Short Genitalia Poems
Short Genitalia Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Genitalia by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Genitalia by length and keyword.
A fellow who hailed from Australia
Had quite oddly shaped genitalia
At each sexual encounter
Before he could mount her
Her laughter ensured total failure
C*nt is the oldest word
the only word
for female genitalia
it also means cow
Every farmer knows
the cow means more
than an unborn calf
~The Insolent Rib
Hearing the word “genitalia” on the subway
Immediately perked up thinking of love's ballet
Cupping my ears
Trying hard to hear
As they exit, I follow, not my stop to my dismay
Genitalia is a word that sure catches one's interest
It's got something to do with being the stiffest
Like an uptight dude
Now that's really rude
'Twas about Genny's ponytail, tested me to the limit
The arch
in the targeted killing
was the bet when you
lost your virginity.
A slow dance
at the cold river of flesh,
with genitalia wiped off.
I was constructing-
your genome
from you saliva. Prayer
was a form of begging
before an unpardonable sin.
The gradient
parting the hills will
find another arena
to start the game.
Satish Verma
Sorrow climbs
its roofless tower
Descends to be thigh deep –
genitalia deep.
Now it has the weight
of rain clouds.
A smoked umber
moves through
an invisible throat.
Fine hairs
are stroked to arousal.
A drowning wrist
above a whirring hand.
Pressure rubs saturated sounds
from probing fingers.
The belly of a curving drum
thrums, moves us to a place
where nothing matters
but the next note.
Sorrow climbs
its roofless tower.
Descends to be gut deep,
genitalia deep.
Now it has the weight
of rain clouds.
A smoked umber
moves through
an invisible throat.
Fine hairs
are stroked to arousal.
A somnambulant wrist
pushing a whirring hand.
Pressure rubs saturated sounds
though probing fingers.
The belly of a curving drum
thrums, moves us to a place
where nothing matters
but the next note.
A frame
lifts the skirt of a portrait
and throws her genitalia
on your face.
A twin blast has taken place.
Why did you stand for
eclecticism ?
The fables will miss you
and blue horse
will not return home.
The naked feet
will roam on grass, when
shoes will ask ;
what is the miracle ?
It happens once a while.
Reified the colors into pink
thighs – for every word,
cubics
stood undressed.
Now the table waits for you.
Satish Verma
The bald mannequin, stands
undraped, without genitalia
moving the lips.
The choreographer walks in
caressing the knobs
to open the invisible door.
There would be knife between the teeth
and dance in the flames
to lift up the veil,
to kill the sorrow and pain.
A spill from the eyes becomes
red. The whispers
will decide the prices.
Glass case will never be empty.
Sweet show will continue.
SATISH VERMA
Form: