Best Stomachache Poems
Chocolate Fountain Abuse- for the lover
How easily I forget I'm allergic to chocolate
I want to dip the exquisite kosher in a Spanish brandy
Sweet, sweet, cavity tarnish boxes of chocolate
At a store window; a dried up chocolate fantasy goblet
A taste of spoiled milk, nothing dandy with this candy
How easily I forgot I was allergic to chocolate
Snickers Bar, melting under the spotlight for-profit
Not edible, waging unassertive words like a pansy
Sweet, sweet, cavity tarnish boxes of chocolate
Chocolate pop, a candy bar coming out of the closet
There was not much bandy, about this candy
It's easy to forgot I'm allergic to chocolate
Stubby nuts, stomachache, bucket of vomit
Butterflies, flipping when I hear a faucet of cocoa candy
Sweet, sweet, cavity tarnish boxes of chocolate
Enrobed with small nuts, it dwells under the pocket
Caramel and peanuts American walnut vigilante
How easily I forgot I was allergic to chocolate
Sweet, sweet, cavity tarnish boxes of chocolate
~?~
7/10/14
On a trip to Grandmother's,
we'd hear Mother say,
"Your next botany lesson
will soon be on its way."
A visit invariably meant
an immediate tour of her garden,
while the roast in the oven
began to shrivel and harden.
Our stomachs would growl,
our patience would wane,
as she spoke each plant's
history and worth again.
A friend questions
my knowledge of flowers.
Stomachache returns briefly,
recalling all those hours.
Slowly, awareness dawns
of my grandmother's legacy;
a love for earth's harvest
stems from the gift she gave.
Her words wash over me,
the scene before me transposes,
as her voice again expounds
the virtue and fragrance of
Monkeys eat bananas
and weasels eat snakes
I'd rather be a monkey
than get a stomachache
I found the gateway….To mow (down) any stomachache….
(Touched)
By your sweat….
Liquidated …. any honor… I put, into your heart….
Atomize…. any memory or dream….
Exterminated…. the sound of your…(Voice)….
The battles….The discomfort…. And headaches…
My poor… damage feet, walked everyday….
For amusement and Hanky-panky…..
Was… your , welcome mat…
If I would…. of.... known, oh my….
I woulda, pulled out your.… blueprint….
Then take out my…. Passport….
Leaving your ….horrors and stains behind….
Glorification…. between us, was only a memory or dream….
Sorry….. I don’t know which…
I guess, kill powder…. Passes… in my skin….
Delilah Ventura
Like a frowsy, dowdy
old housewife
I sit largely
unnoticed
stout and squat
a sort of kitchen sentry
rarely appreciated
until some minor crisis-
Cough, sniffle, stomachache
a particularly bad day
or fancy party...
then things heat up
quickly for me!
This was one of those
fancy party days
no cause to celebrate
for me!
Grueling stove-top swelter
I take it all in stride
despite the pressure
never boiling over
(I still have my pride...)
But when it gets me
really steamed
I drop polite hints
the best I can
in ladylike whispers
until I simply
can take no more-
and my shrill, piercing screams
draw attention, but fast!
It never lasts...
So she perches there
on pointy tippy-toes
in all her perky, snooty primness
silently snarky and subtle
sneakily taking credit
for all my hard work!
And as the luncheon ladies
Oooh and Aaah
“What wonderful tea!”
she points her delicate
snobby little spout
even higher with pride
But, one of these days
she'll regret it-
that snooty sassy-pot...
for I'm a tough
old stainless broad
and I'll chip her china, yet!
...And while I'll be careful
to make it seem
ever-so-casual
(like an accident)
she'll know deep down
it's really her long overdue
and well deserved
comeuppance!
Dreadful Fairytale
Stay away from the paint.
You’ll kill yourself on the swing.
The green VW cannot contain all of you.
Change into something more modest.
Sequined slippers sparkle gauche.
It is the pink and kerneled
lures me under the tent of
impossibility. I do not fathom
aviaries of peakcocked humans
reaching for a canvassed sky.
Danger lurks behind the
masks of frantic made up clowns.
Large red lips and big flat feet
horrify me amidst others
sidesplitting crazu glee.
I am with the hawkers’
cotton candy, cracker jacks
until the ring is darkened
and I leave this pit of panic.
All to pay is a stomachache
much too very real.
Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
May 12, 2012
For David Williams Circus contest.
I am stuck in this institution;
Like it’s supposed to be a resolution.
Everything is in mute;
As if I had taken the forbidden fruit.
I didn’t do it, I swear!
As I’m placed into intensive care.
I have an awful stomachache.
Maybe I did make a mistake.
I always seemed to be lazy;
But that day I had gone crazy.
I Must have had a mental blocker.
I left bullet shots in the lockers.
It was quiet with bloodshed;
Then four kids dropped dead.
I was placed in handcuffs.
I guess that’s only fair enough.
The school massacre was spread worldwide.
I told the cops it was the voices; I lied.
Now I lay here all alone.
As I seem quite overgrown.
