Best Frumpy Poems
I was an experienced family therapist, helping families maintain functionality,
As wandering, starlit seasons maintain all nature, being rooted in practicality.
I loved preserving healthy relationships, that foundation of healthy societies;
And kept up a fruitful dialogue between the families, which relieved anxieties.
I, myself, had come from a happy home, never causing huge worries or fears,
For dear ones that I loved, never seemed to be leaving, as silvery cloud tears.
Friends dropped by like colorful fall, never failing to fetch the fondest smiles,
In the midst of a watchful, apricot noon, when rouge butterflies were in exile.
Family flew past fluffy clouds each fall, when autumn was pretty and frumpy,
Like field blossoms of windswept fragrance, elegantly disheveled and grumpy.
I lived in the house of sweet memories, and smiling faces on rose hued walls,
As rouge sun swims in roses nightly, prior to descending the precipitous falls.
Street performers were small, singing sparrows, on my swank avenue of sun;
Like a solo turns into a chorus, creating a prettier song-more elegantly done!
Nearsighted neighbors came to see me nights, and gaze at nacre pearl moon,
On the peach, peony porch of my placidness, in colors of the faded afternoon.
All were seized in summer's saffron grip, creating orange juice mist sunsets,
Like walking away, when it is best, and yet brave enough to have no regrets.
Flowers thrilled hot, apricot hours, and birdsong excited long, obsidian nights,
Cats slept on porches of ruby pansies, their short, sweet lives full of delights.
Then persistent tragedy finally struck me, when I lost a dear family member;
And while I suffered long and cried, I was comforted by smiles I remembered!
I found great solace in my work, for helping others paves the way for smiles,
Like keeping glad eyes on the summer garden, to delve its newest color files.
I found a love and was eventually married, like first tango of sun and planets;
And we and our children continue family traditions, like lofty birdsong habits.
Today, my grief is much diminished, like storm clouds fading into saffron sun,
For minds full of memories, help loving hearts heal, like rosy day just begun.
Categories:
frumpy, family, fantasy, grief, love,
Form:
Couplet
Teach and study, cook and clean
Write a poem in between
All the chores and daily life
Perfect Mom, half decent wife
Work and work and dream and dream
Scrub the tub in shower stream
Want to travel here and there
But I’m stuck and full of care
Write and write, and feel the sting
Hope tomorrow joy will bring
Gulp down well my happy pill
Looking for that awesome thrill
Hit my head against the wall
Scream in pain, then take a fall
Try to keep life going right
Need a stick of dynamite
Mundane, weary, chore filled day
Want my hips to dance and sway
Feel like I will suffocate
Every grade will get in late
Cook and cook and scream and scream
In the soup, dollop of cream
Morning light, I check my phone
Off to work, I give a groan
Frazzled, frazzled, what’s the deal?
Dazzled’s how I want to feel
Thought I looked so sexy sweet
but he wants an OVEN treat
Write a verse to keep me sane
Post a poem, deaden pain
Live a life of make believe
Passion fashion in my weave
So I read another write
P Soup’s, Yum Yum, a delight
Frumpy, Grumpy Passion Queen
Just don’t check behind the screen!!!
Eileen
I’m frustrated. I have grades to give in, a thesis to finish, a trip to plan….and I can’t be BOTHERED!!!!!!!!!! Sympathy People!!!
Categories:
frumpy, crazy, funny, sympathy,
Form:
Lyric
She’s dead they said!
She I thought. Who is she?
I stared straight down at a frumpy old thing.
On the bed, a lump, so dead.
Was that me? I asked my spirit guide.
My guide laughed; he always loves it
That it takes me a while to recognize my flesh body
Between life times.
Let’s go figure it out, he suggested.
We watched a video; my entire life as a woman.
As a she; I was still trying to get over it actually.
I was a mother and a grandmother? What was that like?
You don’t remember? He asked me.
He is amazed at my lack of long-term memory.
My short term memory is not that great either.
I do not hang on to bodies with much admiration or reverence.
We sat around watching other people’s movies.
These are your possibilities he told me.
Parent possibilities. It was all coming back to me now.
I do not want to be a girl! I told him sternly.
He laughed. Impregnating me as a boy, but the egg split.
So I came back around as a twin.
I was damned mad when I saw that the other twin was a boy.
And here I was a girl again. Some idiot doctor slapped my butt, and
I could not stop bawling!
Categories:
frumpy, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Prose Poetry
The Fifties were really and truly not all that square
Though that dullard Dwight D. sat in the Executive Chair
And his frumpy wife Mamie had really bad hair
Matching those dowdy, plain dresses she'd wear ...
While husbands toiled in obscurity for large corporations
The "Ugly Americans," reviled by most other nations
Their stay-at-home wives feeling mostly frustration
Downing "happing pills" daily instead of real medication
Their sons sporting letter sweaters, obedient jocks,
Their daughters in plaid skirts and white bobby socks
Penny loafers and saddle shoes were in for ten years
Along with white levis and coca-cola -- never rum, never beer
Yet how about Krushchev's dust-ups with Tricky Dick Nixon
What about Sputnik 1 and the panic it put us in
And remember George Wallace and old Lester Maddux
Hosing down *******, echoes of Crispus Attucks ...
