Here is a list of Poems ordered by Last Edited, posted by members. Read poetry, post your own poems or comments. Poems on these pages are copyrighted © by the authors who entered them. Click here to post a poem.
Robyn (one night stand)
Why does it seem students are always poor?
Studying (as I was) both science and maths
And like some kind of universal law
Scholars walk on impecunious paths;-
Correctly - poverty - we should abhor-
So I turn my verse (instead) to other stuff:-
Having got - that night - enough drinking money
T'was time to go out then - in search of honey.
Out (that night) at Rockdale* - Spanky's Nightclub
And once again I thought I'd try my luck;-
Another year - almost gone - and here's the rub:
T'was about a year since I'd had a f*ck.
With no wish to stay at home in my suburb
(I thought it overdue to break my duck)
Being young at the time (twenty or so)
And at that age were always on the go.
So to the point: I came upon the tavern -
As Titan's rays were fading in the sky
When affections young its often craven
(Though in my case - because I am quite shy)
Summer heat hung ominous that eve'ning
(I crossed into the pub then anyway)
Stepping into said - (from its threshold)
Therein - a raucous view - I did behold.
Typical Aussie pub Saturday night -
After a beer (or six) I felt relaxed;
And being more inclined to f*ck than fight-
Surveyed the scene for a likely prospect,-
There in the corner (much to my delight)
A lady larger - than I might expect -
I admit the circumstance was not refined -
And neither were (perhaps) my pick-up lines.
After some small talk (that's the hardest part)
Fumbling our way through the introductions
We need to find a time then to depart:-
(Timings all important in seductions -
And leaving at the right time is an art).
She told me her name was Robyn (and that's when)
I hoped that I had made my feelings plain; -
She said I had - and that she lived in Engadine.**
Friends of hers (a couple) did the driving
So south we traveled - I was innocent
Of what this trio may have been contriving
Group situations? - (not expecting this intent)
Here I'd better continue my explaining
Of how the rest of this (a hot night) went:-
Suffice to say a good time was had by all -
One couple per bed (I add now) and withal.
My self at twenty - Robyn ten years older
And a notch on the belt: - experience!
Then I felt fantastic - and grew bolder
(Though at the time a loss of common sense).
Thus lover-bards throughout their lives must soldier
Not declining or refusing any wench; -
And in this age of overt (and crude) pornography -
Be grateful: - you have my cultured poetry.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
Studying (as I was) both science and maths
And like some kind of universal law
Scholars walk on impecunious paths;-
Correctly - poverty - we should abhor-
So I turn my verse (instead) to other stuff:-
Having got - that night - enough drinking money
T'was time to go out then - in search of honey.
Out (that night) at Rockdale* - Spanky's Nightclub
And once again I thought I'd try my luck;-
Another year - almost gone - and here's the rub:
T'was about a year since I'd had a f*ck.
With no wish to stay at home in my suburb
(I thought it overdue to break my duck)
Being young at the time (twenty or so)
And at that age were always on the go.
So to the point: I came upon the tavern -
As Titan's rays were fading in the sky
When affections young its often craven
(Though in my case - because I am quite shy)
Summer heat hung ominous that eve'ning
(I crossed into the pub then anyway)
Stepping into said - (from its threshold)
Therein - a raucous view - I did behold.
Typical Aussie pub Saturday night -
After a beer (or six) I felt relaxed;
And being more inclined to f*ck than fight-
Surveyed the scene for a likely prospect,-
There in the corner (much to my delight)
A lady larger - than I might expect -
I admit the circumstance was not refined -
And neither were (perhaps) my pick-up lines.
After some small talk (that's the hardest part)
Fumbling our way through the introductions
We need to find a time then to depart:-
(Timings all important in seductions -
And leaving at the right time is an art).
She told me her name was Robyn (and that's when)
I hoped that I had made my feelings plain; -
She said I had - and that she lived in Engadine.**
Friends of hers (a couple) did the driving
So south we traveled - I was innocent
Of what this trio may have been contriving
Group situations? - (not expecting this intent)
Here I'd better continue my explaining
Of how the rest of this (a hot night) went:-
Suffice to say a good time was had by all -
One couple per bed (I add now) and withal.
