Best Proportionate Poems
She asked for a pic
I went through the rules
No this and that
Bust and above
My best features
Only that
No hips and no arms
those aren't my charms
I went through the drill
My students knew it well
She came and whispered in my ear,
"Teacher, I love your figure
You're SO sexy."
I burst out laughing
Was this a joke?
No, she was dead serious
She loved how I moved
She loved how I danced
"Back home...
They'd love a woman like you
Your fullness is proportionate and sexy."
It seems a silly thing
But I did pose for the pic
I flicked back my hair
Had a smile on my face...
No, I'm not who I was...
But I'll get there somehow
I have to enjoy the here and now
A simple compliment
I'd heard like it before
from both genders...
Hard to accept
When you feel bad about yourself
But I never tire of hearing it
Beautiful and sexy...
Me?
It's all in the attitude
In the way that you move
in your smile and your eyes
Even with thunder thighs
A move and a shake
Will keep them awake
BUT....
I'm going to gain back my former glory
and watch out world....
That compliment is about to turn REAL!
Eileen
Categories:
proportionate, body, dance, self,
Form:
Narrative
Aching for my presence
she called me late one night.
She wanted to have
a night cap,
and she knows I do it right.
Forty five minutes later,
on the counties outer rim.
I pull into the driveway,
of her old
Victorian.
Striking lightly with my knuckles
on the front door made of oak.
she opens the door,
powder blue negligee
high heels.
My jaw hit the floor.
Caramel surprise,
nude, she's dressed to kill.
Candles glowing throughout the house
relaxing music in the distance.
She drops her robe,
standing there,
testing my resistance.
The curvature of her waistline,
tapering to long,
well toned thighs.
Breasts proportionate to her figure.
Standing six foot tall
is a beauty just my size.
Unable to control my sergeant,
she receives a standing ovation.
Reaching down, she caresses me,
what a wonderful sensation.
I push her onto the mattress,
forcing my way between her thighs.
She twists and turns violently,
whimpering a series
of sultry cries.
Jared Pickett
10/11/09
Asavvy1
Categories:
proportionate, love
Form:
Free verse
Colors in the Dark
When I was younger I’d get scared too easily,
my mother was patience pushing back the monsters in the closet with a simple wave of her hand
as i grew my mother didn’t have enough patience to coat my form; her patience and my size were no longer proportionate.
When I hit 5’1 she looked at me eye to eye an unwanted staring contest with the underlying battle of wills
she said find the beauty in the dark
beauty in the dark
beauty in the dark
I didn’t understand what she wanted but the bags under her eyes weighed my chest down
i nodded but i didn't understand, it was a sort of forced nod where my head and brain moved on two separate courses
night//
i laid in bed staring at vague outlines searching for beauty
beauty in the dark
i only found terror in dark corners
hours fall past me like seconds on a clock
the incessant count down to my doom
hours of searching in dark corners
looking for something that wasn’t there,
looking for beauty in the dark
how do I find something
that isn’t there
desperation lead my eyes to the window
wind had cracked open my blinds
she twisted and pulled them as she danced
her cool crisp breeze beckoned me to look up
and there
I found it
the sky is never black
there is always color
tuesday indigo
wednesday hints of pink
thursday violet
colors in the dark
colors in the dark
show tuesday tree’s desperate aching limbs reaching out to join the elusive wind in her dance of flurries
but tree was rooted
stuck
wednesday wind was free
wind was wild
tree imitated
curling her limbs into shapes you had to squint at to find meaning
wind teased twirling through tree’s gnarled branches
thursday clouds cried for tree their tears dropping and drowning earth
“cloud is free” tree screamed “wind is free”
“my roots run deep my branches reach high but I am not free”
I cried for tree
my eyes unintentionally mimicked cloud
drowning myself
Tuesday//
I run outside to hug tree
I break off a branch and take it inside with me
cradling it like a newborn baby
I vowed to gray monday sky I would take it everywhere with me
with me part of tree would be free
night//
there were no screams of tuesday trees nor laughs of wednesday winds
just beauty
and colors in the dark
Categories:
proportionate, child, childhood, color, fear,
Form:
Free verse
To dance one must feel the beat
Light works like Einstein said
And like Plank said
And like Tommie Young said
All one has to do is go with the flow
Take a light particle (billiard ball, photon or whatever)