The rise of brutal pro football threatened apple pie and baseball
Heralding the next decade's premiere spectator sport, i.e., 'spaceball'
Joe McCarthy dug up the dirt of a "red scare's" nitty gritty
In the work of the House un-American Activities Committee
Then there was Rosa Parks refusing to sit in the back of the bus
Championing the yearning for justice in so many of us
And the music, the music, so outrageously wild
Chuck Berry, Richie Valens, the Big Bopper -- that overgrown child
Yes, the Fifties were really and truly not all that square
Though we shan't heed the call of those who'd return us to there
Categories:
frumpy, conflict, culture, history, myth,
Form:
Rhyme
(Madame is pronounced with accent on maDAME, the French way)
Near a hole in the wall, with no qualm,
Never seen, sits a frumpy Madame.
Using lotion, she works
Giving smooth strokes and jerks
With her fabulous and renowned palm.
By Andrea Dietrich
*This is the theme of a movie I saw on cable.
Its name is Irena Palm, the name a widow takes when
she goes to work at a club in order to make enough money
to allow her grandson the surgery he needs to save his
life. It's not a *****, but her "work" is a bit erotic yet discretely
portrayed. It got high marks from the critics. My writing this
was inspired by Deborah Guzzi's Limerick Contest and now
I enter it into Skat's contest!
Check it out: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0762110/
Categories:
frumpy, dedication, workGrandson,
Form:
Limerick
My monster has a funny name,
It is Eileen; she has no shame
She tries her best to bring me down
gifts me the thorns, instead of crown
She lies awake; won't let me sleep
and into bed with me she'll creep
this monster whispers lunacy
and says I'm ugly as can be
I feel the sting of bitter lies
and tears unbidden, flood my eyes
"Your fam all have, a Ph.D
You're yet to get that fine degree.
You're plump and frumpy, overweight
This truth, my dear, I understate!!!
You want to be the poet Queen
Far better rhymes than yours I've seen!
You're scared you'll die in dead of night
the way you are, that seems 'bout right
And let me say this little truth,
don't think me mad, or mean, uncouth...
the world will be a better place
if you don't show your ugly face!
You're aging, and it's clear to me
All pruned and wrinkly you will be.
Your "beauty" will not really last,
so keep on dreaming of the past.
Now, here's the deal; I'll set you free
These pills will end your misery."
She's given trouble from the start
and though I try, she'll not depart!
She'll keep on going, till I'm dead
This monster living....in my head.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Too Late for Contest :( BOO HOO HOO
Categories:
frumpy, introspection,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Fall, she dresses down, while
winter prepares for its rest.
Summer wears her greenest gown,
but never, ever wears a frown.
Winter can get grumpy;
if awakened, he’ll spit ice;
for he is a tantrum thrower,
of quite the ugliest kind.
Fall, she is an artist;
her palette’s full of reds, browns
and golden pigments;
her work’s outdone only
by springs color wheel, so fast.
Fall is rarely grumpy
and spring so rarely frumpy.
Winter plays unfairly;
imprisons spring within its alley.
When spring escapes,
she celebrates,
with colors mighty bold;
her time is up when summer,
comes in from the biting cold.
The seasons live such finite lives;
they take their piece of life’s sweet pie.
When they’re done with all their fun,
they make way, for the next one.
Categories:
frumpy, autumn, poems, poetry, seasons,
Form:
Rhyme
Sue’s curvaceous body’s turned lumpy
Her clothes are so tight, she feels frumpy
She’s discovered the cause
It’s the darn menopause
Sue’s irritable and so grumpy!
12-19-17
Categories:
frumpy, body, for her, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
The morning paper is everywhere, the breakfast dishes, are here and there
Her feet up in the easy chair, the old man in his underwear
The phone starts ringing loud and clear, so hubby quickly disappears
When he returns, she sees a frown,…, He calmly says, “Guess who’s in town?”
“The corporate boss, not far away….I've asked them here to spend the day!”
“A little lunch would be no trouble. He’s with his wife…her name is Mable”
“You did what???? she screams. (The neighbors hear!)
"Company?? ... You say they're near?”
“Help me quick. Get off your rear!!”
"Oh dear,.... oh dear, ......oh dear) !!
"Get off your rear, you lazy man! And if you don't .....I SWEAR!"
She frets and stews and carries on….her hubby simply mutters
She runs around the messy room and stashes all the clutter
She’s acting like a headless chicken, her partner in a quandary
He watches as she runs around, hiding dirty laundry
Oh dear, they’ll need some lunch to nibble, whatever could she fix?
She finds some fruit, some crackers, cheese, a bag of party mix
Running to the bedroom, she’s gasping raves and rants
“You’ve got to get your shirt on!…For Pete’s sake, dear! Find your pants!”
“Heaven’s, we must hurry! We’ve got to make the bed!”
