Short Groins Poems

Summer Funny Limerick Poetry Contest
Tania Kitchin

The heat of summer in his dad's car
The son takes his date to gaze a star
Lover's lane shines on so bright
Two teenagers groins take flight
It was Dad's Chevy's best years by far
...

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A brisling terror 
tormenting the kelp.

Give me a lamenting mast
that will not go, fall.

In the groins 
holding a promise, 
a crazy god lowers 
the wheel.

The absolute alcohol 
in your nerves, you
want to light the
candle.

Smashing a dark
hole, which leads 
to the brown 
Mars


Satish Verma...

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For cloning of small gods
you took out the kidneys, lungs
and stomach, from slain truth’s
body. My bête noire, the lies.

Do you smell the stink? You make
yourself, you are not your id.
The urge to take a flight was very strong.
Groins aching for the heroic jump.

Legs amputated, the tragedy, swims
like a fossil truth in the sea, under
the layers of centuries.
Man has not changed, cheated of the death.


SATISH VERMA...

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Torrero sans l’aide de Picador
Such artful courage sans pareil :
Gored in the loins

No need to shout who Bad Guys stand for
Mean lances of the Picador slay
Split Toro groins

Speak not of Bad Guys in the same breath
As of fighting bulls and bull-fighters :
Can courage die

Seek not Bad Guys’ ultimate death
Shakespeare says they ever die blighters :
Let cowards lie

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014...

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Everytime you discover 
a new black hole;
someone crosses the border
and starts crying.

Thread weaved in and out 
of tapestry. You were nailed 
to the wall, which never 
had any doors.

Why were you not a mackintosh ?
You scripted strangely, talking 
of an open world. You smell
a war between the poems-

in a book. There was no ad hoc
pain in groins. Your boney 
nose went to find the peat moss
in the jungle of sandalwoods.


Satish Verma...

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They are all over me! See my ankles, my loins and my groins....
This one along my chest, most ugly, uh?
And the one across my tummy?
How can you call me beautiful?
May be if this mirror is a damned liar.....

I used to detest them but now I love
them.
I love scars.
I love my scars.
They tell a story.
They tell my story
Better and clearer than none could.
That I am a fighter, a warrior, a
survivor, an overcomer and a story
teller.
I love scars.
I love my scars!...

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Children of stink, cannot smell the rose.
Lithium in their blood
fathers were happy.

Power over the fire of groins,
was a music to ears.
Everything else was secondary.

The wishes squealed
on the mattresses.
Grief was served in the bed.

Big tears flowing
on the cheeks of ice.
Antarctica was crying.

Sexed up vendetta
did not kill a fly.
Bee was hovering over the heads.

I will expand till infinity.
Life will take care
of ferocious clauses.


SATISH VERMA...

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