Its been a long time
That we human have slept for a while
Freely enjoying the cold breeze
Without some wine for sometime
Stress keeps you awake
Wine makes you feel alive
These are some of the things
That dont let you sleep all night
Heartaches or you can say heartbreaks
Cigarettes be our saviour for somewhile
These are some of the things
That dont let you sleep all night
Herecomes a parent
Whose child stay away from their eyesight
This is their love
That dont let them sleep all night
Some girls go through severe stomachache
And it bleeds whole night
This is a reason
That dont let them sleep all night
Boys be boys
Crazy behind their cute girls
This is a reason
That dont let them sleep to all night
Then comes a cute small baby
Who sleeps for somewhile
Till he or she gets elder
Enjoy their sleep meanwhile
The earth on her last day comes in my mind
I see the earth sick with stomachache
in the universe that is becoming rebellious
humans that increasing act as God’s creators
Time is near or remote; the sick earth will collapse
A lunatic drank with hatred presses fire buttons
The atmosphere goes to flames with no warning
and living things laugh forever with lip-less teeth
No! not the case; the earth’s stomach’s not healthy
aching with hot diarrhea from first anniversary
floods of hot dysentery will gush out with rage
and all members of the earth become soupy and gone
Listen to this; angry microbes rise up in arms
they eat every point and joint of life on earth
destroying all symbiotic networks of life
and the earth collapsed dead never to rise again
Give me your ears again; after a long tour a star
will be pushed by a drunken ghost of the skies
it stumbles away from its orbital path to dark jungles
of the universe and fails to read the map of its path home
With all the anger it collides with its neighbors
a fight begins and goes in a world with no day or night
and crashes into the earth fatally cutting off the head
that will be the earth’s last breath
But then it also comes to me in a strange way
the earth will die when the sun dies. No more light!
all heavenly beings then will stumble, lose their paths
what a big collision there will be in cosmic realms!
Lousy Pancakes
Lousy Pancakes
Oughtn't be allowed
Especially when one
Has a limited income
They were meant to be a treat
For me to eat
But I wound up
Dissatisfied
Tongue - bleahed
And disgruntled
Pancakes are meant
To make one's mouth and tummy
Smile
But I am left
With a disagreeable expression
And a stomachache
If only my favorite cafe
Hadn't closed down
I would have not had to settle
For third rate
Lousy
Pancakes
MELODIES OF LIFE
If we were wise when we were young
Some songs would have been left unsung
Had we anticipated well before hand
that the road we travelled through was wrong
We'd never stop and glance back
To relive rare moments that came along
If we had refused to eat the stale cake
That caused us to suffer stomachache
We'd never recall the secret thrill
we felt, succumbing to our sweet will
Had we not made some grave mistakes
Naively putting our future at stake
And did all that was too perfect and right
Would grow complacent, never scale lofty heights
How would we recount those , foolish tales
Though silly, nevertheless taught us to sail?
Warbling tunes of gaiety and sorrow
Insouciant about the coming morrow.
Date Aug30 2016
Name of contest
One Quote
The original quote is
If we were wise when young, some songs would have been left unsung.
Death of Hope
Hope was a beautiful girl, long ago,
before she turned seventy when the pandemic hit
and turned her into an ideal candidate for Covid's
voracious appetite, living a solitary life in her
assisted-living apartment, until one day,
when the sun was playing hide and seek with the clouds
and a mild wind blowing the ruffles of a bird on the tree,
suddenly Hope was struck by the disease like a bolt of lightning,
and she coughed and had chills and high temperature and, soon,
muscle spasms and stomachache and nightmares, that seemed like
a tragedy foretold, until her immune system was overpowered by the
mighty army of virus, building fortresses in her lung and shooting volleys of pain
that reduced her will to fight, eventually like a vanquished foe in the hands of a
superior enemy that knew no mercy.
MELODIES OF LIFE
If we were wise when we were young
Some songs would have been left unsung
Had we anticipated well before hand
that the road we travelled through was wrong
We'd never stop and glance back
To relive rare moments that came along
If we had refused to eat the stale cake
That caused us to suffer stomachache
We'd never recall the secret thrill
we felt, succumbing to our sweet will
Had we not made some grave mistakes
Naively putting our future at stake
And did all that was too perfect and right
Would grow complacent, never scale lofty heights
How would we recount those , foolish tales
Though silly, nevertheless taught us to sail?
Warbling tunes of gaiety and sorrow
Insouciant about the coming morrow.
Date Aug30 2016
Name of contest
One Quote
Now resubmitted for Brian Strands any theme any form max 24 lines contest
Date Dec 24 2016
Don't take others' precious lives
To fill up your foul bellies!
Stomachache will take your lives!
4.8.2022
No comments, please!
Eating more Mexican food than most of Texas
is not something one should be proud of. If
all the wisdom of man is mere foolishness,
all the tacos you can eat are mere stomachache.
Along the way I’ve rediscovered herbal tea,
that proverbial panacea in a land of coffee and Coca-Cola.
Fresh off the binge I love pure water and pumping iron,
though what’s heavy isn’t just metal or military presses.
Try as I might to be beholden to a higher commander.
Off the binge, now is a time that goals and dreams be
elevated as never before. I begin to power forward from petit fours.