Plump, Prodigious, Ponderous Posterior Poetry

by Gabriel LaVedier

First published 8th of December, 2014

A collection of poetical interludes focused upon the backside.

This started off as a way to get my mojo working again. I found a collection of verse forms, and decided to do something with them. So I have been working with the obscure types of poems, more or less.

This was also a gift for and inspired by my friend Tayman, who really loves Dat Plot, perhaps even more than me. He got me on this track so dedicating them to him seems appropriate.

The Ruba'i of Di-azs Wasph'at

When time was young and the earth was quite old,
Then, as now, the folk were quite bold,

Then there was a load of lusty lasses
Whose posteriors had never known cold.

The gaggle of women sported asses
Of prodigious and ponderous masses

The same sort of swells recorded in lore.
United, though all were different classes.

In union because of an ample store,
With more than their shares in posterior,

Each was a sexual creature sublime
But none of the lot could be called a whore.

The slap of their asses could ring like a chime,
The curve of each asscheek was like a rhyme,

The very curves caused all men to stoop,
To make even in winter a springtime.

They formed quite a callipygian troupe
The grand and glorious gluteal group,

Not all ponies, these beauties with booties
Who would never let their derrieres droop.

The makes of these legendary cuties:
First a mix of the races of ponies

Two griffins, two zebras, a Dig Dog,
And three of the sweetest, thickest donkeys.

The pegasus was quite an attention hog;
The unicorn's buns left males all agog;

The earth pony's flanks were nice, thick and plush;
The mix of bottoms left folk in a fog.

One griffin albino, rounded and lush;
One melanistic with much larger tush;

Much more than other griffins could claim
Between white and black bottoms men would gush.

Each stripéd cheek could make a man exclaim,
But all four zebra swells set loins aflame.

Many non-zebras lined up to endure
The clapping cheeks of the girls' 'end-game.'

The Dog was much the reverse of demure,
Thought her swelled booty was truly cocksure.

Blessed with big buns that could swallow a head
She was the peak of culo curvature.

Each donkey butt was surely overfed
Showing generations cunningly bred.

A sextet well worthy of highest praise
Which quaked and quivered with each gentle tread.

Eleven stars to enrapture the gaze,
Twenty-two swells for an army to glaze,

Keepers of the peace when all went awry,
Such earned their fame and made their legend blaze.

Saddle Arabia, now an ally,
In those days the princesses they did decry;

So out did they send an invading force,
Which volunteers were sent to pacify.

At the edge of the nation of the Horse
Were the ample eleven for discourse.

The loyal warriors of the Caliph
Were stopped by the promise of intercourse.

The horses stared at them in disbelief
For they had endured long without relief.

They watched the eleven past their land's edge
And thought that their distraction would be brief.

Such debauchery was a sacrilege,
Enticing them their naked cocks to wedge.

The bottom-focused stallions were so torn,
But knew they were offered a rare privilege.

Cock between the cheeks of the unicorn,
The horse licking at her proud, spiral horn.

The horses were sheltered and insular;
Desire for difference was inborn.

Their differences seemed right, not bizarre;
Parts besides butts seemed very singular.

Cutie Marks, knob-knees or wings that did flap,
Ordinary ,and yet spectacular.

Eleven asses soon began to clap,
Twenty-two buttcheeks going 'slap slap slap'

As they were battered by desperate hips
While tightly those cocks the cheeks did enwrap.

The first creamy geysers gushed from their tips,
Gooey paste watering the ground in drips.

The well-frosted buns did strongly inspire
The horses to also go after their lips.

Slurping gags and chokes lit passionate fire,
As each clapping butt cradled a new spire.

Their bellies were warmed as tonsils were bruised,
And soon the horse army they did drain and tire.

Throats and glutes were both exquisitely used
From lips and off swells the horse issue oozed.

The eager eleven just had to laugh.
Peaceful living they no longer refused.

They were praised for every load they did quaff,
With honors given for every staff.

They rightly earned glory by being free,
Using their forms on their nation's behalf.

That it was a triumph the nation could agree,
The land rang with their cheerful jubilee.

But they deserved an enduring reward,
A bit of praise in the highest degree.

As the peacemakers they were greatly adored,
And the Princesses stood in one accord,

It took only a moment to decide
The tale of the Passion Peace they'd record.

Commissioned they Di-azs, most qualified,
And in his skill all their trust did reside.

“So come now, ladies, let your tale be told.”
And so thusly began the ribald ride:

Author's Notes:

The Ruba'i (singular form of Rubayat) is an interesting little poetic form. I sort of made an error by forgetting internal rhymes and I am forever shamed by that. But one fascinating thing I picked up is, as you can see, lines one, two and four of each stanza rhyme, while line three rhymes with the main lines of the following stanza, making chain rhymes out of them. I had heard that some rubayat chain rhymes until the end, meaning the last stanza's off rhyme is the same as the first stanza's main rhymes. So I set a challenge to myself to make it alphabetically circular. If you track rhyme in the standard form (AABA, BBCB, etc) you will see the last connects to the first (ZZAZ). I also (weakly) attempted to make the whole ruba'i circular, that the last line implies that the first one is to be said. Just me being silly.

