Short Voyeur Poems
Short Voyeur Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Voyeur by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Voyeur by length and keyword.
kibitzer neighbor
a blatant staring voyeur
vicariousness
living our dream lives
peeking into our bedrooms
crazy old woman
A chap with strong sexual desire
met a lass in alluring attire.
Upon a park bench
he fondled the wench
watched by the park keeper, a voyeur.
a returning soldier
it was a happily ever after
I could not take my eyes off them
felt like a voyeur, but could not tear away
feeling like a part of their love story
Moon is a lonesome voyeur
Who peeks down lustfully at the silhouetted nudity of Night.
Peccant, she does it with overt grandeur,
Reluming steadily crackling embers of a smouldering light.
Voyeur Validated
Before taking case Lawyer hesitated;
Said the voyeur should be validated,
And had got caught,
Trying to pass thought;
In end he ended up being constipated.
Jim Horn
======================
The voyeur moon has promised she
will hide her light tonight and keep
it dark outside if we'll agree
to let her watch us while we sleep
======================
09/27/2015
Employer Who Looks Like A Voyeur
We had heard he was a well liked lawyer,
Employer turned out to be a big voyeur;
Had stood or sat;
Women looked at;
For this disease there was no known cure.
Jim Horn
If there was a god
That looked down and saw everything,
If there happened to be some anonymous observer,
Somewhere a distant voyeur of human life,
Then maybe science wouldn't be so scary
And the answer ‘no’
So right.
monarchs dive in
hydrangea shakes her fluffy head
lilac takes the lead
embracing and hugging
bees take their sweet time
luxurious feasting, slurping, feeling loved
enraptured and captivated by warmth of blossoms
sunlight watches spring dance, a voyeur
I want to return next time as a clock
with a regular tick tock, and possibly a chime
I want to be mounted on the wall of an entertaining family
to view them unobserved, a voyeur collecting information
which I can put into poems and stories in my next life
as a poet
young couple is red hot and sizzling
older couple looks away, feeling like voyeurs
man takes another peek
remembering what young love felt like
they are beautiful
tantalizing and mesmerizing
he cannot break his gaze
glad they are too far gone to notice his staring
In the wee hours of the morning
I turn easy watching your slumber
Peaceful and content
Cradled in your sweet sense
A breathless voyeur
Soulmates in every life
Forgotten are the lonely nights
When we were young.
Stay with me my romance
Eyes closed
Hearts open
a love Divine.
The name she bore was Amber Moon
and his was Forest Green.
He longed to kiss her late in the afternoon,
when the sun was no longer seen.
His breezy limbs snatched her from the sky
where once she would bedevil,
and beneath them both, there was I,
who watched those lovers revel.
Hiding behind
dark Ray-Bans
frees me
so I can be
someone
other than me..
a voyeur
perhaps
to see
with my vision
focused casually
lingering leisurely
longing, lustfully
wandering
wherever it is
gratifying
visually
or satisfying
my desire
to not let you
see
who I really am.
I spied them through our fence.
They sparred with knuckled fist,
a father with unruly buck
beside back door for violent ruck
that stag was bound to win.
Young eyes that saw that vile display
did not forget that horrid day,
and now know just how close
that same scene could have been.
Sunrise
Warm amber rays
Greet me with morning light
Softly peeking through my window
A welcome voyeur is this peeping Tom
Who wakens me in time to hear
sweet trilling of songbirds
Plaudits to the
Sunrise
July 17, 2022
Radical Rictameter Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
she was swept up in a whirlwind of him
he lifted her off her feet and spun her
the crowd watched, mesmerized
no one spoke
time whispered itself to a halt
a returning soldier
it was a happily ever after
I could not take my eyes off them
felt like a voyeur, but could not tear away
feeling like a part of their love story
Oh beauty, you fleeting flower
How fickle are you,
dwindling by the hour
The desire to possess you
is ever so strong,
Though the time allotted is
never so long
Oh beauty, dear beauty, I’m never so sure
Is it better to have known you
and left wanting more
or better a voyeur
to be trapped in your lure
If I knock one more time,
please open your door
Red robins hunt among leaves
Last snowbird arrivals revel in sunlight
Shuffling for acorns ‘neath Live Oak trees
Finding a treat, a scurry they incite
Tangled wings, feathers flying
Squirrel approaches undetected
Amid the din of birds fighting, crying
Nut eaten by a voyeur unaffected
*Entry for Brian’s “Show Me” Contest.
Written January 10, 2012
taking attention
an incredibly loud splash
stern looking catfish
will he return to the air
I stare at the magic spot
fast moving lake grass
muskrat appears at the edge
he has not seen me
I listen to his sipping
feeling like a shy voyeur
friendly brown cattails
hiding a slithering snake
hearty and healthy
feeling one with the Haw Lake
shimmering and glistening
Prying voyeur
Shining eye of heaven,
Why but this assunder?
Why call on our amorous souls
From the romance of silent night
By your glint throu' chunks and curtains?
Peeping Tom
Herald of waking dawn
Like a sexton calling sleepers
For morning prayer;
Why flash throu' the irises
Of our courting eyes?
Oh morning!
I weep to see you come so soon
In the company of this voyeuristic sun.
The Squirrel
Agile, gray-brown fluff
burying acorns in the yarded scruff,
future mighty oak spawned nests of hope
stretched out branch trapezed along a tightrope,
chatter banter circular frolicking unfaint
tail challenge waving screech complaints,
acrobatic voyeur of the crowned aerial topography
where forest backwood wilderness rise with progeny,
to accommodate and nurture eagle wannabes.
Voyeur Cuz
Wife stealing cousin Wayne,
was the true voyeur,
He’d appear in the room, the silence soon,
Disturbing me and her,
He’d get in the nurses for an orgy,
But he’d just sit an watch,
Drink in the picture,
Don’t step on a Corgi,
He preferred a cuddle not,
Momma was a rented lady,
Cuz stole a few quid on the side,
When the action in the bedroom,
Got him money, wallet slide.
Don Johnson
The frantic birds' conversation
begins and ends in birdspeak.
They trill, they
flit, they fly.
Barely landing long enough
to call it a land, and then
they fly again.
A small gray feathery creature, so
small, methinks she might be a
hummingbird. flies over my
satisfied sun-pressed body, where
I lie in the grass, a voyeur.
Happiest times are when the sun has
followed the birdspeak
into thy yard.
Love is thought
needing a subject
and predicate
lover and object
blossom and voyeur
dreaming fond connections,
often crossing taboos
of distance…
exchanging scents and feel,
the bow, rudder and keel
of relationship
Yet, that mystery remains
the lone whale basking
seeming above the ripples
the albatross on a still night
soaring on unseen current
a collapsed sail undisturbed
by bleeding sunlight
which will I be today?
God or His Man?