I was making out with this woman, and my shirt was off, and she leaned over and, in a really cute, girly voice, went, 'Hey, fatty!'
quote by Jason Segel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Richness has is a beauty.
A fatty woman
With richness painted
All over her skin,
Was full in glow,
Tempting me to look
Back at her again and again,
From my seat in a train,
Defying the concept
That to be slim is beauty.
A fatty cow, a fatty pig,
How nice they look!
Richness has beauty
2.12.2000, Vijayvada
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Fatty Pig
P for pig, fatty pig
Eating lots of rice
O fatty pig
So funny you look
When you dance around.
poem by Dilipbhasker Mathra
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Hunter
Laid back,
But ready to attack.
He's fat,
But cute in a hat.
Hunter the kitten,
As soft as a mitten.
Fun and lazy,
Fluffy and crazy.
Kitten at heart,
Always fart.
I love my kitten,
He's as cute as a button.
He's lazy and sweet,
But he loves to eat.
Laying next to me,
Making me happy.
Licking my tears away,
And making my day.
He likes to purr,
But he has too much fur.
My Hunter kitten,
As cute as ever,
You're fat and lazy,
But you're also crzy.
I love you,
ANd I hope you knew,
I'll love you,
Forever.
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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I am that woman
I am the woman you cannot stand
I am the woman you cannot part
I am the woman who will f*** your brains up
I am the woman who will make you love
I am the woman who will make you so mad you’ll forget your name
I am the woman who your mother will love
I am the woman who will make your mates laugh
I am the woman who will make you speak all night
I am the woman who will make you go ballistic
I am the woman who will annoy you all the time
I am the woman who you’ll find irresistibly cute
I am the woman who will make you forget what you do
I am the woman who you’ll spend all day in bed with
I am the woman who will make passionate love like a beast
I am the woman who will get you out of control
I am the woman who will make you lose your soul
I am the woman who you will accept defeat to
I am the woman who will make you sad when I leave the room
I am the woman who will drive you crazy when we meet
I am the woman who you’ll want to sit all night and stare me sleep
I am the woman who you’ll hate and love
And I am the woman who you’ll never f***ing forget!
…and you know it’s all true….
poem by Evita Velvet
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The Watcher on the Tower
I
The Voice of a Man
WHAT of the Night, O Watcher?
The Voice of a Woman
Yea, what of it?
The Watcher
A star has risen; and a wind blows strong.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
But God is there above it.
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
II
Voice of the Man
What of the Night, O Watcher?
Voice of the Woman
Night of sorrow!
The Watcher
Out of the East there comes a sound, like song.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
Have courage! There’s To-morrow!
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
III
Voice of the Man
What of the Night, O Watcher?
Voice of the Woman
Is it other?
The Watcher
I see a gleam; a thorn of light; a thong.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
The Morning comes, my Brother.
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
IV
Voice of the Man
What now, what now, O Watcher?
The Watcher
Red as slaughter
The Darkness dies. The Light comes swift and strong.
Voice of the Man
The Night was long.—What sayest thou, my Daughter?
Voice of the Woman
The Night was dark; the Night was dark and long.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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The Shirt
The buttonholes were empty.
The buttons had all let go.
The shirt was now a remnant,
one he did outgrow.
The sleeves were short so he rolled them.
The plaid material was faded.
Now it was getting much too tight
as he saw his name brocaded.
The name was what she called him,
'Sonny, sonny boy.'
Her voice came back when he wore it.
It was a sound of joy.
He would have to give up wearing it
and pray that she would know
that no other shirt he'd ever wear
were what her hands did sew.
Mom. dear mom you come alive
everytime I see that shirt.
It helps me when I'm missing you.
It takes away the hurt.
Every other shirt that I have worn
could never quite replace
the feeling I get when I see it
for I see your loving face.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Woman’s hypocrisy
‘How cute you are! ’ you cannot say it
To a woman face to face.
‘How good you are! ’, you can say it
Instead. It is safe
It means she is cute;
She knows it and that only she wants.
24.05.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Crysis!
