Best Tummies Poems
NOTE: This poem means a lot to me for it brings back memories of my childhood. My father, a WWII veteran was, in my eyes, indestructible. There was nothing he could not do. My mother was a constant loving guiding force that led our home. They were always there for us. Life comes full circle and when I wrote this poem Mom and Dad were failing, elderly and a mere shadow of their prime glory. I missed those times and still do. As I raise my children I am nearing retirement and I wonder what they think of me these days. The same I hope.
Don’t fade Papa, don’t leave us alone,
Where is that strong man,
Who wisely ruled our home?
Strong were his hands that once led,
That picked us up when we fell,
And carried us safely to our beds.
Don’t fade Papa,
Who is this broken man before me?
It wasn’t that long ago,
He was the inspiration for us to see.
Life comes full circle to us all,
I am not as strong as I used to be,
“Papa come play ball with me!” I hear my son call.
Don’t fade Papa, don’t leave us alone,
Take us back, to our happy home.
Don’t fade Mama, don’t leave us alone,
Where is that strong woman,
The guiding light of our home?
Strong was her love that once led,
That tickled out tummies,
And tucked us snuggly into bed.
Don’t fade Mama,
Who is this broken woman before me?
It wasn’t that long ago,
She was the example for us to see,
Life comes full circle to us all,
I am not as strong as I used to be,
“Mama have tea with me with me” I hear my daughter call.
Don’t fade Mama, don’t leave us alone,
Take us back, to our happy home.
Honourable Mentions Worth Mentioning Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
5/1/19
They are walking! Walking, walking, walking!
Long stretches of walk - hundreds of miles of impossible uncertainty,
in blazing sun, in sweltering, muggy, heat - running away from an Inferno.
Home, sweet home! Villages with shady trees!
Destination!
Thirst, hunger, bleeding.
They trudge, fatigued babies hanging on their shoulders like sandbags,
starving infants clutching hands, tears dry on their cheeks.
Men and women - walk, walk, walk!
Leave cities where cruelty is the only language,
Villages with shady trees -
Home, sweet home, far away.
Burning sun, sweating bodies, dry throat, growling tummies.
Slog beside railroads - follow tracks,
no trains, no buses, no trucks, no vehicles,
only two weary feet to carry them to their destination,
plodding with all their might until the body can not move a step further.
Lie on the tracks - it’s hard, it’s cold, it’s comforting!
Come rest, come sleep, come death -
Blood-stained tracks-
Destination never came.
And as the hills yonder
Turned red from sunset rays
As darkness engulfed the valley
And the sweet sounds of birds
Rent the cool evening air
Our cows and sheep and goats
Hurried down the footpath
As though they were late
To a gathering of clans
Or to one of their own
And we the happy herds' boys
Turned our ravenous thoughts
To bananas yams and milk
And all available munch-able stuff
To calm our restless tummies
And as the evening metamorphosed into night
And the stars of the sky reclaimed their might
We the famished children of the valleys
Approached the fireside with widening eyes
As the roughshod soldiers laid claim to all
And shot in the air to frighten us all.
And so we watched with pangs of hunger
Training our wrath and rancor and dismay
To other sons and daughters of Africa
Who for reasons best known to them
Or known only to their heartless handlers
Proclaimed themselves ‘defenders of our freedom.’
Voila! Children of the valleys of Africa
And of the cities and slums of Africa
You who gather in the evening breeze
After torrid days in the fields and streets
Only to return to a darkening sky
Sans food sans wear sans light. Voila!
their park, their bench
was serenely quiet
leaves playfully danced
as pigeons quickly took flight.
he caressed the colourful scarf
she had knitted with love and care
he wept tears of remembrance;
her smile, her joy, the scent of her hair.
a chilly breeze made him shiver
he held tightly his scarf,
wrapped it around his lips
he inhaled deeply; breathing her in.
with steaming cups of coffee
a paper bag of gooey cinnamon buns
they had laid out the sunday crosswords
debated and laughed; they were truly one.
