Best Queasiness Poems
The invitations were sent to alumni far and near,
To gather for the school reunion later in the year.
The ultimate occasion to turn on all the old charm,
And fondly remember those who have bought the farm!
Ladies wear tight-fitting girdles to shrink the pounds.
Guys try crash diets to reduce flabbiness that abounds.
It's been over half a century since our graduation day.
It'll be intriguing to see how others fared along the way!
Old pals circulate boasting and bending my weary ear,
Regaling with boring trivia that I really don't want to hear.
I tell others how great they look, looking them straight in the eye,
As I cross my fingers behind my back for telling such a lie!
It appears that the campus queen totes a bit of additional weight.
That once haughty snob now tips the scales nigh one ninety-eight!
There's the big man on campus, voted the most apt to score success,
Guzzling booze as is his bent, displaying a bit of queasiness!
The years have elapsed, rolling on at a frightful pace,
But as long as docs keep us patched up we'll stay in the race!
To perhaps convene once again down life's treacherous road.
If not here, than a rousing reunion in that heavenly abode!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
The Quintessential Catering Company serves only quality foods beginning with a Q
To some this seems quirky and to others quite quaint
Q foods quickly quell hunger and queasiness
Quick oats and quinoa with quick bread and quince jam are a favorite breakfast pick
Quark and Queijo quiche qualify as a quality lunch offering
Quaglia marinated in Quebec beef spice is a popular dinner choice
Quimbombo and pit roasted Quamash sides accompany this course
Queen of Puddings and some Quesitos are offered for dessert
Forget the queue quickly query Quintessential for your next Q food event
Definition of some Q food listed in poem
Quark-German farm cheese
Queijo- Portuguese cheese
Quaglia- Italian quail,
Quebec Beef Spice-a meat seasoning
Quimbombo-Spanish okra stew
Quamash- bulb of Camas lily with a taste similar to a sweet potato, but sweeter
Quesitos- Cream cheese turnovers
Queen of Puddings- a traditional British dessert, consisting of a baked, breadcrumb-thickened mixture, spread with jam and topped with meringue.
Amazingly, your eyes gleam freshness from heaven.
Before you were seen, you were resting in God's heart.
Clinging to mine, it cannot cease to overflow.
Drawing meaning into life's every crevice,
Each given breath you take awakens mine.
From the moment I first felt your ripples inside me,
God gave me a wink of a new beginning.
Hope filled blue painted ceilings and little drawers.
In a father's mind, his name would carry on.
Joy so grand became our parents' inheritance.
Kicks affirmed your livelihood nightly.
Laughs and tears were shared in placental connection.
Monitors suggested your precious health was well.
Nestled in my womb was the safest place for you.
Oranges and burger flavors reached new taste buds.
Prayerfully, we rested in the unknown outcome.
Queasiness came as contractions strengthened.
Rushes of adrenaline kept my birthing body vigorous.
Surrealism saturated our minds, studying each feature.
Thankfulness touched us like your new skin's warmth.
Unable to conceive of this mystery, opaque joy flowed.
Vast gifts were given, but that of you keeps on giving.
Wonders await each new stage we'll embrace.
Xerox copies of significance collect in your photo box.
Yesterdays accumulate practiced artistic expression.
Zealous praises stretch to heaven, for we are blessed.
2/15/2020
In the absence of complication,
trials and tribulations become distant memories.
Above sapphire skies delight sanguine eyes -
inspiring forthcoming musings of the mind.
In a drowsy hypnagogic state, I see thee far away,
A dazzling, delightful, divine ethereal spirit
Drifting in the vastness of amaranthine space
Beckoning toward patches of divergent hues.
I discover sublime elation at the scene,
Impossible to restrain and slowly I open my manuscript
Write all that I can see, visions impossible to discern.
Why could I never capture the aesthetic beauty before me?
My yearning overtakes my aspirations to capture
The quintessence of such elusive diaphanous beauty
Till I wake, look around, feel sweat of ephemeral queasiness,
Read my endeavours in a language I could not discern.
Week six.
There is a natural disaster occurring, tsunamis of
morning queasiness Monday through Friday, Tuesday's
lunch on my favorite pants, denial dances on the weekends.
It was Sunday. One word, two syllables causes a tornado
of emotions, hurricanes of tears hit my hands and pours to
the floor, my heart sinks and drowns. How many casualties will there be?
