I always thought that exercise
Meant pumping up your heart,
Which every sport, to some extent,
Does right off, from the start.
In classes I took years ago,
Aerobics was the theme.
We marched and jumped and stepped,
The workout every heart-pump’s dream.
Yet other types of working out
Have always had their place,
Though never offering a skill
I thought I could embrace.
Until I tried a stretching class
Without a single jump,
Just using weights and movement
With my heart a steady pump.
And man, I was exhausted!
Which to me was a surprise
And allowed me to see exercise
Through very different eyes.
Speaking Your Mind
Every time you
don’t speak your
mind these things happen:
snails do
aerobics, flamingos update their
details on
important apps, palm trees spill
out Amish hats, combs beg to
eat
lemon pie, stools memorise
flame thrower literature, and
gravy animals, who live in
the clouds, help out
swamped midwives.
please
will you
join
me in
aerobics
we will
have
a blast
out-of-breath
flexing muscles
we never
knew we
had
bring some
Blue Emu
it helps
my
aching
back
March 22, 2023
Happy New Year
Christmas is over and I'm welcoming the new year,
Looking forward to what's to come and leaving behind doubt and fear,
Willing to try new things,
Willing to take a chance,
Totally focusing on what to accomplish,
Not thinking about romance,
Going to continue working hard,
Make sure I get plenty of rest,
I'll try to eat more healthier,
When it comes to aerobics, I'll try my best,
That's it for now I can't think of anything else,
But happy new year to everyone else.
I've never learned to change a tire.
It's not a skill I wish to acquire.
If stuck I'm always going to hire..
Also, can't change my car's oil,
perhaps I was a bit spoiled.
Cooking I botch, even with foil..
Couldn't dance til I took aerobics.
I've always been math a phobic.
Don't have the patience to be stoic..
There's just one skill I'd like to hone,
speak Chinese on the phone, so
telemarketer's will leave me alone...
I want to show the world
Maybe to remind it
How pretty you are
The truth that is hidden
You are a pretty warrior
Who can defeat the greatest pain
Yet you have fallen to fats
That hid your true identity
I remember when we were starting
You were just you, the true you
I don't want you to starve in anorexic
I don't want you to throw up in bulimia
All I want is the true you
The person I fallen in love with -years ago
I don't want other person than that
I can't just bury the true you
Hence forth I will be your abusive friend
Waking you up every morning to jog
Waking you up every morning to rope jump
And it will be spiced with aerobics dance
Don't worry you are a warrior it will be fun
Don't give up I won't give up on you
A little sit ups you are a warrior
Together we will find the true you
My knees have helped me always.
From my crawling toddlerhood
To my trike, then 2-wheeled riding,
If I needed them, they would…
Let me walk for many miles,
Help me climb up many stairs;
Do aerobics in a gym class,
Reach for shelves from tops of chairs.
On my knees, I’ve dug and planted
Bulbs so daffodils would grow.
I’ve bent down to tie a thousand shoes,
Scrubbed floors so they would glow.
I have jogged and danced and boogied
And played lots of running sports
And throughout, my knees have given me
The greatest of supports.
But at last, with age advancing,
From some things I must refrain
For my trusty knees have lately
Just provided me with pain.
Her hormones fled the coop on scalding tires.
Motel maids were her sisters, bars her occupation,
a place to work on the aerobics of hope.
He was a hazard in her side-view mirror,
a pileup that followed her home.
Hitched to a double-wide,
they took the long slide in a downhill race.
Both rode their desires in a raw rodeo.
He anointing her with his pity-me seed,
she dispensing self-hate in Dixie cups.
Authentic feelings waned,
emotions were stored in freezer bags,
kept on ice.
For months they clawed their way out
of a bad country song,
until the band broke up.
Her hormones fled the coop on scalding tires.
Motel maids were her sisters, bars her occupation,
a place to work on the aerobics of hope.
He was a hazard in her side-view mirror,
a pileup that followed her home.
Hitched to a double-wide,
they took the long slide in a downhill race.
Both rode their desires in a raw rodeo.
He anointing her with his pity-me seed,
she dispensing self-hate in Dixie cups.
Authentic feelings waned,
emotions were stored in freezer bags,
kept on ice.
For months they clawed their way out
of a bad country song,
until the band broke up.
Her hormones fled the coop on scalding tires.
Motel maids were her sisters, bars her occupation,
a place to work on the aerobics of hope.
He was a hazard in her side-view mirror,
a pileup that followed her home.
Hitched to a double-wide,
they took the long slide in a downhill race.
Both rode their desires in a raw rodeo.
He anointing her with his pity-me seed,
she dispensing self-hate in Dixie cups.
The litter of their love
was dumped on friends and cops.
A shared habit for synthetic stimulants
ensured court dates and warrants.
Naturally, they pointed fingers,
gambled on a better hand tomorrow.
Authentic feelings waned,
emotions were stored in freezer bags,
kept on ice. They were no longer nice
to each other, nor did they try,
love blinked out in dulling eyes.
They still made house together,
but the magic had left for the circus,
for months they clawed their way out
of a bad country song,
until the band broke up.
In my teens nothing bothered me,
Size 10 I could eat what I wanted,
My weight wasn’t something I worried about,
In my twenties and in my prime,
Size ten to twelve I watched what I ate,
Aerobics and weightlifting became my thing,
To keep my flat tum and tight bum,
In my thirties and two kids later now a twelve to fourteen,
My tum was bigger flabbier but not my bum,
I was always on one diet or another.
In my forties and now a size sixteen,
I have a big big tummy and slightly saggy bum,
Do I diet or exercise no not a lot,
Now in my fifties and a size !!!!!!!! eighteen,
I totally given up on the dieting,
With an underactive thyroid I dont see the point,
Now with a slight double chin and bingo wings,
Tum hanging low but bums ok it looks good in jeans
I've not mentioned two things they flew south years ago.
Thoughts which spark reaction
Induce an odd phenomena
Thrusted lung eruption
Humour honourer
Anomaly in everyday observation
Light hearted pleasure centre
Imput turned exclamation
Content connector
Brain's fondle with mouth colliding
Induces shoulder jump aerobics
Family repertoire tidings
Relaxed diagnostic
May laughter be thy frequented medicine
Imbibed each time tickled urge arrives
Flowing dosage free to everyone
Vital juice of elated lives
27th August 2020
Written for: Living It Up For Laughter
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Arrogance Aerobics
To be super smug and arrogant, are both obnoxious
and so utterly detestable.
Like a male ballet dancer in sleek, white tights....
sporting only one, lonely testickle!
August 10, 2020
2:30am PST
N.B.Author aware of mispelt last word.
Her hormones fled the coop
on scalding tires.
He drifted into her,
working the night-shift
of a traveling fantasy.
Motel maids were her sisters
bars her occupation,
a place to work
on the aerobics of hope.
Their love
was an unhygienic affair.
Everything spilled out,
much maintenance
in putting back in.
Emotional jism
was scrubbed by hand
until skin-tight excuses
glistened
milky as mollusk flesh.
They had lots to attend to.
Feelings had to be
daily resuscitated
into former victimized forms.
He would not leave;
she would not go.
He anointed her again,
and again
with his pity-me flesh.
Their mutually dependent rodeo
played itself out
on the steps
of a haggard tomorrow,
both now blinded
by owl-light.
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