tummies full, cheeks a rosy glow
she lay her head on his lap
gazed into his clear blue eyes,
he kissed her forehead, held softly her hand.
this was their time, their park, their bench
he beamed recalling, the day she chose him.
she raced him uphill to the gorgeous oak tree,
they rolled down the hill; laughing aloud.
he rose from their bench,
lured by the gorgeous oak tree
fought back tears, as he slid down the trunk,
knees to his chest; fingers wrapped in his scarf.
he read what they etched only a few days ago,
hers read "you are my oak, forever you are my love"
his read "my scarf is your heart; you are my soul"
he kissed the etchings; cheeks streaming tears.
glancing down at their bench he froze, watching;
a young couple with steaming cups of coffee
gooey cinnamon buns peeking through a paper bag,
he rolled down the hill; his scarf,her spirt,in hand.
pulling carefully a piece of fringe from his scarf
he carefully placed it in the young man's hand
smiling, he watched them hold one another close;
in their park, on their bench,now; a new love bloomed
she forever lives in him, their park, their bench
the etchings, her laughter, the love in her eyes.
his scarf, her soul; eternally they are entwined.
If you judge food with the quantity put before you
Then my first choice will be the Victoria Hotel*.
On Sunday lunch, food is too plentiful, makes you blue.
There we will eat so much it will make our tummies swell.
In my travels, I had times when food was super great.
Like when in sunny Ireland we drove up a high hill.
Fragrant smell of seafood, an inevitable bait,
And who cared about driving, chilled white wine was a thrill.
Athens and the Acropolis, a sight to explore.
We descended on foot and found a farm that served meals
We poured some white wine I had never tasted before,
Various cuts of lamb tastefully spiced, worth the deals.
One surprise was in Switzerland, on a mountain high.
My wife and I opted for a trout for the first time.
It was deliciously tasteful, we could almost fly.
We shared a second helping, costed many a dime.
I suppose there are other good times when food excelled,
But Urk in Holland was my biggest surprise of all.
A shack near the sea served food but not even a smell
We ate the finest fresh sole, the chef we had to call.
But the worst food I partook in was in old Brazil
Only meat and hormone-fed chicken, cooked with no skill.
NB The Victoria Hotel is situated in Sliema, Malta, not far from where I live. The food there is always first class, except for the wine :)
Help me save the children from rage and hopelessness,
Bring your optimistic lanterns, and your jubilant joy sticks.
Meet me in a half hour in the gazebo in the park.
Bring all the children you can find along the way.
Use your magic flutes and faeries to get them out of their houses
I have sent others ahead with a scrumptious meal to fill their tummies,
Gypsies are bringing art supplies that will help them fill the town with creativity.
Let’s dance our dance and sing our songs, and bring all the children we can find.
Invite all the poets, singers, artists, pet-lovers, enthusiastic adults and dancers.
We need all the lovers of life, the spreaders of happiness, and the proponents of joy
If we are to save the children.
We can start immediately, saving one at a time.
Date: Jan 4, 2019 Contest: Free Verse
Sponsor: Emiile Pinet
The time is after midnight, and I’m in the moment,
thinking how another Christmas has come and gone.
My spouse and I are tucked in bed, warm and cozy.
Outside, white beauty coldly blankets our front lawn.
Snickers, our new dog, sleeps peacefully between us.
The cat creeps up beside me now. How I love her!
How trusting are these creatures God gives us - how pure!
Our cat lies down by Snickers. I hear her soothing purr.
The visit with our daughter and her family was nice.
With gifts, glad hearts and tummies full, we traveled home.
More memories to cherish; the old year passes.
In the moment - grateful - I finish with this poem.
Merry trumpet, sassy saxophone
Stand poised in the quaint jazz room,
waiting on their music men
to begin their heartfelt tunes.
Bold drums awaiting patiently
For slim sturdy wooden sticks,
to beat rhythm on their tummies
and give all fun loving kicks.
Great tuba's vigorous chiming voice
so deep and oh so grand!
