FabSwingers.com forum: World Poetry Day 📖

By *eoBlooms OP Man
6 weeks ago

Springfield

21st March is World Poetry Day so here's a thread to post any favourite verses or rhymes or filthy limericks before it's too late.

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By *eoBlooms OP Man
6 weeks ago

Springfield

My contribution is a seasonal and surprisingly upbeat poem from the famously gloomy Philip Larkin. It also rather fits this context.

'Coming'

On longer evenings,

Light, chill and yellow,

Bathes the serene

Foreheads of houses.

A thrush sings,

Laurel-surrounded

In the deep bare garden,

Its fresh-peeled voice

Astonishing the brickwork.

It will be spring soon,

It will be spring soon –

And I, whose childhood

Is a forgotten boredom,

Feel like a child

Who comes on a scene

Of adult reconciling,

And can understand nothing

But the unusual laughter,

And starts to be happy

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By *ittlemissFlirtyCouple
6 weeks ago

3rd Rock from the sun

Ah! Sun-flower

By William Blake

Ah Sun-flower! weary of time,

Who countest the steps of the Sun:

Seeking after that sweet golden clime

Where the travellers journey is done.

Where the Youth pined away with desire,

And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow:

Arise from their graves and aspire,

Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.

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By *ulieAndBeefCouple
6 weeks ago

Manchester-ish

Hangin’ about in a Train Station Toilet Naming People’s Penises

a poem by Joe Wilkinson

Hello commuter, on your way to work,

I’m gonna call yours captain bird’s eye

Because it looks like it’s wearing a polo neck and winking at me.

You’re welcome, I just named your penis

Hello train driver, who just nipped in for a piss,

I’m going to call yours Mrs Fernsby, my old geography teacher

Because you’re small and wrinkly and have a birthmark down the side of your shaft.

You’re welcome, I just named your penis.

Hello police officer, who’s just been sent to the toilets because they’ve had reports of someone naming people’s penises,

You can’t arrest me for naming strangers’ Johnsons.

Oh, you can, I didn’t know that.

Oh great, now I’m electronically tagged again.

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By *obilebottomMan
6 weeks ago

All over

"The rhythm of the night, a whispered plea,

For souls that yearn for ecstasy.

A subtle sway, a whispered grace,

The fab swingers find their space.

In dimly lit, enchanting halls,

Where music flows and passion calls.

With flowing silks and eyes so bright,

They dance the night, a dazzling sight.

A gentle touch, a knowing glance,

A whispered word, a monent's chance.

Their bodies move in perfect time,

A symphony of pure sublime.

Through moonlit rooms, they glide and twirl,

With every step, a captivating swirl.

Their spirits soar, their hearts ignite,

In this enchanted, moonlit night.

The air alive with whispered sighs,

As passions burn beneath the skies.

With every beat, a vibrant hue,

The fab swingers, forever true.

No judgment cast, no judging eye,

Just freedom found beneath the sky.

A celebration of the soul so free,

The fab swingers, eternally."

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By *ittlemissFlirtyCouple
6 weeks ago

3rd Rock from the sun

[Removed by poster at 21/03/25 21:35:53]

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By *ittlemissFlirtyCouple
6 weeks ago

3rd Rock from the sun

"Hangin’ about in a Train Station Toilet Naming People’s Penises

a poem by Joe Wilkinson

Hello commuter, on your way to work,

I’m gonna call yours captain bird’s eye

Because it looks like it’s wearing a polo neck and winking at me.

You’re welcome, I just named your penis

Hello train driver, who just nipped in for a piss,

I’m going to call yours Mrs Fernsby, my old geography teacher

Because you’re small and wrinkly and have a birthmark down the side of your shaft.

You’re welcome, I just named your penis.

Hello police officer, who’s just been sent to the toilets because they’ve had reports of someone naming people’s penises,

You can’t arrest me for naming strangers’ Johnsons.

Oh, you can, I didn’t know that.

Oh great, now I’m electronically tagged again.

🤣🤣

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By *avinaTVTV/TS
6 weeks ago

Transsexual Transylvania

Awake!

For Morning, in the bowl of night,

Has flung the stone which puts the stars to flight.

And lo! The Hunter of the East

Has caught the Sultan's turret in a noose of light.

Omar Khayyam

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By *eroLondonMan
6 weeks ago

Mayfair

Here's half-hearted facile attempt:

_________________________________________

I have penchant for a sonnet,

Don't let me dwell upon it,

Or let me be dismissive as I pen for you my missive.

I offer no recompense if my stanza makes no sense,

It's the best elegy that I can muster without getting into a fluster.

