Best Aerobic Poems
Poetry Soup
It's imagery, movement, rhythm, and rhyme,
Composition of words that baffles the mind;
Art woven meticulously, lines by design,
Pleasing the senses soothes like fine wine.
It's calmness, excitement, free flowing words,
With qualifying beauty like the Peacock bird;
Musical interludes that rises and fall,
Like the waves against an ocean wall.
It’s a hodgepodge of homemade colloquialism,
That challenges our thoughts through aerobic athleticism;
On occasion, darkness sprinkles the pages,
Spoon fed mixture absorbed in small stages.
Poetry Soup, food for the soul,
A deliverance of warmth through written scrolls!
Written : © 11/12/15
Submitted for: Your Absolute Best II CONTEST
Sponsored by: The Seeker
STEPS ASIDE
They’ve banned the “step counters”
Outlawed the treadmill and stationary bike
Banned jogging (aka fast walking for the elderly)
Sports will be limited to “non-aerobic” activities
Tiddlywinks tournaments will be Government funded.
Scientific research and investigation
Funded by the “stay inside and die sooner” chapter
Of the “Governmental Gottcha Groups”
Has conjectural and anecdotal evidence
That the heavy breathing induced by exercise
Increases the carbon dioxide emissions
Of those engaged in anaerobic exercise.
Suggested alternate activities are:
-Daydreaming,
-Scheming (aka conspiring with imaginary friends)
-Meditation…without chanting
-Astral Traveling (with or without passport)
-Thinking, but only about the things presented in our booklet
-(also known as “Talking Points)
Or the “Rip Van Winkle” solution…
Go to sleep for twenty years
and hope it’s all over when you wake up.
John G. Lawless
©2/24/2023
Y/our relationship with ecology and economics
incarnates polypathically,
multisystemically therapeutic,
like positive human relationships
and richly fertile sacred dreams
between DNA's biological unfolding and Vitamin D's
absorbing ways.
Our actively cooperating economic design,
political intent,
power assumptions,
love,
light of truth,
beauty,
multisystemic refueling therapy
for ego and ecohealing community,
Appositionally driven
shriveled by exhausting lose-lose practices
feeding shriven anger,
silos of fear and suffering,
haunted by monopolistic
monochromatic
mindless monocultural nightmares
of Black Hole entropic proportion,
socioeconomic pathology
wilting and suffocating purgation
monotheistic punishment
pantheistic imprisonment.
Black hole reverse-eco-normic competition
never ends with enough,
timelessly continues longing for infinity
of heaven at hand.
Ecological cooperation soon builds diversely inclusive sufficiency,
together,
healthy warm kinda wealthy,
but just right,
pricklygoo co-invested
muse amusing culture.
If we don't fly apart first,
we might learn to fly
and swim
and breathe together,
drinking from the same aerobic/autonomic fountain of knowledge,
in bull-bear fueled nutritional flows and ebbing markets
polyculturally optimized self-with-other resilient design.
EcoTherapy practices peaceful Earth development,
proactively nurturing
co-passionate bipartisan
notBully/notBear balanced
therapeutic EarthTribal nutrition.
Coming of Age
Sitting on my front porch
Watching the world go by
I wonder what I’ve learned
At the age of 55?
What were the 60’s all about?
Did we need to yell and shout
As young men died and distant wars raged
Did we learn anything in the haze?
Coming of age in the 70’s
Not long after Vietnam
I learned from the media
Not speaking up, thing go wrong.
The 80’s gave us disco
And songs everyone knew
With aerobic dance in colorful leotards
And jogging in Nike shoes
But the shadow of war
In the 90’s loomed wide
As our smart bombs and rockets
Lit a distant desert sky
Retaliation came to our unwatched shore
As great towers fell, floor by floor
A new patriotism built from fear
Started the new millennium, goals unclear
Yet a decade goes by and
Bombs still fill the distant desert sky
Pat downs at our airports
Will not soon subside
Pulling troops out of one desert
To battle somewhere else
Does not bring peace to people who
Can’t accept the differences within their selves.
Desert Storm, Vietnam, Korea and WW2
When will we learn and surmise
This planet cannot, will not survive
If we continue to conquer and divide.
Sitting on the front porch
Watching the world go by
Have I learned anything
At the age of 55?
