Best Paunch Poems
Writing anything political can throw fuel on a fire,
but these Limericks are not meant to ignite anyone.
Just a bit of humor in my opinion. Yes, we all have one.
A Musk rat and a vengeful dog
Both wantin' to be called Boss Hogg
In a rocket they'll launch
The critter with a paunch
Always croaking like a bullfrog
Trump wrote a poem about the day
A verse about those who will pay
For insubordination
He'll demand castration
Through vengeance, he will get his way
Took them all to the launching pad
The rat, the dog, Fat Kim and Vlad
Cast them into deep space
Earth will be a safer place
When it's saved from those who are madddd
Kim Jong Un asked to be on board
It was a seat he could afford
"Take Putin for the ride"
Trump wants him at his side
Into space and beyond they soared
The real 'rocket man,' evil Kim
Thinks the world should belong to him
Trump and Vlad lost in space
Lil Pudge will take their place
And King will be his pseudonym
My little grandson is sincere.
He tells of me: “Grandpa stinks!”;
He tells of me; “Grandpa’s belly is big!”;
“He looks like Santa Claus with his paunch!”;
“And stinks too, he smells bad!”.
So, since he is sincere, I have no choice.
As a flower, I am the huge Rafflesia,
The largest flower in the world,
Which stinks too of rotten fish,
Nauseating and large as me!
But Rafflesia is beautiful to see!
Rafflesia Arnoldii
A rare, parasitic, rootless and leafless plant, Rafflesia arnoldii has the largest known flower in the world.
DISGUSTING COMMERCIAL
As one gets older things begin to sag
Belly hangs over, energy lags
Better take thought for your health old man
Heed this add, start our diet plan
Oh, there’s fat-free, sugar-free, freedom from gas
Beach ball bloating a thing of the past
Darlene B,, bikini beauty, she lost fifty
From obese to trim now aint that nifty
I tell ya, gordo, though you may resist
Fifty off that paunch will never be missed
If going cold turkey has failed in the past
Cash on the line will save you at last
Our plan now comes with money back guarantee
So what if you pig out – go on a spree
Nothing’s lost but your self esteem
After the orgy macho bod only a dream?
No! Shovel in the junk food one last time
Then start life over, call up Trim Line
Dave Austin
The grumpy principal athwart the class
is walloping the learner ad infinitum
with his computer cable,
and screeching his lungs out
his wrath and his tranquilities;
he says she’s late for school yet again.
Madly she pulls across the desks;
pleads for pity in pigsty floors,
whilst he despite his heavy paunch
chases and corners her.
He whips and whips the weeping non-plussed
girl till the cable slips in his hand. Her tears are
like explosion of waterfall in her cheeks and her pain
still so fresh:
He picks it up and pursues the poor girl
who endeavours to escape from him. She
jumps and climbs atop the desks on her way
to the classroom door but quickly plummets to
the floor to receiving another angry wallop.
As hard as he can he strikes the poor girl till his
hairless bald is dripping wet with sweat. The
learner’s heart is a watershed of fear words
can’t even describe. His visage is sadistic and
turns into something I never liked or loved…
Well, it is over now and the poor girl is
sobbing sadly in the library,
Yet the principal plunges and slouches
over his circling chair in his office. His lips mumbling,
pooped out –In slight remorse of the cruel hiding
he’d given the poor learner; and lugubriously he envisions
the twinge she’s had to bear, but it ain’t no use
for what’s done is done.
Dame Judy Dench
Loves to fish for Tench
When she fixes her motor
She uses a wrench
If she’s feeling tired she sits down on a bench,
DJD is polylingual;
Her favourite language is French,
When she has a pooh in the morning
It causes a stench
DJD is a strong woman,
When Germans talk about her they call her ‘mensch’,
If she gets excited
Her buttocks they clench
When DJD gets dehydrated
Her thirst she will quench,
She is a fine looking woman,
But never call her a wench,
DJD did military service
She learnt to dig a slit trench,
She's into prehistory
And loves to visit Stonehenge,
DJD don't take no -
If she is dissed she'll get her revenge
She is super organised
When she does her filing she uses a big hole punch
If she gets hungry mid morning
She pauses for brunch,
If Helen Mirren calls round they go out for lunch,
DJD is very intuitive
and likes to follow a hunch,
Her off shore investments
Protected her from the credit crunch,
She's a feisty lady -
A reporter asked if 'she had a carer'
Well he got a bunch
Of fives from this diva
But to her friends she is staunch,
Even Harvey Weinstein - DJD protected his paunch,
Said she had a tat of his name on her bum
Cos her career he relaunched
With Victoria and Albert -
She never gives an inch
If Bond is stuck in a ditch
She pulls him out with a winch,
She takes on all the bad guys,
You never see her flinch,
When delivering a soliloquy
She makes it look like a cinch
She should be world president,
Donald J Trump would be the first one she would lynch!
