|Partisan PoemsPage 1 of 38 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38)|
Posted: 7/15/2011 10:48:04 AM
|i'll be damned if you don't wind up the most popular charmer at the ball! :) Personally, i give this one a solid 10 and i think "60" bust" is my new favorite rhyme for lust.|
Posted: 7/15/2011 3:41:16 PM
maybe one of your next psychologies of a demented woman could touch upon someone who's quickly becoming quite the fan of your fisty word craft lol ... that was fantastic.
Leaving You Lifeless & Dangling
i'm in motion. i cast my clothes off unceremoniously as i approach. My stride is all business. My brow is furrowed with concentration.
i reach out for you, my fingers wrapping around your shaft and i hold you against my breasts, feeling the first drops. So warm and wet, glistening on my skin.
i let go of you and throw my head back and begin to touch myself. It's not enough to follow the swell of each curve. My fingers probe like tendrils into the most intimate folds of my body. You're writhing as you wait for me to take hold of you again, throbbing, pulsating but still i continue on. For right now, i'm oblivious to your agitation. My fingers continue to massage, knead and even lightly scratch, leaving pink lines across my skin as if they're taking notes of their expedition.
At long last, i reach out, struggling to take hold of you as you writhe, and my hand engulfs your shaft once more. The first glistening drops upon my flesh give way in an instant as you shoot in jets across my throat, my breasts, my stomach. When i've finally freed you from my hold, i stand there, those glistening jets trickling down my body. It reminds me of raindrops on a windowpane, each droplet chasing the other, sometimes melding together, sometimes breaking off into separate paths. It makes me shiver and i reach blindly for something to wrap around myself, walking away from you, leaving you lifeless and dangling. Its hard to imagine that only moments before you were gyrating, throbbing, surging.
i lie down on my bed and close my eyes, relaxing in the afterglow of the time we've just spent when suddenly i'm awoken by a scream and the irritated sputter of an angry voice asking ...
WHO FORGOT TO HANG THE SHOWERHEAD BACK UP???
Posted: 7/17/2011 3:21:36 AM
|(how nice to be appreciated for the simple things in life ... like showering. i have no words of my own worthy of such a supreme compliment so i submit for you a poem i feel will be in good company here ... a man i feel had the potential but never quite reached down deep to pack his words with the kind of punch you manage ... still ... i feel he was well on his way ... Mr. Ogden Nash if you please)|
Good-By Now or Pardon My Gauntlet
Bring down the moon for genteel Janet;
She's too refined for this gross planet.
She wears garments and you wear clothes,
You buy stockings, she purchases hose.
She say That is correct, and you say Yes,
And she disrobes and you undress.
Confronted by a mouse or moose,
You turn green, she turns chartroose.
Her speech is new-minted, freshly quarried;
She has a fore-head, you have a forehead.
Nor snake nor slowworm draweth nigh her;
You go to bed, she doth retire.
To Janet, births are blessed events,
And odors that you smell she scents.
Replete she feels, when her food is yummy,
Not in the stomach but the tummy.
If urged some novel step to show,
You say Like this, she says Like so.
Her dear ones don't die, but pass away;
Beneath her formal is lonjeray.
Of refinement she's a fount, or fountess,
And that is why she's now a countess.
She was asking for the little girls' room
And a flunky though she said the earl's room.
Posted: 7/17/2011 5:45:21 AM
|(the typos were courtesy of poemhunter dot com ... grr)|
Posted: 7/17/2011 4:58:40 PM
|Aha! It would appear you caught up with Janet after all ... so sorry things didn't work out :)|
i very much wish i had some sort of prize to award you for soft-rhyming chinchilla ... that's true poetic daring right there! lol
Posted: 7/17/2011 7:11:27 PM
|^ indeed! :)|
bringing one back from the past...in honour of this wonderful poet....
Posted: 12/2/2008 844 AM
written on bird on the wire's 'Songs of Love and Hate'....
Flight of the bald eagle....
