Best Hefty Poems
Poor Peter Pumpkin had a very itty bitty head.
So the farmer made him stay inside the garden bed.
The farmer said that he was going to keep him warm with hay.
And there the itty bitty pumpkin stayed for many a day.
Finally, the farmer came to check upon poor Peter,
measured him and then exclaimed, “You’ve grown an extra meter!
I think it’s time for you to finally go and face the world.”
Peter got up from his bed. He twirled and twirled and twirled!
“My,” the farmer shouted, “You’ve grown two legs with feet!
You’re a special pumpkin. My daughters you must meet!”
Poor Peter heaved his hefty bulk, waddling away,
following behind the farmer so he would not stray.
They traveled rather quickly, and soon they reached the house.
The daughters saw the pumpkin and grew quiet as a mouse.
The silence lasted just until at last one daughter spoke,
“A pumpkin with two legs? Is this some kind of joke?”
Her father knelt beside her and whispered in her ear,
“Do not be afraid, my child. You’ve not a thing to fear.
We can carve a lantern. It will be your Halloween treat.
Then we can make lots of pumpkin pies for us to eat."
Peter trembled with a chill to hear their horrid plan.
Jumping out the door, he yelled, “Catch me if you can!”
He ran into the pastures. Then he tumbled down a hill.
As he rolled he bumped into the couple, Jack and Jill!
“Oh dear me,” cried Peter, “I do not wish to be
a lantern for this Halloween. Please, can you guys help me!”
Jack and Jill then led him to the land of Nursery Rhymes.
His sad fate has now been told to children many times.
For he ran across a man named Peter Pumpkin EATER.
Maybe you can guess now what became of our poor Peter!
10~12~14
Contest: Halloween Co-Writes
Sponsor: Diane Locksley
Written By Jan Allison & Andrea Dietrich
~awarded 1st place~
Categories:
hefty, fantasy, halloween, humorous,
Form:
Couplet
In visions of yesteryear where there was love
Nothing but despair on the faces of hope
And shattered remains of a romantic fairytale
Whose happy ending has been snatched away
Yet, I grind sand-grains hoping to make water
Counting blindly on the blessings of a miracle
Knowing well indeed it's a futile effort
Like looking for sun when the night has fallen
Mystique is still there much like it was then
But happy tears have been doomed by sadness
And the memories are demanding a hefty price
Making it much harder and expensive to cry
The rhythm I hear is the pulse of your song
When words were precious like diamonds are
But they are free now for no one responds
When I call you by name in voices of the past
It's been so long since you've been gone
Smiles that were friendly now wear a frown
Until I fantasize about the days full of awe
Holding back the time to hold you in my heart
But if you must go, I feel the need to know
Do you ever look back, do you say hello
To the years that used to be music to our souls
And sit there to dream and wish there was more
Written: May 17, 2019
Submitted on January 5, 2023 to:
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 24 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Poem of the day on May 19, 2019
Placed 2nd: Your choice (6) contest by Brian Strand
Placed 2nd: Musical Inspiration Poetry Contest by Joseph May
Song: Holding Back the Years
Categories:
hefty, lost love, sensual,
Form:
Verse
Poor Peter Pumpkin had a very itty bitty head.
So the farmer made him stay inside the garden bed.
The farmer said that he was going to keep him warm with hay.
And there the itty bitty pumpkin stayed for many a day.
Finally, the farmer came to check upon poor Peter,
measured him and then exclaimed, “You’ve grown an extra meter!
I think it’s time for you to finally go face the world.”
Peter got up from his bed. He twirled and twirled and twirled!
“Oh my,” the farmer shouted, “You’ve grown two legs with feet!
You’re a special pumpkin. My daughters you must meet!”
Poor Peter heaved his hefty bulk, waddling away,
following behind the farmer so he would not stray.
They traveled rather quickly, and soon they reached the house.
The daughters saw the pumpkin and grew quiet as a mouse.
