(Intentionally) Perverted Senryū

“Country song goes… ‘Rain makes corn, corn makes whiskey, whiskey makes my baby feel a little frisky’. [To which] Jack [age 3] says, ‘Mom, whiskey makes babies?!’” ~ from Parenting, by Caroline Bologna

Yep, the coolest members of the human species are wee hysterical fountains of wisdom… who Create the Best (Unintentionally) Naughty Misspellings. Then, we grow up (on the outside), and the hysteria is totally intentional:

 

T is for tatas…
unless it’s cold (and you’re 5),
then T is for tights

beware of tall Dicks
to keep your neck from snapping,
opt for a short John

penis meals are hard
to swallow, it’s quite all right
to spit for comfort

I hope you laughed, my Wicked Luvs…

…life is always more glorious, when you “armor your-Self
with humor”. Trust me. I know things.

Game of Words and Flesh

You are counting my gasps with your lips. I can’t see you, but my skin (and deeper things) can feel every breath your want is tracing over my breast and ribs and hip. “Am I getting warmer?” you say. And your words arch my back because warm burst into flames a mouthful of well-versed licks ago.

I’ve hidden kisses
between my poems and flesh.
Want them? Come… and seek.

 

the wee notes…
– over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, our dearest Rommy asked us “to write a poem that incorporates the idea of a child’s game.” So, I chose to poetize some Hide and Seek.
– I rarely use capitalization in my senryū/haiku, but it felt right for this one.


Sea of Feelings”, by Leonid Afremov