My self at twenty - Robyn ten years older
And a notch on the belt: - experience!
Then I felt fantastic - and grew bolder
(Though at the time a loss of common sense).
Thus lover-bards throughout their lives must soldier
Not declining or refusing any wench; -
And in this age of overt (and crude) pornography -
Be grateful: - you have my cultured poetry.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2016
About this poem:
* Rockdale (inner) southwest suburb of Sydney** Engadine southern suburb of Sydney.
Antivax Rats
The ship is sinking!
Rats doth flee,
Into the blue,
eternity.
In formless voids,
Rats do rant,
Until their words,
become scant.
A hobby horse,
A cause to vaunt,
But no science,
An empty taunt.
Sensationalist,
Conspiracies,
Rats to sink,
In raging seas.
Of misinformation,
And obfuscation,
There's no sense,
In obturation.
Still the rats,
Proclaim their cause,
Against all scientific laws.
"Vaccines are poison";
(They're apt to rant),
Although the proof,
Is rather scant!
Academia,
Is not their forte,
Into hysteria,
They do foray.
Using "science"
(Of which no one's heard);
Thus they "prove",
Their claims of merde.
Still, I don't wish them ill;
Because long covid's,
A bitter pill.
On they rave,
In words splenetic;
Vaccines (you see);
Make one magnetic!
They have a saint,
That you can see,
An osteopath;
Named Tenpenny.
Now, a saint's a saint,
(And sometimes useful);
Though in this case,
Is most untruthful.
Covid-19;
Designer virus,
Thus we need,
Vaccine inside us.
Coming from the "Institute"
(And that's a claim
They can't refute).
The way it is;
The world is now,
It's not my fault,
So don't have a cow.
Like an addict;
They know not still;
It's the Virus;-
That makes them ill.
There's another saint;
A medico;
Gain of function?
Oh no, no!
When it comes to covid,
Don't be grouchy,
Just say a prayer,
To Saint Fauci.
And lift that veil of,
Ignorance;
So you rats may,
Stand a chance!
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
Rats doth flee,
Into the blue,
eternity.
In formless voids,
Rats do rant,
Until their words,
become scant.
A hobby horse,
A cause to vaunt,
But no science,
An empty taunt.
Sensationalist,
Conspiracies,
Rats to sink,
In raging seas.
Of misinformation,
And obfuscation,
There's no sense,
In obturation.
Still the rats,
Proclaim their cause,
Against all scientific laws.
"Vaccines are poison";
(They're apt to rant),
Although the proof,
Is rather scant!
Academia,
Is not their forte,
Into hysteria,
They do foray.
Using "science"
(Of which no one's heard);
Thus they "prove",
Their claims of merde.
Still, I don't wish them ill;
Because long covid's,
A bitter pill.
On they rave,
In words splenetic;
Vaccines (you see);
Make one magnetic!
They have a saint,
That you can see,
An osteopath;
Named Tenpenny.
Now, a saint's a saint,
(And sometimes useful);
Though in this case,
Is most untruthful.
Covid-19;
Designer virus,
Thus we need,
Vaccine inside us.
Coming from the "Institute"
(And that's a claim
They can't refute).
The way it is;
The world is now,
It's not my fault,
So don't have a cow.
Like an addict;
They know not still;
It's the Virus;-
That makes them ill.
There's another saint;
A medico;
Gain of function?
Oh no, no!
When it comes to covid,
Don't be grouchy,
Just say a prayer,
To Saint Fauci.
And lift that veil of,
Ignorance;
So you rats may,
Stand a chance!
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2021
About this poem:
Antivax Stupidity!To a Miser
All your life - you've heaped up all your gold; -
You think you've got some substance in this world?
Though surely - you must know - that its a shame -
When history - will soon forget your name.
All your hours - you've hard pinched every penny; -
Has it an extra day of life - now bought you any?
Hoarding stacks of money - like a crime -
Will buy you not a second - of extra time.
And what it is - I still find very odd; -
Is that you won't see money - as a false God -
And that you can never hear - what is truthful -
That golds not God; - that it is merely useful.
