Best Yellow Bellied Poems
LIFE IS LIKE A MAYPOLE
Outstretch above are blue skies and golden sunshine
as train of threads is softly thug and braid to a pole.
Behold, this sky high pole of bright crayon colors,
they speak slowly about life in quite a number. . .
Sturdy wooden pole standing high and tall
is like a man endowed with wit and strength
The lengthy colored ribbons children install
are the shifting, rolling faces of life's events
Black as night sometimes dawn in life,
one maybe blue but not long, instead
do stand and chase rainbows on green belt bend.
Being a tickled pink to explore, never strife!
See, how the color red blush as it dance in the wind
so must we as we share love along kinship line
we aren't all born with a green finger
yet, each kindness touch, grin lingers!
Shed that yellow-bellied skin
to mingle without any charign.
Our life is given by God in silver plate.
Hence, let our daily goal be a red-letter day!
If we do, earth and sky may wed of rapport
like the ribbons together pulled and blend
by hands of dancing children that mend...
Raising the Maypole aloft with ribbon pour
so is a lived life despite black and blues decor.
As the threads slide smoothly in span of minutes
we, humans, must climb to reach our full limits.
The intertwining colors that fused, all roar
salad differences of man can be sorted, united to be one.
Screaming colors tickle lowly spirits' to fire
daring man to live before his body will retire. . .
Living life to the fullest before each setting sun!
_____________________________________________________________
©O.E. Guillermo
11:23 pm-- February 02, 2015
Sponsor: Seren Roberts
Contest Name: Life is like a Maypole
Placed 1st
Belligerent bulldog blows up balloons, bulbous and blue.
Frantic frenzied flamingo flips for a flute and a flu.
Persnickety porcupine prances perilous with pooh,
Concerned calico cat coaxes a cardinal’s carnival coo.
Daredevil dolphin diligently designs dalmatian dog’s hairdo.
Serendipitous skunk sashays toward sticky sweet stew.
Lavishly laborious lion lunges into little linguistic loo.
Youngish yak yells and yips at yellow bellied you.
Orange ball of fire
slips down sky
Igniting navy blue night
Like a kid sliding down
The sliding board
In slow motion
Stars seem to peek
As if watching me
Casting dreams upon
Silvery steam of their light
Watch them rinse repeat
Wishing upon stars bring peace
Wind seems to hold
Whims hopes goals
Like a kite against clouds
I feel solar energy warm
Yet cool like black breeze
Yesterday’s yellow bellied laugh
Purple psychosomatics of past
Optimistic views of one madd
Despite the pessimism in that
Embracing even chasing rainbows
Could shooting stars be my destiny
Transforming souls of gold
Fading into heaven’s horizon
As a story to be retold rewritten
Reinventing universe of light
So much more than mankind
With fingers crossed seeking to find
Me: I’m sorry, I didn’t catch you name
Him:Yellow, but my friends call me Yell
Me: Say again? I’m somewhat hearing impaired
Him: Yellow!! But my friends call me Yell!!
Me: There’s certainly no need to YELL at me sir
Him: Son of a…I said Yellow!! But my friends ca...
Me: Ahh, I see, so you’re a yellow fellow then?
Him: Okay whatever, yeah, I’m a yellow fellow
Me: Well, there’s nothing at all to be afraid of sir
Him: You givin’ me a BAD case of the red-ass here!
Me: A red Ass? Might I suggest that you dye it y...
Him:You and me are fixin’ to visit the hospital bud!
Me: Well, I’m certainly no doctor but it could be jaundice
Him:You’re gonna NEED a doctor, you yellow bellied…
Me: Sir, I'm certain that my abdomen is flesh toned, see?
Him: Oh lordy me! Pull your FREEKIN’ shirt back d....
Me: By the way, do you remember that song Mellow Yel…
Him: (Slam-Bam-Ooof!!)---Pretty sure its Donovan, right?
Me: No hir, my name ih NOH Donovan, ih’s Him Ryerson
Him: Gonna make me do this AGAIN? (more slam-bam-ooof)
Me: Excuse me hir, it heems I’ve fallen and cannoh geh up
Him: Call Life Alert and tell them you need a dentist...
* Edited and extended version of a previous post
Dedicated to the VERY talented poet Monterey Sirak whose contest this poem placed in...Thanks Monterey!
I’m sorry, I didn’t catch you name
‘Yellow, but my friends call me Yell”
Say again? I didn’t quite hear you
“Yellow!! But my friends call me Yell!!”
There’s certainly no need to yell at me sir
“Sh-t…I said Yellow!! But my friends call”…
Ahh, I see, so you’re a yellow fellow then?
“Okay whatever, yeah, I’m a yellow fellow”
Well, there’s nothing at all to be afraid of sir
“You givin’ me a SEVERE case of the red ass here!”
A red donkey? Might I suggest a paint job?