The silence lasted just until at last one daughter spoke,
“A pumpkin with two legs? Is this some kind of joke?”
Her father knelt beside her and whispered in her ear,
“Do not be afraid, my child. You’ve not a thing to fear.
We can carve a lantern. It will be your Halloween treat.
Then we can make lots of pumpkin pies for us to eat.
Peter trembled and grew chill to hear their horrid plan.
Jumping out the door, he yelled, “Catch me if you can!”
He ran into the pastures. Then he tumbled down a hill.
As he rolled he bumped into the couple, Jack and Jill!
“Oh dear me,” cried Peter, “I do not wish to be
a lantern for this Halloween. Please, can you both help me!”
Jack and Jill then led him to the land of Nursery Rhymes.
His sad fate has now been told to children many times.
For he ran across a guy named Peter Pumpkin EATER.
Maybe you can guess now what became of our poor Peter!
Written by Andrea Dietrich and Jan Allison, for the
Halloween Co-Writes Poetry Contest of Diane Locksley
Categories:
hefty, fantasy, funny, holiday,
Form:
Couplet
Lovingly Dedicated to My Closest Friend, My Mother
My loving friend can caress cares away.
With simple gestures meant to pleasure sway,
She turns my smile upright and firms its stay.
Such kindness meets my same, I do oft pray.
As balm she soothes incurred hurt, ache and pain.
Together, life’s rude battles lose their strain
As handled by our combined wit and brain.
I hope her loving light will never wane.
She matters so much to my fragile heart
That I view her as my dear counterpart.
We sometimes separate, but never part.
I love her laughter, value her brain-smart.
We grow and change like season’s nature hues.
With candor we explore life’s many clues,
And, God knows, we both paid quite hefty dues.
As precious gift, our friendship joys accrue.
What she may need, I pray to aptly grant.
What dims her joy, I strive to best supplant.
What hurts her feelings, I seek to decant.
What her heart wants, becomes my own heart’s chant.
Categories:
hefty, friendship,
Form:
Rhyme
Tiny boardwalk along the Halifax River
Waiting to see what “catch” nature will deliver
Royal Palms’ fronds rustle in fall’s gentle breeze
No noisy distractions from teens on their jet skis
Cute baby seagull swims above my fishing line
Unlike a pet, this bird doesn’t bark, bite or whine
He knows me well and I can tell he wants to eat
So I toss bait and he bobs his head for the treat
Yet he lingers, craving a flounder or redfish
You see, my companion and I have the same wish
Quick tug at my line; what prize might lie below?
A hefty blue crab emerges as my cargo
With claws and feathers interacting, I’m amused
But break up the fight so no animal’s abused
Such friends make life better for one who lives alone
In a pandemic when isolation’s seeds are thrown
Fishermen appreciate little rays of hope
That grant a smile and make it easier to cope
August 15, 2020
For Silent One’s “Sanctuary” poetry contest
Categories:
hefty, bird, fishing, nature,
Form:
Couplet
When I think of what to write
often the ocean comes to mind
Endless sea of pretty blue
and stretched out horizon lines,
impossibly flat
Yet when I actually arrive
it isn't the sea that my eyes
take a liking too
Rather it's just below the waves
my mind does go...
...to the little trinkets
beside my toes
Fossils of sea creatures,
alive one - and now, even in death -
you can see the beauty of their features
Seashells of every shape and hue
(even if they're familiar,
somehow they're always new)
Some are inky black or cobalt blue,
creamy whites and nutty browns
(pretty oranges, too!)
Some are hefty like a throwing stone,
others quite miniscule,
blending in with the sand
Some are fragile -breaking easier
than the waves-
others are like a hardened sunrise
Their well defined rays,
my fingers always finds themselves,
unbidden as an eye-blink
(as unthinking as a smile)
I like the clanky sound they make
when lightly shook in a mason jar
I shake them like dice in cupped hands
(loaded, in my case...