One day the bird awoke
and realized he was
bare bird skin showing
white pearlescence glowing
wrinkles and bulges
now completely revealed
so he went to the bird doctor
and said, hey, what's the deal?
what can I do
to re-grow my feathers
now so few?
And the doctor said
my dear bird
it's not what's on your head
that shows your beauty
but what comes through
from inside of you
So just continue to be
who you are internally
and I'm sure one day you'll see
your feathers will grow back
even more beautifully
And so the bald eagle
did as the doctor said
and every day
he worked on seeing
the beauty of everybody
and as his heart grew
so, indeed, his feathers did too.....
all except for the top of his head
to stay bald instead
as a permanent reminder
of what that doctor had said
welcome back, bird!
Posted: 8/16/2011 4:21:39 PM
|^^^^^^^^^ all the above^^^^^^^^^^|
I laughed so much
it made me cry
but then I shuddered
Posted: 8/26/2011 10:05:32 AM
|You said you were simple|
And very direct
Straight to the point
Easy to dissect
But you wrote a line
"The penultimate scene"
I asked all my simple friends
What the hell does that mean?
Posted: 9/12/2011 5:18:24 AM
|i've been enjoying your delightful verse for months now, it's like listening to me old Da blathering on about the "auld country", it's as musical as me Ma's diddling and fiddling. I think me Da might have said, "good on ya, ya fine croppy boy!"|
edit: gotta say Saggy Bottomed Boy is my favorite of all time, left me with a smile on my gob for days
Posted: 9/12/2011 7:42:16 AM
|What? Shaw, Heaney, Eliot and Yeats |
never had a blown fuse in their lofty pates??
Unless you are out for the Kavanagh Prize
your disapprobation is certainly unwise.
At least you know the difference between their and there
which the bulk of those here are so unaware.
Spelling counts, at least in my eyes,
but mis-typed words I shall not chastise.
There's such a huge difference 'tween a mere typing error
and the blatantly outrageously eegits needing a censor.
Your thoughts concerning glasses or more education
are not indications of a needed brain renovation .
At our age have you thought of a small hormone injection?
Might add some new brain cells add oomph to your erections
Yeppers, this is the route I'd definitely trod
more wattage in the noggin, more bulk in the wad :)
heavens to Betsy, I'm getting to be such a hussy in my old age!!!!!!!!!
p.s. i've got a family wedding in Dungannon next year
beware the crazy irish-american combing thru the pubs for you - you have been warned!
Posted: 9/13/2011 8:40:39 AM
|Oh definitely, all of that!!!|
"but for all that i found there i might as well be
where the mountains of mourne sweep down to the sea"
Posted: 9/18/2011 3:19:29 PM
|this was one was different|
a bird in reflection
the mirror of time
creeping forward and back
a song sweeter
with unruffled feathers
just a bird
gripping the railing
watching the alley cats
ignoring their sly purrs
Posted: 9/23/2011 5:35:22 AM
|like totally man|
shyt's going down
and I would frown
but my coffee tastes too damn good
I'm kinda thinking maybe I should
stock up on coffee
Posted: 9/23/2011 6:37:09 AM
homosexual is the way to go
all those rich people
I guess now they are getting
The only thing wrong
with trying to get a man
is they are all a bunch of whores
or already married to women
You could go get the widow
but never measure up to his wife
you can take the cute playboys
but they will keep something on the side
is what I crave
I know that art
will take me through my days
artists aren't rich
but if you waller in the muck
for just long enough
the dirt becomes a part of the norm
and it's an easily attainable storm
I have this notion
that there really is
some people cannot fathom the mathematics behind the equation
but it makes sense
I"mm going to stop writing poetry
on your thread
because I can't
finish this poem
Posted: 10/2/2011 3:06:16 AM
|lol, no one can hold a candle to you birdman, |
you make me laugh,
you make me cheer,
you make me want to be a better human being.
why are you wasting yourself on an obscure dating site?
your poems need to find a home, a small enchiridion perhaps,
or many small collections, little roman-flueves,
topical tomes constantly flowing forth from your prodigious archives,
i say get a setting,
a fictional local pub,
supposedly penning there all these hysterical takes
each book one topic.
i swear you'd sell a kajillion-million-billion-trillion of 'em,
you'd be rich,
have every woman from England,
Scotland pining after you
you'd never have to worry 'bout a date again
it would take off like WHERE'S Waldo?
