Best Chunky Poems
There was a fussy bovine named Flossy
who was snooty and always so bossy
her udders would droop
when she took a poop
She bellowed until her eyes got glossy
Flossy had teeth like a barracuda
Her biting habit just made her ruder
She's not very sharp
She spit when she'd harp
So I called a few friends and we shewed her
Then she threatened to have me arrested
Thought she'd beaten me and had me bested
Knocked her on her duff
She wasn't so tough
Alas, she kept right on and protested
I saw her on the street the other day
Her monstrous butt sat on a bale of hay
Stuck her tongue at me
Mooed, "Hello, ducky"
She trotted off when I aimed pepper spray
What a chunky hippo she has become
I think Flossy secretly sucks her thumb
Waddles when walking
Ranting and squawking
To senility, Flossy has succumb
Bovine creatures can be quite abusive
When they should be a closet reclusive
The more that they speak
The more that they reek
My findings are all justly conclusive
Tumble, crumble cornmeal, salted flour
Stream olive oil
Feed water and toasty yeast with sugar
Crinkle, rumple, crease, and fold
Smooth a silky, doughy globe.
Cover, leave the orb to grow
Keep baby warm
Wrap with snug and swaddling towel
Linger, loiter, wait and proof
Sing a sunny, happy tune.
Overturn the ball on flour
Dust a wooden pin
Feed heart and conscience with honey
Rotate, flatten, compress, admire
Make a downy, level sphere.
Bridge the stretchy bread to pan
Curl edges like leaves
Swirl and ladle a coat of tomato
Thick, chunky, bright, and red
Sway to kitchen melody.
Peppers, onions, olives, chokes
Sausage for some
Rain down the mozzarella and Swiss
Turn and toss, precipitate
Drizzle a snowy blend.
Push the pie into a hot cathedral
Pray for happiness
Think about joy and contentment
Pause, watch, patience, serenity
This journey bakes the future.
Copyright © 2016 Tess Harvester
The seashore is a wondrous stage, for in the sun's delight,
I sit and watch a play unfold- it's there within my sight!
Those beauties, young with golden tans, demurely sashay by
In search of those admiring eyes that peep so deft and sly.
While young dudes with their virile forms and sun-bleached wavy hair,
Strut back and forth so confident with sort of haughty air.
Small children, filling up their pails, build castles made of sand,
While fathers take a break from rest to lend a helping hand.
And mothers being what they are- in their protective lots,
Are ever rubbing suntan cream on freckled, sunburned tots.
Those chunky mid-life guys and gals packed tight in swim attire
Add so much fullness to the scene, for those to see, admire!
And oldsters wrapped up tight and snug to shield from wind and sun,
With eyes shut under hats of straw, in dreamland have their fun!
At water's edge, the tame are found, waves rolling at their feet;
While further out, some brave the swells to make their fun complete.
And there, up high on pedestals, bronzed lifeguards oversee
With ever watchful, cautious eyes, the shore's activity.
And here I sit, a spectator, relaxed this summer day-
But, am I too a character to those who look my way?
April 20, 2015
Premiere Contest: My Favorite Vacation In Rhyme
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
“And you call yourself a bloody cook”, this mongrel shearer said.
“I oughta ram this rubbish down yer’ throat, it’ll kill a bloke stone dead.”
He’s talking ‘bout the stew I burnt, which I hoped he couldn’t focus.
That he’d gulp it down with ‘red-eye’ wine, and he would fail to notice.
But no, my luck was out, he flew raging from his seat
“You’ve put a taste into my ‘gob’, now I need something sweet,
What’s in the fridge;” he yanked the door, took out a plate and bowl,
On one was chunky custard, and one a mouldy sausage roll.
“Look at this!” The shearer screamed, so all the mob could see.
First they eyed the sausage roll, and then looked back at their tea.
“Hang on” I said, “You ‘mangy’ lot, what you’re seeing here,
Is something I can’t be blamed for, they’re from the cook last year.”
“Git’ the boss!” I heard yelled out, and one went for the door.
I need this job and need it bad … to them I vowed and swore.
I’ll clean out the fridge and lift my act; then promised I would bake,
A treat for them on Wednesday ... my special chocolate cake.
My memory’s a little blank, for the ingredients I need,
I’ve got most in the cupboard, with no recipe to read,
Butters scarce but lard will do, and the milks a little sour.
None of them are ‘gunna’ notice, the weevils in the flour.
There’s salt and caster sugar, I need cocoa but there’s none,
There is a tin of milo though; its use by date is March of sixty-one,
That’s everything to make the cake; all I need’s an egg to bind,
Oh yes! There are two in the fridge; last years cook had left behind.
I got down the mixing bowl, and took some water from the tank,
Spooned out a couple of wrigglers … the dead ones to the bottom sank.
I’m not sure about the ounces or the tablespoons and such.
Cups of this with drops of that, but does that really matter much.
The only time I wasn’t sure, and felt maybe should I renege,
When I cracked the shell and found, a half grown chicken in the egg.
But they’re shearers here, big and strong, who’d never get to eat,
Let alone a chocolate cake, but one that’s made with meat.
