"girth" poems
No matter our race or color or creed
or way of life or species or breed.
No matter our height or girth or scent,
we all hate Donald because Donald is a ******* ****
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 10:51 PM UTC
Light train chugging, working to outrun
Over exerting, pulling along your freight
Sand is running out under the diminishing sun
Fastidiously you tug on your enormous weight
Segmented equal in seven hulking proportions
Weaving between sleeping rocky giants
Assertion in your drive gifted from the high heavens
Borne of light your cargo load of tenants
Silver blurred rays glinting back as reply
As you power your way through
Defying seconds, before the last rays should die
Against odds, delivering what is due
Questing to alleviate my inflicted darkness
Spear of brilliance slicing through my mind
Illuminating the farthest and tiniest of crevices
Nook and crannies that willed me blind
Careful manoeuvring to keep your balance
Through scenic views fraught with treachery
Furiously working to keep your cadence
Hopeful of unloading the load you carry
What lies dormant in that cargo of yours?
What sleeps easy within those boxcars?
What stokes the fire to diligently run your course?
What promises you bear, travelling near and far?
Bales of hope and crates of strength
Supplies of kindness and self-worth
Reside within your immense length
Intact and lay quiet within your formidable girth
Reliant on the light that fuels and feeds
Your axles seem tireless guiding forth those wheels
Thundering over land with the power of a thousand steeds
Armed to your teeth with alloys and steels
Expelling grit and dirt as you pummelled across
Grey-white fumes, shoot up to the sky
Flag flogged by wind, billow and toss
Blaring your whistle as you race on by
Propelling forward, horizon up ahead
There it is...in all its tenebrous glory
Darkened locomotive seething mad with dread
Brace for the clash and the loads the two carry
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
What's my worth?
Am I worth a second glance?
Till present, from birth
Am I deserving of chance?
What's my value?
Am I worth time spent?
What did I do?
Did I squander the life lent?
What are my virtues?
Do they even shine through?
Do I put them to good use?
Or useless like a pair less shoe?
What defines me?
Is it the words that write?
Or work I do diligently?
Could it be my punches in a fight?
What have I done?
Take your time to think
Did I do it with a loaded gun?
Must've done something; must've missed the link
What am I good for?
Important work or menial labour
Could have I done more?
Achieved alone or together
Do I think differently?
Indulge in fairytale notions
Is it sheer folly?
To believe in magic potions
Am I just silly?
Do I dream too much?
Accept reality
Am I capable of such?
Do I shirk what I carry?
Should I have said no?
Did I delay and tarry?
Have I nothing to show?
Am I wrong to feel?
Is it foolish to want?
When it all is real
Now bearing the brunt
Do I wear you weary?
With my endless stupor
Why can't I bury?
Before we expire
Why do I wallow?
Wading through eye puddles
Should I just burrow?
Deep into these riddles
Why do I falter?
Why can't I heal and rise?
Why do I break and shatter?
How do I stop my eyes?
What is this dense forest?
Must everything be obscure?
Can I not be honest?
Can I not be insecure?
Could I be any more random?
Asking as they come to mind
Have I compromised my decorum?
Have I been blind?
Should I delve even deeper?
May I go on and ask?
Am I worthy of an answer?
Or should I just don my mask?
Gargantuan was my crime
Thick was its girth
Absolution this time?
Of it am I worth?
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
A curse of the gamer,
Not knowing the sun,
Also knowing trinary,
two zero one.
Very anti social,
Give us wide girth,
Lowly right now,
We'll inherit the earth!
