"melons" poems
*****
I like ***** I like ****
before you touch, you must get permits.
Nothing like a nice pair of assets,
oh how puppies make nice pets.
Bazongas are ***** that are large,
strippers and hookers, will always charge.
Nothing like the perfect *****
but only on the perfect woman.
******* are yummy dark or white,
but first you must wait for an invite.
Some girls even have a third ******
do not squeeze says Mr. Whipple.
I don't mind girls on the itty, bitty, ***** committee,
on a carpenters dream, I show no pity.
They could be called a bust, some call them cans,
a woman's squeeze box, all men are fans.
Chesticles is a term I have never heard,
but everyday, I learn a new word.
I like cones, I like jugs,
girls with big ones, I give hugs.
Al Bundy loved calling them *******
at the restaurant, I wish I was one of the recruiters.
A girl with a nice set of knockers,
might find herself with unwanted stalkers.
Fergie sang about her lovely lady lumps,
a good set of melons, still give me goose bumps.
***** always come in a pair,
why do bra's, they have to wear.
Even men who smoke lots of crack,
still can appreciate a good sized rack.
I don't care if there fake or real.
in a crowded room, I always cop a feel.
Girls love showing off some cleavage,
I wish I lived in a ***** village.
Babies need breast milk to make them stronger,
if the mom is hot, they may do it longer.
In conclusion, I love *****
with whipped cream or melting ice cubes.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
Ye who enter here, beware
Of wolves and mine shaft pits, take care
Or ye shall taste the bitter death
That comes upon the creeper's breath
Thy survival, on the good
Of other players rests
Upon thy house a naming sign
Each person must *****
And when night falls, take care that ye
Who stalk the halls at dark
Set up a light for ev'ry turn
A stick lit with a spark
A bone to catch a wolfie with
Some cookies fresh to eat
And in a furnace, toasty warm,
We have to roast our meat
To mine the caves and tunnels deep
To delve into the mountains
And when the water gushes forth
We then create the fountains
Sell your wares, o Cobbler man
I've melons many to spare;
An axe, a sword, a shovel stone
Oh? You like my hair?
Here we go, see yon moon rise
The world in the starry twilight
I have not seen the whole world yet
Would you take me there by starlight?
Unspoken fear; the creeper hiss
Blew up my trusty door
And now all manner of verminous things
Have crawled across the floor
If only I had a wolf to my name
Three bones to win his love;
Then he could save me from--I shudder--
The Enderman above.
No armor have I, nor sword of iron
Stone and wood are mine
The wooden stairs that lead up high
Tell me, who had all this time?
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
In Benidorm there are melons,
Whole donkey-carts full
Of innumerable melons,
Ovals and *****
Bright green and thumpable
Laced over with stripes
Of turtle-dark green.
Chooose an egg-shape, a world-shape,
Bowl one homeward to taste
In the whitehot noon :
Cream-smooth honeydews,
Pink-pulped whoppers,
Bump-rinded cantaloupes
With orange cores.
Each wedge wears a studding
Of blanched seeds or black seeds
To strew like confetti
Under the feet of
This market of melon-eating
Fiesta-goers.
5.7k
LOVELY Semiramis
Closes her slanting eyes:
Dead is she long ago.
From her fan, sliding slow,
Parrot-bright fire's feathers,
Gilded as June weathers,
Plumes bright and shrill as grass
Twinkle down; as they pass
Through the green glooms in Hell
Fruits with a tuneful smell,
Grapes like an emerald rain,
Where the full moon has lain,
Greengages bright as grass,
Melons as cold as glass,
Piled on each gilded booth,
Feel their cheeks growing smooth.
Apes in plumed head-dresses
Whence the bright heat hisses,--
Nubian faces, sly
Pursing mouth, slanting eye,
Feel the Arabian
Winds floating from the fan.
4.9k
The squirrels played havoc around the house,
picking stuffing from the porch swing,
packing it into their cheeks, until they were swollen,
pregnant, to fluff their nests with synthetic cotton.
They bounded about the yard stopping to squeeze
fallen walnuts, like supermarket melons, to see
if they were ripe or rotten. Their neighbors,
the gopher and raccoon and rabbit
were overrun by the squirrels myriad brood.