So I shall leave it there, my unfinished prose,

Leaving me feeling equally morose.

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By *eltCuteMightDeleteWoman
6 weeks ago

Reading

One of my poems:

Invitation

Please come over

I’d like to open the door and be surprised all over again to see your handsome face

I’d like you to be in my space

To see you leaning against my door frame

Being kind to my dog

Please come over

I’d like to ramble at you in my nervousness

And ask you inane things like how has work been today

I’d like to think about offering you a drink

Though I’ve never done so before

Please come over

I’d like to grab your hand and pull you up the stairs

I’d like to feel the height of you behind me

And think about how we don’t have long

I’d like to make use of the time we have

Please come over

I’d like to scramble out of my clothes and kiss you naked on my bed

I’d like you to run your lips and tongue up my neck and across my nipples

To feel your cold hands between my legs

Please come over

I’d like to fall apart at your touch

I’d like you to hear my pleasure

Over and over again

I’d like to hear that groaning noise

As you dip your fingers into me

Whispering in that reverential way ‘you’re so wet’

Please come over

I’d like to pull at your clothing

Until you stand and

I’d like to watch you undress

I’d like to touch myself as you’re doing so

Almost breathless for what will happen next

Please come over

I’d like to see your face over mine

The way it goes a little bit slack as you give into pleasure

I’d like to see you lose control

I’d like to hear it

I’d like to be the reason you lose control

Please come over

I’d like to press myself against you after

I’d like to rest my head on your chest so I can hear your heartbeat

With your hands gently stroking my skin

Please come over

I’d like to hear your quiet voice

Tell me things you don’t say in messages

I’d like to feel close to you briefly

And smell your aftershave on my bedsheets long after you’re gone

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By *eoBlooms OP Man
6 weeks ago

Springfield

That is really good FCMD ^ 👏

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By *ilsaGeorgeCouple
6 weeks ago

kent

I’m only just getting started with poetry - a lovely friend from here has just introduced me - but there is one poem I know well. A dear friend sent it to me, seven years ago, and I read it once or twice a year. I don’t know who wrote it, there is a part of me that doesn’t want to know.

‘The World Didn't See’

The world didn't see when he held her,

And he kissed her cold cheek as he cried.

Or how time seemed to stop and the ground opened up

When he heard that his baby had died.

The world didn't see him paint over,

The room he'd made one month before.

How he packed up her things, gave her teddy a hug,

Then collapsed in a heap on the floor.

The world didn't see all the long nights,

Or the struggle through work the next day.

How the dark cloud above him forever kept growing

And nothing could blow it away.

The world didn't ask him how he was,

Cause' a man who's in pain must be 'strong'.

The world didn't see that a loss dad cries too,

That his journey through grief's just as long.

The world didn't see, but the world's waking up You're a loss dad and you matter too.

And you'll never stop grieving, you'll never stop loving

Your baby - half mum ... but half you.

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By *eo PublicMan
6 weeks ago

Lincoln

This bloke says:

"You should write a love poem,

One of those nice 'love is' poems

Because people need their dreams and fantasies"

So I'll tell you what love is

Love is passion and pain

In the darkness of the night

Screaming spasms of hatred

The line between drawn so close

Standing on the edge, eyes wide awake

Power pounding in your veins

The vision of your face in a shock of light

Love is hard and savage bright

And bleeding knuckles

Where you punched the wall

Agony and jealousy exploding in the dance-hall

The knife blade of tension

Cutting us both ways

It's fighting, fighting, back to back

You and I out-numbered three to one

Laughing and running afterwards

And blood-sweet kisses

Grinding on your broken teeth

Love is my nails in your back

And grinning in the face

Of a small town's hatred Oh, that's what love is, sweetheart

Not pastel pink and wedding white

The same old traps, the half-hearted lies

The cold death

Love is red hot and black hearts

Your whole soul burning

And singing all the while

Oh yes, that's what love is

That's what love is

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By *udamet666Woman
6 weeks ago

Kilbirnie

Every Friday is POETS Day

Piss Off Early, Tomorrow's Saturday

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By *ai Hard 2 - Dai HarderMan
6 weeks ago

Manchester / Cardiff

It a tie for me between;

"Do not go gentle into that good night" Dylan Thomas (memorable renditions by Michael Caine in Interstellar and Michael Sheen just being Michael Sheen!) https://youtu.be/w-sM-t1KI_Y?si=U4T6kBmbq6pgrAoh

"The Raven" Edgar Allen Poe (narrated epicly by James Earl Jones in The Simpsons 'Treehouse of Horror' https://youtu.be/bLiXjaPqSyY?si=D_Jo5RTej319-xoY )

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By *ikesEmBigMan
6 weeks ago

Herts

I was 'ere

'Ere I was

Was I 'ere

Here's my penis!