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
He was large as frogs go
Fist-sized happy rotund dweller
of backyard pond
Garter snake large, too large
with his ominous yellow stripes
and jaws to take
a larger than average mouthful
Choked by abdomen's girth
Legs drooling from his glut
Before the victim's even hit his gut's
digestive juices
Kid with hockey stick makes him puck
for his sin
Frog makes desperate
slim swim for rocks
Where he lies in recovery
from shock and
teeth marks on his belly
Underdog gets defense from phone call-- Eve
150 miles away
intercedes
Frog gets mercy of a transport
to another backwoods pond--
to find his life
forgetting trauma
Suns himself and swims
Eats the bugs
and ***** the froglettes
of another day
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 8:39 PM UTC
Tentacles with impressive girth
From space, rain down to Earth
In furious flurry, birthing
A new reign of terror
Oy vey! Scream the globalist elite
Suspended in animation
As throbbing veins,
Snares, entangling
Penetrate their every orifice
Nonconsensually
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
Wild stallion live free
Galloping unbound
Always you flee
Never chained to your ground
Wild stallion how swiftly you fly
Over distances and plains
How courageous you try
Hide your aches and pains
Wild stallion your hooves beat the earth
With fierce determination
Let loose and be rid of your girth
Be free from trepidation
Wild stallion covet your solitude
Embrace the run in silence
Your formidable strides of fortitude
Bound forth with repentance
Wild stallion I see you there
Mane billowing as you thundered across
Grounds fly beneath you without a care
Running without remorse, gliding without loss
Wild stallion I was once like you
Soaring to the ends on unrestrained wings
A life that is now but an echo; a faint pathetic hue
A life that is now filled with broken things
Wild stallion keep on running free
Keep galloping and know no bounds
You're free, no need to flee
Outrun the chains, leave them as faint indiscernible sounds
Wild stallion how I envy you
As you canter, your coat gleam in the light
See me as you always do
Just a reflection who has ceased to fight
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
We climbed from bedrock
to Idyllwild the home
of Pines to Palms
and Suicide Rocks
but not for us
only for those
poor tired souls
for whom the world's gone
flat
refusing
the night threw
itself boldly into the fray
of winds which blew
from storm to calm
so this morning we awoke
to a placid knap
slipping on snowy piste
to turn cold snaps
hot
spiced Nepali tea
sipped from ice
nipped cups
I see promise
picks up
from backward leaps
time forward flips
breaking free range igneous
into pan
piped sizzling
congenial song
that carries on the tree line
like spring
water sprung from
creeks to go scurrying off
with wet socks
until pulled up
by old school granite skies
hanging pools out to dry
in sopping blue rinsed sun
ahead any bald rocks
or hairline fractures
are long since dialled in
as baseless fears
knowing this mobile age
can merrily slip like air
through numb fingers
while baseline hands declare
“hold me close to gather”
edelweiss echoes gone
rappelling through time
the route we've chosen's
to be tied to each other's
peaks in the way of sun
and moon
come what may
be it creases in our skin
or crevasses
we'll win the battle to slim line
any overhanging ridges
so I take care to tighten
my girth hitch to top notch
and hold firmly
to both your conviction
and reach
that setting
out to move mountains
we call home
achieves more than
staying home
and calling mountains
so bright
you have me forget
all things too trite
banal office hype
shopworn old hat
mowing lawn weekends
too dishy to be clichéd
you polish off the stereotype
slam the Dior on out of shape
and dull as ditchwater tripe
keeping a victorious secret
or two in the slip knot
too tranquil shade
taking allure to new heights
we'll never drop
down from
tonight
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
You are the glowing embers in a comforting hearth,
Set ablaze by the murmuring draft of
Caressed anticipation, freed to rise
By caring hands from the core of your flame
To ignite the girth of my imagination.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 2:17 PM UTC
The first time I saw you,
Standing up on stage,
Your gentle protruderence beckoned,
I yearned for your girth.
Standing alongside one Michael Cassio.
A Florentine.
My eyes could not escape.
I disregarded my A1 in English,
All I wanted was the D.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
I walked into the guitar store
simply desiring to change the strings
not knowing at all
what this lovely day would bring
I sat my acoustic on the counter
and picked out my string set
Martin Acoustics, always trusted
a purchase I never regret
I sat and played on my Christmas present
A baby blue Fender Strat
into the shop walked My lady
with a figure like an hourglass
She said she was in the mood for some excitement
I was always willing to provide
I said but darling were in public
she said I don't care, I want you with those deep blue eyes.
so I snuck her into the repair shop
surrounded by tools and parts
I kissed her deeply and traced
on her ample ******* a heart
I slid her pants down and drank from her womanly cup
I heard her moan and whimper
as deeper and deeper I supped
she decided to reciprocate
and slid down my jeans as well
I looked to make sure no one was coming
because this would be hot I could tell
She laid me on the table
kissed up and down my neck
I rolled her over
so I was on top of my lover
I stood proud like a soldier
After the first ******
I kissed her and said you ride next
she bounced on me so hard
I felt more and more of her soft heated flesh
So after our day in the guitar store was done
she held onto my tool like a loaded gun
she said this belongs to only one
woman on this earth
me and you better always be ready to fill me with your girth
;)
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
The Holy Ones
I want to shove socks in my pants, so it looks like I have one of those Italian-line painting ***** I want to do it when I go to the grocery store so fourteen-year olds and thirty-year olds alike stare at my junk as it fills the stitches of my pelvic arena, I want to make eye contact with mothers and grandmothers, brothers and dads as they shift uncomfortably in those handicap battery powered carts that are reserved for the handicapped but are often only used by the near-morbidly obese, near because they’re not quite dead yet, morbid because they can’t help but imagining my **** sliding past their tongue and what it feels like as the tip pushes past their uvula and they gasp for air through their nose because they’ve never had a **** like this in their mouth before. This would be my **** **** This would have me making lists of adult film star names for film star jobs I’d never take because I’d be busy making lists of phone numbers, the college girls I’d have my pick of ******* and the mothers and grandmothers who I’d be happily turning away from while I select my own organic radishes from the produce department at the specialty market on Vine. This **** is better than a rolled up wrapped stack of hundreds or the leather jacket I had in high school, it’d be better than when I walked down Michigan Ave in Umbro Valentino donning a Parisian accent, I can see me having to buy new briefs just to make room for this **** And my own **** getting jealous of the girth I’d be faking it’d swell up, and in the middle of ordering my four-pump Vanilla Almond milk Latte from Starbucks my gray wool socks would fall to the floor, and up from the band of my Acne Jeans would bulge the tip, just the tip, like she said when I was in college, or just the tip like I said when I just needed to feel something other than how emotionally wrecked you made me feel when you told me not to touch you anymore. You ****** me up righteously. And still, 380 women later, I’m ****** up and I don’t have a single pair of socks to wear
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 1:34 AM UTC
If you were granted the gift of temporary flight...