I perceive the sound
it filters into my ear
the voice is too familiar
the unmistakable pitch
its the woman's voice
i swear i have lived this moment
too many a times.
each time it makes me sad
every i wish i could help
every i shed i tear,
the woman's voice so tender
thus the shrill cuts in
the silence of the dark
many hear her
beg for mercy-for help
help-which i was not of
if only a four year old could help
the woman from her beast husband
always pawing her
night to the other
if only i could help-the woman
out of her crysis
poem by Pen anthony
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Heartless World
She was lying
Bleeding and crying
She lost her little son
In a car accident
A luxury car with a beautiful woman
Killed the innocent child
Of this poor homeless woman
A white cute dog was
Peeping out the car
And
I was standing like a lifeless beast
Nearby the dead child
And, trying to get
The difference of destiny
Between the cute dog, and
The dead little child
Nobody came to
The crying mother
With a word of sympathy
For
This is a selfish and
heartless world.
poem by Dr. P. K. Verma
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Fishing for carp
Fishing for carp, probably kurper or yellow-fish
with the woman leaving to prepare sausage
frying it near to the car on a Cadac frying pan,
(you know how it is)
with a six-pack cooling in the river
and then a sound, a movement making you shiver
when on your right a banded spitting cobra appears
and girly is ready with the food, ready to deliver
a tray full of goodies that she made with loving care
and you wish for her to be anywhere
but right there, but luckily she notices the snake
freezes behind you somewhere
and the ringhals till now with eyes brown and unaware
only half awake senses something testing the air
with forked tongue and rears up ready to strike or spit
and this is it, you have had your share of luck, but still you dare
and using the rod in your hands you slam with all your might,
you slam to your right
striking the spitting hissing thing and it is flying
and it misses sweetie by a mile and luckily it is the last sight
that you have of it, while she screams in fright
and curses the day, morning sun and night
as a rattled girl sometimes does
and you assure her that every thing is well, is all right
and then unexpectedly you have a bite,
the policeman jumps and you are in for a fight
while the mother of all fishes
struggles to be free and you smite
the other rod, hooking it well and good
and the rites of fishing is well understood
and girly is handy with the catching net,
smiles in a better mood.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Rondeau
To iron a shirt, first lightly spray,
then left and right hand interplay;
with one to press and one to lead,
the path's prepared, the creases freed
and gathered wrinkles fade away.
The woman's old, in slow decay,
she's taken care of every day,
yet restless hands still feel the need
to iron a shirt.
Her mind now tends to disarray,
yet sometimes skills, long practiced, stay
and though she lacks her former speed,
her family and friends concede,
she's always known the proper way
to iron a shirt.
poem by Diane Hine
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Tom Hanks Likes UniCandle unicorn
UniCandle unicorn horn glitters real bright,
on t-shirts that glows deep in the night.
T-shirts outside on display,
at carnival on Easter Sunday.
Customers walk by,
but one customer in particular caught my eye.
It was Tom Hanks who did decide,
to buy one UniCandle t-shirt with a price that’s right.
Then Tom turned and said to me,
“UniCandle unicorn is cute and unique.”
Then he left wearing the shirt that glows,
out of dreamland where anything goes.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 1,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Her Bum
‘Does my bum look big in this? ’ She glared.
I gulped and stared upon the floor.
I must escape; the bedroom door
Was open. ‘Run! ’ my senses cried.
But I was numb – nerves were fried!
‘Well? ’ She scowled. I sought a subterfuge.
‘It’s absolutely huge! ’ I thought –
But how to tell her that–? A short
And blighted life she’d wreak on me.
And so to Wife, on bended knee
I prayed ‘Oh please release me from this hell! ’
She gave a yell: ‘So is it big? ’
I looked again – a mammoth rig
Was hanging down – but how to say?
An honest man would surely pay!
I stuttered ‘Err... well, yes it’s nice.’
Her voice was ice: ‘But in this? ’
I tried diversion with a kiss.
‘I love you’ also burbled out – but
I was heading for a rout.
I drew a breath. ‘Be a man! ’ I growled
Inside this howling, quaking head.
‘Well actually love, ’ and now I’m dead,
‘It’s colossal – a real whopper... ’
The bedroom shook; I couldn’t stop her.
I daren’t publish anymore…
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
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woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Better Than The Knife
A woman can cut you up better than a butcher can skin and bone a turkey.
A woman can burn holes in you better than either one of us can iron a shirt.
A woman will first tell you everything, even though you weren't expecting
Then she'll expect all that back and more in return.
And if she doesn't get it
She'll put a knife through you.
Some use a sharpened, shining blade
Others barb their words with
Just the same.
