Short Viscera Poems
Short Viscera Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Viscera by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Viscera by length and keyword.
viscera besieged
elbow deep in ecstasy
succumbing to bliss
11.05.2019
Sexyku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux
UPSIDE DOWN
inverted, topsy-turvy
unhinging, disorienting, confusing
puzzle, somersault; details, viscera
twisting, wearing, turning
front to back, socks
INSIDE OUT
written October 10, 2021
recklessness attacks ego
fury attacks soul
adrenaline attacks viscera
middle digit attacks upward
foot attacks accelerator
vehicle attacks vehicle
hand attacks pistol
lead attacks flesh
remorse attacks fury
gavel attacks sound block
inmate attacks inmate
viscera wound tighter
than the tightest rubber ball
never mind bouncing off the walls
guts like a pinball machine
an arcade between the ears
with tilt alarms screaming
02.10.19
For Capture That Emotion Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Nina Parmenter
Farting is a cool poised own vis
Has safe six-fold gains of wellness
It may seems cannot -at all- be a vista
Yet, sure it does good to your viscera
It is fine to say to it "be a vis"!
It is all natural healthful process
No need for any sort of prowess
Laughing because of a sudden fart,
Rudely that is seems its only fine art
no sound
in a cascade of nerves
submerged
amid a myriad of silences
a serpentine fold
slices through the viscera
and a breath
of phosphor
burns
in the chest’s hollow
a crawling rhythm
of an aborted name
shapeless
a lunar longing
locks into the bones
among the remnants
of a collapsed nebula
I do not heal
I do not return
I am
flesh that refuses form
one of viscera
bearer of every passion
becomes victim of.........
heart makes life live on
gives highest contribution
till dies to the end
Let this be my sacrament of lust.
Red dripping flesh I tear with my teeth,
Absorbed by my viscera,
Becoming one with my being,
Merging with my soul.
I am an eater of dead things,
As are we all.
Why should I not indulge my instincts?
I am as I was made,
Not as you would wish.
Simpering vegans,
Pantywaist abstainers,
Steer clear of my path
Lest I eat you alive tonight
And you’ll all be defecate by morning.
Na zdravie.
I have been dead for many years;
entombed in a mausoleum
of viscera and rigid bones.
There were no prayers or eulogy
spoken on my worthless behalf.
Within the tomb lies a stone-cold,
dead heart and a extinguished soul.
Both suffered a long, lonely death;
its cause was flagrancy and strife;
until one day she came along
with an amorous kiss of life
that resurrected my remains
infused them with vitality
and a different man was reborn.
I lay here in the bunk
all made of white
a sharp twinge of my viscera
a small request I make
to take some ease.
In she sweeps on quiet feet
to bring some abatement
without a soul
she trods with a cold heart.
In my stream the fire does spread
slowly, then with increasing heat
my brain burns, my skin aflame.
I call out through the fog
the siren I blow.
It falls on deaf ears
she hears all with no regard.
I beg relief
none do I get
what can one do but wait.
Amidst the hushed whispers of a fading day
I wander, lost, through paths rosy poised thorns
Seeking solace in the floras sweet newly buds
Rose petals scattered, viscera of spite
Petals that once adorned the beauty's scorn
Now wither, like the nigh memories we cling
To the fleeting moments of sugar cloy
In darkness, chanting mantra whispers low
Ennui’s eternal flame, that burns dire
A symbol of peace, in the heart's darkest night
A secret garden, where seeds take root in fire