Short Gored Poems

Boredom...

  Has gored 'em...

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angry bull sees red
matador is gored to death
church bells are ringing

06-28-17...

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Marriage is a two-edged sword
   One end brandished by your overlord

     ~ At the other, your oxen gored...

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     Happy Birthday to me
       Say bye to seventy-three

     I’m seventy-four now
       My ox to be gored
...

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Until something's gored,
It can't be restored.

                           ---- Princefreakasso
                                (Artist and Poet)...

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A well-groomed matador José
Liked to moisturize with Oil of Olay
His hands lost their grip
The cape it did slip
He was gored as he cried out "¡Olé!"...

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The posse came a-howling for vengeance
The Senator must now perform penance
   His pleas for mercy ignored
   His reputation was gored
Beheaded by public opinion's sword...

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Bored 
I was so bored
so I floored 
the horrid board 
I was so bored
So I called upon the lord 
who with drew his sword 
And gored me to the ends of the world 
I was so bored
I was really bored :(...

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Here from the womb of a grave rose a carcass 
Stabbed subterranean with a feudal dart
Crackled, corroded and combusted on every part
Heart seems to be sizzled and left apart.

All mighty above started crying in the clouds 
Tears geared up the grimness and went gloomy 
Smiles sacrificed their superiority, 
saluted that venerated veteran of aspiring life....

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feeble flesh feigned
rusty reels' reign
hoity hankers bled
porous pruning led
furious feast fetched
blind blitzkrieg belched

gaunt gifts gored
punctured pills pored
nocturnal nature bored

taunted trees moaned
callous crest cloned
damping drooling drone

eerie ends etched
callous catastrophe clenched.
     '20:04:06:20:38

Note: Of wanky war....

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Limerick : Once slick Senorita from Sevilla – 6

Once slick Senorita from Sevilla
Watched proud Toro shamed by faena*
So she lured Picador
Behind her unlocked door
And gored him till he split on his Pica.

•	faena : the manœuvres with the cape
the toro is subjected to by the matador
after the maiming of the magnificent beast
by the picador

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013...

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dark dearth dribbled
crunching cloned cripples:
hoisted hay forlorn
perforating pulpy pawn
punctured pills pored
gaunt gifts gored

nocturnal nature tamed
leering lanky lame
kaleidoscopic chaos craved

meagre missiles moaned
munching mufti robe
rusty rhythm poked

yearning yucks yelled
fuming felon flesh.
      '20:05:04:20:07

Note: Of numbed nature....

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gaunt path gnawed
heaving hampered awe
sassy zeal seeped'n
felon furnace spree
masticated moans yawned
bruised bridge's pawn

airy atmosphere amputated
trailing alakazam taunted
gloom's gored lips

voluptuous asunder vied
punctured pulses plied
raged reels' wiles

fate fostered boundary
smothered silhouettes merry.
     '20:05:08:19:29

Note: Of screwed survival....

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Pedro, a slick, suave and smooth matador
  The pride of his native-state, Ecuador
    He'd flash his red cape
    The bull would go ape
  After each pass, the fans shouted, 'Encore!'

  One time Pedro let the bull come too close
  The crowd sat in stunned silence, comatose
    Pedro may have been gored badly
    Yet he still smiled most gladly
  'Time for a new gig,' he said ~ 'Adios!'...

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Where do I begin
Where do I start
This feeling inside me
Slowly tearing me apart

I need a place to go
And there I should stay
To release whats inside me
Helps ease the pain away

I cried for some help
But they just ignored
Some responded with laughter
That left my heart gored

There I stood in silence
As time freezes to stop
Why is this world so cruel
Where I only need a place to crap...

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An approaching cow with a hump?
Definitely, I shall do a jump!
Together with Safety clump …

But I shan’t into another bump 
Nor bash head against a pump
Nor what would me in clinic dump
Nor find me nursing a stump
And off showing a swollen lump …

With a crash into A hump
The least for one instant slump:
Be you Ted, Tony or Trump …

Gored straight by A Hump
You’re worse than a kicked rump....

