Best Aerobics Poems
Learned to drive in 1980; it became a must.
The car I bought soon broke down; “Another One Bites the Dust!”
With two kids by ‘81 - plus work. My tired bones!
“Start Me Up” kept being sung by the Rolling Stones.
“Hungry Like the Wolf” was I; what future would be mine?
Prince knew back in ‘82 how great was ‘99!
Culture Club and Cyndi Lauper put me in the groove
when to a house in ‘83 we then made a move.
Michael and Madonna in the next year were the rage.
But a baby blue Camaro in my life took center stage!
“Walk Like an Egyptian” sang the Bangles. We did more!
In ‘85 we headed west to California’s shore.
Pre-86 we’d always been “Livin’ On a Prayer.”
But once in the Bay Area, much better we would fare!
In ‘87, boating with my kids and spouse was cool!
I saw George Michael’s concert, and our complex had a pool.
Teaching dance aerobics, having all the fun I could.
For my family, ‘88 was “Straight Up” crazy good!
89’s big earthquake hit; my husband’s work was done.
“Free Fallin’” we then headed home. Farwell to West Coast sun!
November 8, 2018 for
Michelle Faulkner's 'Remembering the 1980's' Poetry Contest
(I loved the music of that time and tried to represent a bit of it in each couplet)
Time to head off to the gym, for my daily work out session
Tummy bulging, thighs are wobbling, my body is in regression
Once I was toned and oh so slim
But the lure of sweets just sucked me in
Chocolate and biscuits are my downfall
A bag of ‘Minstrels’ I will eat them all
Here in the gym I am working up a sweat …
Sweets and chocolate I must forget
So I do my aerobics class and then have a swim
Do fifty lengths – oh I must be getting slim
Then off for a circuit class, oh I do work hard
For I want to look so sexy in my purple leotard
After all that exercise I’ve worked up a healthy appetite
Grab a bag of fries – no wonder my clothes feel so tight!
06~15~15
Sweats and Sweets Contest – Olive E Guillermo
Andrea is an ambassador of alluring art
Noble, she is nice and nifty both day or night
Dedicated, dutiful and dogged like a dart
Resourceful, she’s got a mind… real and rapt
Experienced, she’s undoubtedly an exquisite expert
Amiable, her alluring attitude flows from her heart.
Darling, she’s got a friendly figure… not a fart!
Intriguing, her intellectual prowess is intact
Excellent, she is a fountain of love and light
Talented teacher: she instills, inspires and imparts
Realistic, her opinions are … in black and white
Interested in kickboxing, music, aerobics… so smart
Creative: particularly in prose and poetry… I doff my hat
Homely: she is a mother and grandma with a happy heart!
Dedicated to Andrea Dietrich
© Adeleke Adeite
M y heart is joyfully raised to Thee, Oh Lord I implore
Y our loving guidance and grace for what’s in my heart’s core
T his year, I promise to renew my vow to Thee
W hatever I do, I’ll always do my best in Your glory
E arnestly, I’ll perform all my duties at work
N ever leave my side, Lord--grant me strength and good health
T o be patient at all times in my journey with many children
Y our image and great love be seen in me and in my talents
T his year, I’ll give more time to take care of myself
W atch the foods I eat, drinks and take time to rest
E very weekend, I’ll go for massage, join recreations
N ever give up my exercises like aerobics or sports
T ake time to swim at nearby swimming pools
Y es! I’ll also do gardening. That’s fun and cool!
T his year, I want deeper spiritual encounter with God
H ave lots of time for prayers and singing hymns-- I’ll be glad
R enew my baptism through recollections and consecration
E mpower my spiritual life through constant adoration
E nrich discipleship through charity, spread God’s words.