Some (squirrels) sought refuge in refuse, chewing large
holes in the trash bins. This would feed many a raccoon’s
hungry mouth, but none of them would show thanks.
When the numbers began to spill over from the trees,
the squirrels began occupying the gutters, causing sheets
of ice to cataract, frozen down the sides of the house,
and then when the old man found stuffing from his swing
in the attic, enough had become enough. Something
had to be done. This blatant malfeasance must
be dealt with, and so he would devise a plan, a trap.
The old man stood watching the plump little devils
bounce and leap around his yard, when he saw the bin.
And wriggling the fingers on his upturned paw, a sinister
plan curled onto his face in a dark smile. He went out
to the trash bin and filled it with water, only halfway,
no more. He dropped a lightly pumped, bald
basketball into the bin, and smiled when the first
squirrel drowned in it. Everyday, the old man wriggled
his fingers and smiled his dark smile,
until he found synthetic swing stuffing
in his bed, and realized he had lost.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 1:07 PM UTC
This desert is our life.
From the dry earth we gather roots and melons.
Over the endless sands we hunt the gemsbok and the springbok.
Sometimes the ga roots are shriveled and bitter.
Sometimes men are sick with thirst and hunger.
When there is water we drink and sing and clap our hands.
When there is food we eat and dance and clap our hands.
The eland does not come to us and ask to be eaten --
one must know how to make the arrow and poison it
and where to look and how to hide and shoot. . . .
What man is so foolish as to expect more? To expect
the rain to be always falling, his eggs full of water and
his stomach full of meat?
You have strong animals to carry you.
You have much food and water.
Your digging sticks are hard and sharp.
Your shooting-sticks are like lightning.
You are a powerful man and a good man.
I can see that in your eyes.
But what you offer is a dream.
You can give us water and meat.
You can fill our hands with tobacco and perfect beads.
But you cannot give us happiness.
A man can only drink so much and then he is full.
If a man is always eating honey, he tires of it and becomes sick.
And even if all life were sweet --
what man is not food for lions and dogs?
A man who has tasted in his life no bitterness will find death very bitter.
My mouth longs for sweetness
but sweetness brings bitterness
and in the end they are one.
So I ask you:
Take your digging sticks and your shooting-sticks.
And do not leave them behind.
Go to the green lands you came from.
We shall walk in this desert as we always have.
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC
So sensuous is this piece of clothing,
Barely covering her bare essentials.
If she lets it fall to the ground,
Visible are her melons so round.
And what to say of her crevices,
Up & down both are so smooth,
Juice-filled they are the milk booth.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 6:06 AM UTC
That day we came
and having come
lapped at by perfumed light
at once separated.
We bathed in the pool
the water like crystal
in the sunset
our limbs like glass.
On the bank
in the hot conjoined air
we made love again
our sweat
like silver in the moonlight.
the water's suppurating flow
drew our limbs
like flotsam in the reeds
grappling glistering lilies
as we floated in slow, ********
currents.
along the bank, the Camphor
shades the forest flowers
through the long-leaved grass
the python slinks
We leave for home
darkened by the sun..........
tongues digging into melons,
pomegranates laid out
neatly for dessert
******* out the Rambutan-
once the hairy skin is peeled-
fiery, red
the soft core sweeter than coitus-
and stays longer in our thoughts.
is this where the dreams are,
or where the dreaming begins,
between the first caress
and the final gasp of satisfaction?
Where the threshing limbs
devour the sun-shredded wheat
and the panting ribbons of air
swallow the final sigh-
the sleek river flowing
seaward, ocean marshalling
the land,
coral languishing in green pools
of broken light.
Here, within this infused beauty,
********** has power
beyond the weather-bound senses
of our northern homes,
encased in dull precipitation
sunshine a blunted knife
beyond the pot-shaped mountains
high above the trees
like a tear emerging from the sky
drops the waterfall
its descent
languid, its fall sharp and effortless;
tinged with azure, carefully sprinkled flakes
it spreads out like a clear, chiming puddle.
