whereby any unspent
ingested material shunted
thru alimentary canal
then spewed courtesy sphincter vent.
**** lies zing constipation
and/or stubborn stuck drek
nothing to poo poo about,
cuz when bedeviled by
colorectal obstruction,
no matter emetics
applied with bonafide clout
without wasted doubt,
that malodorous, maleficent
malevolent malady
body electric doth flout
analogous to uranus
clogged with grout,
whereat no heroic
efforts break loose,
the severely obstructed bowel,
thus spurring determined,
desperate derriere plea
for proctologist sought
to relieve constipation
equipped with a special
"J" shaped, hooked,
and designed dowel
in an effort
to pry stoppage
if/when yours truly constipated
jamming up human cloaca,
where rock solid stubborn
immovable turd emits foul
gaseous emanations accompanied
with a$$ a nine growl
followed by red hot,
fiery excruciating spasms
shooting jagged pain
inducing yours truly to access,
the werewolf within howl,
where a preference for sciatica,
in place, but my ill luck
regarding aforementioned plight
merely naming said nerve pain
accursed affliction arises
analogous to parasite malefactor thieve
ving would be
equally unpleasant and offer
absolutely zero reprieve
along heinie kin cheeky jowl,
thence finding me
resorting to peeve
hush scream therapy,
which wrought nothing,
no pain did re: leave
me bummed out bum,
but veins snapping,
popping, and crackling,
utmost effort I forcefully heave
oye how aye did grieve
plus a bajillion
gallons of perspiration,
while lower gastrointestinal
agonizing torture didst cleave
entire abdominal
area please believe
without aforementioned crisis,
and feeble poem,
I could not achieve.
They’ll thieve from you your money
Your shoes that you just brought,
They do it with a notion
That they’ll never get caught.
Though I state this very clearly and
With much integrity
I’m proud and loud with no shroud for
Thievings not for me.
They’ll thieve what they think they deserve
They thieve what they just want,
Is a fact- a dirty act
To pull a thieving stunt.
They thieve in the name of love
They thieve behind your back,
They think they are entitled
For things that they do lack.
They’ll thieve your words and twist the verbs
Your designs, plans, ideas,
Then they’ll act almighty from
Stealing time and years.
They’ll thieve your light when shining bright
Your heart and curly locks,
They’ll thieve your garden hose out front and
Your letter box.
They are not fair they do not care
To steal what is not theirs,
Their in a class of their own and some
are billionaires.
The greediness, the avarice
rapacity, extortion,
Be careful of corruption
for this can cause distortion.
Leaves of my soul
flutter in the fall,
lay offering, but
detached in time
absolute as another
breathtaking vision,
assaults my senses
to thieve breath
The offering Plate of life
Is passed at the end,
now naked I confess
I am bankrupt of hope
The shade of tomorrow
Fades into the distance,
mercy holds empty hands
Bereft of miracles, sigh
forever in awe of compassion
it touches ever more gently,
capturing a piece of beauty
for the heart of my mind
Becoming a galaxy
birthing four stars,
a miniscule speck
now stains forever
four lights flicker
to Guide me home
Stroking away pain
I finally steal resolve
A marathon of hurricanes
cross my peripheral,
and are driven into infinity
they will clear the way
Hope once again
Trickles into veins
broken but always
waiting to recondition
all that I am
is all that I can be
resting with infinity
under the southern stars
Peace holds my prayers
and redemption, waits
Restless ghostly night,
whilst full moon hangs bright
drench in yellow with fright.
The hour of All Hallow's Eve
has chimed like a venal thieve;
all in wild frenzy they leave.
A shrill whistle in the distance
behest by spirits persistence
and wicked witches on broom assistance.
Those brave to be out in the dark,
stumble in their steps they mark,
as lanterns in trembling fingers spark.
Twilight soul into burnt cinder
shadows and ghost linger,
as cowering frightened dogs whimper.
Luminously yellow eyes blaze,
of the alluring vampire's gaze,
in the dark a hypnotic maze.
Goblins, gnomes, and black fairies
dance around blood-red berries;
a chilling ritual mummeries.
Standing in the moonlight there,
a few feet from toadstools; a pixie pair,
merry tricksters everywhere.
Waxen daylight creeps across the sky,
arise a yawn from sneaking dawn nigh.
Gone, in a wink All Hallow's Eve cunning and sly
10/25/2021
Children Story
Sidney sloth was so very very shy
He’d hide in the treetops way up high
Hanging upside down so no one could see
He’d painted his toes red like a ripe cherry
Sidney hid in the tree so silently
High in the branches where no one could see
But soon Sidney discovered a major snag
Ripe cherries were being picked and put in a bag
The cherry picker pulled at one of Sidney’s toes
Sidney was no longer in a state of sweet repose!
