It's so weird looking, and I've really grown to dislike it.
I remember as a child, how cool looking it was when it filled up with bath water
I would squeeze the skin around it together to completely hide it, it worked!
Growing up I've always had one of those Innie types
Unfortunately, these days my Innie has become an Outie
I guess my tummy being a bit ballooned, and my age, has something to do with that
I hate my new Outie; it pops out like a cherry on an ice cream cone
The only thing it really hurts is my feelings, it bothers me constantly
Geez, it looks like I've got a third nipple right smack in the middle of my tummy
Perhaps it's time for a diet, I want my Innie back!
TO BEING IN LOVE’S LOVE
Being in love is an episodic emotion
Ballooned in exotic expectation
Tested by inflated orgasmic delirium
Often fizzing in diabolical diffusion:-
On the other hand,
Loving and being loved,
Is an eternal comic reality
That God spiritually bonds
To be eternal throughout life:-
How beautiful and exciting it is
To love spiritually, and eternally;
Being in the cosmic reality of
Blessed God sent true love
Ballooning beyond all
Limits and expectations:-
Being forever in love with you
Remains exciting and loving
And being loved by you is limitless,
And beyond all expectations: Praise God!
Each day I give Him thanks for the gift of you:-
Something fell out of my head,
a notion perhaps,
I think I have birthed a tattoo
a tat of a Beef Prime Rib.
I like beef not ham.
A slim lady
had a small butterfly
tattooed onto her thigh
years went by,
she ballooned out,
her flimsy butterfly
now looks more like a Pterodactyl.
My tattoo is now fully formed -
clearly, it's a depiction
of a ham bone!
If that tattoo grows any bigger
it's going to resemble
a hog on a log.
An oppressive still
has settled the morning.
The gray water of the bay
is as motionless as concrete.
I would like to float from here
but cannot find lift
even on the breath
of these words,
they remain stuck on a page
weighted with consequence.
Yesterday, there were places
where I could go,
the wild and overgrown
far corners of a backyard
or high up in the branches
of a tall tree in the unfenced
freedom of a park at the end
of the street.
There I was unobserved
beneath a sky that was endless
and not bent into the lens
of a microscope. Birds
and newly minted dragonflies
flew through the sunlit air
lifted by psalms rising
ballooned with meaning
towards a “somewhere”
not circumscribed
by a name.
Exulted! That I could inhale
After the breath had ceased –
The timely, saving, gasp(!)
My desperate lungs did seize
Ballooned my aching spirit
As wings that further flight
Will shower land-low eyes
With vistas wide with sight –
Delivered from the crippling chains
That held me struggling, still
My mind – benumbed – was re-engaged
And then, empowered by a vital will
Soundless as the word unspoken
I sudden started to,
As if a link had severed,
And life
Began anew!
I am seventy-one
I could die at any second.
I tell this to my nurse.
She says “stop!”
She calls me silly.
I am seventy-one.
I like it.
I had a peanut butter cup and creamed soda for breakfast I say.
the nurse does not respond.
I am sure I am a diabetic I tell her.
I have ballooned up like a fat sow these last few years.
She laughs.
“Stop it! “She says.
“You forgot to call me silly,” I tell her.
I work for Warp
It’s a warporation
That builds for war
And our warring nation
Financed by banks
With no inclination
To give their thanks
For the world’s cremation
Wily banksters
Have mastered inflation
Besting gangsters’
Fake money creation
They were dead set
To make a cash fountain
That’s based on debt
Higher than a mountain
Which is a boon
For us workers at Warp
Where we’ve ballooned
Into a mega-corp
Yet have no fear
Unless you short our stock
If then, oh dear
We may blow up your block
The family ties are frayed by a festering wound
The siblings are fighting over their parent’s will,
The oldest brother a younger sister has impugned.
As fighting continued, another sister was marooned
Months have passed and the arguments rage still,
The family ties are frayed by a festering wound.
Threatening behavior, accusations, anger ballooned,
Some children are refusing to pay the funeral bill,
The oldest brother a younger sister has impugned.
Several in-laws have found themselves lampooned,
Although they have kept their hands out of the mill,
The family ties are frayed by a festering wound.