ON BEING A SAUSAGE ROLL
Our other sausage acquaintances are real –
Flavoured, pigmented, heated
By boiling or frying :
They have their dignity, though they too be eated.
Our natural features, our inner glories,
Are pastry-coated and abide
In small bags from ye take-away,
All similar and eaten cold outside.
Or at best saucered and microwaved
With ketchup to add insults :
Not only hidden under pastry,
Yea also ‘neath red chemical lab results.
Never are we savoured like frankfurters
Or slowly chewed like wurst.
We are hurriedly snapped up like cakes and ale
By a fat eater ready to burst
In a line of crawling traffic,
Or in a static bus queue.
Inside an expanding waistline - Zwounds
Ye fat paunch - with no limit in view.
But soft! Life on the savoury pastry shelf
Is a production line existence - not a role.
Oh, to shuffle off this pastry coil -
I’m just another sausage roll.
.................................
Villanelle: French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
Dedicated to the great French actor, Off Course!
French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
Must you invite high breeds to the Hebrides
To maggis shellfish wine said: I love you!
Starved Loch Ness Monster kept well out of view
For this Gourmet eats even monster breeds
French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
Medieval monarchs gulped innerns – rest threw
To the serfs lords ladies dogs and hybrids
To maggis shellfish wine said: I love you!
French Gourmand let Scots talk their tartans through
Venison loins he carved out for his needs
French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
Goths Visigoths Vikings Normans or Dieu*
Falstaff nose and paunch hide much actor’s deeds
To maggis shellfish wine said: I love you!
Eiffel Tower Louvre Versailles nothing new
Mountain Man kept apart Scylla Charibdis
French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
To maggis shellfish wine said: I love you!
• Dieu: God, but French pronunciation, please!
He might take exception.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Part Two
To have written is to leave but a mark
nothing stands for the proud rhyming syllables
more than his acquired business acumen
a Vaishya karmic hope
Now we stand aghast before this edifying monument
and verily wonder at some man
who may have in gusting wind and blasting brine
clung to his loincloth on the scaffolding
his knotted hair thick with the chimes of the Colamandala tide
the bells from Mahabalipuram to Chidamparam tolling in his veins
his sinewy rhyming muscles pulsing to the chiselling of reliefs
in memory of Kannaki and Matavi
and the liana apsara Manimekalai
in her forbidding expunging of her caste courtesan rôle
the lethal unmaking of an infatuated prince
Tied then to the creaking wooden framework
left by Ilango Adigal's epic-making epic
his stomach heaving
the low burning wicker lamp stinging his nostrils
in the stilled small hours
his eyes hardly following the olai leaf of his beaten memory
night after sleepless night
his merchant's paunch and eyes sagging
wife and mistresses in unrequited rut
while in tryst forlorn
one thought lingering under the tree in Bodhgaya
lamenting for the disciple's offering of trichinosis
he lets the dawn creep into his ears
with the kuyil's ironically teasing call
the fingertips charred with lampblack
till loaded cartwheels grind on the gravel of his spent dreams
It is easy for us now to quibble over him
and make much of when he may have conceived his poem
for at least in so doing he comes alive
only to be killed
revived
chided
praised
drowned in words
more than he has bequeathed us
© T. Wignesan- April 7, 1992 (from the sequence/collection: Words for a lost sub-continent). Pub. in T. Wignesan. Rama and Ravana at the Altar of Hanuman: on Tamils, Tamil Literature & Tamil Culture. Chennai: Institute of Asian Studies, 2006.
The way to cook up a good Limerick
Is to add the right words, then simmer it
But if it begets raunch
That’s unfit for your paunch
Then I wouldn’t touch it for dinner, ick!
-and for dessert-
My gal loves to make Limerick-sicles
On very hot days to be whimsical
But the more we licked
The hotter it git
And often it’d even get critical.
They're known by many names - taters, potatos, pertaters and spuds.
As a Hoosier lad I toiled hoein' taters and flickin' bugs off their buds!
So I was very well qualified when I entered the service, by and large,
When 'volunteered' for kitchen police to peel taters by a mean old sarge!
There's even a National Potato Day observed with tumultuous celebration,
With a Potato Queen, parades and other such nonsense across the nation!
Politicos pontificate about the virtues of taters 'specially in Idaho and Maine,
Where they transport them to our kitchen tables by truck, plane and train.
There was a national debate on how to spell potato with or sans an 'e'!
Dan Quayle didn't know how but I would've spelled it 'tater' if it were up to me!
Some taters have a patriotic bent since some are called reds, whites and blues!
Other varieties are yellows, fingers and russets from which you may choose.
To fill a feller's paunch the lowly tater can be mashed, diced or sliced.
You can make a tater salad or tater soup though you'll want them lightly spiced!
Taters roasted on the grille or scalloped tater casseroles will go with anything.
Barbeque tater chips or French fried taters with hamburgers are just the thing!
Mom would've been horrified to find lumps in her taters when company came!