R emind myself always that I’m not getting any younger
E stablish better time management to accomplish faster
S ave list of events, take notes and reminders
O ptimism should always be carried on my shoulders
L earn to control my expenses, save for my future
U rgent needs and charity are priorities and no more
T each my children how to recycle, reuse and reduce
I nstill in their mind, the value of saving earth, not abuse
O ne of my educator’s program this year is a mission
N ew campaign of saving Mother Earth for next generations
S o help me God that I’ll abide in all my New Year’s resolutions.
Dec. 31,2022 9.39am
Resolutions for 2023
Contest Judged: 1/5/2023 12:09:00 AM
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Place 3 (up to 5 multi-w)
My warmest greetings of a Healthy, Happy and Prosperous New Year 2023 to all! God bless!
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.
“Just because I’m fat”.
Just because I’m fat…
Doesn’t mean you are all that,
Or that I’ll do aerobics on a mat,
Hey, some fat people are cool, ya heard,
Like Big Boy, Edwin Frank Hoff, the third!
Just because I’m fat…
Doesn’t mean I want to get skinny,
It’s like my home dog Pooh bear, who’s name is Winnie,
I know one day, I can get there – I can,
And then all the chicks will praise the FAT man!
Just because I’m fat…
Doesn’t mean y’all can hate,
Because for some, fat is their fate,
All you posers, just remember one thing,
It’s never over ‘til the fat people sing!
Just because I’m fat… there’s nothing wrong with that!
EXERCISE
When I think about exercise
I'm inspired to join a gym class,
Then after taking a short rest,
That feeling just seems to pass.
When looking into the mirror,
To exercise I should make a start,
But thinking about it at my age,
It could be bad for my heart.
My teenagers need to exercise,
Run at least a mile every day
Then at the end of two weeks,
They'd be fourteen miles away.
An aerobics class may be fun,
Moving to music, properly trained,
But I heard reports of those classes,
How often an ankle is sprained.
Having seen others at the gym,
How they puff, grunt and perspire,
Agony written over their faces,
Leaves me free from any desire.
I'm happy for others to exercise,
So long as it doesn't include me,
I'd rather relax with my feet up,
While watching sport on TV.
Copyright © Vivien Wade June 2013
As always they will shine
Afferent archery
As sparkling efferent
Avid constellations
Act, salty and feline
Adulterous winking
Aerobics of nature
21/11/2015
SISTERHOOD OF AVON
Oh how I miss the sisterhood
the brrr...ringing of a bell
a catalog and a smile in hand
the scent of sweet cologne
nearly met customers at the door
miraculously in their own flavor
jingle jangle of jewelry
not fine but touchy-feely
and collectibles how i miss them
and the sweep of my youthful skirt
i was God-blessed with territory
— assigned not chosen,
a secondary job
i recollect three households
heaven sent, angelic psalms
as if I had travelled beyond earth’s borders
first woman, straight-laced, strict
believed every lady should wear skirts
a Christian, perhaps too pharisaical
Brr...ring at twilight and a gruff voice
a man barks, “who is it?!”
taken aback, “the Avon lady…”
a lovely woman practically
knocks over her husband, to answer
the door, sporting silver hair
she invites me in and we chat
over a quite different setting
— relaxed
Christian wearing pants,
so cheery and warming
— the bite of her husband mosquito-like
And now I’m not joking —
Christian sisters living next to each other...
do you see the theme of my life?
this dear woman’s married to a dermatologist —
certainly woman do tip their hat of facts
so i go off to water aerobics and notice my skin
has a rash
so i call
and being young and brash
ask
if i can ask her husband’s advice
the next morning i tell my boss — a naval Master Chief
that i needed to see a dermatologist,
and he laughs, “you’ll never get in”
i say, “sir, i already have an appointment”
so i had shingles, just on the cusp,
and was saved from much pain
for God is good all the time
all the time God is good
and when i step over the border into the heavenly realm
i will still sing of his goodness!
Brr...ring i miss the fine company and the singing
of customer’s doorbells
and one day i will hug my fine
sisters
12/21/2018
People do aerobics
So their bodies stay in shape.