(I might need to work on my poetry skills)

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By *eltCuteMightDeleteWoman
6 weeks ago

Reading

"That is really good FCMD ^ 👏"

Thank you. It's been a hard thing sharing my own poetry 😬

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By *eo PublicMan
6 weeks ago

Lincoln

I should have said the poem I've posted is Love Is (Sweet Romance) by Joolz.

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By *istalloverCouple
6 weeks ago

Pays de la Loire -Normandie -Brittany borderFrance

The Grand Old Duke of York

He said he couldn't sweat

so why on earth

Did he give a few million

To a girl he never met

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By *obilebottomMan
6 weeks ago

All over

"A question pondered, deep within the soul,

Of form and measure, making one whole.

Is length, a ribbon stretching far and wide,

Or girth, a circle, where the secrets hide?

The dancer's grace, a length of flowing art,

Her limbs entwined, a masterpiece of heart.

But sculpted curves, a figure's perfect round,

A gentle girth, on hallowed, sacred ground.

The mountain's height, a length that pierce the sky,

Its mighty form, where eagles dare to fly.

But valleys deep, a girth of earth so vast,

Where hidden springs, in quiet slumber cast.

The ship's long hull, a journey's lengthy quest,

Across the waves, to harbors, put to rest.

But sturdy girth, the vessel's firm embrace,

Protecting cargo, in its steady place.

So which to choose? This ponderous debate,

A question weighing, by the heart's own state.

For length and girth, in beauty intertwine,

In perfect balance, where true worth you'll find.

Perhaps, the answer, lies within the eye,

That sees the harmony, beneath the sky.

For length and girth, a duality sublime,

Reflecting beauty, in their perfect time."

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By *bitofaslutWoman
6 weeks ago

Cannock

Give me women, wine, and snuff

Until I cry out "hold, enough!"

You may do so sans objection

Till the day of resurrection;

For bless my beard they aye shall be

My beloved Trinity.

Keats

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By *ai Hard 2 - Dai HarderMan
6 weeks ago

Manchester / Cardiff

If we're talking modern day poets, can't not add Kae Tempest.

***

'Firesmoke'

My visionary is a vision

I watch her dancing by the window

And it rips my flesh to ribbons

And the whole world is just ripples

In the middle distance

I listen to her hips

I push my kisses to her lips

We move like we were born to move

The night is teeth and pistons

And there is something in this tenderness that makes me want to live...

https://youtu.be/pwMtfS0Tqr8?si=8SsXVO7WVPq5BF5Y

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By *onkey 2023Man
6 weeks ago

Cross Hands

“There was a young lady from Ealing…”

Next line?

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By *eading beddingMan
6 weeks ago

Berks

Just time for a quickie:

Adam. Had 'em.

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By *eoBlooms OP Man
6 weeks ago

Springfield

"“There was a young lady from Ealing…”

Next line?

Who had a great fondness for kneeling

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By *eoBlooms OP Man
6 weeks ago

Springfield

"If we're talking modern day poets, can't not add Kae Tempest.

***

'Firesmoke'

My visionary is a vision

I watch her dancing by the window

And it rips my flesh to ribbons

And the whole world is just ripples

In the middle distance

I listen to her hips

I push my kisses to her lips

We move like we were born to move

The night is teeth and pistons

And there is something in this tenderness that makes me want to live...

https://youtu.be/pwMtfS0Tqr8?si=8SsXVO7WVPq5BF5Y"

Seen her live with a band, excellent and intense.

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By *eoBlooms OP Man
6 weeks ago

Springfield

"That is really good FCMD ^ 👏

Thank you. It's been a hard thing sharing my own poetry 😬"

It can be both terrifying and liberating; hope you feel able to do it more often.

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By *obilebottomMan
6 weeks ago

All over

"Monochrome Monday whispers in shades of gray,

a silent canvas where shadows play.

Thighs Tuesday strides with confident grace,

each step a rhythm, a lingering trace.

Winks Wednesday sparkles with secrets untold,

a fleeting glimmer, a story unfolds.

Fab a fella Thursday struts in the light,

charm and swagger, a magnetic sight.

Face pic Friday captures a moment’s glow,

a smile that lingers, a heart’s soft echo.

Social Saturday buzzes with vibrant cheer,

laughter and connections, a world held near.

Breakfast Sunday dawns with warmth and ease,

a feast of comfort, a heart’s soft tease.

Each day a hue, a rhythm, a song,

a week of colors where we all belong."

