Today's poems [9.4.08] Vote for the poem that you really like by checking a box next to it. Then press the VOTE button to submit your votes. Also, links to poem categories and "Send to Friend" will open in a new window, so as not to interrupt your poem reading.
There was a young man from Liberia Who was groping a wench from Nigeria. He said, "Yes, my pet, Your panties are wet." "Sorry, sir, that's my interior."
Q. Flaccus in his third liber: "The Romans have no wood-pulp fiber. A crapulent quorum Will squat in the Forum And heave dirty stones in the Tiber."
At a four-star hotel in Medan, Yvette dined ensconced with a man, And horny, yet nervous, She knew once room service Was over, her service began.
There once was a lass from Seattle Who had a habit of sucking off cattle, 'Till a bull from the south Shot a load in her mouth And made her ovaries rattle!
Part 8 of 12 His basso profundo with timbre so rare He rendered quite often, with power to spare. But his great work of art, His fortissimo fart, He saved for the Marche Militaire.
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