Slacking off means all that flab
Reverses its escape.
Just like muscles turn to mush
If workout time’s ignored,
Lethargy may leach the brain
Of knowledge it has stored.
Therefore one must exercise
The mappings of the mind,
Making sure the avenues
Are smooth and well-defined.
Crosswords and Sudoku,
Scrabble, dominoes or chess
Help to keep those brain cells sharp
And also combat stress.
As we age we must work out
The body and the brain,
For if we don’t, the things we’ve learned
Will all have been in vain.
The 90’s were not easy, but my spouse and I got by.
Both our children, grown, soon were on their own.
The syndrome known as “empty nest” didn’t even touch us.
If anything, those wings of mine spread splendidly
as I ascended, full of hope, into a new Millennial sky.
In 2000, my age was 45, and definitely, I was in my prime.
Having taken up guitar, I strummed to songs I sang for just myself.
I belly-danced, lifted weights, did boxing and aerobics.
Reading up on fitness tips, and eating for my blood type,
I was at my best. “Aerodynamic,” this bird could fly;
even years of therapy on a painful neck were starting to pay off!
Around this time, I also took three fascinating trips,
first seeing the Big Apple for my very first time.
Also I basked in the sun and in the fun of a great Bahamas cruise.
Later, with a friend, I enjoyed a glorious week in Rio de Janeiro.
Of all the things feathering my not-so-empty nest,
one stood out, which later would define the woman I’ve become today.
Embracing the muse I’d abandoned in my youth, I learned to soar with poetry!
Today, twelve years later, I fly through skies much too often gloomy,
recalling a time before our world went mad - the time when skies were bright.
Written by Andrea Dietrich, Jan. 6, 2012
For nette onclaud's....AT THIS AGE Poetry Contest
At Rotterdam in Netherlands
I made plenty of window friends
I could reach out to them
whenever I missed my own
friends and near ones back home.
The window facing the South unfolded
the beautiful, enchanting river Masse.
Its simmering and quivering depths reflected
the multitudenal colours of historic city it nurses.
The bright sunny days with clear blue skies
Were often dotted with jets with gaseous, white, long tails
Criss crossing randomly in all directions
expressing the vastness of freedom and joy.
The golden setting sun
sprinkled the mature shades of
orange and red and yellow
in the reflective silver flows of the Masse,
slowly admitting its failure
to defreeze the lakes and snows around
and to warm up the cockles
of the easterlies which travel
far from Russia on a typical winter day,
before being engulfed by
dark and grey clouds at the horizon
like a surrendering fugitive.
The act of humbleness of the mighty sun
the only energy source of our universe
betrayed the celeberative mood of the city lights
which danced proudly on the flowing waters of Masse at night.
The frame of the window facing the North
helped me rendezvous with few more friends
the historic church there
stood in its monolithic glory
kissing the sky with its long Needle thin tower
its clock religiously reminding us
of the duties that we had to perform,
could not be missed by anyone.
Looking down at the street below
the empty red and yellow trams of RET
curled in sleepily into their shelter
at Strissenburgdwarsstrat
for a well deserved rest
after having served the varied commuters
of the city of Rotterdam.
Not too far in the distance
beyond the red brick and brown brick roofs
and amongst bare trees
I could also spot a wind mill,
its huge wings rotating leisurely
ever challenging the winds to come faster.
From either of the windows
I could let my imagination fly
and accompany the lovely
seabirds to limitless ends
the greyish white winged beauties
were enticed closer to me
when I opened the window panes
with crumbs of bread for them,
thrilling me with their aerobics.
When I came back home from there,
and met my native friends again
I started to miss all these new friends of Rotterdam.
RET: Rotterdam Electric Tram (Rotterdamse Elektrische Tram)
Humble,
Rudimentary,
Comfortable clutter to abate fears of agoraphobic stumbles,
A 4x4 white-washed landscape provides the perfect artistic study.