It'd be Where's the Birdman?
morphing into pub tours
people searching for the elusive
a win-win for one and all,
the pub owners
What fun. Do it Bird, fly out of this cage and into the huge world.
BUT::::::::::::::; not forever, this flat waveless sea would be unbearable without you!
Posted: 10/2/2011 8:29:50 AM
|ah yes, booze here flows all around|
but nothing beats jamesons
to that i am bound
or whoopsy-do fun
with Bailey's Irish cream
or a wee drop of Mist,
or Guinness will be
used now and then,
never too much
my genetic code's that
of the provervbial Irish Lush
me brothers and sisters
are all reeling drunks
me aunts, uncles, cousins
love shooting up junk
yeah me clan's a mess
everyone is addicted
but i'm telling ya true
i've never been a sick kid
nope never been strung out
on toilets bent, retching
i eschew all that excess
it really ain't fetching
especially at my age
you can't meet your doom
as a pathetic old hag
passed out in a bar room
and no, quite sadly
i have to admit,
i never watch sports
it all gives me fits
all that sweat, all that brawn
all that noise, crowds a'roar
oh no, i find it
a terrible bore
i'd rather be biking
or at the sea shore
in nice parks i'm hiking
and there's plenty more
things much more fun surely
than watching men hurl
their fists in the air crowing
I'm King of The World
jaysus, mary and joseph i hate to rhyme,
my poor aging brain is completely fried
but good luck to auld Ireland in the next round
those poor feckless goombahs should never have tried
to beat the best of the toughest and true
the stout-hearted Irish surely will rule
win all the trophies, bring home the gold
the green white and orange the world will behold
Posted: 10/6/2011 2:23:10 PM
|T'was once a fair poet went by Bird on the Wire|
t'was said of the elfin Bird, he writes sonnets for hire
so I asked him when he'd finished
if I could pay him off in Guiness
and ever since we have been sitting in the pub down in the shire
Yo bird, long time. Cheers, mate!
Posted: 11/1/2011 8:21:52 AM
|dipping feathers of thy angels wing|
the ink of abrasion, confusion. partisan
alas. not a creature was stirring
not even a jack o' lantern
botorius pigeon wobbles a melody
of ionic appraisal,a symphony
for toni the pterodactyl
your sing must stitch
as my locked fists spread
arms a quarry
your wing, shall twitch
Posted: 11/18/2011 8:11:53 PM
|sorry your mad|
but I like your name
sorry your love died
can you go on
Posted: 11/20/2011 8:33:00 PM
|marriage doesn't work|
he yells, she screams, the dog cowers, the cat dies
when are men happy, when they are with other men
be it sports, military, bars, prison
it all ends the same
so don't feel cheated
we weren't meant to be together
I am sad to say
I am happiest alone
Posted: 12/1/2011 6:02:40 AM
|I'm a woman|
that's for sure
but your words, bird,
we've hear them before....
You want beauty,
no brains and bust
don't care who we are
all you do is lust...
You're a bottomless pit
a hole in a well
you're like humpty dumpty
so helpless when you fell....
Oh, getting carried away
with what I wanted to say
and that is, my dear man,
you know I'm a fan....
Of your words and your banter
and your natural canter
as you write with such glee
and upmost honesty....
What most men would say
if they could write your way
a quite funny version of sarcastic and gay :)
now you go and have yourself a really nice day!
Posted: 1/10/2012 1:34:08 PM
|Brilliant stuff, Bird. Forgot how much I missed your writes.|
Posted: 1/21/2012 10:47:11 PM
Posted: 2/11/2012 3:26:13 PM
|thank you dear bird|
for the humour of your word
i laugh with glee
reading your poetry
you're satire at its best
writing in your pants and vest
you know i jest
it's part of the internet
hiding our identity
think it adds
to your sarcastic security
38 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38)