The Lai of the Lardass

She does not deceive,
Her I do believe.
Such sass.
Time she does unweave,
All my life upheave.
Thick lass.
On my face did heave,
All I now perceive
Her ass.
Stress she does relieve,
Love she does not thieve.
Such class.
And now I will grieve;
She's gone until eve,
Hours pass.
I have no reprieve
'Til her buns I cleave,
Such mass.
Seed she will receive,
Then she will conceive.
Genes pass.

Author's Notes:

A lai is a classical French form consisting of two rhymes, one for the two five-syllable main lines and a second for a two-syllable refrain line. There is no fixed stanza length, but each stanza, if there are multiples, have separate rhymes for the main and refrain lines. Because there is a regularity to syllables, rhyme, and refrain it is very musical, if simplistic.

The Voluptuous Virelai

She owns the best swell,
Fucks but will not tell.
So fine.
Bootilicious belle,
Sweet as caramel,
Canine.
Ear cupped like a shell,
Butt on which to dwell,
Enshrine.
Ne mere bagatelle,
Her ass like a spell,
Sublime.

Diamond Dog divine,

Tongue soft, serpentine,

So lewd.

Her eyes with love shine

As we sip our wine

High mind.

Sable coat a-shine,

Comforting lifeline

Seclude.

As we intertwine

I'm so glad she's mine.

Prelude.

Ample plenitude,
Soul of pulchritude
Well fed.
We will rear a brood
Marriage we include
Soon wed.
A bright attitude,
Perfect aptitude.
Egghead.
Her butt well-reviewed,
Feisty when she's screwed
Abed.

In or out of bed

She's a thunderhead,

Upswell.

So unlimited

Glutes high-spirited

Bombshell.

To engagement sped,

My Dog, so high-bred

Sweet spell.

Her pleasure unsaid,

In her face it's read,

I dwell.

Author's Notes:

The virelai is, naturally, a close cousin of the lai. The difference is that there are still no fixed stanza lengths but there is a chain verse rule. As you can see, it's also a cyclical one. I didn't go full alphabet here because the lai and verlai are surprisingly hard to manage, given the severe space and rhyme limits.

The Voluminous Villanelles

Asinus Aureus

A lover who is not a slut
But blessed quite a mighty ass:
The donkey with the giant butt.

All along the lane she will strut,
But sill she is the soul of class,
A lover who is not a slut.

O! Such a figure does she cut,
With mighty depth to her crevasse,
The donkey with the giant butt.

And while she is eager to rut
She's hardly crude and not so crass.
A lover who is not a slut.

Far out in space her rear does jut,
And so much flesh that none can pass,
The donkey with the giant butt.

She's not one who belongs in smut,
She's just a sweetheart with rear mass:
A lover who is not a slut,
The donkey with the giant butt.

Kallipygotera- Grýphon Callipyge

All other hens do idolize

The uniquest of all their kind,

The hen with buns of massive size.

Such lust and longing do arise,

And well her legend is enshrined,

All over hens do idolize.

Her bottom, men mythologize,

To her they surrender their mind,

The hen with buns of massive size.

She does not show herself a prize,

But is the best any could find,

All other hens do idolize.

She need not wear a coy disguise,

Her crudity has been refined,

The hen with buns of massive size.

With sexy mirth inside her eyes,

Her loving choice is species-blind.

All other hens do idolize

The hen with buns of massive size.

Author's Notes:

The villanelle is another French form (which should not be surprising considering my username) with an excellent pedigree, being used (in English) by the likes of Shelly and Robinson. It has a unique structure, five three-line stanzas with a concluding quatrain, and two rhymes. But, lines one and three of the first stanza are repeated, alternately, in the other stanzas and also form the concluding couplet. So writing one takes a little forethought.

I loved this form a lot so I wrote two of them. About the names: Poetry, especially poetry from the time period I like writing, as a lot of pretension and affectation of more ancient times, particularly Roman and Greek. So I wanted to mirror that to sort of "pump up" the import of the poems. The titles actually mean: "The Golden Ass" and "She who has an excellent butt- Gyphon with the beautiful butt."

Limericks by necessity

Twilight Sparkle
The quite pedagogical Twi
Tried to use science on a guy
She wished biology,
Went with psychology,
Then all he could do was cry

Pinkie Pie

An orgy is like a party

And Pinkie can party hearty

She will gobble and ride

And take it inside

And all of these favors are free.

Applejack

She can buck the fruit from the trees

And suck a stallion to his knees

Very dainty and clean,

Always pristine

A country lass, eager to please.

Rainbow Dash

She's cooler by twenty percent

She has quite the sexual bent

The swift acrobat

Drains in ten seconds flat

With a temper quite prurient.