go from a to b at light speed
The path taken is proportionate to the amount of energy
The less energy the straighter the path
Hence the lower the frequency
mass is directly relative to energy
Density is relative to frequency
ie lead has more energy wave frequency than hydrogen
on the thinking photon
if one hole is open the other billiard ball isn't on the table
So the pocket doesn't get the ball
open the other hole and the complimentary billiard ball
has to put itself in line to billiard into its pocket
Music is necessary to dance
frequency is necessary to energy and music
and quantum physics and existence
But that's life and
What's life without music
To dance one must feel the beat
Categories:
proportionate, imaginationdance, light, dance, life,
Form:
Free verse
A POINT TO MAKE
Points, to make a point
expressions by impressions,
lots and lots of dots a
paradigm in paint, impressionist
it ‘aint.Unique yes, inanimate
I guess, poetic proportionate
pictorial pointillistic perhaps,
our eye fills in the gap
Categories:
proportionate, art,
Form:
Ekphrasis
Ooh a triangular prism made out of eighteen purple sashed curtains. Wow. Movement. Vortex of a synopsis and a synchronised swirling pattern. When a pea jumps into a swimming pool and performs the backflip it is time for the potatoes to go proportionate. For portions are neither potions nor postures. And a pas a doublet is a particle of an easy iron. Jump then. Off and go. It is interesting to note that the sailing of a peel from a left over carrot can travel vast cubic measurements especially in sand storms. Storks staking stalks. And a wide angled visionary swamp singing in the woods. No do not stamp on a leaf from a mushroom or a rhododendron would chase you out of the clearing. And a pretty and capable doe bakes a nice tree sap cake for the herd. Who gather in a very large circle. Not a rectangle. Ok then. It is wiser to accept the pacifying notions from one single fish rather than a shoal. And coals are never the same twice if placed in a radioactive formation near a fireplace. Versions of the tunes created can be heard on the world wide open airwaves. And a singular plural can loop with an antonym at a stellular ball in linkage with the paragraphs. Shrink no ball of paper nor papyrus into a pot. And leap twenty-five times over a dish to create a heartwarming broth. Of stems. Of leaves. Of berries. Belly bouncing bustiers bring booming boogieing breaths. And a waltz with a fish is best performed in a yogurt container measuring exactly forty-two and a half centimetres. One two three tick tock. But no rock. One two three four. And here is a shore. Arriving to speak if truth and wisdom from across watery expanses. Seek no hill in a cave then. Hahahaha funny flimsy frameworks frolicking. Hahaha branches beaked beaming. Hahahaha and now eat 90 eggs, 10 toasts, and a slice of lentil. Yum. Fantastic. Wow. Xxxxx dragline drainage droppings. Xx,x, dele rational beings ***,, choo Choi xxxxx and a code cackling. Xxxxx beastiology q. P y q z.
Categories:
proportionate, autumn,
Form:
I am alone
I do everything myself
cry, laugh and cry again
as if I'd rather be happily sad
My best friends are books and God
Only they know my secrets
only they solve problems
humans don't understand-
(We judge too much)-
That every tear means something else
Every smile isn't real
Everyone can never be equally proportionate
In colour, class or being literate
I am never always me
I pretend, I lie and I hate
I am afraid of me
(I am afraid of everything)
I wear a bravado
(it won't last)
I am never going to grow up
I am still a child
a budding flower
as light as the wind
I get blown around
Trampled
But I know the meaning of my tears
I too speak equality
I am smiling
That is my secret
I can't grow up
your blocking my light
breathing my air
denying me my rights.
Categories:
proportionate, child, childhood, children, emotions,
Form:
Blank verse
SYMBOLS OF SUNDAY
The Ille de Grande Jatte sans noise
filled with poise,a posie-in-paint.This
divisionist dog-day,a second of time
frozen in mime;a slow-motion frame
of a social game.The Seine sleeping
sailors boating,youngsters rowing
a lady fishing.trumpeter trilling,dogs
sniffing midst sunshades swishing.
A promenade peopled,gentility
strolling,watching,then,standing
still,and,taking their fill.A leisured
moment from toil,passitivity
possessed dressed yellow,orange
with green and complementary blue
A POINT TO MAKE
Points, to make a point
expressions by impressions,
lots and lots of dots a
paradigm in paint, impressionist
it ‘aint.Unique yes, inanimate
I guess, poetic proportionate
pictorial pointillistic perhaps,
our eye fills in the gaps.
