Best Bellyache Poems
Should it be a poet's duty
To write solely about beauty?
A POET’S DUTY by BETH EVANS
ANSWER ON A BED OF NAILS
let me answer the quixotic brioche —
we all need a delicate pinch;
brachial bruising a warning
all the flowery talk dispels the magnitude
of cancer, the carbuncle of abuse,
the horrific salutations of the nazi regime
we march alone but also as a world
arm in arm, armed with insecticide
words like ants; a bench’s rash
a hose in diffusion’s spray
may try to paint the sky
in shades of love’s foray
turn it off; let flow subside
take a better look —
heart on a bed of nails
war of words; a twisting sword
let truth be the blood
that scores
because a poet can also whitewash
with parrots
mimic...mimic...mimicking
seek your bellyache
examine, test, squander
all its savings
let cavalry of water fall
soaking wet
with poet’s ink
10/9/2020
Beth Evans’ A Poet's Duty Poetry Contest
Little Johnny came home from school with a bellyache
Naturally Mom feared the most recent local outbreak
Johnnie thankfully had no fever, she suspected it might be a fake
But strange and most bizarre Johnnie had no appetite for steak
Or even for his ultimate favourite strawberry shortcake
The next morning Johnnie barely could awake
Didn’t want to go to school because of a backache
Mom thought the cure might just be a nice big pancake
Or maybe the warm chocolate muffins that she’d bake
But Johnnie just wanted to curl up with his pet rattlesnake
In the afternoon, when Little Johnny mentioned a toothache
Mom reached for the thermometer in case the first time was a mistake
She sent Johnnie for a nap and sat pensive as she took her coffee break
Out the window she saw askew the mounds of leaves to rake
She got up and tiptoed up the stairs to see what was at stake
She found Johnny pouting wide-eyed and awake
As she extended to him a warm loving handshake
In her heart she felt a sudden jolt of earthquake
Poor Little Johnny was growing up at double take
And suffering acutely from his very first heartbreak
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on February 22, 2018
Jonah found himself in a most dreadful fix
He nearly had an encounter with the River Styx
He was freed by the whale's timely regurgitation
Thus easing its bellyache and Jonah's expiration!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Life is about having the right attitude.
Don't be known as one with platitude.
Someone who is a habitual whiner,
is not a good companion at a diner.
Life is always a much happier place
if you don't slap anyone in the face,
so you won't be a curmudgeon grouch
why don't you take a nap on your couch.
No one wants to be around a grumbler
especially one who should be humbler.
Wear a smile instead of a sourpuss frown
and from your own pedestal, step down.
One who brags about his or her work
is really just being a malcontent jerk.
If these words seem harsh and trite,
some fish are known to take a bite.
Kindness is the best way to make a friend
so stop being bitter, just make amends.
Stop being a grouch, no talk or bellyache,
and be nice to others, for goodness sake!
Well it doesn't really matter, if you have riches or you’re poor,
When you get that bellyache, you know you’ll be heading for,
That little house way down the back, where the comforts made for you,
So you can sit and read the paper, when there’s a job to do.
It doesn't really matter, if you eat ‘cray’ or caviar,
Or if you’ve downed a pie with chips; they travel just as far.
After your belly has been filled, then you must get rid of it,
And that's when the likes of me and 'Rusty', do our little bit.
You see we are night workers on a truck that pulls a tray,
The job we’re being paid to do, is to take your waste away.
So while you're sleeping soundly, to your 'little house' we go,
Come every week on Friday, to prevent an overflow.
Most roads in our little town are channelled, tarred and curbed,
So the drive is smooth and even and no spillage's occurred.
There was one road though unsealed, it is pot holed, windy, rough,
With two houses at the dead end, where two pans were quite enough.
One rainy morning we decided on, the easy first that day,
That left us two spots yet to fill, that would complete our tray,
And the rain had stopped so ‘Rusty’, before finishing our load,
Hung his coat outside the cabin, prior to the unsealed road.
Leaning here and lurching there, 'Rusty', turned ‘round and looked behind,
Letting out a gasp of horror, so I asked, “What’s on your mind?”
“My coat” he said “It’s in a can, pull up the truck, quick stop it!”
Rusty didn’t care about his coat, but his lunch is in the pocket.
Parking lots are empty, the streets are bare:
no one forecast this; nothing can compare.
Acting cavalier, some don't even care
that the elderly die, gasping for air:
they still say staying inside is unfair.
The low-wage everyday workers are scared,
finding themselves jobless and unprepared.
And it's soon apparent no country's spared:
the whole world's at war, though it's undeclared.
Facts about the pandemic got disclosed,
and self-quarantine measures were imposed;
while airports and national borders closed.
Social distancing stressed out the nation:
socialization is our foundation.
And, we've got good reason to bellyache.
Corporate greed failed hospital healthcare:
profits increased, and therefore no one cared,
that this pandemic left the world exposed.