"Whatever you say, dear" he grumbles, and shakes his bewildered head
She discards her frumpy nightgown, powders her frantic frown
She quickly brushes hair, a dab of lipstick too
Tosses sloppy slippers, dons her pretty shoes
A knocking on the door, she pastes a cheery smile
Her unexpected company has come to stay awhile!
Breathing deep, she goes to greet them “So good of you to call!”
“What’s that.....a bother?” “ Now don’t be silly, you aren’t bothering us at all!”
She shoots a glance, a daggered lance, into her husband’s mug
He has no clue, ignores what brews…a deep, dark hole he's dug
For, once again, he’s lost his head…and says
….”Stay the night, it's quite all right, we have an extra bed!!”
She fakes a smile, and says "OF course!!".........
(but tomorrow he’ll be DEAD!!!)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Categories:
frumpy, angst, funny, husband, wife,
Form:
Rhyme
I wake early- even before the birds,
my nightgown is thread-bare, all a tatter;
when I try to talk, I just lose my words,
my mirror reveals a frumpy oldster.
Oh, that is not me- I am beautiful,
just a silly optical illusion;
this old mirror is quite unsuitable,
a figment of my imagination.
There is an old lady in front of me,
she is ancient, white-haired and crumbling;
wait, maybe that is me- wish I could see,
oh, she is back that sweet girl summoning.
Do come sweet girl- lets go for breakfast,
now where is my lipstick and pearl necklace?
_______________________
August 26, 2016
Poetry/Sonnet/"Crazy Old Lady
Copyright Protected, ID 16-823-455-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Which Of The Four
sponsor, Sara Kendrick
Theme - old age
Seventh Place
Categories:
frumpy, age, old,
Form:
Sonnet
NO FUN IN THE SUN
Ocean
notion !
Swimsuit
pursuit
Beach wear
despair !
Avail
a sale
Appraise
the maze
Undress
distress
Critique'
is bleak
Frumpy
bumpy
Designed
maligned
Too small
too tall
Too slim
Too grim
Belly
jelly
Suppress
excess
Behind
unkind
From rear
Some tears
The thighs
the sighs
Brutal
futile!!
Buy none
Bye fun !!
No sun
No fun !!
Beached whale
Bleached, pale !! :(
_______________________________
6/8/15 For Five Fabulous Footles Contest
Sponsored by Jan Allison
Categories:
frumpy, beach, clothes, funny,
Form:
Footle
I have new boobs, AKA ' belly boobs 'if you will
Diseased ones whacked off, belly fat fill the void
Would really rather have had hemorrhoids
But that wasn't my reality, no triviality
for sure
Got a great deal though
Two for one, cancer gone and tummy tuck
Found the best plastic surgeon by luck
actually he found me
Post op, proud surgeon praised his work
They look amazing, I did a great job
You could wear a bikini with that tummy so tiny
Ahh---no
You would think if you had a belly ache it would be in your boobs
but it's not
You could get stabbed with a pencil or get drawn on with stencils
But at least something is there to give some shape
An absolute TEN I would rate
They're kinda lumpy and bumpy
but help me not look too frumpy or dumpy
in my clothes
No more ultrasounds or thoughts abound
of careless cells placing one in peril
Or biopsies or missed diagnoses
Leading to destruction then autopsy
Disease free--YIPPEE !!
Categories:
frumpy, cancer, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
Freddy Farkle, fumbling forecaster for Forestville,
friggin' fudged Friday forecast....fair?!
first florid felicitous, falling flurries followed,
froze flowers, foiled!
faraway farmhouse, furrowing farmland,
frigid fanny, furious, frustrated,
frumpy, frazzled!
furry forest friends furnished flannel frock,
finding Freddy's fails funny, frivolity,
fortunately frequent fallible forecasts
found Freddy flying faraway,
fallaciously forecasting for fermented folks!
Categories:
frumpy, 6th grade, 7th grade,
Form:
Alliteration
Sue reclined on the bed in the buff
Her hubby said ‘phowar you’re hot stuff’
She sobbed at the true cause
It’s the darn menopause
Then shouted cos she’s had enough
She awakes drenched in a hot sweat
Her bedding is all soaking wet
Each day Sue’s so grumpy
Feels fat and so frumpy
She’s tearful and gets so upset
Her hubby said ‘don’t worry dear’
Things are not as bad as you fear
The result of your ills
Means reduced heating bills
We’ll travel to Iceland this year!
8/25/18
Categories:
frumpy, age, body, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
We were worms all of us
Not quite the food of hawks or eagles
Burried in crunchy crust
I was the one that walked the beagles
Fed the cat
Washed the mat
And made all the toilets smile
I was the one happy with the chance to toil
We we worms all of us
From Europe all over
Our bodies sang in chorus
Peeling the apple for hunger
We wriggled to the core
Bit hard seeds in search of hope
Dream drunk and very poor
New York was big enough for scope
Of everything, except this
The cold and frumpy mist.
And deep in the heart of it, I heard
The cry of the predator bird
Categories:
frumpy, black african american, history,
Form:
Rhyme