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gaunt green gnawed
gullible groove gored
gutsy grills gulped
glitched gems gulled
graced gifts globbed
gripping glows' gourd

callous clouds cussed
cremating clips cupped
crumbling cruise clubbed

nosy nature nimble
nudging nectar's nipple
nasty nerd nestled

wanky wind wields
rhythm rustling riffs
    '20:04:13:16:38

Note: Of gaunt green. Inspired by a picture of nature I took earlier today....

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A peacock becomes non-violent
keeping the warheads
in his tail. In bird hour
who wants to blink ?

The chicken runs amok.
Lying motionless was
painful for being slaughtered.
Subversion was more acceptable-


than falling in love. The bare
chest shows a gored scar.
They have started a dance
to entice a herd of pachyderms.

Bleeding ? No. They have
cobbled an army of bedbugs
to start a violent protest
against the moon.



Satish Verma...

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Torrero sans l’aide de Picador
Such artful courage sans pareil :
Gored in the loins

No need to shout who Bad Guys stand for
Mean lances of the Picador slay
Split Toro groins

Speak not of Bad Guys in the same breath
As of fighting bulls and bull-fighters :
Can courage die

Seek not Bad Guys’ ultimate death
Shakespeare says they ever die blighters :
Let cowards lie

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014...

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Flickering flame

A discordant note
of egos that bloat,
so discerned by mind,
holds on us no bind.

Heart’s slight resentment 
is discontentment,
noticed as a slip,
as we nearly trip.

This flicker in space
is our soul’s disgrace,
which though now restored,
at that moment gored.

If what is just is,
then bubbling bliss fizz
should be all we feel,
in it’s full appeal.

13-September-2022...

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The ground gaped garishly, gored with ghastly gouges of glowing, gravelly gobs ...

Finally unfettered from a frigid firmament, flames flung fiery, flaring fingers 
          ferociously forward ...

The blazing bastions bent on burning the backwood bluffs bare with bitter brutality ...

Unholy hoards of heated horror hailing the heavens with heinous, heckling howls of                           
          hellish hostility....

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Shouldn't the right thing be done
No matter whose ox is gored?
Can I take this bull by the horn
And not get mauled?

How will I let this be
And endure the knowledge of it?
Won't I drown in regret's sea
Inprisoned for life by guilt?

*Ogbara nkiti
Okweghi ekwe?
Won't it be a pity
To embrace fear?

Why will I be a coward?
And back down
When men are scared
Of truth's reputation?

*Ogbara nkiti, okweghi ekwe? -Igbo proverb meaning 'Is silence not consent?'...

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By Elton Camp

Tex had a longhorn he hoped to sell
But it was too dirty to do very well

It’d been lolling in the mud and dust
To get it all cleaned up was a must

So Tex pulled into the car wash bay
He put in coins and began to spray

He washed the critter nose to tail
Got it all ready for the cattle sale

But loading it back onto the truck
He got gored and was out of luck

So here’s the moral to this tale
Wash a cow and it may impale...

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Like me,
 my Poetry is far from perfect
  —a verbal oxen gored

Like me, 
 my words are often frail and broken
  —still crying to be heard

In me, 
 the message has found its student
  —to humbly expound

In me, 
 the truth can accept a birthmark
  —for a promise more profound

Unto me,
 the burden is left to finish
   —my life to pledge headlong

Unto me,
  the words now free, unsentenced
    —change imperfectly to song

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)...

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Like me,
 my Poetry is far from perfect,
 —a verbal oxen gored

Like me, 
 my words are often frail and broken,
 —still crying to be heard

In me, 
 the message has found its student,
 —to very humbly expound

In me, 
 the truth can accept a birthmark,
 —for a promise more profound

Unto me,
 the burden is left to finish,
 —my life to pledge headlong

Unto me,
  the words now free—unsentenced,
  change imperfectly to song

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)...

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