Love Poems About Jackal or Jackal Love Poems
by Dylan Dhinsa |
Categories: 12th grade, allusion, body, cinderella, missing you, women, youth,

Cindy

Peroxide blonde and covered in petals,
Bleach kills flowers - She’s less softener than metal
A body rooted in pride, trying to run, Jackal and hide. 
There’s some double entendres, catch them if you can,
There’s something about her, try to find it, you’ll both be damned. 
To Cinderella she’s her own step sister,
Crying out for love, afraid of those who’d listen.
Just someone out there longing for a cause in existence,
Just someone out there, longing for a reason to stay persistent


by HGarvey Daniel Esquire |
Categories: death, integrity,

Evil Personified

There is no beating in this hollow, heinous Heart
Eternal empty eyes emitting, inexcusable iniquities
Jutting juxtaposed jackal jaws, tearing Love apart
Anathematize abandoned, always forgive Atrocities
This is how I live, how I grow, how I stay in control

                                 To be Continued

Inspired by TPS’ blog “Integrity“; this is the Liege you do not see
          Dedicated to those who do not believe, like me



by Scott Howard Myers The Gypsy King |
Categories: dark, pain,

A Man Called Pain


Born beneath an old Elm tree, nourished from the teats of a Jackal, sired by the Devil himself.
He knew who he was. 
He was pain.
Where he walked, he inflicted the same.

Bringing forth residual shame, was his favorite game.
This man named Pain, with worldwide fame.
Invisible to most, but felt by us all.
As when your skin does crawl.

His only intent, was to make love fall.
From behind his invisible wall.
The Demons do call.
For one and all.

So when you hear that man's name.
It's no accidental, bad luck game.
He turns health into lame.
The Devil and son are the same.

This man called Pain. 

SHM


by Mandal Bijoy Beg |
Categories: anger

TIT FOR TAT

Seeing 
a 
jackal 
beat 
on 
a 
novel 
drum
A 
tiger, 
with 
eagerness 
at 
its 
peak,
Wished 
to 
do 
the 
very 
same 
-
And 
struck 
on 
the 
drum 
with 
a 
stick!

The 
drum 
was 
really 
a 
nest 
of 
wasps,
Suddenly 
they 
attacked 
the 
foolish 
tiger
Who 
flew 
fast 
and 
fell 
into 
a 
deep 
pit
Where 
he 
died 
in 
groaning 
pain 
severe!

The 
jackal's 
pretending 
to 
play 
on 
the 
drum,
For 
he 
was 
in 
a 
revengeful 
mood
To 
take 
the 
tiger's 
life 
who 
killed
The 
she-
jackal, 
his 
love, 
sweet 
and 
good!

by Tony Bush |
Categories: forgiveness, life, love, mystery, passion,

Whipped

By her tongue, honey gold, 
Tipped with steel lashes; 
Eyes behold with narrowed ire, 
Stinging welts; and crashes 
Through the barrier of skin, 
The naked perimeter fence, 
A culture clashes in some 
Past or present tense. 
Substituting words to heal 
With jackal-lipped unkindness, 
Juxtaposing dark for light, 
My love accepted blindness 
At each and every stroke, 
By her tongue, poison black; 
I forgive and kiss her lips 
For all the times she took it back.

by MAHTAB BANGALEE |
Categories: life, writing,

Note Books Bear Me Up

decrepit note books
Residential society of poems
hackneyed to ultra fresh thought roams

snail pace of expressions
imbalanced love on tattered ink
lines smile on jackal mustache
through the crystal glass the moon kisses

urban dustbin is empty well
ravens fly on the colorful chicks
ground is shattered field of war
dawn cawing reminds the writing decisions

nothing is outcome of the books
three out of five fingers
one chameleon mind
eyesight combats with insightful arena to lit light

just I reside in these posthumously
note books bear me up anonymously



-Wednesday, June 19, 2019 Chattogram

by Newton Ranaweera |
Categories: evil, funny, love, poetry,

Starry Crown

Feast galloped into a hole
And king held just its tail
But his tummy did tell
A tale his tongue didn’t tell.

I’ve read an anti-heroic tale:
A jackal a king cat fooled
And aptly proved him a fool
Witless, tasteless, and old.

Voices hissed in her ears
To mourn, to fight for rights
Or free this bloodless tree
And flee from deceit and lie.

“I’ll wear,” lastly, he did swear,
“Atop, thee, my starry crown
And sit beside thee benumbed
Adoring thy rosy, fairy feet”.

by Anais vionet |
Categories: 12th grade, deep, love, lust, teen,

mutuality

(a thought rendered as a Senryu poem string)

A thought - proffered
by a jackal of a boy
that I dislike.

Has stayed with me
with an irritating,
cold dissonance.

For several days
- I’ve been turning it over
- somehow, it rings true.

“All romance aside,
in the long run, we must be
mutual sex objects.”