Sadly, the children and cousins are being groomed
Even some family “friends” have come in for the kill
The oldest brother a younger sister has impugned.
Now, some have hired lawyers who are fine-tuned
And anxious to get their greedy hands in the till,
The family ties are frayed by a festering wound
The oldest brother a younger sister has impugned.
[Festering Wound]
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written March 4, 2022
Especially for “Pick-a-Title Vol. 29” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
When Elvis Presley dreamed on high
All he wanted to do was fly
Like Priscilla's blue moon
He ballooned with each tune
And it sure made his mama cry!
Dust
by Michael R. Burch
Flame within flame,
we burned and burned relentlessly
till there was nothing left to be consumed.
Only ash remained, the smoke plumed
like a spirit leaving its corpse, and we
were left with only a name
ever common between us.
We had thought to love "eternally, "
but the wick sputtered, the candle swooned,
the flame subsided, the smoke ballooned,
and our commonest thought was: flee, flee, flee
the choking dust.
Keywords/Tags: love, relationship, relationships, divorce, parting, separation, loneliness, alienation, grief, sorrow, lost love, loss, lost, dust, ash, ashes
I’ve come back to that place
where bumbles bounce and blooms bedazzle -
a place that ought to be one of happy recollections,
for it is so pretty here. . . even now,
and the air so fragrant.
Despite its loveliness, the garden of this city park
can never more enchant me,
and the ruby bedazzlers that still reside here
I never can forgive for their betryal.
How innocently they all looked on as my dearest childhood friend –
pleased to lean in to inhale their petals’ sweet scent -
gasped upon receiving that sharp sudden sting.
Her face ballooned out, becoming nearly unrecognizable
as she struggled to breathe, but we both were unaware
of my darling friend’s most severe of allergies. . .
She fainted then, never to bounce back,
unlike those bumbles in the garden
where the blooms had so bedazzled her.
They bumble around even now, forever bouncing back
to remind me of that most dreadful of days.
Your gorgeous, and a temptation I can’t deny
The only trouble is,
my waistline has ballooned since I first met you.
You may be asking why
Well that’s my sweet tongue, sticky fingers
and your delicious honey pot.
Why don’t you diet I hear you say.
Well, life’s to short for fannying around
The only fanny I crave is your lovely honey pot.
Well, after all I guess its nice to have a few extra lbs (pounds) anyway.
The budding appearance
On the cylindering lily
The fast forming interference
Heating the night chilly
The bird eyed the sparks
Yielding flowering tickles
Clouds ballooned in the parks
The desire designing the sickles
As the colouring heightened
The river curved and charged
The wind gusted and tightened
The poems clouded and enlarged
The sonnet emailed me
Oranging with glee
19 May, 2018
Memories of Love – Ten Words
Love like a twirling tempest,
whirled us to an uncharted shore
of unbridled, sublime, sensuality,
gifting me with moonlit memories
that would never be forgotten.
How I savored those kisses from your lips…
milk chocolate lips flavored with the
lingering tangy taste of fresh, luscious,
wild, ripened, crimson raspberries…
dipped in cool whipped cream.
Creating sterling silver ripples
on the ocean, we waltzed by the glow
of a yellow, ballooned, harvest moon.
Like a singular, silent shadow, we fused
as one igniting entity…silhouettes
painted-in by the black of night.
Youth and dreams may fade away
like scenery from an old water-color painting;
but I’ll always recall, like it was yesterday,
the ecstasy of love shared,
when we floated away on a carpet of
tinsel-lined clouds, cloaked in the grace
of blue-gray, early misty morning.
04-13-2018
Contest: 10 Words
Sponsor: Joseph May
Placement: 2nd
10 words used: love, tempest, shore, forgotten, crimson, harvest, shadow,
yesterday, grace, misty
Weak tears struggle down wrinkled faces
of mothers with sagging breasts—
Looking down at ballooned bellies;
Their children lying in graveyard laps
oblivious to flies playing around
blood-shot eyes;
Boko Harim rides off laughing—
leaving behind survivors
consoled with the pangs of hunger;
With blood-shot eyes
we grow tired of morning news:
turn on the coffee pot to peculate;
And with muffled sighs
of late night uncontrolled fun
ask what’s her name, the weather!
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