A lack of supplies brought desperation:
now, everyone's paying for that mistake.
Bob’s accident was not "too" bad;
young lady with both legs broken.
Driving on drugs, he’s ultra rad;
“Go to Rehab,” judge has spoken.
Meanwhile... she goes to rehab too;
Bev learns to walk again, wahoo.
When laws and legs guys freely break,
what’s “legit” walks off the pages.
Their lawyers give this bellyache,
“We don’t put addicts in cages!”
Meanwhile... last time Bob tests a tort,
Bev appears as lawyer in court.
written May 26, 2018
Finally, Summer's over and the kids are back in school
I'm not a bad mother, but after driving through carpool,
I'll have seven hours, five days a week, spent in peace
No yelling, "Behave!" In silence I'll find sweet release.
I'll no longer hear voices say, "Mom, what's for lunch?"
Please understand that I love my kiddies a whole bunch,
but they ran around all Summer long like an unruly tribe.
The opening of school is what my doctor would prescribe.
Then it dawned on me... the pitfalls of what that means.
Now I'll hear, "Mom, why didn't you wash my new jeans?"
I'm pretty darn sure that child has a closet full of clothes.
One more affliction added to the motherhood of woes.
Let me not forget that I'll still be driving them all around
to football practice, and drama rehearsals, I'll be bound.
No time for them to snack at home before we must leave,
another burden we mom's bear that kids do not perceive.
I admit that they're growing too fast and soon I'll be alone
Then I will miss them dearly and I will bellyache and moan,
wishing I'd spent more time with my children every day.
I hope I'll not be the only mother who will feel this way.
August 28, 2022
Back to School Contest
Sponsor: Francine Roberts
His eyes are glued upon your plate
Hoping a morsel might escape
Anything that reaches the ground
He'll gladly wolf it down
Anticipation is his fate
Wanting a taste of master's steak
The aroma fills the air
Hungry eyes stare
Every precise cut they see
Every bite they plead
Every chew they woo
Every swallow they boo
Never blinking only fear
That the steak won't be shared
Will the master eat the fat
If he does I'll bite the cat
Oooh yes he looks at me
Tail wagging can't he see
Mouth watering big smile
Don't forget your favorite pal
Meal is done scraps to dog
He swallows them like a starving hog
Happy happy happy day
Steak bone to chew and play
Little doggie loves his treat
That night he sleeps at my feet
Dreams of eating juicy steak
Until he burst from bellyache
My favorite milkshake, served chilled
I reach across the table and - it all spilled
Mum's not exactly
thrilled
Well, at least the pizza's steaming hot
I bite right into the center, a tad overwrought
Water! Water!... I never knew pizza was
fraught
Ah! Dessert is chocolate cake
I eat way too much - get a bellyache
My poor stomach's dancing
The Shamrock
Shake
__________________________________________
~ Inspired by Jan Allison's 'Mother's Day' entry in
Mohan Chutani's 'Minichu' contest, although my
poem is neither a Minichu nor a contest-entry.
I wanna go back to Michigan
so I catch me some really good fish again.
The fish from any other U.S. lake
tend to give me such a bellyache,
that I can't wait to have a Michigan fish on my dish again.
Do stop your moaning, for Heaven's Sake!
You're not the first to bellyache!
You can scowl, growl, or howl
Or throw in the towel
But no one can go to your Wake!
This year, everyone is taking turns in the loo
Since Aunt Judy used Ex-lax in the fruitcake
She didn't know she’d create so much poo
Nor cause us all to have an atrocious bellyache
Christmas Chastushka Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
December 17, 2020
Treasures and little
Trinkets in my mind
I hoard and save them
As maybe a retirement gift
From me to me
Moments stolen for
A passionate kiss
A tearful bellyache laugh
A true embrace
A moment of regret
That I could
never take back
Because perfect isn't
At all memorable
And memories will
Be our only treasures
One old aged day
And I want to be rich
Filthy rich of moments
I can't forget
Moments that make
My mind remember
How to smile when
My heart may not
Remember how to
Beat perfectly and
My body forgets health
The amnesic corners
Of my mouth will
Involuntarily smile as
It reminisces your kiss
And the way my young
Legs quivered at your mercy
I love autumn - 'tis my most favorite of the seasons.
The harvest moon and colorful leaves are some of many reasons.
Trees that during summer provided shade and leaves of jade,
Now wear robes of red and gold so brilliantly displayed!
I'm awed as the rising sun casts its beams on neighboring trees,
Further exposing exquisite leaves dancing in the gentle breeze.
But I have a bone to pick with Mother Nature, truth be told.
Though my emerald lawn is now carpeted with pretty leaves of gold,
'Tis not especially to my liking since it is them I must rake.
'Tis neighbor's leaves that litter my lawn - and that's my bellyache!