Best Bulges Poems
There’s a party tonight so I bouffe up my hair
Pamper and powder my sweet derrière,
Arrive at the door, all done up to impress.....
Oh man, I forgot! Invite said “fancy dress”!
Pete and Sue are here, seems their theme’s ‘Tarts and Vicars’,
Sue’s skirt’s microscopic! Look at her tiny knickers!
Pete’s in a nun’s habit; the image is scary,
I’ve not seen a nun with a chin that’s THAT hairy!
And there’s Spider-Man! (although I’m perfectly certain,
His cape is made out of his living room curtain),
His curve-hugging costume’s quite “cosy” in size,
I think our friend Spidey gobbled too many flies!
In the corner, a lady has come as Snow White,
Gee, her bosoms are out there, her corset’s so tight,
They look like two bald heads squeezed into a sack,
Glad my hubby’s not here - he’d have a heart attack!
In the hallway, a robot is looking well-oiled -
Her costume’s made out of three rolls of tin foil,
She looks more like a turkey at Christmas, so later,
I really hope no one is tempted to baste her!
By the buffet, Fred Flintstone is looking contrite,
I think he and Wilma are having a fight,
Behaving all “caveman” has got Fred in trouble -
He showed his big man-club to poor Betty Rubble!
There’s a massive man-baby dressed just in a nappy,
The “milk” in his bottle has made him quite happy,
He’s shaking his tooshie and sucking his dummy,
And asking a lady, “can I call you Mummy?”
On the sofa is Princess Fiona from Shrek,
Blimey, Count Dracula’s nibbling her neck,
I avert my eyes to avoid his rising passion,
In walks his wife, and his face turns quite ashen.
His irate wife’s dressed up as pop singer Cher,
In her see through outfit she looks almost bare,
Then she lays into Drac just like Rocky Balboa -
She’s drunk as I skunk, I’m relieved I don’t know her!
Suddenly, Batman bursts through the door,
In his skintight costume - my jaw hits the floor!
He’s so muscular - bulges in all the right places,
If I play my cards right, could be me he embraces!
Well sadly I haven’t a costume of course,
Til I spot a young chappie dressed up as a horse,
I leap on his back - I’m a great improviser -
Strip off and shout “Hey I’m Lady Godiva!”
Collaboration between Jan Allison and the amazing Nina Parmenter
3/17/18
Oh beautiful Gypsy,
I see you there, in amber campfire mist.
On the banks of a crystalline pool, a bronze skinned lovely moving with intoxicating rhythm to the strum of guitars.
Sable eyes, gleaming with wanderlust, transfixed on distant dreams. Raven hair sheens cobalt blue, in glow of a pale full moon.
The tethered babushka and brilliant layered skirt, your banners of freedom. Knee high boots clad dancing feet, in a feverish itch to perform on new stages. Your opulence, jingle jangling from dainty wrists and pierced lobes, echoes the hypnotic song of rattling tambourines.
A blissful celebration in your enchanted home of nebulous walls forged of the four winds.
Oh beautiful Gypsy;
Last of the true migrants, paying homage only to purity of your clan. The devout mystic, whose babes suckle the nectar of white magic.
Your larder bulges fat, having labored a deconstructed nine to five.
A harmonious oneness with nature, your forte, honed to perfection in compassionate artistic crafts. With gentleness, you bring calm obedience to the untamed steed. In thoughtful consideration, parleying the fate and fortune of the gadjo, eager to lay down their silver and gold for charms and spells.
You trade in good faith only to be slandered in whispers of vagabond and theif. Your colorful lifestyle, jaded to a monotone hue of envious green.
A hopeless romantic smothered in Judas kisses.
Oh beautiful Gypsy,
Even as you celebrate in this newly discovered place, it's freshness grows stale to your delicate senses.
A bohemian lineage begs you go before the next cock crows.
The insatiable hunger to feast your eyes on unfamiliar lands pangs your very essence.
It has proven to be far too great for you to abstain; for it is the morrow.
A radiant sunrise reveals an abandoned starry eyed reflection lingering on a lonesome pond.
The scent of pungent garlic, rich brew and sweet tobacco hovers, as a perfumed phantom, in the desolate air.
Tracks of your wagon wheels flow through emerald meadows like a lazy river, avoiding stagnation.
Conformity lies choking in the dust of your painted caravan.
A nomadic soul in dreamy persuit of the horizon that looms forever in the distance.
Till we never meet again,
Oh beautiful Gypsy
There's the mirror we look at
to pick at spots,
The mirror we dress by,
to see the lot,
The one to cream and
shade the eyes,
The one to try out
feigned surprise,
The one that travels
and shows fatigue,
(Your eyes have circles,
your teeth are green.)
But the truest vision
of ups and downs,
Of sideways bulges
and hairdo clowns
Is the one that hits you
with dismay,
The shop front window
on a sunny day!
Written by Gail DeBole
Pink polka-dotted skin stretching body-wide.
Bulges interrupting other-wise peaceful areas.
Spots of lotion and cherry-flavored tongue
Comforting misery.
Across the room, stacked in safety;
Precious dollies that will be played with another day.
With forever smiles.
