Best Fillers Poems
Age gracefully…that’s what I’ll do
Going to ignore the lines, how about you?
Inner beauty is what really counts
I happen to love my drooping mounts
Absolutely no Botox or fillers for me
Another varicose vein, Yipee
I’ll learn to love myself, no matter what
I will forever have my untucked gut
Graceful and elegant, that’s what I am
I will tell those cosmetic companies to scram
Lip plumping or lipo…no darn way!
And as for my hair…I will let it go gray
Facelifts are for the weak, you know
I happen to adore the feet of the crow
I’ll snub my reflection, chuckling a little at me…
For shunning pricey moisturizers provides me with glee
I don’t need any convertible or flashy car
My beauty shines really brightly, from afar
Who cares about the rolls, seeming to multiply each day?
No staples for me, I don’t care what I weigh
Dark circles make my eyes look cute
And those saddlebags are really a hoot
Juvederm and Radiance ….what a waste
On this mug, parentheses DO have a place
Lasik-I sincerely think not
That bifocal look is certainly hot
A new boytoy-There will be none of that
Though I’m sure he’d dig my charming back fat
The bell, oh no, I don’t mean to be crass
I guess I dozed off in Algebra Class
I must have been close to 40 in that frightful dream
And I was just about to let off a really loud scream
Nevertheless, my dear friends, I do so solemnly vow
To go off and age gracefully…at least for now
That's right...no need for the third degree
I promise to not get my first brow lift…until I’m at least 23
She was an aspiring starlet, a real cutie patootie
Folks were in awe of her natural beauty
She wanted to be a great Hollywood star
But she’s taken the surgery much too far
Her teeth have been fixed for a dazzling smile
They are unnaturally white now they stand out a mile
The Botox she had was to smooth her pale skin
But she can’t move a muscle much to her chagrin!
Her eyebrow lift gives her a startled expression
The desire for perfection has become an obsession!
She’s had Botox on wrinkles and fillers on lips
Liposuction drained 2 pints of gunk from her hips
In trying to obtain that perfect pink pout
Its gone terribly wrong she now looks like a trout!
Her breasts are augmented and they look quite obscene
Like over inflated footballs seen in a top shelf magazine
These two huge ‘flotation tanks’ are silicon filled
They are lumpy and hard but her boyfriend is thrilled!
But how did she pay for surgery which was so drastic...
She opened her purse and put it on the plastic!!
Date:05 11 17
Contest Name:Make me actually LOL 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Excuse me Miss
I have no intention of harming your shade,
But the seat you left vacant for me is rather
absent.
Absent of roses I could finally romance into
smelling, absent of yin that could relax urges that
might present a stroke 70 summers later.
For some esoteric reason, this seat you’ve
manipulated into occupying until tomorrow’s
departure seems stable;
It has no opposition in waiting.
So please Miss, introduce your window seat to
me ever so kindly.
You see the seat you offered in due time, does
not welcome smiles. It’s cold, unfulfilling skin leaves
me cautious; the torn fabric has failed my thoughts
of safely time and time again.
Hope won’t join my travels while married to this seat.
I’m left contemplating questions of whether this
is my sedentary companion for the next 100 years?
But what is perhaps defined from amazing, is the
glimpse you hold dominant in this seat.
You’ve’ held this arrogant glow upon the leather,
with no remorse for the penniless seat fillers.
The carelessness of sight unvisited through the
multitude of generations is the lowest insult one
can fathom; with no refund offered as of yet.
Miss, the window seat, please.
You see, beyond the significant glory the seat
would offer,
There is a silence of worries I wish to court,
An everlasting view from peaceful quarters, that
never warrants a superficial return.
Specs without representation could meet their
potential among the tranquil armchair.
That is why my passions advance today; for there
is a retreat looming.
Miss I believe this is your exit.
Remember change pauses for nobody’s unanswered
why. The knowing is what you will reap later.
Farewell, descending one.