I don't gamble with a good time)
Yeah, when it comes to the beach
I'm like a kid at a candy store
My treats aren't in bins,
but glisten on the sandy shore
I scoop them in my hands,
still wet with the sea
Stick them in my pockets,
if the case need be
(and you know it always does
if I'm being honest)
Where it gets me, I don't know,
but, please,
just one more keepsake!
(this simple joy I try to harness)
I pick up a second then a third
while still admiring the first
A dozen or two, is only of mild concern
(a wagon-full is even worse)
Yes
It is an obsession through and through
I could be just as happy with one
as with a thousand
(maybe happiness isn't something
you can attach a number too)
And I don't know why I do it,
treasure to me (but not for thee)
And even rarity isn't an excuse
You can pick them up by the shovel,
they aren't difficult to find
You can count a hundred alone
within arms reach
(maybe joy doesn't have to be rare,
but can be as common as clouds...
maybe it's not something "out there",
but somewhere near,
even to the ground)
Near as an object
lying beside your feet
Near as a thought that came to you...
...while walking on the beach
Categories:
hefty, appreciation, beach, beauty, happiness,
Form:
Free verse
The day is done. Travel dispersed, no more roaming.
Between dusk and sunset, it’s the gloaming.
I settle to watch, inspired by that instant moment,
When day gives over to night a regal bestowment.
Lights begin to shimmer, as we near twilight.
Across the horizon created a radiant glow so bright.
This magical moment captured with a deep ruby hue.
Detailing an exquisite hefty crimson etched in view.
Streams of color blend seamlessly in swirls of delight.
Heavily embossed across the faded sky, birds in flight.
Sunset’s glowing color of crimson and gold,
As night’s velvety blanket begins to unfold.
Whispers of a breeze wafting gently, flickers a scent.
Evokes aromatic bursts, sensual yet earthy by intent.
With a sweetness, and a warm tranquil overtone.
I am nestled snugly, captivated by joy I've never known.
Capturing my imagination of a candle in glorious blaze,
My breath extinguishing it to create the dark night haze.
Categories:
hefty, sunset,
Form:
Rhyme
Write !
Some madness banter of insanity
is pulling at my thoughts
spilling effulgent
in giant verbs and huge marching nouns
collecting snippets as it walks
stomping on flowers
and mushing liquid the paints of images
swirls captivated
with great toed boots
I can hear it coming
a hefty heavy steady stamp
and I am almost afraid that it might rack me
hit me hard
and demand some elucidated expression from me
I would shudder
but excitement won't let me
Instead it sets me to a creaking ball points
and tiny alphabets that strain my eyes
while spelling out its diffident request
Write it says
Write, while some half cold sickness grip my stomach
and I wretch on grammar
and thus the great feathers quill
dips in the ink of my soul
and so ineptly scribbles epilepsy
explanation, image, wordage, spillage of sensory lobotomy
partridge in a god-damn pear tree
Curl about my finger
and reek havoc through those dictionary brain cells
yer! smash them brain cells
mush, mash and squeeze the last drip
find expression in the gooey lumps that are left
WRITE ! god dam it !
Be succinct, be poetic
surpassing idiom and useless language
for Christ sake just WRITE it !
Pilloried on my own sheets of paper
by my own pen
because it never catches enough
as it twist this origami of words
i-n-t-o s-o-m-e-t-h-i-n-g
I want to express
I need
I want
To etch with you
A moment of perfection
I need your voices
I need to hear you sing my poets
I need these scratching and scathing claws
and I need your delicate dance
I need something to end this misery
and I need this piquant
this ever enlightened soul search of words
to wrap up this bundle of love
And toss me nonchalant into eternity
Lest some madness of bantered insanity
Takes hold of me
Categories:
hefty, on writing and wordsme,
Form:
Free verse
Night rewrites day, transforms the blues
with ink-wash, urges me to forget
grapples, tasks, drudgery,
hard surfaces and hardened people as all things
soften, lighten, blur— even gravity pulls less
as if the world’s core has pardoned the hefty afternoon.