There we spread ourselves
naked in the sunlight
the sea's rumbling noise
distant and fumbling-
spreading its curling claws
into the slyly forming sunset
in reiterated rhythms
like beating hearts
like lungs-
the carefully manufactured beats
blending.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 10:28 PM UTC
Assembly, advice, never
white fiery sparks ignited
The shooting star, comet's
orange setting ensemble
Tasted like juicy melons
tender invisibility scents
Town wards were asleep
walking upfront the castle's
Dust mingled with powder
honeysuckle flower allured
Honeymoon to burst out of
White Elfs knee long silver hair
round Black Elk's belly caressed
Pixie had Mahogany Henna Hue
red tongue and bluish evanescent
Saga of White Elf and Black Elk
meeting Honeymoon Pixie Dust
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
If I was a king of Asia I would give you all the gold there is
But I'm not even prince of Persia, all I have is love and dreams
Let me show you land of legends, land of honeymoon and rising sun
I am not as rich as Ali Baba, but I promise we'll be having fun
I'll take you to Bali the gem of Java Sea
Then we'll go on to safari a little south of Abu Dhabi
I'll take you to Maldives to swim in coral reefs
We'll enjoy the sweet papaya on the islands of Pattaya
I'll show you lake Baikal, Tibet and Taj Mahal
We'll see Macao, Yokohama, Hanoi, Jeddah, Jaipur, Jakarta
I'll take you to Dubai, Dushanbe and Mumbai
We'll spend some starry nights in yurts near the city of Yakutsk
I’ll take you to Tashkent where melons got their scent
We will taste all sorts of apples in the city of Almaty
I’ll take you to Beirut we'll go nuts on dried fruits
And the coffee with vanilla we can try it in Manilla
I'll take you to Kashgar to shop at old bazaar
Then we'll fly a magic carpet to the markets of Qatar
We'll see ruins of Karakorum the old capital of Moguls
Then we'll go to Kathmandu and then Karachi and Kabul
We'll discover caves with treasures, make three wishes all at once
All at once will turn to a fairy tale, like in one and thousand nights
Let me show you feast of colors, take you cross the dunes in caravans
Even if I don't look like Alladin, I sure know a thing about romance
I'll take you to Taipei to see its lovely bay
We will sip on Coca Cola on the silky sands of Goa
I'll take you to Shanghai where towers touch the sky
And the best of architecture we will see in precious Petra
We'll go to Ashgabat, Bishkek, Busan, Baghdad
We will see Great Wall of China and Cambodian Angkor Wat
We'll see the Everest, mount Fuji, Gobi Desert
And it's certainly my pleasure to take you all around Asia!
Apr 3, 2022
Apr 3, 2022 at 10:07 PM UTC
'''I thought naked beautiful woman in front of me makes me a good poet
Until I tried writing a poem in front of one
" hips seldomly hilly nor watery
Valley still waterrrrrry
Hey jawbone still showing her dimple
Why make her carry perfect melons God??🤤 "
I never held myself back anymore😂😂🤤🤤
I had to write a real poem with a real pen'''
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 4:13 PM UTC
When he was a youth of fifteen or twenty,
He chased a wild horse, he caught him and rode him,
He shot the white-browed mountain tiger,
He defied the yellow-bristled Horseman of Ye.
Fighting single- handed for a thousand miles,
With his naked dagger he could hold a multitude.
...Granted that the troops of China were as swift as heaven's thunder
And that Tartar soldiers perished in pitfalls fanged with iron,
General Wei Qing's victory was only a thing of chance.
And General Li Guang's thwarted effort was his fate, not his fault.
Since this man's retirement he is looking old and worn:
Experience of the world has hastened his white hairs.
Though once his quick dart never missed the right eye of a bird,
Now knotted veins and tendons make his left arm like an osier.
He is sometimes at the road-side selling melons from his garden,
He is sometimes planting willows round his hermitage.
His lonely lane is shut away by a dense grove,
His vacant window looks upon the far cold mountains
But, if he prayed, the waters would come gushing for his men
And never would he wanton his cause away with wine.
...War-clouds are spreading, under the Helan Range;
Back and forth, day and night, go feathered messages;
In the three River Provinces, the governors call young men --
And five imperial edicts have summoned the old general.
So he dusts his iron coat and shines it like snow-
Waves his dagger from its jade hilt in a dance of starry steel.
He is ready with his strong northern bow to smite the Tartar chieftain --
That never a foreign war-dress may affront the Emperor.
...There once was an aged Prefect, forgotten and far away,
Who still could manage triumph with a single stroke.
