Female Genitals

The Female Genitals

Every foolish drunken poet,
boorish vanity without ceasing,
(never may I warrant it,
I of great noble stock,)
has always declaimed fruitless praise
in song of the girls of the lands
all day long, certain gift,
most incompletely, by God the Father:
praising the hair, gown of fine love,
and every such living girl,
and lower down praising merrily
the brows above the eyes;
praising also, lovely shape,
the smoothness of the soft breasts,
and the beauty’s arms, bright drape,
she deserved honour, and the girl’s hands.
Then with his finest wizardry
before night he did sing,
he pays homage to God’s greatness,
fruitless eulogy with his tongue:
leaving the middle without praise
and the place where children are conceived,
and the warm quim, clear excellence,
tender and fat, bright fervent broken circle,
where I loved, in perfect health,
the quim below the smock.
You are a body of boundless strength,
a faultless court of fat’s plumage.
I declare, the quim is fair,
circle of broad-edged lips,
it is a valley longer than a spoon or a hand,
a ditch to hold a penis two hands long;
cunt there by the swelling arse,
song’s table with its double in red.
And the bright saints, men of the church,
when they get the chance, perfect gift,
don’t fail, highest blessing,
by Beuno, to give it a good feel.
For this reason, thorough rebuke,
all you proud poets,
let songs to the quim circulate
without fail to gain reward.
Sultan of an ode, it is silk,
little seam, curtain on a fine bright cunt,
flaps in a place of greeting,
the sour grove, it is full of love,
very proud forest, faultless gift,
tender frieze, fur of a fine pair of testicles,
a girl’s thick grove, circle of precious greeting,
lovely bush, God save it.

A poem from Gwerful Mechain a mediaeval poet and tavern owner and is the most erotic poet in Wales , yet her words have a formation that lingers and makes you yield to the pleasures

Only Fans

my dog stepped on a bee

grandma killed a drone

with the most excellent pickles

yet I live within

feeding on

Binley Mega Chippy

watching with tears

the people of Ukraine

punished by the despot

as we have our own

tin pot dictator

of inflationary no comprise

parties more of a preference

champagne eton mess

vulgar shits

believing covid in retrograde

the poor keep dying

on the pyre of debt

chancellor grinning

utility meter spinning

on his cosy yacht

let them eat cake

but even that we cannot afford

food bank serenade

whilst they last

until nobody can supply them

we need tractors

to steal tanks

so I can live

and you all can smile

maybe a grimace

a death masque to society

Girls bringing sherbet

raise the camp fire,

blankets spread on 

the ground,

singing dead and door

tunes,

sex chorus behind

rolling orange orb

waiting for the sherbet

Wheatfields

Wheatfields

she hitched  her

shorts the cleft

appeared

and in that moment

all tides surged

today had become

brighter.

Ukrainian girl in wheat field Painting

Pavel Laponog

Ukraine

Painting, Oil on Canvas

Size: 25 W x 35 H x 1.4 D cm

Love Ukraine

2022 a pandemic is just loosening its grip and then another disease began , Russia under the looming presence of Putin , invaded Ukraine with brutal aggression a petulant psychopath wanting a reunited Soviet Union , well he can fuck off , I see on the news a beautiful people facing adversity with grace and fortitude and in my heart and prayers I think of them , and as I do I remembered there is a poem Love Ukraine by Volodymyr Sosyura that says so much and can fit for the here and now

Please offer aid to any organisation , the people of Ukraine need our love and support

Naked Orange

standing naked in the kitchen

talking on long cable

green wall phone

handset greasy

from pan fried bacon

I needed you

as we spoke

long distance

bare feet paced

on tactile floor

your voice oozed

sweet through receiver

I could see you

imagine you

black neglige

auburn hair

remaining flaccid

slapped to my thighs

as I knew

his cigarette tasting

tongue would be

caressing your neck

hands massaging

needy breasts

you will come home

shower fresh panties

and we would

cradle ourselves in love

on the couch

Denise Carruthers

As you know I love to write and love to read as well , I have known this poet for a while and she is modest , intelligent and a fiercely wonderful writer have a read then follow her on twitter and show her the love

Denise Carruthers