One last sniffle for the night.
A hankie is tossed into the glass that serves as a hoop.
Nostrils attempt to function, and a sudden cough
Shocks the precious dollies.
Their smiles remain.
When the young start calling you "deary"
You know that things are going south
And ask if you want the senior discount
All with that smarmy smirk of the mouth
Shopping becomes a sad affair at best
Cute clothes don't fit a drooping frame
Your wardrobe consists of cover-ups
And the bulges showing really are a shame.
The memory goes, I cant find my keys
Did I take my pills or feed the darn cat?
I'm supposed to buy eggs or was it cheese
Doesn't matter, I'm just a crazy old bat
Getting old is not "golden years" as they say
It's more about hanging on as best you can
And trying to find some small joy in each day
But now really, who thought up this ridiculous plan....
As I wait my turn in line
Overwhelming Excitement
Screams through my body,
Adrenaline bulges my veins
to the point they might explode
The smell of burnt rubber lingers
everywhere
Pull up to the line
I push the start button
Feel the car begin to rumble
So much power under the hood
My foot on the brake and the gas
Simultaneously
Watch the lights, nervously
My hands wet with sweat
as I grip the wheel tightly
I see RED...
My right foot stomps the pedal to the floor
My body is pushed full-force by gravity
into the buckled seat
The rumble of the motor blasts my ears
Spectators are mere dots passing by so fast
My heart leaps out of my chest
My FLIGHT is over...in a mere 7 seconds
Spindly stretching brambles rebel from main form
Amused bending stems eject spikes of rhino horn
Thorns barely a repellent for birds resourceful
Tweezer glowing twilight globe, a bitter morsel
Fresh field alien green cone births berry's infant
Chantilly lace pale pink petticoat wraps nymphet
Confetti celebratory moult bulges her fertility
Eighty protruding bulbs shiver in vulnerability
Stern season carousel chastens scanty branches
Snow swallow, boggy terrain new tepid attaches
Saw edge foliage unfold, twitching fox ears
Clusters encombour limbs, absinthe adheres
Florid flocks tossle, augment midnight family babble
Morning dew melt sapor stains fingers which dabble
Outcast tongue teaser, lumpy rubber cleaved
Mauve motivate jaunty juice, mouth received
9th August 2022
Written for Contest:
Thoughts on Blackberries
Sponsor:
Matt Caliri
Uncomfortable confronting
your continuous consumption to which you're accustomed,
the crunch, the chew, it's all you do,
most munch at lunch while you the whole day through,
can't get a grip like a hug holding you
but when you sip it's a diet brew
no added sugar and calories are few,
but many saturated fats are stacked
impacting with gross growth of fat sacks,
so you boom take up too much room
and stay still through sore joints you feel
as you can't conceal spare tires that spill.
You've an ahss with a difference
surpassing any ahss in existence
by a significant distance
with its significant distance
disappearing in the distance
to France and French Resistance
wanting removal in an instance
with intense insistence .
To lose weight you need to move mate.
Eat less move more, it works for sure,
though at first a chore
instead of bursting out you'll once more
fit through the door,
and not resemble a dinosaur,
the sore-thighs-and-a-sore-ahss-eyesore-osaurus.
All four storeys of your inglorious
girth awkwardly bulges before us,
taunting as you pass us at speeds
outclassed by a passed its best tortoise,
a daunting and torturous sight
for our poor eyes that sore
at size you can't ignore
as your broad and soaring baggy core
drags flab and more flab along the floor.
To dine all the time like an assembly line
from 9 to 9 makes you the widest of mankind
with a need to wear a wide load sign on your behind,
eating on repeat
until you can't see your feet
or get out of that seat
while hoarding heat
roasting in rotation
as a gravitational orbit results,
these insults should install motivational mass
to counterweight your morbid oversized ahss,
… so yes your ahss looks fat since you asked.
Realise she hates guys that tell lies, she cries,
so I told her she's oversized and learnt lies are wise,
don't tell her she's wide from side to side or in her thighs,
cus her size cry makes her lies cry look a lie, lies are wise.
My friends took me down to Broadway
To watch a newfangled ballet
T'was called the Buttcracker
And not the Nutcracker
The title was apt I can say
Some dancers were dressed in tutus
Bulges in their tights gave us clues
All the dancers were male
My friends face turned quite pale
Next time we should read the reviews!
02/08/21
creaking rust
spread to my tissues
am growing masses of
bulges appear out of hi-
ding sweat trickles odour
of yesterday humming like
tropical mosquitoes escalati-
ng the growth of surreptitious
microorganisms girls on the bikes
giggling and gossiping i watch like
a saint middle aged mamas perspiri-
ng ammonia and urea swirl in artifici
al air black clad masters instructing lov
Money is better than barter
Money is better than share
Money takes you further than you dare
Though hands, not money built my walls
Hands put together materials to paint my hall
Metals I dug came before all.
I fell in love with my money
Though the kitchen fire was lit by my honey
Her hands weaved into mine ever-ready
My family was all of four
For our morning bread, my wife rolled the nightly dough
By mid-morning I was always rolling in dough.