2.3k
whats up
comin at cha
from a different perspective……
I
don’t have to be a gangsta
pack heat
rock jordans
300 dolla feat
ice coated nines
blindin muthafukkas
actin all hard
causin a ruckus
I roll wit style
my own I made
not actin like a *****
still getting paid
I
been married 10 years
still eatin that same salad
real love is better
than ******* tryin to act valid
see if fake *** **** is what you sellin
my crew see threw
be handed out honeydew melons
I’m a new kind a rapper –
See I
help ya move
and loan cash
same friends
since way back
roll deep
smoke ****
life cheap
retire neat
buy a yatch
drive a jeep
grow my own
still a freak
I’m a different kind of rapper –
you can call me Sammy T
or MCDJPJS, if a please
i bring it hard
put ya on your knees
have ya starin up, mouth all agape
but when I still don’t touch ya
you be callin ****
try to knock me
down like Cosby
***** I’ll trap ya
sell ya *** to Pauly
feed ya mushroom
set you in a field
play some grateful dead
watch ya spirit yield
Im a different kind of rapper –
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
This morning I dreamed I followed
Widely spaced bells, ringing in the wind,
And climbed through mists to rosy clouds.
I realized my destined affinity
With An Ch'i-sheng the ancient sage.
I met unexpectedly O Lu-hua
The heavenly maiden.
Together we saw lotus roots as big as boats.
Together we ate jujubes as huge as melons.
We were the guests of those on swaying lotus seats.
They spoke in splendid language,
Full of subtle meanings.
The argued with sharp words over paradoxes.
We drank tea brewed on living fire.
Although this might not help the Emperor to govern,
It is endless happiness.
The life of men could be like this.
Why did I have to return to my former home,
Wake up, dress, sit in meditation.
Cover my ears to shut out the disgusting racket.
My heart knows I can never see my dream come true.
At least I can remember
That world and sigh.
2.1k
He longed to hold the melons she'd got
And taste the bright red, ripe-red cherries on top
He yearned to reach for her succulent peach
But would it alarm her
To show her too soon
His bent banana
And two little prunes?
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 12:17 PM UTC
Sunshine, spice and spades.
Butterfly's, beards and bread.
Yellow, yearbooks and yodeling.
Paint, pizza and platinum.
Music, melons and magic.
Zoos, zippers and zillions.
Apples, analysis and art.
Waiting, wagons and wafflers.
Give me a beer with friends any day.
Life's more fun that way.
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 8:40 PM UTC
Just hanging around stuck in the background where Echo and the Bunnymen sing sad songs,they're not funny men and I'm not one too.
Going to take my Queen and fulfill a dream,dine in style at Mile End,wend my way down to Nandos,pay for chicken,sticking less to the plan because I'm only a man I travel to Hackney where the wild men of Shoreditch come out to attack me with rolled up newspapers,their capers amuse me until I blink twice, and I see, that my Queens seen it all and goes off in a huff,
Puffs of smoke are no joke when you're born as a bloke because the magic don't last,blast it nearly passed it,the turn off for middle age,junction twenty six on the revolving glass mirrored stage,but I made it and now I'm back in the sun waiting for my Queen to come,my apology accepted along with the promise of a day trip to Poundland,stand and deliver while we shiver our timbers and limber up for the party on interstate four,
sore from the laughter we take a bath shortly after because we like to stay clean,my Queen thinks I'm ***** and men go that way after thirty but I'm not so sure.
I have pure intentions and clean underwear,does she care? I think so but it's so hard to know what she's thinking,she tastes of melons when I'm drinking her in.
In this flotilla where the will of the one doesn't win,we all stick together, whether it's a good thing or not,
but I've got a plan and because I'm only a man it's a good one and so I carry on and she carries me,I meet her mum and she marries me..sounding obscene,I mean I married my Queen,not her mum.