Listen to me read these two Seurat ekphrasis on youtube under the name ichthychiro
read me latest ekphrasis ebook on amazon kindle
Categories:
proportionate, art,
Form:
Ekphrasis
I feel that funny bulge a tingle
The mouth was craving for
Doritos and Pringle
Burger King has become the norm
This belly here is weathering hunger's Storm
French Fries Haven
for an old lard unshaven
I'm too late for a Spanish cutie
A fan of grease and some tutti-frutti
Enters the area that I call the throat
Ring Dings and cupcakes
soon they will coat
the layer of fatty flab
by forgetting the diet TAB
Bimbos love A HUNK
But not a dweeb of proportionate CHUNK
A little blueberry POP TART
For the tongue of this aging FART
Cannot savor if you give me that LIFE SAVOR
Leave me with Orville Redenbacher
If you would do me that kindly favor
We all have a thing
for munching on ONION RING
Pass the 1A
and some hamburgers our way
Flavor the bacon
scramble the egg
Mrs Parsons is 25
But already shows it in her leg
Margot sucks on a chip
All she is doing by enlarging her hip
Scotty is being naughty
That's why he's forever on the potty
Frank's sitting on the log
enjoying some HOT DOG
Patty has left for the day
before the OREOS come her way
The end is near
I feel it in my rear
As my once trim line turns jelly
From having too much junk food in my belly!!
Categories:
proportionate, funny, me, me,
Form:
Rhyme
Prepossessing pair liquefy as a still river’s exquisite glaze ~
An undercurrent ripples in the lazy meander to ply compliance
Yellow tones of twilight seep slowly, warming a cold demeanor
These two play in crepuscular light, ensconced in downy fur
Wearing black and white, is moonlit night,
only half-lit, as unfolding dawn's fawn, denigrates the dark...
Proportionate seconds rake nails in a rhythmic clickety-click
Long strokes make feasible winged flight, high with the half-moon:
a cogent straight-cut through a curve of semi-shiny symmetry
Yielding to heat, dews exuberant, deluge chilled lungs and fog river’s gaze ~
(2/4/2021 - '05 Fountain Fever 29; Rancho Cordova)
Categories:
proportionate, allusion,
Form:
Pastoral
Say queen what's your name?
in a moments delay, i caught a glimpse of your smile, looked in your eyes and saw someone i knew. someone i loved. a face of she that completed the entity of me holistically. I'm sorry your name is..
the spirit beckoned for my presence, i listened but in hesitation i declined the conversation. i remembered the moment my heart shattered into pieces with ends that would no longer be proportionate to any puzzle. the moment my breath became my suffocation, the more i swallowed i saw cloudy pictures i lost sight. i thought i was dying, no one to resuscitate me. she left me in that space hopeless.
speak again, what's your name?
the eyes delivered my trance, thoughts spinning, emotions flipping, i was turning into a ball of confusion, i heard the name but the familiarity was expelling too much energy, i couldn't find the rhythm of me lost in my memory, it's good to remember her, in fear i ran to the the lowest hole but climbed the highest and still didn't reach ground level. i still need her.
you asked my name...
the voice of my sanity, it rang like anita baker angel on a sunny sunday stunning sun rays beaming of the beams of my forehead, tingling the roots to the follicles of my tendrils. speak to me spiritually because verbally i submerge in blue hues with purple colored canvas i become a lush of words. speak to me emotionally with your hands covering mine, feel my pores into yours, drowning in love. whisper slowly in the pits of my being, i need your words to linger this moment may not happen again...
your name happines huddled around ampled eager evident total tenacity heighten humility eventually enmeshed rhythm rupture.
Categories:
proportionate, forgiveness, life, love, me,
Form:
Ballad
You have assailed me once again,
unwittingly, unknowingly, I have become your willing victim
Though this time, I shall give you leave
and allow you the full reign
Haha! for I am in a jovial state of emotions!
