The perfect indication
a smirk, with some flirtation
a special night
for dating
do you wanna dance with me
Suggestive comments got me thinking
that atta-bouis
and all that winking
laning on me
got me thinking
you wanna dance with me
aint got the right stuff for staying
work in the morning my Boss aint
playing
But you got me wanting
some forward thinking
the night aint through
when the band finishes playing
I got a kiss
after a whisper
the gentlemen said
she called me her Mister
Right night
the romance of the mmusic
dancing
smiling and grooving
what a night
what a romantic evening
got a foolish man
beleiving
take my time
clm all the feelings
freshen up for a specail evening
Attended a garden party
full of fun
from dusk 'til dawn
filled with laughter
next door on the lawn
awoke the morning after
the night before
arose to wash
my hands and face
packed my bag
just in case
all was quiet
around the house
nothing heard
not even the spouse
what now where next
who really knows
always the eternal question
allow me now to propose
I'm open to suggestion
I Once Warned Ai
That It's Very
Suggestive:
To Cl-Ai-m A
Pregnant Camel
Has Three
Humps.
Humor Is
Simple-E Magic.
-Gray Squirrel
07-23-2025
On the stage, the pre-teen girls
Displayed their hip hop moves,
As sequins sparkled while the dancers
Got into their grooves.
Though just a dress rehearsal,
Make-up gleamed on lips and eyes
And you could spot the older selves
Their bodies did disguise.
Yet even with suggestive thrusts,
Their innocence shone through.
Of grown-up sexuality,
These girls had not a clue.
And that was wonderful to see,
Especially because
My grandchild was among those dancers
Waiting for applause.
What‘s better than a biscuit?
Hard to debunk
Treasure trunk funk
Should you let
It get wetter
Would you dare risk it?
The trick a quick dunk
Or could flunk..flick..kerplunk..
Mushy chunk sunk..messy junk
Slushy slunk..in the tea you drunk
So at your leisure
Pleasure one’s self
Don’t regret your stealth
Forget your health
Wealth beset on the shelf
So feeling restive?
Yearn for a digestive?
Appealing…suggestive
No shock..dark choc
What else will cut the mustard
With a brew…for a few bob
Recurring theme..does seem
Will always dream
About a custard cream
Almost sob…as I Lob
A hob-nob in me gob
Ta pour more cha
In fine fettle
Be a slob
Turn on the kettle
Bickies in the jar
On the sofa settle
Sins within tins
Spurn concern
Ignore the racket
As
Hats do doff
Knew from the off
On a roll
The sole goal
Quaff another cuppa
Down your cake hole
Scoff the whole packet!
This advertisement by ETSY is inappropriate. It depicts a greeting card of a man getting excited down there. And it crosses the line in the sand of what's decent and what's not. This picture is definitely distasteful and sexually suggestive, especially on a site that promotes its self as being family friendly.
It's like I'm visiting a public beach that's sunny and always family friendly and are suddenly blindsided by the dark clouds of nude bathers.
It's not right. It's not right for the kids. It's not right period.
A disapproving voice(s) is needed here so this complaint weighs on PS' conscious, where the decision is totally up to them to allow their cash cow to frolic in a meadow of immorality or to censor the picture.
It's in their hands.
But I hope they use the same morality as they do in censoring a list of banned poet's word, which in my opinion pales in comparison to that picture.
connie pachecho
3/29/25
Note-I thought about enclosing the image of the greeting card but it falls under PS terms of conditions that doesn't allow pornographic cartoons ... the irony. A train wreck will do.
SELF LOVE
I finally emerged from my hypnotic state
When I’d been scribbling notes to myself
Back in the room was quite a shock to me
Being both in and out of a kind of fantasy
Yet I do recall doubting my mental health
But then saw just what I was told to create
A letter to myself written in my own hand
Expressing a kind of love or so it appeared
A long list of all my otherwise hidden traits
If conscious, it may have tempted the fates
But that analysis seemed to be multi-tiered
And surprising for me, hard to understand
In summary, it said I wasn’t so bad after all
Yet some details were embarrassing in a way
A dream state suggestive of insights so deep
That I’d worry in future of my falling asleep
But some aspects of myself had parts to play
And that sooner or later had to heed the call
Since then, I have thought much about that
Is it better OK, rather than at the extremes
With my true self, I think I’d get along fine
Despite the temptation to step over the line
But of every version of me I’d see in dreams
Would I merely smile and even doff my hat
"The Maiden's Song" or "The Bridal Morn" is an ancient Middle English poem about a young girl, a bride, on the morning after her wedding day.
The Maiden’s Song aka The Bridal Morn
anonymous Medieval lyric
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The maidens came to my mother’s bower.