It is sad - you could never know sublime,-
Just hoarding all your money - all the time; -
As if you could now go, - and buy salvation:
Too soon you will taste - bitter libation.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
You think you've got some substance in this world?
Though surely - you must know - that its a shame -
When history - will soon forget your name.
All your hours - you've hard pinched every penny; -
Has it an extra day of life - now bought you any?
Hoarding stacks of money - like a crime -
Will buy you not a second - of extra time.
And what it is - I still find very odd; -
Is that you won't see money - as a false God -
And that you can never hear - what is truthful -
That golds not God; - that it is merely useful.
It is sad - you could never know sublime,-
Just hoarding all your money - all the time; -
As if you could now go, - and buy salvation:
Too soon you will taste - bitter libation.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2016
Post CommentFaded Angel
Lying on the grass in Newtown Cemetary
To see the setting Sun in his hot ire
Drown in a riot of colour - soon sparkling sky -
As Titan sinks now in a sea of fire.
Bright trace remains- although the day must die -
The sinking sun to night almost retired
In what will be a darkling mess of stars
Which mix full soon in moonlight's shining bars.
The dying light, with pink and scarlet shot
Through with indigo, and purple fading rays
Spans the sky now - above our Earthly lot
With colours dancing as the twilight fades.
This Sydney night hangs still and heavy - hot
The gloaming gone as darkness now invades -
Then all around me tends to soft charcoal
As true night time comes upon my soul.
Gravestones lean in odd black silhouettes
Jumble stones which cover these old lives
So old now that their ancestors forget
To tend these plots where memory survives.
With all feelings gone - of joy or of regret -
There is an angels face which now contrives
To show her rotten features old and pitted -
As the full Moon haunts her broken visage.
Where once she was an angel on a grave
She's now a broken whore - with hair cascading -
With nothing left of looks except to save
So little of for which she was created.
Maybe her former beauty now she craves -
Her weathered looks I stare at facinated;
With orange sandstone sparkles in her face
Now lending to this moment a strange grace.
The dark water stains from lost ancient rains
Run down her face - to etch and pock each feature -
For she cries black tears now - nothing remains -
To the ravages of time she doth surrender.
Broken lips over broken teeth - her lost refrains;
And nothing I could say would ever reach her;
Time flows endlessly - in rivers of deep sorrow -
And a broken angel, weeps for a lost tomorrow.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
To see the setting Sun in his hot ire
Drown in a riot of colour - soon sparkling sky -
As Titan sinks now in a sea of fire.
Bright trace remains- although the day must die -
The sinking sun to night almost retired
In what will be a darkling mess of stars
Which mix full soon in moonlight's shining bars.
The dying light, with pink and scarlet shot
Through with indigo, and purple fading rays
Spans the sky now - above our Earthly lot
With colours dancing as the twilight fades.
This Sydney night hangs still and heavy - hot
The gloaming gone as darkness now invades -
Then all around me tends to soft charcoal
As true night time comes upon my soul.
Gravestones lean in odd black silhouettes
Jumble stones which cover these old lives
So old now that their ancestors forget
To tend these plots where memory survives.
With all feelings gone - of joy or of regret -
There is an angels face which now contrives
To show her rotten features old and pitted -
As the full Moon haunts her broken visage.
Where once she was an angel on a grave
She's now a broken whore - with hair cascading -
With nothing left of looks except to save
So little of for which she was created.
Maybe her former beauty now she craves -
Her weathered looks I stare at facinated;
With orange sandstone sparkles in her face
Now lending to this moment a strange grace.
The dark water stains from lost ancient rains
Run down her face - to etch and pock each feature -
For she cries black tears now - nothing remains -
To the ravages of time she doth surrender.
Broken lips over broken teeth - her lost refrains;
And nothing I could say would ever reach her;
Time flows endlessly - in rivers of deep sorrow -
And a broken angel, weeps for a lost tomorrow.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2016
Post CommentOur life's Infinity
On this time line's energy-continuum
We're born in the exploding star dust
And our life perpetuates - ad infinitum.