I have met my earthly match
The one who melts me at a word
She matches me word for word
Her divine beauty,and her intellect
like the oceans, and the skies, is vast
and her smile, her gorgeous smile
as radiant as the night sky
sweeps me in and leaves me shamefully abashed
and her frame, her form,
so delicate and proportionate.....
and there I shall stop with the descriptions
But all these things
which I find an ease to write,
inspired and enthused as I am,
leave me speechless
when she is standing in front of me
Categories:
proportionate, romanceme, me,
Form:
Your endless smile is mysterious
I wonder where you've gone
hollow eyes,
laughing wrinkles with an uneven complection
light rings under your eyes
make me wonder what happens late at night
at 2 am when children are asleep
you sit there prompt, ready for defeat
your figure, proportionate
the beauty is an ora-
examining every glare,
every glance
every breath
until I see right through you.
I stand there perplexed to what I have seen
who I have become
where I have been
this mirror is full of dust
and I've had enough
of trying to be who I am supposed to be
shouldn't there be an escape
an easy way
to fulfill your destiny
instead I sit there,
index finger on the trigger
as I admire your self-esteem
you've never been a talker-
a selective listener
with a gracious presence
a life changing smile-
ordinary frown
that hides the misery.
With one single click your beauty will be vanished
your loving family and lover with grief
if only they knew and understood
that it's you that needs to smile
it's you that must reveal
and retrieve your own destiny
Categories:
proportionate, absence, fear, feelings, grief,
Form:
Blank verse
Initialising silhouettes submit to midwinter dawn
Beginning willingly to swallow colour of choices
Fledgelings' flamboyant campaigns display oblivion
Audacious adolescents distribute chafing thoughts
Attach entire esteem to securing peer approval
Frivolous get transfixed in youth's lurid allure
Bustling balloons launch from high vaulting hearts
Adventurers revel in joy during jaunty occasions
Concerned observers avoid havoc's banquet
Money cascades proportionate to patrons' appraise
Circumspect travel with kaleidoscope analysis
Attentively pensive address torrid scheduling
Pallid consideration accompanies shaded misers
Assorted sections bolstered by merciful sharers
Principled accord favoured by fate's ultimation
Aura of agitation promotes copious desires
Hushed heeders find freedom in relinquishing
Dilating ease determines to exit temptation
Plethora of pleasures pledged by reoccurring sunrise
Replenished spirit operates as a doting shepherd
Validates delight in desiphered silence
Supreme reckoning denounces pretentious credentials
Clarity invades tainted captivity's insatiable tirade
Mortal manuscript mirrors sequel's assembling
20th April 2020
Submitted to Chantelle Anne Cooke's
Best NA Poem 2020 Re run
Categories:
proportionate, age, celebration, change, culture,
Form:
Didactic
Heaven offers tickets to any citizen
Adhering to good behaviour, as Richard
Sin washed virtuous shines richeous
Permitted exclusive afterlife purchase
Richard prided himself on his neat appearance
Inside out Bible marked imbibed coherence
Nourised by 7am museli, leaving home soon after
Publisher for Eternal week days, on Sunday a pastor
Sermon prepared carefully, time consumed him
Pinnacle of Lord days pointed to duty resuming
Shared redemption message with congregation
Ensured wavering faith was infiltrated by elation
Devoted volunteer, full schedule proportionate
Monthly soup kitchen duty served less fortunate
Ten pm delivery of left over to his Mother's house
Widow nearing ninety, not readily able to get out
Forsaken God fearer one fateful day struck down
by hooligan during dawn walk in neighbourhood renowned
for echoing homes, high hedge edges hide pedestrians
Tyre tattooed road kill, dislodged by reckless heathan
Bedside machines duly beeped his fragile existence
Sacrifice of admired man to stagnant predicament!
Moral loyalty, immaculately ironed, full dedication
Could it be God had ordered his early eradication?
Flatlined screen, pulse serene denotes one way entry
To harp plucking, angel hosted, cloud palace heavenly
Proclaimed as reward, rule abiders' final destination
For the followers of God's word, a deserved salvation
Picket fence of precious metal keeps the sinners out
White ground expanse supports people equally touted
As pray-ers, obeyers, having delayed gratification
Burying bad tendancies for kingdom of imagination
Cloud haven loungers hear filtered sound of festivity
Scantily clad wilful tribal fire-side dancers devilish
Grins closed only to kiss ridiculous Mother marijuana
Eternity unconfirmed, turmultous tenure harnessed
27th June
Satire Saturday
Tongue in cheek contraversy needs no translation
Manic imaginings account for all inclinations!
Categories:
proportionate, angel, angst, betrayal, character,
Form:
Couplet