Brings heart and soul and humor
To the jolly good brass band.
Round banjo with its steely strings
gets plucked and strummed with joy
As it sounds those fun and lively tunes
that we hum and so enjoy.
Majestic piano's harmonic keys,
Tap melodious magnificient airs
Reverberating ubiquitously,
By the maestro graced with flair.
In delightful unison they permeate our souls,
These musical masters and their wares.
Give glory to our "Ultimate Composer",
Whose creations are so debonair.
May 13, 2016
(Revised December 2016)
Beach Blanket Bingo (The Fab Five)
B etty Lou, beautiful Katherine, and
E leanor, Nellie Sue and Bethany
A ll playing Bingo, on blankets in sand,
C hatted away, happy girls by the sea,
H eaven-sent sun beaming high in the sky.
B ethany said, “Girls, suck tummies in.
L ook. Over there is a really cute guy!
A lso, we really should show him some skin!”
N ellie Sue said, “And he has four friends too!”
K atherine quickly adjusted her hair.
E leanor said, “Girls, you know what to do.”
T hey took off their beach wraps and made those men stare!
B ob and his friends asked to join the game.
I n minutes each lady was paired with a guy.
N o worries. Just good times. Always the same.
G olden girls shine like the sun in the sky.
O ld ladies, still young at heart, the fab five!
by Andrea Dietrich
Inspired by Linda-Marie's
"Beach Blanket Bingo" Contest
Little People Contest
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Tiny pixies floating over jaded lily pads,
the sunshine brings days of yore to be,
lil’ gnomes dressed in colorful burlap clads,
living in polka-dotted mushrooms raggedy.
A day of celebration brings a party to life,
flowers in little folk’s hair for decoration,
on tiny rainbow colored fairies they fly,
for it’s time for a festival of jubilation.
Inside the mushrooms there lies no beds,
they sleep upside down on a blue branch,
Papa gnomes wear white hats on their heads,
it distinguishes the governors at the ranch.
That’s where they meet to grow mushrooms,
building homes for the gnomes who have none,
inside each room is where one daisy blooms,
it brings good fortune and flourishes great fun.
The day is done and they gather at the hills,
that is where they greet and tell silly jokes,
Mamma gnome makes feasts for tummies to fill,
welcome to the world of the happy little folk’s!
Words used: flowers, fairies, pixies, gnomes, party and sunshine
Date Written: June 26, 2016
Cool water teases and tickles my toes
Whilst a warm summer breeze gently blows
I sit here silently on the sun kissed wooden pier
Somehow the ducklings know that I’m here!
Mummy always gives me a big bag of bread
So I make sure every duckling will get fed
They quack and splash in the water so blue
I love to watch them feeding, I really do!
The ducklings gather round me patiently waiting
Food in their tummies they are all anticipating
I try to throw the bread far out to sea
The ducklings quack ‘that piece is for me’
Soon the bread is gone, they have eaten every crumb
Still they gather round me, but now my task is done
It’s time for my dinner now, so I tell them I must go
But I will return again tomorrow, I hope the ducklings show.
Contest Feeding the Ducklings Sponsored by Eve Roper
05~04~16
I drink too much
to get your images out of my head
but with no such luck
so i kept drinking instead
and with dread
I'd wake up with no recollection
but still your memory comes
in quite a large collection
I make the selection
to dance my pain away
but still your voices in my head chooses to stay
you had my heart on layaway
because all you men did was skid me
to the point where even I got rid of me
and I pray and I pray and I fight and I fight
with my demons who come at me like seamen
from a rapist I met one night
from lovers who lied
from all negativity
from myself who I once knew
now looking in my mirror with nothing but a fake smile and disgrace
after awhile I don't know my own face
Used and used till my abusers were through
so here I stand
bottle in hand
stumbling
crumbling inside
We'll all die yes..
but some of us already dead
hiding and crying
in a bed that we made
out of anger and self hate
but whose to say how I deal
I once but a meal for people to just feast
now I'm chilling in the tummies of beasts who have ate me.
but from them I conquered now and then
I still do it with a bottle in hand.