A woman can melt through your heart like acid through wood and grass
A woman can rip the damn heart out through your ass
A woman is more insidious than you realise
A woman is a curse and a blessing twice disguised.
And if you don't expose the hidden truths of your soul
You'd better believe you'll suffer more letting them fly
Out in to the darkness, into the bartenders ear
Wherever they land.
poem by Gary Diamond
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You Look Cute Today
Darling daughter, when on the phone,
I usually say, 'You look cute today.'
Bet you're wondering all on your own,
'Without seeing me, there’s no way.'
'Hair's a mess; no make-up in sight;
These jeans have seen a better day.
I can't be cute. That's not right.
What a thing for dear dad to say.'
Maybe I'm thinking how cute you were
At one, ten, twenty and more…
Sweet and kind with a beautiful mind
And a countenance for all to adore.
Even on the phone or when I'm alone,
I'm right each time I say that
I love you and miss you
And have no doubt that…
You look cute today!
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Chauvinist
I’d never really comprehended such a mighty range of
Shapes and sizes down behind, it’s really rather strange:
The buttock muscle in a woman, overlaid with fat
Is actually such a focal point for men to want to pat
Or squeeze, and then to tease her if it’s eminently stout,
Or even risk a stay in clink to sting it with a clout!
After all, we men are tuned to be that way inclined –
And tho’ our needs are varied, girls, they’re all perverse of mind!
Best of all, our sacred dream: to see her shed her gown
When gliding to the shower for the ritual sponging down.
But then alas! With body lathered, oops! she drops the soap;
‘Please! ’ we beg her, ‘bend and bare! ’ But we can only hope!
I’m sure by now you get the picture – like a rule of thumb –
That men like me obsess all day about the fairer bum.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
My dreams are of a
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Heart Breaking Woman
I'm heart breaking
rule making woman
if you want to play with me you'll have follow my rules
I'm a heart breaking
rule making woman
if you'd wanna get to me know there are rules
I've got the hips
lips and swagger
I am a heart breaking rule making
WOMAN! ! !
Understand me
understand me
I am a Heart Breaking rule making Woman
I'll be called by my name
poem by Sylvia Loven Carter
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It is not the intelligent woman v. the ignorant woman; nor the white woman v. the black, the brown, and the red, it is not even the cause of woman v. man. Nay, tis woman's strongest vindication for speaking that the world needs to hear her voice.
quote by Anna Julia Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Guitar
He keeps his sercrets
Under his shirt sleeve
And hides his face
In his black hair
It hangs in his eyes
And all the girls think he's so cute
Why can't they see it?
Sometimes
He hides behind the school
And plays his guitar
It's so beautiful;
The rhythm he plays
No one notices what he does when he goes home
Because his mom's always drunk
And his dad's abusing her
And the boy tries to step in
To stop his mother from getting hit anymore
But it doesn't work
His father hits him instead
And he goes to his room
And cuts with his knife
Under his shirt sleeve
So no one sees it
And he hides in his room
And plays his guitar
This guitar
He says
Is keeping me alive
If I didn't have this guitar
I would've killed myslef already
Him
And his guitar
poem by Alyssa Ray
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4th Time Around
When she said,
Dont waste your words, theyre just lies,
I cried she was deaf.
And she worked on my face until breaking my eyes,
Then said, what else you got left?
It was then that I got up to leave
But she said, dont forget,
Everybody must give something back
For something they get.
I stood there and hummed,
I tapped on her drum and asked her how come.
And she buttoned her boot,
And straightened her suit,
Then she said, dont get cute.
So I forced my hands in my pockets
And felt with my thumbs,
And gallantly handed her
My very last piece of gum.
She threw me outside,
I stood in the dirt where evryone walked.
And after finding id
Forgotten my shirt,
I went back and knocked.
I waited in the hallway, she went to get it,
And I tried to make sense
Out of that picture of you in your wheelchair
That leaned up against . . .
Her jamaican rum
And when she did come, I asked her for some.
She said, no, dear.
I said, your words arent clear,
Youd better spit out your gum.
She screamed till her face got so red
Then she fell on the floor,
And I covered her up and then
Thought Id go look through her drawer.
And, when I was through
I filled up my shoe
And brought it to you.
And you, you took me in,
You loved me then
You didnt waste time.
And i, I never took much,
I never asked for your crutch.
Now dont ask for mine.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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