Covering your face with strokes of color and gold/, but as Hatshepsut your inside is dead, cold/
Likes or dislikes thats all that pops up/, yeah your soul disappeared, went cloud up/
Contouring overdone, below a crop top there is an illusion of abs/, not a sight of slack/, just to get some more egoboosting feedback/ and some more ads/
Obsessive fullness to creat that perfect look/, defections all fixed, viewers conclusion, yeah a milliondollar look/, everything done just to keep them followers hooked/
Meaningless ink confirms that you are one of the many copies in this gallery/ seductive nudity to provide for what you call a salary/
Like an addict/ you possess an unpleasant habit/, you use needles to poke a flat empty space out, just to get some more views at it/
Yeah instead of woman up/, you fillers up/, being so fake that you are getting true at it/
In a 6 inch cell case your life is locked/, charged with only a lense of glass, shouts out, blocked/
Constant tapping will crack that screen, your protection/, leaving your storebought curves slowly oxidizing, no more public acception/
Soon too post for the present, forgotten, as your time has lined out/, yeah this exhibition is over and you're out/
Not so many years ago
I revelled in rebellion,
Derided seniors
In sportsmobiles,
Comfortable bellies on
Wheels. Waistcoat
Fillers. Surreptitious
Pint spillers.
But now I sit and scoff
At youth and all its
Awkward agonising
Over lack of truth.
Merrily I mow the lawn
And curse because I
Can't get my wellies on.
And my wife orders me
To buy a larger pair.
And I cry 'No!' and
She groans and I ignore
Her as I turn the telly on
And I revel in my rebellion.
Here marks the age
Of evolution in reverse
Though finally escaping
The clutches of the church
The craze of social media
Has us on our knees
With the touch of a thumb
We’ve acquired all our needs
We need not for hunting
Exploring or chasing
We swipe and we like
For instant gratification
Needles mask our wrinkles
Pills hide our pain
Botox and fillers
Soon we’ll all look the same
Human connection
Replaced with technology
Materialistically rich
Spiritually in poverty
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun.
Her skin's mahogany, not regal white.
She slaps on paints and fillers by the ton,
and has the dress sense of an anchorite.
Fastidious? Only in her brand of beer.
Brash burger joints are where she likes to dine.
She'd rather look at Fonzie than Vermeer:
thinks maybe vampires dwell in Wittgenstein.
It's Oprah Winfrey over Orson Welles,
and Justin Bieber beats Thelonius Monk:
she'll read "Hello!" before the Book of Kells,
and Chateau Margaux's just for getting drunk.
A fiery, funny, perky popinjay?
I wouldn't have her any other way.
PICturesque !!..
What is a painting!
if not priceless beauty
granting transportation
to dreamy zones
Pondering the amazing talents
Brush, hand and artist
A long sigh
awareness of feet floating
as he stands
relaxed in-front
this captivating piece
Genuine handiwork
What is a photo!
if not a
fond memory
Pocket-sized purse fillers or
easily viewed
framed mantle-piece treasures
Colour the favoured selection
flourishing vivid detail
Some classic black & white
still illustrated
and so fortunately
appreciated
Naturally PICturesque!!.. ^__^
He was a lonely person.
With so many words he
Can't fathom into sentences.
He would sigh and lay
His head down. So many
Words scream and shove all
Competing for a chance
To be on paper. Waterfalls
Of letters crush out darkness that
Pleads "Write Me". Vines of
Complicated words tango with
Useless 'fillers'.
Haikus battle with sonnets,
Crashing against mountain of
Free verse. Winged poems like
Guardian angels thrash against
The dead hands of past poems.
Casting them back to where they belong.
Forgotten,
Against the whiteness of paper.
You will have many gaffes through your life
Some would make you so embarrassed
That you thought you would hide
But you live and learn
You cannot help but making mistakes
As it is part of the process of being developed
You will go through one after another
And you think “will it ever end”
But laugh and gather yourself
Life is one big puzzle
With many pieces that are full of pictures
But many are the fillers
Those, my friends, are your blunders
Social mistakes, GAFFES
So cheer up
Pull yourself out of the wrapper
And face the world
After all, it wouldn’t be fun if you are perfect all the time
We want to make sure you are human
So there
Go on
Make mistakes
And err
But don’t forget to learn
And tell about it
Won’t you?