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By *eoBlooms OP Man
6 weeks ago

Springfield

Brilliant contributions MB 🫡🫡

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By *eceivers-of-edenCouple
6 weeks ago

W Yorks

To titilate an ocelot...

Oscillate its tits a lot.

- Mandy

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By *eliWoman
6 weeks ago

I'm going to go for two contemporary, lesser known poets.

I absolutely love Nikita Gill -

The saddest word

in the whole wide world

is the word almost.

He was almost in love.

She was almost good for him.

He almost stopped her.

She almost waited.

He almost lived.

They almost made it

And Sierra deMulder's When The Apocalypse Comes. In a similar vein (final one!) and because I couldn't resist the playful sensuality of his fragmented syntax; e.e Cummings i like my body when it is with your.

Both rather apt for here.

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By *eoBlooms OP Man
6 weeks ago

Springfield

Thanks for the recommendations Meli.

cummings is an all time favourite of mine, and a passage I know by heart is:

i do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens;only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses

nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

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By *onkey 2023Man
6 weeks ago

Cross Hands

"“There was a young lady from Ealing…”

Next line?

Who had a great fondness for kneeling"

She fondled her crack as she played with my sac…

Next line?

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By *eoBlooms OP Man
6 weeks ago

Springfield

"“There was a young lady from Ealing…”

Next line?

Who had a great fondness for kneeling

She fondled her crack as she played with my sac…

Next line?

And laughed as I came on the ceiling

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By *eoBlooms OP Man
6 weeks ago

Springfield

One from Emily Dickinson which is also (hopefully) appropriate for Fab:

Wild nights – Wild nights!

Were I with thee

Wild nights should be

Our luxury!

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By *onkey 2023Man
6 weeks ago

Cross Hands

Well worth looking up…

The Oak Tree, by Johnny Ray Ryder Jr.

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By *oldyoudown41Man
6 weeks ago

caledonian

There was a young man from Mauritius,

Who said he’s last fuck was delicious..

But the next time I’ll cum,

It will be in you bum..

Cause the scab on your cunt was suspicious..

That’s all folks ..

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By *ittlemissFlirtyCouple
6 weeks ago

3rd Rock from the sun

"There was a young man from Mauritius,

Who said he’s last fuck was delicious..

But the next time I’ll cum,

It will be in you bum..

Cause the scab on your cunt was suspicious..

That’s all folks ..

.. very good

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By *iltshirefunmaleMan
6 weeks ago

Devizes

It has to be Celia, by Adrian Mitchell

When think that life has ended,

When I think all hope has gone,

Then I walk along High Holborne

And think of you with nothing on.

I met Celia once, she would have been almost 80, and you still got a strong sense of the woman who had inspired her husband to write that.

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By *tr8MrEMan
6 weeks ago

somewhere near Sheffield

Remember remember

The fifth of November

I held a banger in my hand

Has anyone seen my finger

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By *iltshirefunmaleMan
6 weeks ago

Devizes

My goodness, FCMD, that poem is glorious. So full of yearning and passion.

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By *elloWoman
6 weeks ago

alpha centauri

There once was a woman from Ealing

who had a peculiar feeling

she laid on her back,

and opened her crack,

Then pissed all over the ceiling

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By *arakiss12TV/TS
6 weeks ago

Bedford

Roses are red,

Violets are...... Violet.

If I was a frog I'd live in a bog.

If I was a dog I'd chase the frog.

If I was bog I'd eat the the dog and the frog.

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By *tr8MrEMan
6 weeks ago

somewhere near Sheffield

Jack and Jill

Went up the hill

To fetch a pail of water

He showed Jill his cock

And now they got a daughter

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By (user no longer on site)
6 weeks ago

17th century filth from John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. Love him:

Regime de Vivre

I rise at eleven, I dine about two,

I get d*unk before seven; and the next thing I do,

I send for my whore, when for fear of a clap,

I spend in her hand, and I spew in her lap.

Then we quarrel and scold, 'till I fall fast asleep,

When the bitch, growing bold, to my pocket does creep;

Then slyly she leaves me, and, to revenge the affront,

At once she bereaves me of money and cunt.

If by chance then I wake, hot-headed and d*unk,

What a coil do I make for the loss of my punk!

I storm and I roar, and I fall in a rage,

And missing my whore, I bugger my page.

Then, crop-sick all morning, I rail at my men,

And in bed I lie yawning 'till eleven again

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By *ete hMan
6 weeks ago

Penzance

I had a haiku published online years ago based on Nietzschean ideas

Spoke to god today

He said he doesn't exist

Truth born from error

IYKYK

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