Fact:
I account for thirteen percent of the population but
thirty-seven percent of all abortions.
Saturday.
With my hoodie sheltering my identity, I enter the building.
Protestors, shouting this is murder, hand me pamphlets that I ball up and
throw away, sign my name and wait. Blood samples and pee tests.
Ultrasound pictures, nurses ask do I want to be sleep or awake?
Counselor asks how will I feel on Sunday? Floods of tears drench
my shirt, uncertainty and guilt gets caught in my throat. It’s time.
Fact: I am five times more likely to get an abortion than white women.
I remain stoic.
But in the inside, I tremble like a newborn antelope fearing the new world.
I weep like a lioness losing her cub. The nurses strap my legs to the paddles.
My heart beats and I swore if you looked closely, you could see it protruding
out my chest, my mind races and I swore I saw galaxies and landed on Saturn,
I stare out at the strawberry colored walls and I remembered how far along
the nurse said I was. I couldn't muster the nerve to look at the ultrasound screen.
Fact: Sixty-nine percent of pregnancies of black women are unintended compared
to fifty percent of hispanic women and forty percent of white women.
Seven weeks and six days.
Green like trees following a river
what choice do they have really
green returning to the ocean after a storm
green emotions
queasiness
waves of sickness
jealousy
grass chewed to puke out poison
even as night falls
a darkly ominous forest tinted sky
greenhouses reflecting early stars shimmering leaf-like auras
green autos spread like dominos at a drive-in movie
a tricked out goblin’s pickup with dark windows and green headlights
and a staticky green light coming from where sun doesn't shine
green voids filling green spaces
Green Peace, with dancers in green tutus and pointe shoes
that skip like moss covered stones
across an ocean deep pond or verdant field
green jeans, green skirts on girls that look like they want to go somewhere
they’re ready to go, now!
TAKE ME!
bottles of green beer empty!
what happened to our leprechaun?
Fireworks like galaxies laced with green
jeans, skirts, bras that explode at your touch
smears of green across an impressionistic sky
leaving only softness behind
naked thighs that pillow your head, as you breath deeply
the smoky green residue that burned into her flesh too
Green musk hangs from twilight’s enveloping arms
and covers the saturated moors of imagination
like a morning fog that rises to greet
a vibrant dawn pressing her down
deep into the green
How I recall the magnificent sight
Of my first view of the new Jumbo Jet.
Boeing took such pride in its maiden flight,
That it could not fly, was the standing bet.
Majestic it rolled out on the runway
Revving its engines for its take off roll...
Like a great bird ascending the skyway
To cheers and applause the crowd did extol.
Fear gripped my stomach which I did battle.
When we leveled off my queasiness eased...
Chicago bound, our flight from Seattle
With four hundred sixteen passengers pleased.
In my thirty four years flown I must say,
None can compare to the cheers heard that day!
8-18-16
Note: I was a Stewardess, one of sixteen crewmembers, on
UAL's Maiden flight from Seattle to Chicago in 1971, a four
hour flight. We were trained in mockups and none of us had
ever been on the Boeing 747 until that day. Our service was
such us mess, but everyone was so excited to be on such a
huge wide body aircraft that no one cared or complained.
The applause and cheers when we took off and landed were
deafening.
N/A Sonnet contest
Sponsor Eve Roper
It was like a pouring out
The thing my soul did that day.
And you –
I knew you felt its soaking
Like torrents
Of neverending retribution.
And you –
I knew you felt its heaviness
Like weights
Of unfulfilled absolution.
And yet you took it all.
Without qualms or queasiness.
You took it with a strong and determined nod.
Thank you for that.
Selene was smoldering, the shadows shrouding Her face.
Alone. I crept through limp leaves and decaying debris.
I felt grim fingers grasping, gripping, slowing my pace.
Faint flickers filtered through gnarled trees like fine filigree.
I wondered why I am here; I wondered where is here?
I stumbled over shallow mounds, smelling the stained soil.
Alone. A putrid presence charged me with fetid fear.
My queasiness convulsed in a turbid, rancid roil.
Murky dampness clambered over clammy, flaccid flesh.
If this were dream, I prayed to end my nightmarish plight!
A chilling calm came over me and I feared afresh.
Alone. Selene hid Her visage and sheen from my sight.
Alone. The noxious night darkened, enveloping me.