We hold hands now - as a sign of trust -
Before being swept away again.
Souls continue: - energy is thrust
Into new life - and nothing shall remain -
Of previous existence - with the exception -
Of eternal echoes in a starry chain
Of galaxies. Sometimes our perception
Senses this. Time's endless restless sea
Where starlight sparkles up in soft reflection
Of this another life for you and me.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
We're born in the exploding star dust
And our life perpetuates - ad infinitum.
We hold hands now - as a sign of trust -
Before being swept away again.
Souls continue: - energy is thrust
Into new life - and nothing shall remain -
Of previous existence - with the exception -
Of eternal echoes in a starry chain
Of galaxies. Sometimes our perception
Senses this. Time's endless restless sea
Where starlight sparkles up in soft reflection
Of this another life for you and me.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2016
About this poem:
Where does our 'light' come from? - and where does it go?A Lucid Dream
I can't wake up!
These succubi
They haunt me-
Another broken love -
Or a forgotten dream?
Trapped in this
Kaleidoscopic maze
Old movie vision
Flickers in my head
From the cinema
Of my life
Exited and restless
Under the sheets
I jolt myself
Half awake
Only to slide
Back into slumber
As time folds over itself
Your spirit must
Be astral travelling
Our spirits
Now ether bound
Co-mingle in the night
I am awake
Or am I?
I toss and turn
In a tangled mess of sheets
And suddenly
I'm walking down the hall
Or am I?
I seem to be floating
I wake with a start
Now agitated
And burning with desire.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
These succubi
They haunt me-
Another broken love -
Or a forgotten dream?
Trapped in this
Kaleidoscopic maze
Old movie vision
Flickers in my head
From the cinema
Of my life
Exited and restless
Under the sheets
I jolt myself
Half awake
Only to slide
Back into slumber
As time folds over itself
Your spirit must
Be astral travelling
Our spirits
Now ether bound
Co-mingle in the night
I am awake
Or am I?
I toss and turn
In a tangled mess of sheets
And suddenly
I'm walking down the hall
Or am I?
I seem to be floating
I wake with a start
Now agitated
And burning with desire.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2016
Post CommentWelcome to New Online Poets
Write as much as you can
In every style that you can
To find your true voice;
Then pan the gold from the dross -
To publish only your best.
©lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
In every style that you can
To find your true voice;
Then pan the gold from the dross -
To publish only your best.
©lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2016
Post CommentWhy I Love Girls
First blossom and first love are beautiful
To see affection in my girlfriend's eyes
Like flowers on a bush are plentiful
Although - amidst - a few thorns did arise.
Growing in confidence - though still bashful
We think first loves - perfection realized -
From my pen - this poetry - now unfurls
As I try to explain why I love girls.
I don't write here to talk about a fling
Or our first faltering indiscretions
But of the kind of love that will take wing -
(What teachers can't explain in lessons).
Now any kind of loves a funny thing
And it is blind and heedless of directions -
More so when we are young - it's free and feckless
Not conscious of itself - so wild and reckless.
A few years on and how do I compare -
What once had been so innocent and free?
When we broke up all was a black despair;
Till I saw other girls surrounding me -
Other maidens - blonde - brunette - and so fair -
(Though it is true that "all is vanity")
I could see the most sensible directive -
Was held by those with feminine perspective.
Go forward a few more years yet again
From this bountiful cornucopia
What some call affection - no one can explain -
Compared with first love's bright utopia.
Still, I need love - like a desert needs rain -
Any girl you have you make the most of her -
For all are beautiful in their own way
And when the sun is shining - go make hay.
Every native blossom has its tree
And every human soul a counterpart -
What's wrong for you - may be just right for me
And vice a versa (until death we part)
Every woman has a kind of beauty -
Be she virtuous - or be she a tart -
From my pen -this poetry - has unfurled -
I hope this explains why I love girls.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
To see affection in my girlfriend's eyes
Like flowers on a bush are plentiful
Although - amidst - a few thorns did arise.
Growing in confidence - though still bashful
We think first loves - perfection realized -
From my pen - this poetry - now unfurls
As I try to explain why I love girls.