Sheets pouch this body, pillows
accept every sigh. Sleep is a leave-taking,
a poetic restoration of sense and mindfulness.
Faultless, this need to submit, this appeal to let go. Just let it go.
Categories:
hefty, moving on, peace, sleep,
Form:
Free verse
The airy mountain, lush and green, they call home
Perched on shaky rock, the waters beneath swash and foam
Goats graze, cattle feed, fields of corn and wheat they comb
Stored in the belly of the hefty hill
The harvest, food for all, food to fill
Spring is here, they forget the winter chill
Swimming in the mountain stream, singing of selfish praise
Not a worried eye to be seen, to the sky a glass they raise
Foolish people dance and scream, their minds muddled, their hearts ablaze
Through the earthen caverns they wander
Wealth and fortune they do squander
They do not think, they do not ponder
What a waste these people brought
No knowledge gained, no answers sought
Squabbles grow more and more, 'ore the land they fought
Blood spilled, turning the mountain red
The rocks toppled, the peak lost its head
Waste away they do, no stopping 'till they're dead.
Categories:
hefty, america, analogy, fate,
Form:
tristich
Written: March 31st, 2025, for contest, Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
************
After basking in yesterday's afterglow,
I divested my vestments
to shift in cognitive mindset.
I stroll toward the horizon.
where the azure sky
embraces the vast sea blue.
Waves dance.
With silvered clouds,
Creating an orchestra
The wind and light are present.
Sallow shadows scintillate.
In Moonlight Melodies...
As dusk settles,
casting a shimmering awe that echoes of
The splendor of the galaxies abounds.
In every breath,
A promise resonates,
to the dawn
that dwells within me.
Gliding on golden wings
a sovereign among the kings
As light swirls beneath the Milky Way,
The cosmos shines brilliantly.
In a pearly gown.
Angels slide,
Unleashing their power
to restore their lost throne.
With flickering wings,
Wield the sword of stone
their footsteps inscribe
a path of golden light,
As they conquer the onyx depths
of an obsidian night.
Loving blasts their souls.
angel wings shake in sadness,
where grief and despair are hefty,
seeking an aerial citrine nirvana
I recall it sharply,
as if it were yesterday,
Tears mar the silky pillows.
as honeysuckle
It oozes from eager lips. —
There is a longing for satisfaction.
Lipstick etches its mark.
He left an imprint on his bare skin.
Even now, those intertwined chains
of Memory ensnares me.,
As well-oiled fingers traverse
the curves of the sensuous body,
ordinary yet glowing in the sunlight,
filled with a relentless passion.
Nervous tension shattered,
striking, akin to a diamond on ebony velvet.
As her body warmed and became silky,
Her lips melted and tasted delicious.
They expressed love ardently.
and hugged fervently.
swept up in passion and longing,
wishing the moment might last forever,
cocooned in each other's arms,
and felt blissfully pleased,
Polishing words into gems,
dusted garnet, with sunset slips
In citrine clouds cast
There was a ray of magenta skies.
I wish for unending delight.
and utter bliss in the afterglow.
Categories:
hefty, analogy, beauty,
Form:
Free verse
Anger is an alarm to the inner beast,
With clenched fists and teeth,
Slowly drawing hefty breaths,
Biting into words and stamping the floor beneath
He’s deformed and blind, thoughtless and irrational,
How do you tame him? Food, shower or electric shock?
How do you stop him from breaking knuckles and clocks ? Lock
Him in isolation, hug and whisper few kind words or joke
About how he is green and ugly and rabid like a Biting dog,
He struggles to drive off the buzz in his ears and
shake away the bugs throbbing his temporal veins,
Agonized , he looks for anything sharp and painful,
All he finds is a pencil with a broken lead.
He scribbles a note in disgust, spilling a few tears and bleeds
His heart out on paper .