In cafes today lumps are cela va sans dire s'il vous plait and is their claim to fame!
No matter how you slice 'em, taters are savored by commoner and king as well!
And you can argue 'bout the spellin' of 'potato' but 'tater' you can easily spell!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Oh, you do not want to know my tale,
But since you insist, I guess I'll just tell,
Originally from mystical India -- not Rome!
Some 30 years ago made the USA my home,
I revere Jesus, Muhammad, Buddha, Krishna
But keep my faith in love, peace and karma,
I read Shakespeare, Longfellow, Poe, Keats,
Omar Khayyam, Frost, Tennyson and Yeats,
Besides poetry and movies, I love to love
Books, traveling and fair ladies in drove,
Sometimes I blow hot, sometimes cold
And venture out to buy stuffs already sold,
I am like Don Quixote, at times like Rip Van Winkle
Sometimes Ebenezer Scrooge, at times Kris Kringle.
Balding, with a paunch, but I think young
There's not a passionate song I haven't sung,
Pensive, moody and mostly quiet
But when I talk, I usually am right,
Couldn't walk good with my bad knees
But I dance with butterflies and bees,
Purblind, yet I have seen places umpteen
I daydream a lot, you know what I mean?
Born in June, by nature I am sunny
And if I so wish, I can be quite funny,
But you wouldn't want to mess with me
I can be swift and lethal like Bruce Lee!
I am writing this jestfully but it's serious,
Ha now, don't go get nosy or too curious!
"Bio of Poet" contest by Tammy Reams
'Tis purty easy to size up a feller by the cap he wears,
By glancin' at the message that on his cap he shares.
Boldy emblazoned is a logo bright and clear,
Revealin' his dubious tastes and facts about his career!
A farmer is apt to wear a cap advertisin' "John Deere" dealers.
A football fan's cap proudly extols his "Pittsburgh Steelers."
The equestrian might sport a cap readin', "Equine Feed & Tack."
Can't figure teenagers, since they wear their caps front to back!
Old vets are easy to spot wearin' their caps with pride.
Patches show where they served with various units worldwide.
A feller with a ponderous paunch is wont to savor his ale,
Since his cap advertises "Old Milwaukee Pale!"
"Have You Found Jesus", might be seen as an anomaly,
On a preacher's cap broadcasting his mini-homily!
Some fellers wear caps toutin' their favorite baseball team.
Strawberry-nosed guys might wear a cap advertisin' "Jim Beam!"
"Call Before You Dig", is probably a phone repair technician.
"Sparky" on a cap might imply the feller is an electrician.
'Tis purty sure you can size up a feller by the cap he's wearin',
By glancin' at the not so subtle message that on his cap he's sharin'!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Ralph the garbage rummaging raccoon, found Nipper the cat at Buttermilk Saloon,
he had been suddenly sadly jilted and bleeding heart was extremely wilted.
Decided to stay out with the toms all night, to avoid a cat lover’s feline fight,
she saw him with her cousin in the alley, witnessed them fondly dilly dally.
Ralph being the friend that he was stepped in to aid the love sick cat because,
he adopted Nipper at a very young age, found him under thick forest dry sage.
Ralph toted him to the beastly clinic; he was expiring mighty quick,
drank the house of buttermilk twice his size, he passed out, four paws to the skies.
His paunch was pumped of rotten stench, Ralph was sure his waist lost an inch;
from buttermilk he got really loaded, leaving his small belly hugely bloated.
Ralph was a big brother to Nipper that day, a definite superhero to his fiancé,
who came to her prompt female senses and apologized for her brash offenses.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
FOOD COURT
She isn’t beautiful
No knockout
Maybe it’s the surroundings
She is surrounded by –
Age
Business freaks
Overweight teens in ragged jeans
On the other hand
Exotica is well dressed
White blouse
Black skirt
Heels which soften rather large calves
And her hair is long black
with those Aniston strands across one eye
lots of mascara
I’m trying to pinpoint the impression
the obsession
Yes!
She’s aware of her superior dress
Face mostly hidden behind –
what else – an Apple laptop
From time to time her full features appear
She’s glancing (hopefully) around the Apple
Pencil brows
High forehead
Full cheeks
Full lips that somehow
seem misplaced
Full describes the package
Yet?
I fantasize
Something about her eyes……..
What is it? (they look up at you, her head on a large
white pillow)
She smiles (something on the computer?)
And the whole face blends kind of
I’m just beginning to sense disturbance……..
When!
Wouldn’t you know it!
HE sits down
Facing her
Bald nicely trimmed thatch around both ears
I’d say 55
Nice Hawaiian sport shirt
Almost makes him look 54
Brief case….(belt-overhanging paunch)
BUMMER!
They deserve each other!
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Anyway you look at it
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Slop some mustard on it
Relish if proffered
Take a squishy bite
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Soak it up with chips
Grab another dog
Another beer it’s summer
Forget the paunch the hips