Rarity

There was a mare named Rarity

Who had a bit of vanity

A sweet little miss

A bit of a priss

But her bed was a place of polyandry.

Fluttershy

Shy and the color of butter

And apt to speak in a stutter

She's a secretive slut

With a mile-wide butt

Which makes her a capable rutter.

Princess Celestia

The greatest of any suns

Are the ones impressed on her buns

With a shimmy and shake

She makes a 'fleshquake'

And the sight of it always stuns.

Princess Luna

Moving her moon across the skies

She captures all the eyes

So full and so round

But glories truly abound

The greatest between her thighs.

Discord
A man, too, can have a monster ass
And also show off lots of sass.
Dressed like a maid,
Looking to get laid
And when thrusting he wobbles that mass.

Author's Notes:

Everyone knows what a limerick is.

The Saucy Sestina

In ancient there was a mare with buns,
A unicorn with a set of huge cheeks
So monstrous that every motion would bounce.
Here set is the remarkable story,
The tale of a great, gluteal treasure,
And a glory forever for offspring.

For though there were not too many offspring,

Male and female inherited great buns:

Their legacy, their genetic treasure.

They boast, and loudly, of their monster cheeks,

And proudly tell everyone the story

Of the butt with the legendary bounce.

She rocked and shocked Canterlot with her bounce,
Almost seeming like Discord's offspring.
Each little shake seemed to tell a story
Of hips bouncing off those well-risen buns,
Of the shake and jostle of the great hips
As men came to sample her sweet treasure.

And yes, that butt was truly a treasure,

Moving like a rich wave after each bounce,

Dancing Cutie marks enhancing each cheek,

And teasing to all the promise of offspring.

So the Princesses blessed those big buns,

Adding divine glory to their story.

The grandest happening of the story
Was the Princesses' gift, the great treasure.
They wished to fill all of the lands with buns,
To send across the earth a bounce.
With any species she could make offspring
To bless non-pony nations with her cheeks.

And so across the world spread the huge cheeks,

Along with her divine, revered story.

She left with fathers their joined-blood offspring

And she, like a legendary treasure,

Vanished from the world with a final bounce

And thus ended the legend of the buns.

What of those buns? What of the sacred cheeks?
The holy bounce, famed in song and story,
The grand treasure lives on in the offspring.

Author's Notes:

A Sestina is an old French form invented by a Provencal troubadour, with modifications by later writers. It involves no rhymes but uses a complicated terminal-word swapping system. There are six (and a half) stanzas each of six lines (hence, sestina, indicating the sixes) and six words which end the lines. Each stanza is restructured such that the terminal word of the last line in the prior stanza is the terminal word of the first line in the next stanza. Another bit of circularity. And the other terminal words get switched around in place according to a chart. Also, the whole thing ends on a half stanza which uses all six terminal words, on in the middle of each line and one at the end of each line, in the order set forth in the first stanza. It is as complicated as it sounds and is a damn sight harder than it seems. This one is rough but I was just happy to have wrangled something that actually sounds even reasonably good.

The Gluteal Glose: Princess Luna

Koulou Selene

“Princess Luna, butt of grand glow,
Light of night, flesh beyond measure.
She gives much love to all below
And more, she gives to all pleasure.”
O Luna, whose moons shine so bright,
Stoking Lustful Passion's fire!
Tracing across the dome of night,
Grand cheeks creating great delight.
All mortals long to acquire
That high and rarified plateau.
Devotion do the buns inspire,
But worship she does not require,
Enough it is her grace to know:
Princess Luna, Butt of Grand Glow.

Mountainous ass, with grandest curve,
Gracing night with marks of the moon.
The faithful lay out to observe,
In devotion is how they serve.
With every shake she brings a swoon;
Though distant she gives great treasure.
No part of her is picayune,
At her will her butt will balloon:
Her glories forever allure:
Light of night, flesh beyond measure.

Devotees come of every blood,
All flesh may revere the darkness.
Their hearts with adoration flood
And feelings bloom from tiny bud.
A single look destroys distress
And banishes all earthly woe.
While bottom's press is pitiless,
They'll still attend with eagerness;
They need to fear, because they know
She gives much love to all below.

The quake of flesh floating above
Approaches slow and presses soft,
Like nesting pressure of a dove,
In equal measure lust and love.
And then in silence goes aloft,
Sealing faith they will not abjure.
Though at the buns the day has scoffed,
The meaty swells are hailed oft.
Her faithful rest at their leisure,
And more, she gives to all pleasure.

Author's Notes:

The Glose is the first cousin of the Rondeau Redouble, which will be next. Rather than a French form it is primarily known as a Spanish and Portuguese one. I differs from the aforementioned rondeau in length, and in having no concluding half-line made from the first line. It also has an opening quatrain (called the Texte) which can be a quote from another poem. In this case I made up a fragment of a Lunar hymn and used that as the base onto which I grew the glose.