Hey mommy I am here to play
Daddy and brother are on the way
To the underworld where I sent them
By gutting tummies and dissecting
Innards go to outwards on the floor
Faces you can’t recognize anymore
Low and behold they still breathe
So I drowned them in the kitchen sink
Mommy come here, don’t run mommy
Fine I will chase you if you wish
But now when I get you — Cheshire grin
I’m going to take your life to the grave
Your going to wish you had stayed
Sparks fly on concrete from my blade
Mommy — I call through the halls
Mommy — my newest leather doll
Mommy! I call through the halls
Mommy, my newest leather doll
Eyes once vibrant and full of life
Frozen in time within glass like ice
Taxidermist sand fills your rinds
Don’t struggle scream or fight
Or you will feel a slice from my knife
Mommy your lips quiver and shiver
Bound to the cold ossuary of mischief
Where I been killing kids that went ‘missing’
You raised the perfect little girl all along
Perfect at whistling a thanatopsis song
Memento Mori-bund and invictus
For I am the necromantic enchantment
Tragedy fused elegy viral malediction
Feel the sweet steel mommy, not fiction
First cut was to invoke submission
Writhe and twist against her sentence
Stand still mommy here comes number two
Mama's little chef, stirring a stew of soullessness
the final cut, a symphony of silences, as carmine trickles
a crimson recipe, where every piece is digested
and in the cannibalistic dance, I devour your essence
Glazed icons of madness, Mommy my macabre doll
stitched and serried in the butcher's gallery of my mind
where souls are naugahyde-wrapped, my taxidermied trophies
of terror, a cabinet of horrors, forever chilled in time
In mother's dark hymn, I'm the soprano of sin
warbling sweet nothings of blood and bone
as Daddy and brother join the hellish song
their voices silenced by my tender touch
mashed and drowned, the reapers brush
SUNDAY
by Sandi Hoot
Sunday
A DAY TO REFLECT
all excited newness to be planted with our creators love
like a sponge absorbing energy from above
reflections of light twinkles in eyes
with roots connected in our humanly ties
A DAY TO CONNECT
cooking outdoors on the grill
kites in the air oh what a glorious thrill
smile is the language spoke on this day
souls connecting in such inwardly ways
A DAY TO RELAX
friends and family gather with full hearts and rumbling tummies
kids outside playing and acting funny
loud laughter fills the delicious warm air
this kind of happiness there is no compare
A DAY TO ENTERTAIN
trying to sing along to the bible hymns
but daydreaming of which football team wins
high five cheers in ears
such tradition through the years
A DAY TO REMEMBER
The snap shots of those that have departed
they are the reason these gatherings started
grandpa and grandma would be so thrilled
if only they were here still
A DAY TO CONSIDER
what happen last week is no longer the target
letting mistakes go not sweeping them under the carpet
for Sundays set the record a new
hopes that blessed will be the view
A DAY FOR GOALS
Setting higher standards from the past
asking God to let our lives last
for the falls are part of the crawl that leads to a closer goal
and makes that in you a better soul
A DAY FOR PEACE
Sunday helps us plug into that eternal peace
So let your light shine fully this upcoming week
HAPPY SUNDAY
The unknown pulchritude of my fun-loving, in-your-face cousin crashed down on me.
In an unexpected revelation, inspired by others, without any conscious warning.
When eight of my preteen friends began preening in front of him, unabashed, all eight swarming.
They were sucking in their tummies, and pushing out their chests right in front of him and me.
He had become at paragon of handsomeness , causing me discomfort, just a bit.
You must adore him! He has so much charisma! He is an Adonis! One said loud and clear.
I squinted my eyes, trying to figure out my new cousin in his 14th year.
He was practically smoldering, his brown eyes blazing, a party favorite, the confirmed “hit”.
Written on July 13, 2018
Entered into Laura Loo's Rhyme Time Lucky 8 Contest