Repristination: to restore to an original state
A humble home of yore
Caught the flames ablaze,
Burned down to ash-floor
Razed to a smoky haze.
Only if we could
Line up the pillars
Renew the floorings
And set up new fillers,
We could dust the cinders
Paint the charred walls
Hang tapestries of trust
Place daisies in the halls,
Foundation of love and lenience
Rebuilt on cleaned ground
As it once was before
With felicity roaming around.
In such wise, we could regain
The seats on veranda at gloam,
Look at the dying embers in sky
And restore the pristine home.
20th March 2023
Pick-A-Title Vol.35 Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
When I get ahead i feel fine,
But somethings there to drag me back,
Kicking and screaming i try to resist
"I was so close this time."
No matter what it is i cant win this race,
The lead will be huge, but it will find me,
Grab me and pull me down.
"Almost this time."
My head will be in the clouds,
My eyes full of sunlight,
But then a storm appears and makes me retreat
"Next time will be the one"
Im patient this time, I wait for an opening,
I See it, and no wrongs,
It looks good, its clear!, Yes!
but then where i least expect it im hit,
I didnt bother to think about that side,
It found me and drags me under
"Not again. No!,"
Now i give up hope thinking theres no way for me to escape this horrid torment and
depression, that theres truely no light at the end of this tunnel of my soul.
But I see this light now, brighter then ever before and its closer, but im to afraid to move.
Too scared to make a run for it, to frightend to even try to escape this hell ive been dweling
in for years. I call for it, i scream in anguish and pain but it stays still, I must make the move
now it. but i cant, I want to but I have lived and I have learned from past mistakes. The
words "Trust" and "Love" are just page fillers to me now.
So I think and calculate my chances, I sprint toward it but im sure the outcome, because this
is happening now, at this moment. I hope, I pray for the best but my past shows no
asurence that i will succeed. Im in motion now and I hope ill make it outside this time.
Christmas is snow on the ground.
Kids going down a hill in a sled.
Sometimes falling and hitting their head.
Going inside and sitting next to a nice fire.
Or getting a nice cup of hot cocoa.
Sitting under a tree are a bunch of presents.
From stocking fillers as small as a card.
To giant boxes that could be anything you can imagine.
Thinking about what could possibly be in each box.
This is what I think about christmas.
My soul hears the cries of a child,
its tears, tethered to the whims of fate.
Children shackled to poverty,
without a future, and bereft of love;
struggle to survive in a world of plenty.
And we exploit their plight,
pretending to care, if they live or die;
by sponsoring phony, profitable charities.
But the fact is, we care little for them;
they're mere propaganda fillers for political news.
We go to church, bend our knees, and pray
to God to forgive our sins.
But we believe we've found a loophole in
God's unconditional love;
how can He fault us for using our free will?
But God commanded us to love our neighbor;
that choice was never left to us.
Humans are hypocrites and charlatans;
who claim to be compassionate beings.
For we allow hungry children to starve to death,
without feeling any remorse or guilt.
We view their world as somehow make-believe,
convincing ourselves their suffering can't be real.
Love is tragic
With a harmful feeling
Of intense pain
Never fading
love is numb
With no feelings
Love is sorrow
With a broken heart
Shattered to pieces
Then torn apart
Love is blue
With no repairs
Love is misery
With constant company
So completly alone
Consumed by loneliness
Love is empty
With no fillers
Love is saddness
With a weeping soul
Inside crying always
Endless tear drops
Love is falling
With no tissues
Love is harmful
With a throbing pain
So distracting
So hurtful
Love is aching
With no soothers
Love is worthless
Love is pointless
Love is meaningless
Love is nothing
Love is love
With no happy endings