Risqué Poetry that Inspires

[Oblimo]

I thought I’d share some of the poetry and lyrics that I find inspirational — that is, they contain the sort of clever naughtiness I aspire to when writing smut. Maybe other AHers could post some poetry too.

My absolute favorite naughty poem, bar none, is Christina Rossetti’s Goblin Market. It’s pre-Raphaelite, too long to be posted in full here, and a feast for the mind.

A quick glance at shmoop says Goblin Market is about female heroism, bad investments rolleyes, and maybe, just maybe, a little about sex.

Yeah. Right. Warning: Spoilers! The stanza below is the raw core of the poem.

She cried, “Laura,” up the garden,
“Did you miss me?
Come and kiss me.
Never mind my bruises,
Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices
Squeez’d from goblin fruits for you,
Goblin pulp and goblin dew.
Eat me, drink me, love me;
Laura, make much of me;
For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin merchant men.”

 

[Oblimo]

If not for Goblin Market, may I feel said he by ee cummings would top my list. You have not lived until you have read this poem aloud, in character, in front of an audience.

may i feel said he
(i'll squeal said she
just once said he)
it's fun said she

(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she

(let's go said he
not too far said she
what's too far said he
where you are said she)

may i stay said he
(which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she

may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you're willing said he
(but you're killing said she

but it's life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she

(tiptop said he
don't stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she

(cccome?said he
ummm said she)
you're divine!said he
(you are Mine said she)

I have a smartass character who gets in trouble for writing a gag sequel that begins, “are they real? said he.” He hasn’t found his way into a story yet.

 

[Oblimo]

This trifle is from the Beatnik supreme, Lawrence Ferlinghetti. I actually brought it in to high school when our English class was reading and discussing poems selected by students. Our teacher was smiling his ass off when he got to the last few lines, but no one else seemed to notice that the poem was about a hookup gone wrong.

See
it was like this when
we waltz into this place.
A couple of papish cats
is doing an Aztec two-step

And I says
Dad let's cut
but then this dame
comes up behind me see
and says
you and me could really exist

Wow I says
Only the next day
she has bad teeth
and really hates
poetry.

 

[Oblimo]

I am a nerd. I went to college in the 90s. Therefore, my musical tastes gravitate to 90s nerd rock. I make no apologies.

I will probably get death threats for calling XTC a nerd rock band. Well, suck it up.

Anyway, one of my favorite XTC songs is Omnibus, from the Nonsuch album. I’ll give you one guess as to what it’s about. The last two lines have a special importance for yours truly.

Climb up here beside me
We can ride and find a friend unfound
Put your foot upon the laughing gas
And drive your grin around

Omnibus, take all of us
All of us, take Omnibus

Ain't nothing in the world like a white skinned girl
Make your Union Jack and make your flag unfurl

You can't say you've ridden
'Til you've given up your heart and seat
Man that lady clippie rip your ticket
Make your trip complete

Omnibus, take all of us
All of us, take Omnibus

Ain't nothing in the world like a black skinned girl
Make your Shakespeare hard and make your oyster pearl

Don't let horses pass you by
Take a run and leap on
Pull the blinkers from your eyes
Before big bus has gone

We'll be stopping off
In every shop until you find that mate
Don't waste time, go on and taste them all
Why don't you fill your plate?

Omnibus, take all of us
All of us, take Omnibus

There's nothing in the world like a gold skinned girl
To make your bonsai weep and make your bamboo curl

Omnibus, take all of us
All of us, take Omnibus

Ain't nothing in the world like a green skinned girl
But that don't mean to say you can't look!

 

[Blind_Justice]

*puts on his best Grouchy Smurf voice*

I HATE poetry.

But this stuff... is not half bad.

*psst*

You know, this thread might be relocated to Mexic... ummm, to the Poet's Hangout if you're not careful.

 

[Oblimo]

You know, this thread might be relocated to Mexic... ummm, to the Poet's Hangout if you're not careful.

I was shooting for inspiring prose smutty stories with naughty poetic language. I don’t want to encourage people to write more poetry. I’m with Grumpy Smurf on this one.

 

[Oblimo]

John Keats’ romance Lamia (linked because it’s too long to be posted in full) is a poem about locking yourself in your basement to fuck a monster girl until your dick falls off.

No, really. Okay, maybe the monsterism is metaphorical for all the bullshit men put women through.

Let the mad poets say whate’er they please
Of the sweets of Fairies, Peris, Goddesses,
There is not such a treat among them all,
Haunters of cavern, lake, and waterfall,
As a real woman, lineal indeed
From Pyrrha’s pebbles or old Adam’s seed.

 

[Bramblethorn]

More Cummings:

she being Brand

-new;and you
know consequently a
little stiff I was
careful of her and (having

thoroughly oiled the universal
joint tested my gas felt of
her radiator made sure her springs were O.