I tumbled and turned
In such graceful ways
I threw myself down
In polished displays
Spinning on the bars
In aerobic plays
I rose up so high
In a whirling craze
Perched high on the beam
My small frame amazed
My parents watched in awe
Of my fearless haze
The tumbles got harder
And weakened my knees
Puberty beckoned
With growths that displeased
Curvy shape so adored
Hindered spinning ease
The frequent aching
Became a disease
Gymnastics, my love
No longer a breeze
My heart became heavy
My soul to appease
Now that I’m older
My brain’s pain embossed
Adult reasoning
Risk assessment crossed
Days gliding through air
Risk of body tossed
I see the dangers
The fun over glossed
Movements I now fear
At what a great cost
To gymnastics love
My fearless heart lost
Fashion shoe treads imprinted on the bisque beach
global longtitude/latitude design airborne print in flight
Honeycomb print slowly pacing synchronising footsteps
Concentric wave prints grouping Fine detail pattern soul
beside clearly printed diamond fishbone sports design
Heavily studded trail souls tread along large paw prints
Simply dotted aerobic shoeprint next to little dog paws
A new soft pink fluffy seaweed floats in lacy ocean foam
Large horseshoe prints clomp digging deeply in the sand
Smaller horseshoes gather meeting near a water trough
Fresh green seagrass clumped like freshly cut long lawn
cradles long ball strands of yellow ochre squirting beads
Bare feet touching soft sticky sand immersed wet in water
Naked footprints side by side breathing beach vibrations
Two lovehearts drawn in the light brown sand interlocked.
Sandcastles decorated with shells sit sturdily on the shore.
The road to Rio ran his every day
Aerobic fitness was his daily way
The lactic acid ate his muscle mass,
but soon the aching pains began to pass
The win reward a fine line to the tape
He fought the fight to get into best shape
He made his time to take him to the start,
to peak his strength and win the race an art
Just five circles his only dream tattoo,
or maybe under forty three will do
A gold the prize for him, a life reward
it looked so easy, Wayde’s new world record
He lived the dream a life in golden hope,
but ductile gold a sweet success tightrope
-A tribute to Wayde van Niekerk’s new world record in the 400m almost breaking 43 s yesterday. The record was held by Michael Johnson and was 16 years old-
No one of us
and all of us together
believe in optimal power within
in total absence of any power among,
without.
Short-sighted political therapy evolves
short-minded economic health is
small-mindedness,
pretending Self and Other and Earth
are not eternally interdependent.
Pain and loss and blindness
cause long-sited suffering,
wrestling with God's absence of fulfillment
Great aerobic exercise,
but let us not fool
or bully ourselves,
or Others,
or God,
and most certainly not Earth
in this her eternally holy Day.
Only competitive assumptions wrestle against health;
while cooperative eco-normic awareness
wrestles with,
side by side,
each challenge shared.
Wrestling is dissonance resolving contention
stretching for harmony
co-arising contentment,
diminishing confusion to
chronic suffering of advent,
just the right amount of pain and ego-loss
for regenerative redeemer rebirth.
Pain, loss, dissonance deny
optimistic accidental history
but may ecologically coincide
with interactive mutually-held hope
that peace with ego's self-justice
ultimately emerges
from each biosystemic incarnation's incubating life
toward further regenerative health
and love
and love of health
and health of love,
then too there is lovely health of wealthy love,
but that could take us in another similar climaxing
dialectically emergent
dipolar co-arising direction.
The fear of my heart stopping, when I first say hello.
But worse would be if yours stopped, what a way to go
The fear of not seeing you after all of this long time
That fear is the greatest, that would surely be a crime
The fear of you not liking me, I’m a disillusionment
A fear of you finding, I was not from heaven sent.
A fear of something happening to stop me meeting you
A fear of all these things, what would I now do?
The biggest fear of all would be liking you too much
What would I do then, if sparks flew when our hands touch.
The fears they are just growing to proportions that are phobic
Perhaps I should concentrate on certain things more aerobic.
Deep breaths in to calm the heart, reduce the blood pressure too
And rubber gloves to catch the sparks, if I ever do meet you.
They say face your fears to cure them, that’s what I intend to do
Looking forward to that day whenever I meet you...
© ~GG~2?11/2102
Argh, I Ne'er Got Got Bran Did With...
A Muffin Top Before - Why Now!?
Impossible firm he (reed myth self)
to compete with Adonis, no way no chance
asthma gut busts over
waistband of sweatpants,
the choice couture,
asper this poet, who kant's
cease spewing regularly
(quotidian) raves and rants
years ago (another lifetime),
I partook of contra dance
sing, (and most casual suitable
place to find romance)
plus burn calories matter of fact,
a milieu to buff and enhance
physique, while simultaneously
kibitizing with great expanse
of pleasant gals and guys
one must not be afraid to prance
(albeit in accordance
with a caller on stage,
and maintain endurance)
synonymous with aerobic exercise,
and also act flirtatiously amorously glance
sing and/or stealing a French fried
kiss, yup dashing all
the way out to France,
yet returning just in time and proper,
or improper instance
all the while sustaining
the energetic activity over expanse
of a few hours (traditionally
held on Thursday evenings)
and for that block of time held in a trance,
asper...analogous to
spellbinding arrow or lance
suspended part way thru flight,
cuz all troubles troubles
temporarily melt away
which venue mentioned,
which small number of bucks one did pay
to participate among mine weekly highpoint,
where life liberty, and pursuit of happiness
which place this then akin to a cray
zee lee whirling dervish, did pine
to spruced himself up, and ready to hay
for four, thus sped without delay
this bag of lovely bones hapt tubby
more more trim, unlike
less physically fit body of today,
and scant finances find me find
foregoing joyfully
listening to musicians play
and healthily exhausted
with closing waltz,
thence out tummy car
yours truly did sashay!