Would you ascend...
Just so you could feast your eyes
on the horizon,
beyond the confines of weather-worn tiles
set upon unsuspecting rooftops.
Would you take soar...
Just so you could briefly leave the ground
below.
And as the land beneath you diminishes,
all that's you tethered to your earth
almost instantly would turn into nothing
but specks of insignificance.
Would you fly free...
Just so your heart could entertain the possibility
of being ensnared by the breathtaking
view of the sun,
as it rests its pompous girth upon its bed of
clouds;
Like a bratty king sprawled over lavish sheets.
Would you burst through the boundary...
That separates heaven and earth.
Just so you could be bewitched by the full blown
moon,
be enthralled by the siren calls of the stars,
and be a part of the spectacle that is the
universe...
If you were granted the gift of momentary flight...
Would you still ascend?
Knowing full well that soon gravity would claim
you with less than no pity nor remorse.
And all that you had complacently forsaken...
Will greet you with the harshest of punishments.
I would.
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
1371
How fits his Umber Coat
The Tailor of the Nut?
Combined without a seam
Like Raiment of a Dream—
Who spun the Auburn Cloth?
Computed how the girth?
The Chestnut aged grows
In those primeval Clothes—
We know that we are wise—
Accomplished in Surprise—
Yet by this Countryman—
This nature—how undone!
3.5k
Do birds question their existance?
Do bees think they're alive?
Does the walrus fight the resistance?
Do horses just survive?
Does the grass give a rat's ***
Do the trees even care?
Do the shrubs think the bushes are crass?
Do the flowers curse and swear?
Do the rolling plains feel plain?
Do the mountains feel like a molehill?
Does the ocean just go through the motion?
Do the valleys lay in alleys like road ****
Does the Earth feel worth?
Does Uranus feel hanus?
Does Jupiter hate its girth?
Our Universe is the worst!
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 4:34 PM UTC
.
Henry VIII was a deluded monarch,
he could never have ruled the Earth,
for he hasn't seen his **** for years,
hiding beneath the bulk of his girth.
And wobbling onto the battle field
is not the behaviour fit for a King,
he would have to sit nursing his cysts
and hoping the ointments don't sting.
His eating excess was cause for concern
but his syphilis remained largely unseen,
and one really has to feel so sorry for
whomever it is that is currently Queen.
His penchant for young and younger Ladies
made him a stranger to baths and soap,
and his bed hopping antics to sire a son
bought him much trouble from the pope.
© Pagan Paul (09/12/18)
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC
***** moisten, ******* wet.
Petite round **** ******* swollen stiff.
**** hard and fully ***** his girth is thick.
Long length, curved at the tip; tight fit.
Silk boxers on the floor, ******* next.
Naked bodies, both so magnificent.
Slippery, silky smooth tongue slid,
up and down her slit.
Lips pressing her hood.
Under it, her exposed clit,
glistens with spit,
Hot breath and warm licks
encircling her tip.
She's rolling her hips,
to the beat of the tongue licking it.
Fingers gripping her long ******* pink.
Twisting her nips, then pinched
squeezing them numb,
between his fingers and thumb.
her moans, turned high pitched
Tongue flicking, ******* as he rubs,
She tugs on his pulsating Dick.
Waves of pleasure whip through his core,
ending at his tip.
Just as quick,
******* rip, through her thick hips;
As he cums.
Her tension shifts,
from her stomach,
to the core of her hips.
Her creamy silk liquid drips,
fluids flowing, fingers sliding,
between her ***** lips.
He licks his lips clean,
cleaning off her salty drips.
Body frozen stiff,
She's shuddering;
spasms of orgasms,
riveting her hips.