Notes:
1. Selene, Greek goddess of the moon
2. 13, symbolic of rebellion and lawlessness in the Bible
3. 13 syllables in each line
4. 13 lines in the poem
5. today’s date, 13 October
We just cannot mind our own business.
We know better than others.....
It gives me a bad case of poetical queasiness!
As one lost in a rough sea,
I will assuredly save thee!
I have a bad case of Deus Ex Machina.
1/12/2022
I just puked another poem today
There was a queasiness so my brain felt the need
To up chuck all of its contents
All over you fine peoples feet
It was a colorful array of symbolism
That I hurled across the room
It must have been something I'd seen or read
That made me vomit this poem out for you
Don't worry I'll personally clean up the mess
Before anymore of this I let loose
But this close to a sick poet you should have guessed
That eventually my works would splatter on you
A day without Cheese is not a day worth living in
Despite my high cholesterol, I will pop another statin in
The texture, the flavour, the smell, the pure cheesiness
but to overindulge could lead you into queasiness
My perfect day, I’d have to say, if perfection I was seeking
A fluffy Cheesy omelette, would stop my bones from creaking
For lunch a nice Cheese salad, something healthier for me
Then an afternoon tea; for I'm English you see
Cheesy scones and sandwiches with cranberry and Brie
But my ultimate feast of the day would be
a soup made of Stilton and broccoli
With luxurious Truffle and Mac and Cheese
Such amalgamated flavours often bring me to my knees
Then finally my special treat, always instigates the swoons
A cheese packed Cheese Board just for me awaits to be consumed
Then off to bed, but in my head, I hear the words my Grandma said
Too much cheese brings nightmares on, so never eat cheese before bed
Now loud and clear, as if still here, my Grandma’s words inside my head
I stay awake, watch cheesy films, whilst scoffing cheesy snacks instead
Written 11th November 2018
Competition - Cheese
Sponsor: Barry Stebbings
6th placement
.
Contest Strand Choice W
Sponsor Brian Strand
HONORABLE MENTION
Again and again in a world
dreaded I most.
For unknown certainties tears apart
the collated I.
Again and again in a world
Faith of him seemest to fall
for unknown either like before
in real past one.
Again and again in a world
death! Preferred?
For unknown cruelties puzzle
hearts in fixed making.
Again and again in a world
unfound easiness breath dizziness,
stiff up queasiness so tempest
on this total-fixed thing.
Again and again in a world
ball pen and pad sought
penning down black and white
though as custom, really?
Again and again in a world
dreaded as the sight of a chasing gargantuan cobra,
for unknown certainties questioning
the embittered fixed heart so badly.
I’m feeling a little bit queasy.
I’m sure it was something I ate.
So I think it be best
If my stomach can rest;
Any intake will likely tempt fate.
My mom was a fervent believer,
When I felt this way, that some hot tea
With grape jelly on toast
Would be better than most
Other foods to bring health back to me.
It worked back when I was a child
But at present it doesn’t appeal.
Yet some chips and a beer
Somehow seem to appear
Like the best anti-queasiness meal.
We met over oysters and scallops in the French Quarter
of a mismatched ether.
She sent pictures - her in a mirror, beside a mirror,
partly hidden by a mirror, naked under glass
(I still have that one).
She liked to reflect and be reflected.
I admired her self-regard, her low-minded succulence,
Her high-handed high-heeled slipperiness.
Raw fresh oysters and Dom Perignon for breakfast and lunch.
Scallops seared in butter on a crostini and a
Sauvignon Blanc for supper.
This minimalist diet kept her svelte, prim, and of course
most improper. I thought of her as a swim without a swimmer,
splashes of her revealing her lovely lips, and they were indeed
lovely,
red but not scarlet more a sea anemone rouge
as it fades to a pink laced coral.
The camera may garnish but it cannot hide
that kind of salty lusciousness
caught fresh every morning.
I likened her to a glistening slickness to be sipped or guzzled
Her words slipped through you like Gaelic eels.
Her neck undulated as a dolphins caress
as she swallowed her catch and zoomed.
I confess to an occasional shame-faced queasiness;
and then oyster and scallops are best consumed
over the internet where too much of them
cannot sour the stomach or tease you softly
with a squirmy aftertaste.
Yet I still imagine her in a mirror again
her teeth as pearly as pearls, yet snip-snip sharp
and as pointy as stiletto’s rent through a fished-up
filet of heart.