Wanting to maintain his privacy
Sidney climbed to the top of the tree
Soon autumn came and the leaves she did thieve
Forcing poor Sidney to hurriedly leave
Sidney sought sanctuary in a local zoo
Now he can’t be seen by me or you!
Fun write inspired by the idiom contest
07~29~16
New or Old 3 contest Sponsored by Eve Roper
Oh for the days of Merrie England
When each peasant knew their place
To ensure the upper orders lived
in style, comfort and grace.
All bowed the head and bent the knee
And thus by doing so
Ensured the continuance of a just
and Rightful Statius Quo.
Long live our noble leaders and may
They all continue to believe
Their power, privilege and position
Gives them the right to thieve.
God bless the lower orders
For acceptance of their situation
Long may they continue to be
Such ready subjects of exploitation.
Oh for those days of glory
For so long not seen
When only the poor and simple
Had holes in their jeans.
Oh for those Merrie England Days
We’re working towards getting back.
We’re not quite there yet
But we’re on the right track
You humans walk about with ease
With no care nor mere concern
Where every step could maim or kill
And pilage upon return
Whether consciously or unaware
Your ignorance is noted
Oblivious to basic laws of motion
Where walking equates to floating
You boast of sciences and their order
Superior to all that lives then!
Yet upon much closers inspection
You thieve progress from our nests
What you do not know is undiscovered
As If it was always concealed in view
But your vanity and arrogance
Made what was plain seem undiscovered
Education is the key THEY SAID
And so observe wat more to learn
We have no formal education
Yet it is our knowledge that you yearn
Our cities require no government
Nor our storehouses a cooler
Our population knows no census
Yet all sleep with full-cropped bellies
Our currency of order requires neither rates nor taxes
Prepared for every season our larder is stocked by and far
How sexist can we be when our monarch is always a Queen?
Is not discrimination amongst ourselves what stunts unity and progression!
Tiniest of all beings yet the most enthusiastic workers
About from the ascension of Our Lady till the chill that summoms phantism
Our industriousness is favoured such as the work ethic we possess
Watch, carefully observe, learn from us and you will prosper
Imagine what we could do if we were you with all this knowledge
We'd bring order to the world and calm to all chaos
Maybe now you know to lose the botox that stiffens up your necks
Look down more timeously and remember we too are beings
Here I sit alone in my ‘prison cell’
Cut off from the ones I love – it is a living hell
I feel so alone, I crave human contact, anyone would be great
Just someone to talk to - it doesn’t have to be a mate
Splendid isolation between these four walls
Scared to venture out my room in case an intruder calls
I lock my door every time I leave
In case someone comes to take what little I have to thieve
There is no one here to share my fears
No one to hold my hand or wipe away my tears
The ones I love are far from me
No one to listen to my plea
I need to be brave to soldier on
In a few days we will be gone
Back to the home from where we came
Until then I play the waiting game
This is my first poem since childhood, written when my husband was undergoing cancer surgery in November 2013. I felt so isolated and also very vulnerable in the hospital accommodation which was a flat that had 4 lockable bedrooms and a shared kitchen but was shared by both men and women
I had my laptop and my phone .. but what I really needed was someone to be there at my side. My son had just started university and had enough stress being away from home especially with his father being ill. My father prevented me from telling my mum of my husband's cancer so I had no support at all from my immediate family.
15th Feb 2014
Submitted to Loneliness Contest Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron
Submitted to A Meaningful Poem - Poetry Contest Sponsored by Constance La France
They say that love is not selfish it is kind
But when it’s not, what awful carnage it leaves behind.
Strange feelings crowd your inner space
Tears find a resting place upon your lovely face.
Some people have no heart to give
So find others some to thieve
And yet it runs out like water though a sieve.
Purge your soul of this painful memory
Avoid the reminders like an allergy
He stole your heart you lost control
The tears your broken heart console
Your heart will find its place
Take each day at its pace
You will emerge from this it’s certain
It is not the end nor final curtain
Like all colours have a hue
And the grass it’s morning dew
You will survive and this is true.
Orange and reds - the vibrant shmooze of Fall.
The social froth of maple shapes, and oak.
The chatty leaves infringe upon us all,
As piney-green hangs back for Winter folk.
A cocktail mixed with children’s play and gaffs.
Their brooms and sheets do trick and treat through streets
Of cold — the harbinger stirs Jack Frost’s laugh.
Mean parents thieve their children’s soulful sweets.
Yet, warmth of hearth, the logs aflame with blue,
And cinnamon aromatherapy.
Good-hearted ‘rents brew up a hearty stew.
As kids do leap into the leaves with glee.
The whirligig of Autumn wind wins hearts.
The reveille of Winter soon will start.
10/26/2019
New Fall Sonnets Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Note: ’rents - slang for parents