My pockets filled with money
Heart heaving heavy with pleasure
But my real heart had slipped into my belly
Pick pockets saw my rich resources
Bankers saw my various bulges
All overlooked my face coloured by insatiable desires.
Hope is real not just a hypothesis
Family is special but not essential
Beyond my reach was whomsoever I thought special
My hands guide me to the alchemist's hole
To unearth facts I crawl into their safe-hole
Here my soul and heart turned to pure gold.
Pickpockets, bankers, wife and relatives all lived till very old
My money was in their hold
They forgot me eventually but not too soon
I came one day as a mendicant to their door
They were ready for an ordinary life like before
Their look of wantonness I had to ignore.
I will lie to be buried not burnt
I will not rise again penny-wise
With me I will entomb money-culture's vice.
I let it slip away, oh dear
I’m blushing, I’m truly ashamed
But I farted in the staff room
Guess, my diet must be blamed!
My new healthy plant based diet
Of brassica, pulses and beans
Means my bloated tummy bulges -
Clothes are straining at the seams!
I’ve tried eating charcoal biscuits
And I never eat refried bean curry
But my gurgling gut now warns me
I’ll have to exit the room in a hurry!
I’m adamant I won’t eat meat -
I’d never touch chicken or pork
But with all the veggies I consume
Maybe my bottom requires a cork!
I LET IT SLIP AWAY Poetry Contest
Sponsored By John Lawless
05/02/23
I Slept with a Female Mosquito..... By Peter Onyancha
(part I)
I Slept with a Female Mosquito.
Waking up, Good morning, but goodness!
Stupid lewd fly; family of the blood sucker
Fretful, I study the plumped mosquito
My science talks to me, unfaltering
My eye bulges and I nod, I see, I understand
Pretentious snout, proboscis, piglet wishes, I nod
Crooked legs, Ague grass hopper
Supporting a red load, Oh lord
Overladen rotund raw bottom, I see
Drooping head, like a sniffer dog
Satisfied silence, night accrued quietness
Anopheles! I scream –
She clutches tighter on the net; what next?
The scandalous vampire, ague hawker
A female mosquito, Anopheles
I lay flat, you lay fat
Goiter! I slept.
I entered the hotel dining room and sat at my table for an early breakfast, watching the rain pelting against the windows, overlooking the River Clyde. Conversation was limited; more audible the clinking of crockery and cutlery. The tour leader walked in and his booming voice cut through the gloomy atmosphere as he assured us that the trip was still on; the weather forecast was encouraging.
a senior lady
takes second helpings...
her bag bulges
When some time later we went out to board the coach, the rain had just about stopped. Outside the air was cold. Being people of little faith, we had donned jumpers or cardigans over our light clothes and carried raincoats over our arms. It was unwise to be caught unprepared. The tour leader was no exception!
crossing a bridge...
two honeymooners
sit on separate seats
The trip from Glasgow to Oban was calculated to take about two and a half hours, but with planned stops along the way it was going to take longer. We took our first break at Loch Lomond. The rain had stopped completely, but the clouds still hovered ominously overhead. More stops at Crianlarich and Kilchurn Castle followed. In the meantime the sun was making feeble attempts at making its presence felt, and sure enough the cold air became warmer.
the sky, reflected
in large puddles...
harebells and toadflax
When we finally arrived in Oban the clouds had dispersed, the heat increased, and thick clothing was discarded completely. A meal and a boat trip to Seal Island saw us all in high spirits.
On the return journey our luck ran out again. Clouds and rain accompanied us to the hotel, but it did not really matter. A nice warm shower and a decent meal was something to look forward to.
unpredictable
four seasons in one day
I juggle saijiki
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A Haibun Contest sponsored
by Debbie Guzzi
Placed 4th
© 17th August 2017
in the rusty tide animating bones
of deluded gods reaching for the lie
etched on eroded steles in dead lisps
licking flames of seers tossing guts
filled with blue and red fascists
infecting the hands of the curious
willing to taste microscopic spiders
gulping their blood pumping poisonous
chants of starlit fevers soaking doubts
in baptismal orgasms growing fingers
measuring spirits down to the remnants
of angels sleeping in cellars drinking
emotions of residents disheveling linen
drenched fear perspiring throughout eye
movements of broken nightmares straining
to be painted in fixed oil imbued with lead
thoughts cracking in corridors hallucinating
dripping madmen sharpening revolts smearing
screeching phrases fed intravenously milking
the life of beasts for ravenous wisdom awaits
cold to the heart thuds of silence defy adages
preaching surrender to the surgeon’s pride
flashing silver pain pooling mercury bulges
of phallic power parading atrocity elements
churning in the metabolic circumference of Gaia
digesting busts of Caesars forgetting Romana
as peace basks in the annihilation of metabolism
directing the jet-streams crossing sunrise
and sunset like catholic rites glossy and gilt
flat personages etched by bright children
bending down to surrender to the priests
speechless in empty piety moaning high-
ways returning in internal engines conbusting
beside Masonic erections adorned with devils
sliding between walls where innocence lived
yellowed pages of periodicals recall fabrications
stitched into the screens of televisions changing
until the entire hymn of Satan rests in every palm