Then he succumbs to the only drug that can cure,
No more beastly silhouettes can be seen,
Neither the satanic screams nor the blood shot eyes,
As harmless as can be written,
When he sleeps, he’s soft as a kitten.
Categories:
hefty, anger, angst,
Form:
Free verse
“Capturing my imagination of a candle in glorious blaze,
My breath extinguishing it to get ready for the dark night haze.” The Poet
Sunset’s glowing color of crimson and gold is in sight,
I settle to watch, inspired by an instant moment, so true.
As lights begin to shimmer, it is now twilight.
Across the horizon created a radiant glow so bright.
This magical moment captured with a deep ruby hue.
Sunset’s glowing color of crimson and gold is in sight,
Streams of color blend seamlessly in swirls of delight.
Detailing an exquisite hefty crimson etched in view.
As lights begin to shimmer, it is now twilight.
Heavily embossed across the faded sky, birds in flight.
I gaze as the sky bids farewell to the last glimpse of blue.
Sunset’s glowing color of crimson and gold is in sight.
A sweetness of warmth, a tranquil overtone so light,
As the velvety blanket of night begins to unfold so new,
As lights begin to shimmer, it is now twilight.
Whispers of a breeze wafting gently, it flickers a perfume too.
Evokes aromatic bursts, sensual yet earthy right through.
Sunset’s glowing color of crimson and gold is in sight,
As lights begin to shimmer, it is now twilight.
Categories:
hefty, night,
Form:
Villanelle
Row by row for miles it seems
perfectly aligned, the white stones rise
Stoic symbols of brave men and women
a sight that brings tears to our eyes
In irony, a bald eagle rests
atop a single grave marker
He seems to know that each life snuffed
leaves our world a bit darker
Changing of the guard
at the tomb of an unknown warrior
Precise, rigid, respectful
performed with utmost honor
Who's buried there?
Fathers, husbands, even wives
This tomb represents all lost in action
as they gave their lives
On the far side of Arlington
an eternal flame is still aglow
For an assassinated president
JFK - another war hero
You cannot visit the cemetery
without shedding tears
For the noble and brave young soldiers
whose sacrifices secured our years
Yes, years, decades, centuries
of feeling safe on U.S. shores
Came with the hefty price
countless casualties of wars
As sunset darkens their resting place
let’s raise our eyes to the sky
Praying our troops return safely
and, in peace, the eagle will fly
July 12, 2014
*Dedicated to all of the men and women who have preserved our freedom.
Categories:
hefty, military, patriotic,
Form:
Rhyme
From glaucoma to chemotherapy
Medical marijuana has its place
But you won’t find any prescribed
In the conservative Sunshine State
Chris couldn’t eat while under treatment
Watched him lose one-hundred pounds
He had no access to an appetite stimulant
His weight was 85 when laid in the ground
Hefty Jen had lived a life of kindness
Taught spiritually uplifting courses
She suffered when chemo raced through her system
Until people said, “How beautifully slim her corpse is.”
When Dad’s glaucoma grew severe
He relied only on eye drops that made him tear
His gift of sight was taken slowly
Though THC might have helped his eyes clear
And when I first wrestled with ulcerative colitis
A college friend brought me a joint, said, “Try it”
Less than an hour later I was eating without pain
But laws are clear, Florida doctors can’t prescribe it
Research has proved there are benefits
Only medical marijuana use can provide
But those who worry about drug abuse
Say those who could benefit should be denied
Each day in the headlines we read of drunk drivers
Mostly teens who seek access through friends
And if they want marijuana, they find a way to get it
But for those who abide by laws, agony never ends
If smoking pot or ingesting a tablet of THC
Can help a person who is suffering great pain
Don’t you think the time has come
To ask prohibitionists to explain
Why people who are hurting needlessly
Cannot have access to any remedy
That soothes their aches, improves their last days
Diminishing the symptoms of their tragedy
Categories:
hefty, healthpeople, people, drug,
Form:
Quatrain