K.)i went right to it flooded-the-carburetor cranked her

up,slipped the
clutch (and then somehow got into reverse she
kicked what
the hell) next
minute i was back in neutral tried and

again slo-wly;bare,ly nudg. ing(my

lev-er Right-
oh and her gears being in
A 1 shape passed
from low through
second-in-to-high like
greasedlightning) just as we turned the corner of Divinity

avenue i touched the accelerator and give

her the juice,good

(it

was the first ride and believe i we was
happy to see how nice she acted right up to
the last minute coming back down by the Public
Gardens i slammed on

the
internalexpanding
&
externalcontracting
breaks Bothatonce and

brought allofher tremB
-ling
to a:dead.

stand-
;Still)

 

[Bramblethorn]

John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester

You Ladyes all of Merry England
Who have been to kisse the Dutchesse's hand,
Pray did you lately observe in the Show
A Noble Italian call'd Signior Dildo?
...

The poem goes on to chronicle the adventures of this noble gentleman:

You'll take him at first for no Person of Note
Because he appears in a plain Leather Coat:
But when you his virtuous Abilities know
You'll fall down and Worship Signior Dildo.

He also wrote The Imperfect Enjoyment, a poem about premature ejaculation.

 

[Oblimo]

One of greatest demonstrations of the writerly virtue of economy I have ever seen is Margaret Atwood’s infamous “love” poem You Fit into Me

you fit into me
like a hook into an eye

a fish hook
an open eye

Forget about eating someone else’s plums, man. This is where it’s at.

 

[Blind_Justice]

More Cummings:

Hm. I get "Turbo Lover" vibes from that.

You won't hear me,
But you'll feel me
Without warning, somethings dawning, listen.
Then within your senses,
You'll know you're defenseless
How your heart beats, when you run for cover
Your cant retreat I spy like no other.
Then we race together.
We can ride forever
Wrapped in horsepower, driving into fury
Changing gear I pull you tighter to me

I'm your turbo lover
Tell me there's no other
I'm your turbo lover
Better run for cover

We hold each other closer, as we shift to overdrive
And everything goes rushing by, with every nerve alive
We move so fast it seems as though we've taken to the sky
Love machines in harmony, we hear the engines cry.

I'm your turbo lover
Tell me there's no other
I'm your turbo lover
Better run for cover

On and on we're charging to the place so many seek
In perfect synchronicity of which so many speak
We feel so close to heaven in this roaring heavy load
And then in sheer abandonment, we shatter and explode.

I'm your turbo lover
Tell me there's no other
I'm your turbo lover
Better run for cover
I'm your turbo lover
Tell me there's no other
I'm your turbo lover
Better run for cover

Edith for line breaks

 

[ElectricBlue]

Coleridge's Christabel is a lesbian vampire yarn, with lots of lines to read the in-betweens of.

And then the magnificent Kublai Khan:

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.


Pretty obvious, those lines...

I wrote an orgasm scene in a piss-take story based on those lines - this one:

https://www.literotica.com/s/in-search-of-a-story

Despite the high number of literary wankers on AH, and it being a competition entry and all, no-one spotted it. Not a single writer. I was most disappointed.

 

[Oblimo]

And then there’s In the Night Kitchen, a children’s book by Maurice Sendak. It involves a stark naked boy being smothered in globs of dough and gouts of milk in a fantastic cityscape ruled over by three giant fat chefs who try to bake the boy into a cake.

I’m in the milk!
And the milk’s in me!

Yeah, let’s not go there after all.

 

[Bramblethorn]

Coleridge's Christabel is a lesbian vampire yarn, with lots of lines to read the in-betweens of.

And a pioneer in the grand Literotica tradition of "never finished the damn story" ;-)

 

[ElectricBlue]

Then there's Jim Morrison channeling some Howlin' Wolf:

Yeah, I'm a back door man
I'm a back door man
The men don't know
But the little girl understand
Hey, all you people that tryin' to sleep
I'm out to make it with my midnight dream, yeah
'Cause I'm a back door man
The men don't know
But the little girls understand
All right, yeah
You men eat your dinner
Eat your pork and beans
I eat more chicken
Than any man ever seen, yeah, yeah
I'm a back door man, wha
The men don't know
But the little girls understand
Well, I'm a back door man
I'm a back door man
Whoa, baby, I'm a back door man
The men don't know
But the little girls understand

 

[ElectricBlue]

And...

