|Best Poems About / On SEX
In the eyes of Allah
Homosexuality is a grievous sin
Even birds and animals
Never do this thing
It is a work of devils
For a gay
There are only two holes
If you think hole is enough
Sex doesn't matter
Whereas girls have three holes
Girls have hairless boobs
That can be sucked
Girls have no beard and mustache
So their face can be licked
A boy and a girl
Can ensure reproduction
That is essential
For existence of mankind
In the future
A man can marry more than one girl
Even he can enjoy sex
With sex workers
Lesbianism is not a great sin
For a lesbian
Although there are artificial cocks
And sperm like things
The original sexual organs
Of a man are much better
Illegal sex is a sin
God never destroy any nation
For enjoying illegal sex
With opposite sex
But God destroy nation
Read more poems from Asif Andalib >>>
She writes of
Sex, do you?
He talks of sex
They dream of
Sex, do you?
I want some
Sex, do you?
I want -
Yet we all
You like sex ;)
Don't you? !
Read more poems from Aparna Chatterjee >>>
Sex is an excellent syllable, which
detonates meaning and is fillable
with much connotation. Of course
it conjures a deed done and conjugal
entanglements of bodies, when love
or lust gets down to earthy business,
when desire fires itself up and down
and on (and out of) the town. Sex
is also an implied question on a form
that may be answered M or F,
even if youre in a mood to
answer Yes or No or Maybe So,
or 'I'll get back to you later' or
'What about it? 'Sex is not solely
one thing or two but more
than a few and human, too.
Sex at times is a semiotic nexus
(how sexual that sounds!) suggesting
bawdy, haughty, naughty, hottie
bodies, which touch and much more
in sexs neck of the woulds and coulds,
the musts and lusts. Sometimes sex is
subtly intimated simply by the two-letter
syllable, it, as in getting it on, doing it,
making it, and even, alas, faking it. Oh
yes, theres that other effing eff-word,
the one that rhymes with truck
and gets so often stuck in awkward syntactical
positions. Sex is life in frenzied love
with itself, all lips and hips, rounds
and flats, sultry strategies and tender
tactics, loads of lust and convoys
of cupidity, sensual consensual
congress. Sex can cause stupidity
would you agree? and vice versa.
Sex is a state of union, an exhilarating
expiration, a getting up, a getting with
it, a going down, a fear and fondness
of flying, a finding out and a knowing
about. It has been known to be
a bit of a chore, an occasional bore.
Its mysterious and base, crude and holy,
much cause for consternation,
controversy, rules, and fools. Sex
is something else again. And again.
Read more poems from Hans Ostrom >>>
A Dog Named Sex
My pooch is not named Rover, Fluffy, Spot or Rex.
I wanted something different, so I named my puppy, Sex.
To renew my doggies license. I went down to City Hall.
Id like a license for Sex, I said. He said, Wouldnt we all?
You must not have understood, I need it for my mutt.
I really dont care how she looks, if shes ugly, fine or what.
But Sir, I must tell you, Ive had Sex since I was four!
You are no more than a braggart, and he showed me out the door.
Newly married, we brought our pet along for the honeymoon.
I told the clerk, A place for us and for Sex, a special room.
Every room has a place for sex. Every room has a bed.
But Sex keeps me up at night. It keeps me up, too, he said.
At our divorce the court gave all my possessions to the wife
I protested, Please Your Honor, I had Sex before my married life!
The judge then said that he did, too. Its not a real big crime.
But Sir, before we tied the knot, I had Sex all the time
The judge said that I could still have sex, so I took my hound and ran.
My wife then said that shed miss Sex, so I stayed a married man.
Last night Sex ran off again as we walked around the block.
A cop pulled up and asked me if I knew it was three oclock.
I told him that I was looking for Sex and he took me straight to jail.
Now Im waiting for my trial to come and cant get out on bail.
..if I ever get another dog,
I think Ill name him
..Whoopie or Boom-Boom
Anything but Sex!
Read more poems from Carl Palmer >>>