The oven’s hot, the textures great, I greased the baking dish.
The cake was cooked and it smelt great … every shearers wish.
But a chicken’s foot stuck out the top; I cut out and ate that bit.
You know this chocolate cake of mine, tasted – more – like … ‘passionfruit’!
A Special Poem for Will Helppi
A really fat cat named Chunky Charlie
From a town called Licketysplit Corner
Was renowned for a very interesting talent
As a world famous circus performer
His extra poundage added to the spectacle
People thought it was really appealing
They giggled to see him jiggle while juggling
Six tennis balls as he was kneeling
A pretty little kitty called Cuddly Cathie
Winked at him while watching him juggle
So trying to concentrate on his performance
He found it to be quite a struggle
In fact, near the end of Charlie's performance
Balls flew off in every direction
One ended up in the lap of Cuddly Cathie
He approached her with a very red complexion
He stuttered and stammered trying to apologize
Her beauty made him literally tongue tied
Instead of an apology these words stumbled out
"Will you be my pretty kitty cat bride?"
Not a moment went by, Cuddle Cathie replied
"Yes oh yes, I'll be your blushing bride"
Dear Charlie could hardly contain his emotions
He was absolutely brimming with pride
The moral of this tale is really quite obvious
Perseverance pays off sooner or later
You should never give up when reaching for a star
The rewards will never be greater!
One year I spent Halloween in New York City.
O Henry was the name of my taxi driver. I told
him to Take 5 while I stopped in a candy store
for some favorite candies to give out for the
Trick or treaters I would encounter that night.
My kids always loved Skittles and Nerds, but
my husband prefers Kit Kat bars Now and Later.
My choice has always been Mounds because I
adore coconut. I paid the Chunky clerk and hurried
back to to the taxi with my arms full of candy.
It was already twilight as we passed 5th Avenue.
Mr. Goodbar, my boss, was waiting for me at the
hotel as we drove down an older Rocky Road.
I was on a business trip, but I had time off to
enjoy the evening on Halloween. I got into my
Jolly Rancher costume. Pay Day left me with
plenty of funds to give out candy to every kid
making the rounds on the streets, so I intended
to have a candy Spree with lots of Snickers.
Some of the kids were little Smarties, but I still
had fun passing out a Skor, Bar None. I passed
Three Musketeers in gorgeous costumes on the
street and as the night wore on and the Air Heads
began to get scary, I had enough. I had Zero
candy left anyway. I walked back to the hotel like
a Slo Poke gazing up at our Galaxy, the Milky Way,
and I viewed a Starburst which capped my night
with Almond Joy!
10-10-18
How Sweet It Is Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Carol Connell
It's so good to be fancy-free,
To just be me.
I sit beneath this big oak tree
Drinking wine, writing poetry.
No one to tell me, "Hurry up!"
I drink my wine in a coffee cup.
No one to tell me, "Shut up!"
I say what I please, I stand up.
It's good to be footloose
Without my neck in a noose.
Maybe I'm chunky in the caboose
But I know how to turn on the juice.
So take it from me,
Get yourself free.
Lose the noose.
Go naked and footloose!
By: Carole O'Terry Duet
Copyright: May 24, 2017
"All Rights Reserved"
Ev’ry night, just ‘bout nine
This story does unfold
The living room is quiet
My puppy’s nose is cold
The TV plays a drama
We’re watching, all is well
In fact, my pup is sleeping
As far as I can tell
A bit of hunger hits me
The pantry in my sight
I tiptoe ‘cross the carpets
So quiet while in flight
No matter my endeavor
I turn to see a tail
Wave above the sofa
Following my trail
Before I touch the jar
He knows just what I’ll do
I’m caught, there’s no denying
“Yes, there’s some for you”
This little game, each night we play
My finger now a stub
As we have just concluded
“The Peanut Butter Club “
For my little Monte
Who just adores peanut butter
“Natural, extra chunky, of course”
I was walking on the heath near Rocky Road with Mike and Ike, we’d been pals since our college days and called ourselves The Three Musketeers. We’d just had our pay day and were off on a spending spree on 5th Avenue then going to play skittles and then go to a music gig at Mr Good Bar to hear Lemonhead and the Lifesavers and Take 5.
When we arrived at Goobers Superbowl; my first ball was a disaster! I dropped the bowling ball, oops butterfingers; performed a tootsie roll and scored zero! Mike and Ike burst out laughing - I could hear their snickers ! I called them nerds but in reality they are not air heads they are a couple of smarties! It’s such a shame I wasn’t playing last week as there was a bowling marathon and the winner was the person with the lowest skor I could have had such fun going on holiday to see the sno caps on Starburst mountain with the prize of 100 grand!
We were very hungry after bowling so decided to take 5 at whatchamacallits, which was previously the Charleston Chew diner. Their slo poke dove cocktails were the best bar none, they were absolute whoppers!. I ordered some chunky Swedish fish, spicy hot tamales and mounds of Boston baked beans and drank a filter coffee but it was milky, way too milky.