Radar Love

I've been drivin' all night,
My hands are wet on the wheel
There's a voice in my head
That drives my heel
And my baby calls says
She needs me here and
It's half past four
And I'm shifting gear
When she gets lonely
And the longin' gets too much
She sends a cable comin' in from above
We don't need to talk
At all we got a thing
That's called radar love
We got a wave in the air
Radar love
Radio's playin' some forgotten song
Brenda lee's comin' on strong
The road has got me hypnotized
And I'm spinning into a new sunrise
When I get lonely
And I'm sure I've had enough
She sends her comfort coming in from above
We don't need a letter at
All we got a thing that's called radar love
We got a line in the air radar
Love solo no more speed
I'm almost there gotta keep cool now,
Gotta take care last car
To pass here I go
And the line of cars goes down real slow
And the radio played some forgotten song
Brenda lee's comin' strong
And the newsman sang his same song
Oh one more radar lover gone
When I get lonely and I'm sure
I've had enough she sends her comfort
Coming in from above
We don't need a letter at all
We got a thing that's called radar love
We got a line in the sky
We got a thing that's called radar love
We got a thing that's called radar love

Songwriters: BARRY HAY,GEORGE KOOYMANS Golden Earring

 

[ElectricBlue]

I am a nerd. I went to college in the 90s. Therefore, my musical tastes gravitate to 90s nerd rock. I make no apologies.

You are but a child. A teenager in the seventies. Sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll. You guys just wish.

 

[Oblimo]

Pretty obvious, those lines...

Have you taken a gander at the original Walt Whitman poem, I Sing the Body Electric?

When he describes male physicality and physique, he uses very realistic, sharp, and stark language. And then he gets to talking about women, and then, well, this happens...

This is the female form,
A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot,
It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction,
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor, all falls aside but myself and it,
Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth, and what was expected of heaven or fear’d of hell, are now consumed,
Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it, the response likewise ungovernable,
Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands all diffused, mine too diffused,
Ebb stung by the flow and flow stung by the ebb, love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching,
Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of love, white-blow and delirious juice,
Bridegroom night of love working surely and softly into the prostrate dawn,
Undulating into the willing and yielding day,
Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh’d day.

I decided to take this hysterical verse literally, and goo girls were born. No one has yet to call me out on it.

“Enormous, quivering jelly of love?” Walt, it’s a girl. She’s a person, too. Relax.

 

[Oblimo]

You are but a child. A teenager in the seventies. Sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll. You guys just wish.

We have held the head of the table open in your honor, good Elder. Please, sit.

 

[Bramblethorn]

About 50% of rock is some variant of "let's fuck" but for all that mein Deutsch ist sehr schlecht, Umbra et Imago's Viva Vulva sticks in my head for the way it turns lust into worship. Some rough translations:

I want to taste you, and godlike grow
You're my salvation, in heaven and below
I want to kiss you, and to drink
And god himself lets us in Nirvana sink

...

I would anoint you, kiss you, drink
We will as one flesh into this night sink
The hot bodies offered up as sacrifices
On the altar of lust, in our temple
This is the holy night

 

[Bramblethorn]

Have you taken a gander at the original Walt Whitman poem, I Sing the Body Electric?

When he describes male physicality and physique, he uses very realistic, sharp, and stark language. And then he gets to talking about women, and then, well, this happens...

On the other hand, Whitman probably slept with Oscar Wilde: "the two talked of nothing but pretty boys, of how insipid was the love of women, and of what other poets, Swinburne in particular, had to say about these tastes."

Perhaps IStBE was overcompensating?

 

[ElectricBlue]

We have held the head of the table open in your honor, good Elder. Please, sit.

Clearwater will be along soon with his Muse CDs.

I tried with Chloe with some classic Oz rock, but then she regressed and we have to start therapy all over again, because she favoured the Beeb. That was an awful moment in my life.

But don't get me started on music, I can't remember all the best songs! Life in twenty minute increments, that's me.

Kashmir is good for fucking, though, and Leonard Cohen is best for worship. Especially his songs about women. Wait, that's just about all of them...

 

[Oblimo]

*Googles Umbra et Imago*

*Watches Viva Vulva video*

...

Herz, mein herz!

 

[SamScribble]

Today is not a day for adultery

Roger McGough

Today is not a day for adultery.
The sky is a wet blanket
Being shaken in anger. Thunder
Rumbles through the streets
Like malicious gossip.

Take my advice: braving the storm
Will not impress your lover
When you turn up at the house
In an anorak. Wellingtons,
Even coloured, seldom arouse.

Your umbrella will leave a tell-tale
Puddle in the hall. Another stain
To be explained away. Stay in,
Keep your mucus to yourself.
Today is not a day for sin.

Best pick up the phone and cancel.
Postpone until the weather clears.
No point in getting soaked through.
At your age, a fuck’s not worth
The chance of catching ‘flu.

 

[Oblimo]

Leonard Cohen is best for worship. Especially his songs about women. Wait, that's just about all of them...

Heh.

I know Suzanne, of course, and Hallelujah, and when someone says, “Oh yeah, that’s the song from Shreck,” I wanna punch them inna face.