Short Malodorous Poems

there was old man from Killean
who had taste for the potcheen
one day was so drunk
he stepped on a skunk
man, what a malodorous scene
...

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some puffed up pieces
malodorous in thesis
require fresh breezes


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Still chuckling at Maurice Rigoler's The Art of the Short Poem.

To imitate: high form of flattery;
I flat in thy direction, matterly....

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methodical thinking...
without blinking...
foraging ahead.... 
to keep from sinking...
assailing the senses...
malodorous quenching...
tumultuous thoughts...
that are heart-wrenching
lackadaisical reasoning... 
nonchalant greetings...
that carry through...
with perceptive reasoning......

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Massive feet (are they clown's?)
marching along long long
motorway. Stepped knee deep
malodorous dog gift
mocking proboscis. Eyes
mega in disgust. Curse
macromania jinx.


Notes:
Macromania is a mania where things seem bigger than they really are. 

Written 20th April 2017
Entry to "Pleiades M" contest...

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I’d rather that my message was encapsulated in poetry
Instead of the hemming and hawing of the world
Seems a curse held under the breath, malodorous 
You know what they’re thinking, as if they were pure
But the cauldron is bubbling with maleficent baubles
Just waiting to spit in your eye, which was dry…

10/29/2020...

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Who shall restore our land's dignity
When plundered by thieves
Who frolic about in the corridors of power 
How shall we escape 
From the lashes of history? 

'How can the captives be delivered from the mighty'? 
When engulfed by malodorous ambassadors 
Who like rodents eat up the nation's trust.
How shall we escape 
From the lashes of history?...

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A Poem by Any Other Name…Should Smell Like a Poem

I ran out of time
to post my lines.
So, as I compose
I hold my nose.

Acrid alliteratives,
malodorous odes,
musty metaphors,
putrid pantoums,
reeking rhymes,
stinky stanzas,
smelly sagas,
obfuscate our olfactory organs.
So, as you read this poem
pour a stiff bourbon
and do your postmortem!
...

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The smell of death
is and unforgettable smell.

It's acridness permeates
all things and 
lingers in one's mind forever.

It is a fetid stink that
brands itself onto your memory.

The bouquet of malodorous aromas
ambushes your brain,
forever leaving a horrific olfactory scar.

The Reaper's perfume travels quickly.
It waits for nothing.
It is only retarded
by the chilly air of the tomb....

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Cloaked figure approached - voice of death it spoke;
“Your moments come,” manifests scythe from smoke.
Each step bereft your pulsates, dirge of a malodorous,
bittersweet symphonies requiem of the hollow - mahogany tree;
stutter/sputter/cough sanguinary pearls hell plead,
crescent sickle moonshines through the clouds this nightmare,
ray of moonlight beam ebbs your breast beat, snuff a candlelight -                  *goodnight*...

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In the Dying Days of Summer
By David J Walker

Summer is not over
Until I say it over
Said Summer

Whose sweet Summer’s breath of June
Turned malodorous by the new 
September moon

Laying siege to the advent 
Of another equinox’ 
Perennial  ascent 

Vainly holding at bay 
The changing of the seasons
Designated day  

And calculated hour
Like old men reluctant to
Give up power

In the dying days 
Of the reigning Summer
Fading away...

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  Loose teeth and wispy hair
    Shadows of memory’s cupboard bare                                                                                                                                                                                            
  Mouth open, teeth gone missing
    Malodorous breath rules out kissing

  Didn’t I see him just three months ago
    dancing a jig, cavorting to and fro
  Blink twice, turn around ~
    Too quickly our vitals shut down
...

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