Claustrophobic,
Artificial,
The clean floors become lava so I've practiced my aerobics,
Ugh my artistic inspiration is siphoned by this unfortunately accurate description, an obstinate mockery of my work, look at it sitting there all pompous yet still so superficial.
Blank canvas,
Infinite utensils,
Every little "mess" perfectly fills settles in its stanza,
Of graceful brushstrokes and triumphant crescendos to form my easel.
Insufferable antithesis,
Genocidal doctrine,
Insidiously contagious and unbearably loquacious,
Infecting homes content in their mediocrity and ensembles' sheik rebellious fashion.
A standoff at high noon,
Between libertarian creativity and authoritarian germophobia,
Both sides claiming a fair fight between equal rivals yet they both undermine each other through sabotage and flaunt their charm like geisha,
Who shall I choose?
Eh, I'll figure it out in the morning.
The Chopper Cyclone
Oh Wild Wind! Why so rude?
Oh Dear God! Why no mercy?
Waited for rains; what we got is rage
Nursed hopes; only horror remains
December last, unbridled floods,
December this year, the Wild Wind
Gory events; misfortune manifested
With none to stop; our life is on hold
Oh Wild Wind! Why the dance of death?
Felling thousands of trees, we loved
All cables and power lines snapping to halt
Through howling cries; all passed away en-mass
A moment of mayhem, wrought havoc untold
The tall trees all, massacred, maimed
The wild aerobics; snuffing out the breathe,
Mauled and mangled the city is left mourning
Those that escaped wrath, some flora exist
Battered and bruised, broken and bent,
Twisted and tampered; crippled they lie
Centuries old, veterans, in ruins, they cry
Revival; may take a hundred years,
Alas, many of us will be gone by then,
Our companions, all through they were,
On a mad noon act; all vanished to nowhere
Ten thousand trees lost; is the count we have
As the city lies barren without, the green it wore
Family of trees lay victims; in parks and on pavements
While every road and compound added to the lore
Yes we waited for our reservoirs to fill
For flora, fauna and fields to survive
In turn; only received tears in our eyes
Only numbness remains, all hearts bleed
Last year water; this year the storm
Call it what you like; but curse is same
All elements that we presumed were allies
Turned a foe; that tale, God alone can tell
In a moment of madness; hate let loose
The ghost wind, showed rage unending
The fierce storm, hell bound it stood
Decimated everything in its path
Relenting only after revenge; extracted
As everyone around was in sheer disbelief
Dazed and shattered and shocked were we
Too numbed to think and too dumb to act
Yet the calamity will soon be forgotten;
As History’s bosom has many such stories
But both the scars will remain for decades,
The World has its dark side too!
Patient Hope is on a stoic decline
The celluloid tread mill
is crybaby set
on an aorta sob incline —
A cardio faithless, vertical whine
Shouldering the weight of personal decisions,
is seen nowadays
as an irresponsible, bulimic activity
Cares of the world
will surely take an unkind toll
on the body and soul
Lust obesity trick imagery
is a mirror mirage
of illusory, measured wait loss
But how much wasted time
in your slouch sofa life did it cost?
For a slimmer waistline,
Vanity became your sin slave boss
Phat pocket dreams
binge bought on a lottery coin toss
Puffed up pride made you take a wait loss
Virtuous self-denial sacrifices
is a lost art —
an unpracticed part
of flabby moral muscle shedding
Taut bellies of bloated importance
(attained through artificial,
sweaty palm wait loss)
is a self-absorbed sin of indulgence
Rash prayers desiring rushed results,
be a twig spandex figure
uncertainty marred by obese doubt
And discarding of the necessary,
healthy heft of navel faith
is a wait loss ...
Unnatural mental womb aerobics,
that an anorexic spirit
chose to exercise
at a flatline metabolic rate