It's all in the spaghetti which I'm sure that SHY YETI'S BEST OF BRITISH - PART 1 doesn't cover,so it won't keep me warm but no harm in me looking through this facebook and cooking a dish,should I wish, for some it's back to interstate four,where the cops will be waiting with a ticket to the potteries and a fine for the finder of the stopped timex watch winder.
where was I
in Mile end?
yes,
going to spend but stay lean as I talk with my Queen,
and so it goes on.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 7:30 AM UTC
A family is at the dinner table. The son asks the father, “Dad, how many kinds of ***** are there?” The father, surprised, answers, “Well, son, a woman goes through three phases. In her 20s, a woman’s ******* are like melons, round and firm. In her 30s and 40s, they are like pears, still nice, hanging a bit. After 50, they are like onions.” “Onions?” the son asks. “Yes. You see them and they make you cry.” This infuriated his wife and daughter. The daughter asks, “Mom, how many different kinds of ******* are there?” The mother smiles and says, “Well, dear, a man goes through three phases also. In his 20s, his ***** is like an oak tree, mighty and hard. In his 30s and 40s, it’s like a birch, flexible but reliable. After his 50s, it’s like a Christmas tree.” “A Christmas tree?” the daughter asks. “Yes, dead from the root up and the ***** are just for decoration..lmao
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
It’s been seven years and I still don’t think I’ve processed it
For most of my young life I had no mother
For most of my young life I had no father
There was only her, mother of my mother
A sharp woman with hands like sharpened scissors
Counsel and Care, the altar I was made to pray at
Her touch was soft unless it was hard, and hard unless it was soft
Like salt tossed over her shoulder,
Like warm potatoes in the sun
Like a bowl of cheerios before the bus comes
We prayed the rosary every morning
And I told her about my gods and myths
I told her about the rocks and crystals
And I cried about numbers
We prayed the rosary every morning, and I couldn’t bring myself to mind
We went to church on Sundays, and I sang as loud as I wanted
We picked out melons at the grocery store and ate them by the pool
It’s been seven years, and I miss her
And I will miss her
I’ll cry when I hear Que Sera Sera
I’ll eat saltines and still think to myself they aren’t that good
I’ll keep my rosary and sometimes I will pray
I will miss her
And I can only hope to be like her someday
And I hope that she is proud
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 3:05 PM UTC
This story I am about to unfold,
is a favorite about my Grandfather.
In which he starts out acting very bold,
yet, ends running up a painful lather.
Down the dirt road, from where he lived, when young,
was a farmer growing watermelons.
Ripe, ready to eat, on the vines they hung.
From this patch, the farmer then, did sell 'em.
Being a boy with several brothers,
who were always doing as boys will do,
didn't take long, for one to dare the other,
to steal them a watermelon, or two.
Lo and behold, there went my young grandpa,
climbing through the barbed wire fence.
While his older brothers all watched in awe,
as he crawled through the tangled vines, so dense.
He looked around until he found the one,
that was the biggest that he could carry.
Cutting the vine, he hefted the melon up,
running towards the fence, in a hurry.
Well, that old farmer was wise to boys
and had watched my grandpa crawl through the field.
With his double barrel shotgun, he was poised,
to make sure, no more melons, he'd steal.
The farmer had loaded his own brand of shot,
filled with rock salt instead of lead.
Grandpa's backside got peppered while he did trot.
I think nothing more need be said.
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 5:24 AM UTC
Boxin' up progression
Lockin' down session
Rockin up to lesson
Dressed
Fine pressed
Geared up for givin' blessin's
Confessin' to felons
Commitin' crimes
Soakin' up voddy in our melons
Shoddy villains lookin' back at us
Jhon Goddi riddums
Billin' em for scandalous
Band of trust
Lost
Wankers spittin fictitious
Malicious lies
Leaves respect for wise guys sleepin' with the fishs
May 7, 2012
May 7, 2012 at 7:06 PM UTC
I know I ask all
the time, but
do you get
sick of my scent?
of my small hands
because they are
not larger?
Do you mind that
my lips are not
soft like chapstick
models in the
shiny magazines?
If my chest grew
melons, or a pine
tree
dates, an almond
plantation or
28A
would you hop
a plan to a
more beautiful land
and plant a
statue there?
I'm only questioning
your motive because
when I see you
I wonder if
you
Actually.
Truly.
meant to
choose a
person,
like me.
Sep 23, 2010
Sep 23, 2010 at 9:52 AM UTC
Fall is an empty street in Rome,
Of byways of dry-leaf stone and moth-haunted hours,
Of market stalls with their over-haggled and fingered rinds,
And melons moiled over and palmed and bruised.
The light blows like once-told ripeness from the basket of fruit.
Jun 1, 2019
Jun 1, 2019 at 9:29 PM UTC