Accident in one race,
Retarded her progress,
Relaxed, lazy,
Took it easy,
A good runner,
Always a winner,
Young miss Sharon,
Aspiring to run marathon,
Determined to run,
And run to win,
Had to become slim,
Joined a gym,
Aerobic work up,
Dips and pull up,
Lost much weight,
Became quite swift,
Missed her period,
For the month third,
Sickness morn?
Symptoms none!
Given progesterone,
Failed to respond,
Sharon worried!
Primi unmarried?
Family doctor confused,
To a specialist referred,
She was virgin!
A virgin genuine!!
Amenorrhoea primary,
A medical mystery,
Confused doctors,
Had no answers!
Doctor said I must lose weight
Sugar banned a thought I hate
No butter or cheese except low fat
My body will morph fancy that.
Off to gym in new sports gear
Going to sweat daily for a year
You think this is fun? your quite wrong
'Till I Collapse' my favourite song.
Each night exhausted I take a jog
Dear heaven above it's such a slog
Bedtime drink warm skimmed milk
No easy task to look like sylph.
Months rolled by still hitting gym
New way of life am now so thin
Resisting temptation I'm in to win
Aerobic trainer whose name is Slim.
Nonsense Rhyme
Poetry Contest
Sponsored
by
Charles Messina
11/09/2021
when you are down to nothing, God is up to something that will make your everything.
just have faith as you live on this earth because faith is the substance that maintains our spiritual balance.
it sees the invisible, receives the incredible and makes possible the impossible.
it restores all lost hope and revives all crushed dreams.
it is the root of all religion. without it, we are nothing better than the stones or any non-living thing.
so let us have strength and faith as we live on earth.
thirst and hunger for it. when you find it, keep it so that on that day you will proudly say
i have run the race and kept the faith.
it was given to you on the very first of your breath on this earth at your birth up until to your death.
you just have to ignite it by using the word.
the word of God is like a rhythm.
it enters the body like a seed and when it mixes with the spirit, bears fruit like the energy produced in aerobic respiration.
the word of God does not deform!
it informs!
it reforms
and transforms your old form into a new form.
it does not convict the mind
but it converts the mind.
so just like i Fred have said, don't be afraid but take this word as your sword and enjoy this world
onemind
Running* with zest gives me great triumphant feeling
Uplifts my spirit along radiant merriment
Negates bad mood to welcome good tidings
Nurtures appreciation for nature
Influences friends for wellness’ bonding
Nourishes acquaintance-growth of cheerful glow
Gladdening exercise-rigor with bliss
Settles weight-problem against diet-caused angst!
De-stressing running spree is a blessing to me…
Empowering midst discomfort’s pain
Lowering my blood pressure I’m grateful of
Improving my immune system indeed
Giving me great aerobic work-out
Hoisting my health upward victory level during check-ups
Turning gloom toward hearty laughter thrill
Setting faith for jubilant thanksgiving to God!
*1Corinthians 9:24 Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run, that ye may obtain.
January 30, 2019
12th place, "Hobbies" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julie Leigh Rodeheaver; judged on 3/23/2019.
I can no longer touch my toes
Or stop an unexpected runny nose,
It has become an issue
To find a handkerchief or tissue.
My loo has moved
I am not sure
It seems farther away than it was before
I often have to try to run
Before I realised what I'd done.
I now have a shower chair
Where I bathe and wash my hair
I mutter to myself all-day
I hope nobody can hear the things I say.
My grey matter is fading fast,
I wonder how long it will last
My social life is up the creek
As I am at the Doctors every week.
A specialist sent me to the gym
To strengthen my muscles
To help improve the state I'm in
You would laugh if you could see
The aerobic ancient Old Duck me.
I now row a machine
That's never been
Near water
I walk on a treadmill
Although I falter.
The weights I can't lift very high
Perhaps next session,
I'll have a better try,
I love the exercise bike.
I can travel anywhere
I like.
Even though I don't move
My imagination improves
As I cycle down the country lane
I feel like a girl again.