I got out my Samsung Galaxy phone to call to my uncle Henry. I joined the dots pattern on the screen to unlock the phone. He wanted to have a long chat as he’d recently retired as a jolly rancher but I told him I needed to get home to feed my cat Kit Kat. I said O Henry I’ve got to go now, and later I’ll ring you.
How sweet it is Poetry Contest sponsored by Carol Connell
9/30/18
My cat crunches her chunky canned food,
My cat crawls and creeps, curious- and shrewd;
My cat chatters and croons, so cheerful and charming,
My cat is clever and captivating, carefree- and often alarming.
My cat is so cute and chubby and likes to cuddle with me,
My cat is camping-out on my cozy couch purring on my knee !
How do you feel without me
near, my darling angel?
Please do answer me this
without lying to yourself
Does loneliness burn like acid?
Do I steal away a chunky piece of you
each time we bid goodbye?
Are you alright by your lonesome
or does a part of you die...
until you're back in my arms?
When I'm far out of sight
how intensely do you pine for me?
Do you feel strong and sturdy
like the pillars carrying the weight of a roof?
O, how do you feel without me near…
Cease the night as I endorse you,
trying not to forget the delight of
your light last night.
You shined as if you knew I was
gazing at you with intense desire.
I shall never release this passion;
I would never allow you to feel
abandoned.
For I would give you the universe,
and you would give me, well…
you-
in a perfect world.
I have been forsaken and I
sit and wonder if you feel the same.
There is no lie you could say
that could make me stay away;
no answer could you give that
could erase this vehement
fervor of emotional adoration
for you.
My darling angel, I wonder,
how do you feel without me near?
I pine intensely awaiting your
longing to appear.
Date written: September 28, 2019
I fried up a platter of chicken,
And served it fer supper last night.
The family ate all but one piece,
Which I saved for my snack tonight.
When I got to the fridge, it was empty,
What in the hell is going on???
There’s an empty carton of milk!
But my piece of chicken is gone!
Now, who stole my piece of chicken???
Someone’s got some ‘splainin’ to do!
Don’t move till I get some answers!
I think there’s a thief among you!
I wanna see everyone’s teeth!
Mama take yours outta the jar!
And Owen, for you I mean tooth.
This time, someone’s gone too far!
Last time I checked, this was my house!!
Owen, sit your chunky butt down!!!
That was MY dang piece of chicken!!
Now somebody’s runnin’ to town!
I been craving chicken all day!
Don't make me kick you out that door!!
Just get on down to the Coronal
And get me a bucket of four!
And Owen, don’t forget the biscuits!
Or your butt, I will be kickin’!
I hope you’ve learned your lesson boy!
Don’t mess with a man’s piece of chicken!!!
Fly dust is a pie must
when baking “trick or Treats”
Spider monkey, nice and chunky
also makes good eats
Effervescent woodworm whip
tops them both with ease
Serve it all for Halloween
they are sure to please
Happy Halloween everyone!!!!
CHARM SCHOOL
They found two heavy charmed quarks,
the other one, straight up for larks.
One up and two splendidly rotund,
you ain't heavy, you're a baryon.
A poised new baryon in inner space,
you’ll define and describe your place.
What flavor is there for today,
in your fleeting quick decay.
Collided winks in mass array,
a subatomic burst display.
A glimpse of lithesome spinning up,
with your two roly-poly pups.
On binary cycle mass to mass,
heavy bits just moving past.
In pas de deux the lithesome one,
sails around the chunky ton.
Your four times heavier than most,
a source of energy is not your boast.
But may the Strong Force be with thee,
as we foretell in Q C D.
We just hate what you’ve been named,
It’s greek to us and so untamed.
Called: ka-sigh-see-see-plus-plus,
I dub thee, Hippo-part-icus.
-Edlynn Nau
Written: October 7, 2017
©April 8, 2019
This was after this new unusual particle was discovered in July of 2017 and I’m just getting around to finishing it. Dedicated to the team of the LHCb experiment.
I want to drop off the end of the world
You have tied your puppet strings around me
You act as my master and I am...nothing
Do you even love me anymore?
You lie about me, and to me,
Am I not perfect enough?
My Paint chipped away.
I give up everything for you,
you want me to give up even this too,
and you give nothing in return,
nothing.
I hate you for that,
for tearing me apart,
I am chunky,
and plain,
I cant sing,
and I'm ugly,
I am useless,
and my drawing sucks,
I shouldn't write because you don't like it,
my hair is thin, my eyes are empty,
I'm crying and you don't give a damn.
You tell me these things and yet you say you love me,
Tell me, How, how is THAT love?
I'm tired, and I don't feel well,
You make up things and exaggerate,
And secretly I'm psychoanalyzing you.
So tell me love,
Why are you so insecure,
Why shouldn't I trust you -- Because your mistrust of me,
Is really what that says,
What are you doing wrong?
What are you waiting for?
To make me nothing before you leave me for one of those prettier girls?
But I say f*ck you,
I'm tired of these games,
I AM beautiful, and the world knows it.
and everything you say about me, is wrong.
Ps. Don't believe me, but the truth is,
I truly, really do love you...