I don't write here to talk about a fling
Or our first faltering indiscretions
But of the kind of love that will take wing -
(What teachers can't explain in lessons).
Now any kind of loves a funny thing
And it is blind and heedless of directions -
More so when we are young - it's free and feckless
Not conscious of itself - so wild and reckless.
A few years on and how do I compare -
What once had been so innocent and free?
When we broke up all was a black despair;
Till I saw other girls surrounding me -
Other maidens - blonde - brunette - and so fair -
(Though it is true that "all is vanity")
I could see the most sensible directive -
Was held by those with feminine perspective.
Go forward a few more years yet again
From this bountiful cornucopia
What some call affection - no one can explain -
Compared with first love's bright utopia.
Still, I need love - like a desert needs rain -
Any girl you have you make the most of her -
For all are beautiful in their own way
And when the sun is shining - go make hay.
Every native blossom has its tree
And every human soul a counterpart -
What's wrong for you - may be just right for me
And vice a versa (until death we part)
Every woman has a kind of beauty -
Be she virtuous - or be she a tart -
From my pen -this poetry - has unfurled -
I hope this explains why I love girls.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2016
Post CommentStorm
Storm - finest horse - you're faster than the wind -
Beautiful bay - all muscle, form, power, grace -
Gentle eyes shining - bright with boldness - kind -
And smooth and true in all of your four gaits.
Full standing - sixteen hands - with soft white blaze;-
Twelve years old - and still with power - to amaze.
Taken from the racetrack - lucky gelding -
(Seeing you had a quiet temperament)
You quickly took to riding school - excelling -
In your next life - almost like a retirement.
Not asked to do too much - except short rides;-
There's pasture here - hard feed - and treats besides.
When young and on the track, you proved your mettle -
Fleet-footed - with hot courage - in each race -
When thoroughbreds - they settle'd down to battle -
More times than not - you'd finish in a place.
Now years on - in silhouette - your grace defines;-
Equine beauty - I see in noble bloodlines.
In verse, I now pay homage to your spirit -
And in your health I take a great delight;
The time that you have left - you're free to live it -
You've a paddock and a stable for the night.
In these pastures - live your life out - Storm proud steed; -
For it's here that you have everything you need.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
Beautiful bay - all muscle, form, power, grace -
Gentle eyes shining - bright with boldness - kind -
And smooth and true in all of your four gaits.
Full standing - sixteen hands - with soft white blaze;-
Twelve years old - and still with power - to amaze.
Taken from the racetrack - lucky gelding -
(Seeing you had a quiet temperament)
You quickly took to riding school - excelling -
In your next life - almost like a retirement.
Not asked to do too much - except short rides;-
There's pasture here - hard feed - and treats besides.
When young and on the track, you proved your mettle -
Fleet-footed - with hot courage - in each race -
When thoroughbreds - they settle'd down to battle -
More times than not - you'd finish in a place.
Now years on - in silhouette - your grace defines;-
Equine beauty - I see in noble bloodlines.
In verse, I now pay homage to your spirit -
And in your health I take a great delight;
The time that you have left - you're free to live it -
You've a paddock and a stable for the night.
In these pastures - live your life out - Storm proud steed; -
For it's here that you have everything you need.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2016
About this poem:
A short poem about a riding school horseThe TV Weather Girl
On the TV, my beautiful weather girl,
I see you in the morning like a dream;
Climatic changes, on your maps, unfurled;
And spread now before me - your beauty seems
Unfinished now - so has your lover returned?
Your secrets in the morning scarce revealed.
Now I see you hot, in your push-up bra;-
Though I can only love you from afar.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
I see you in the morning like a dream;
Climatic changes, on your maps, unfurled;
And spread now before me - your beauty seems
Unfinished now - so has your lover returned?
Your secrets in the morning scarce revealed.
Now I see you hot, in your push-up bra;-
Though I can only love you from afar.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2017
About this poem:
* Just a generic poem about a TV weather girl (That's Television, you understand).Poems entered on these pages are copyrighted by the authors who entered them. They cannot be reproduced without the author's written consent. © Copyright 2001-2024. All rights reserved.
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