He lays at her side,
her wild side subsides,
she's relishing the fix.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
~~<♢>~~
moon egg glistening
in nest of cloud
unsuspecting
it's lain in shroud
the egg is symbolic
of the soul
the clouds devour
the moon egg
whole
but this egg
won't be undone
it is lighted by the sun
so the cloud's belly
dark as night
shows an eerie
ethereal
light
the moon egg glows
and softly sings
so the cloud's
edges
wear a ring
moon egg coming
from the girth
gives the
impression
*of
REBIRTH!*
SoulSurvivor
(C) 8/10/2016
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 2:07 AM UTC
If I could stoke every single flame in the
fiery blaze that is your heart
To ashes are the
kindling that I so willingly volunteer
If I could be the strength
round the girth of your trunk
Formidable am I made to last
year after year
If I could exist in the
tales of your breaths
Perpetual am I etched in the
eternity of your forever
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
You've been there forever
As long as anyone can remember
I remember seeing you at birth
You reached your arms around me
And swallowed me with all your girth
You passed my days as an infant
With acceleration it seems
For those days I cant remember much
But you were always my mean
As expected, You were always there
And I cant say that I'm mad
But I cant say that I'll say the same
On the days that you act bad
You'll be right here one day
But I cant say the same for the next
For all I know is someday
I'll look to you and say "what the heck?"
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 8:00 PM UTC
Rake-thin Humble hoes subsistence soil
Planting green-topped onion bulbs,
Camino divides the field forcing Humble's Husband
To till distantly, he works slower, and is of bulbous girth,
A red Reebok shirt adorns his back whilst she
Wears the hand-me-downs her grandmother had worn.
Their house is built of stone like bone,
Ground-sewn and dug fresh centuries before,
No siestas punctuate their endeavors.
Passing pilgrims groan under weight of sack -
Whilst Humble counts the years before her bones
Are interned in preparation to shelter future generations.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC
The rabbit haunts from a distance, patrolling fields for one to bear witness.
Gracefully the tenderfoot stalks, keeping a watchful eye out for Mr.Fox.
The creature walks with a slight limp, other animals often call him a gimp.
This way, that way, it all seems wrong, keeping time with a lost robin's song.
His home constructed as a single story wonder, located within a large tree laying asunder.
Family life wasn't right, as fleeting an image as a wayward kite.
A field mouse, left without spouse,
Stumbled upon the home in a tree, accompanied by a group of songbirds filled with glee.
The field mouse was asked to go, the creature in response, simply said no.
A man stumbled up, as mad as a hatter, his portly girth made it hard to imagine being any fatter.
He spoke of intrinsic right, boundless visions beyond sight.
Told the rabbit he had a duty to the mouse, saying it immoral to deprive him of a house.
The rabbit, reluctant to accept , found out from the man of the true evils in neglect.
He was told that he didn't own the home, it had simply been gifted as a goodwill loan.
That meant it was as his as much as the rabbits, regardless of any perspective habits.
With that the moused moved in, and brought with him his prized snakeskin.
Over a meal the mouse spoke of danger, coming in the form of a wandering stranger.
He told the rabbit, this creature travelled light, but usually shrouded in the cover of night.
Said the creature was not large in size, though his methods of thievery seemed quite wise.
The rabbit recoiled in his chair, as the field mouse offered up a demonic glare.
The field mouse grinned from ear to ear, sensing this rabbit's new grasp on fear.
Pulling the snakeskin from his sack, the dried shell was quick to crack.
The mouse spoke of a brave duel, between him and this monster, which had downed a mule.
He used every ounce of his cunning, and sent the legless beat running.
It wasn't good enough for the mouse, who was certainly no louse.
He tracked the snake for six long hours, through a field of partially bloomed flowers.
In the end he killed the snake, then took its skin so listeners knew the tale wasn't fake.
He held the skin, I mean the mouse, and said he'd hang the shell within the house.
Mr. Rabbit was found dead two days after, his body lay desecrated next to the snakes, hanging from a rafter.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
words are wasted darling,
can't add an alphabet more...
but make o's of your lips,
measure the girth of your hips,
tease the buds of thy nips,
sip honey, lick nectar,
fork a tongue into you,
pierce your insides,
twist your wild hair
around me,
bolt love,
blindfold you,
warm your ******* to
the incandescence
of the moon,
nibble your ear ends,
step away a moment,
gaze at your island body
your shy fluidity,
watch you bathe
in candlelight,
catch every
running drop
off you,
every globule,
wrap you up,
unknot you,
tie your hands together,
feed you a smear
of chocolate,
seat you
on a chair,
eat off you,
days and nights shall embrace us,
seasons weave a cocoon,
ice slide down our bodies
and I shall make love to you,
and now as I utter
these little strands
in whispers,
I am here entwined to you,
I promised to read out these lines
if I ever make love to you,
now that the words
are in communion,
let us dearest,
bid them adieu
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 2:35 AM UTC