I had all I would, that hour.
The bailey beareth the bell away;
The lily, the rose, the rose I lay.
Now silver is white, red is the gold;
The robes they lay in fold.
The bailey beareth the bell away;
The lily, the rose, the rose I lay.
Still through the window shines the sun.
How should I love, yet be so young?
The bailey beareth the bell away;
The lily, the rose, the rose I lay.
I take this to be a naughty, suggestive poem, but one that makes us feel sympathy for a young bride, quite possibly a child bride.
Keywords/Tags: maiden, mother, mother and daughter, bailey, beareth, bell, lily, rose, silver, gold, robes, sun, love, young, youth, girl, bower, bridal shower, wedding, woman, women,
KLIMT KISS EKPHRASED
Klimt’s
symbol
of love
nouveau
suggestive
of time
immemorial
upon a cloud
of gold
lost in
the moment
time
does not
exist
one
with the other
alone
& yet..
desire..
& need
in love’s power
exists
then
as now
within
each
human breastI
Upon a day of cloudless skies,
came breezes with suggestive strength.
I00 was the heat index.
Its beauty was the best July
could ever muster
forcing my hair to dance
to ocean music in the wind,
a present from the eastern shore.
I sat upon my porch and sensed
the seaside neath it's breath,
smelling salt and beach-town air.
Still dreaming to be there.
Awwwww and now it steals upon,
my longing secret soul.
Another surge of sea sent breeze,
A restful memory stole.
7/16/2024
Why in his presence, did her soft heart, always like sweet
cotton candy melt?
Orchestral songs engendered the tenderest feelings, to her
heart, so aquamarine velvet.
Such starlit, subtle, shameless, suggestive glances!
An antennae in every way was she, inviting kaleidoscopic,
tsunamic romances.
On the fog cradled ship, with a cape of fog, blessing her
chiseled,moonbeam face,
His arms enclosed her in a velveteen gold, cuddled in his
silent, starshine embrace.
Oh, poetess, penning of feelings of deep intimacy.
Your poem, will be stamped “romantic “?
A term, you loathe and find so very meaningless and worse,
utterly curt and disgustingly pedantic!
But only a poet who knows your heart to its scarlet
inner flaming core,
Has the outstanding bravissimo to knock on your truly
insatiable, heart’s-door!
Dare he try his wings and wish for such magically,
exotic, sensual satisfaction?
Wrapped in those twilight, wild, moonbeamed curls
of Eurydice’s Olympian extraction!
6/4/2024
kitsch
crowded
streets
fast
flowing
feathers
pointed
feet
jagged
distinctive
yet unique
something
so inexpressible
a chord
so vivid from an uncontrolled
inner drive
beyond memory
the unstated
distilling the hidden
an essence
of yesterday’s
buried in today
a symbol
of
love
suggestive
yet
of time
immemorial
lost in
a moment
where time
does not
exist
One
with the other
alone
& yet..
desire..
and need
together
exist
contemplating
a suave
astonishing
pastiche
before
&
despite
either
in
an
austere
feeling
of
fine
beauty
A curled-dry orange peel,
all that stands against gray
dark lips of gaping hole,
whose eye can steal your form,
or lift your full bankroll.
A curled-dry orange peel,
hanging pith on the cliff-
edge ridge of my laptop,
now camera obscura
made of a lunchtime prop.
A curled-dry orange peel,
braver shield than post-it,
organic digestive,
space between aperture
hints at curves, suggestive.
A curled-dry orange peel,
modesty's upholder,
bulwark of hair carefree;
hunger's leftover coat
might have been potpourri.
FLIRTATION
a pretext
for
the glamorous
renaissance
across
the core
of romantic love
swathed in
the symbolic
changing
&swaggering
in a suggestive
state
emblematic
of the
vanity
so so
essential
&
appropriate
to the occasion
beauty-obsessed
assessed
& filtered
adolescence
so
superficially
beautiful
looking fo
a glimpse
of the
reassurance
&
the spectacular
in profile
to be paraded
in an
appearance
so soft
gentle
&soothing
aspiring towards
desire
& promise
covered with
ornamental
displays
of perfection
a
focus on
& aimed at
the observer
at will
Maybe we think words don’t matter?
Write anything for a big laugh it seems.
Why do we crawl down the moral ladder?
Our hearts so empty of God’s streams!
Aren’t there poems non-suggestive?
There are sites where filth is the king.
Must all laughter go beyond repressive?
This, my question to fellow poetic beings.
Some decent,English words are blocked.
Learn humor, it need not be about anatomy..
I am tired of goodness…being here mocked.
We are far better than that, don’t you see?
6/10/2023
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