“You and me are fixin’ to visit the hospital bud”
Well, I’m certainly no doctor but it could be jaundice
“You’re fixin, to NEED a doctor, you yellow bellied”…
By the way, do you remember that song Mellow Yel…
(Slam-bam-ooof)-----“Yep, Donovan did it"...
Date written: 12/1/2014
Submitted for: Shadow Hamilton's contest
Let us color
the colors
in their right
shades and hues;
Is white, white?
Or, red, green
and blue, too?
Red is red but
Green is not green--
It’s yellow and blue,
As yellow is
red and green.
Black is black,
It's in black and white
Black as night
White as a ghost,
Not black and blue,
You get the blues
Out of the blue
Once in a blue moon.
Red is blood red,
Paint the town red,
Red in the face
but not off color,
Always in the pink
never in the red.
Show your true colors,
Raise a white flag
if you see red,
Not your green thumb.
Get the green light
Not green with envy,
Chase the rainbow
Be not a black sheep
Or yellow-bellied.
~1/15/2015
~Anacreontic Verse 2 contest by Edward Ebbs
(Occasional Rhyme)
Splat.Take that, plaguey pest;
you, your brother, and all the rest.
Were you given license from heaven
to hurl yellow-bellied goop
onto my sparkling shield?
It's there to separate wind,
not catapult you to glory.
But lack-a-daisy husband
threw out this quibble,
"You're riding in a Buick,
not a sidecar on a cycle.
Count your blessings, dear;
it's scuzzy glass and metal,
not scum on your teeth."
No power-wash, soap or brush
will burst their odious wad.
They cling as if their fling
came from the hand of God.
I'm reluctant to admit; they appeared
on Veterans' Day, and stayed to say
Merry Christmas in slug bug scuzz.
Trust is such a deliciously sweet thing
Who
stole
the
strawberries?
Make the yellow-bellied canary sing
Confidence lost in an abandoned mind
Smoky sulfur
and silica methane ...
uptake of noxious fumes to the brain
Pinning blame on the innocent
is such a wickedly gossip thing
Who
stole
the
strawberries?
Make the paid parrots walk the plank
Over the edge,
submersive feeling of a shark bite
Band of brotherly fear: pie-hole footsteps Caine a-coming,
like the razor slice of a sharp knife
A taste for deceit is an acquired appetite;
such a distended, gluttonous thing
Who
stole
the
strawberries?
Loyalty fled, as the cannons started firing
Resentment turned inward,
be a busted gut full of bellyaching —
Sunken boatload of wretched, scurvy self-loathing
Someone coveted the strawberries ...
perhaps it was a fickle foe pretend friend
Check the fingers for the evidence
that is scarlet proof crimson staining
Drink an ask flagon of cherry whine
Who
stole
the
strawberries?
Will be mutineer revealed in due time
Death is not a due destination deserved;
rather, it’s a God privilege that’s reserved.
Yet, you yellow-bellied bigots feel frightfully
free to stalk and murder us—
Prey to be hung, shot, kneed, or by any means
to stop the Black Exodus.
Playing the Greek-like god that you are not, you’ve sought
to “whiteout” all who are black.
But with a Casper-The-Ghost comic-like eerie dumbness, you
can’t fathom what you lack—
That we hued ones of God have had hued eyes on the prize
far too long to be turned back.
As we continue to trek over a way that has been like sojourning
the valley of the shadow of death
And have more often than not been the unjustified victims of that
5th Amendment-like shadow’s fate—
Know that there’s no longer any apathy in us left and that judgment
day is coming to your bigoted racist hate.
An abecedarian Australian animal activist
Bagged bodacious big bucks
Caustically criticizing crocodiles,
Driving darling dragons
Essentially extinct. Eschewing
Fact, fabricating fanciful fiction,
Grifting gloriously,
He haughtily held hostage
Important, instructive information,
Juxtaposed jaundiced, junk
Kangaroo kills,
Leveling large lizard libel,
Manufacturing marsupial misinformation malevolently.
On other ominous occasions,
Preferring pernicious propaganda,
Quickly, querulously, quashed
Real, rational reports, rather,
Substituted several substantially
Tarnished technical travesties,
Undermining unified understanding.
Very vociferously, viciously
Wrote works without warrant,
Xenophobic xenotypic
yarns, yammering yellow-bellied yawps,
Zombie-like, zealously.
Nests of weaver birds
hanging down from the palmyra palm
An example for community living ?
exclaimed my friend a realtor ;
his friend an architect said
it is all awesome my friend.....hm...
absolutely unbelievable, the
' handy' work of such tiny black-beaked
yellow-bellied ploceidae -the weaver birds !
I have no hesitation to call these sparrows
avian architects even human architects,
my clan may ever match in excellence !
and his friend who formed one among us
bird watchers.... a seasoned textile engineer
hath said this unhesitatingly, 'my God
what I am seeing on this palm ,,, these nests
of weaver birds.... can I call it the
'hanging textile work of avian genius!
absolutely beautiful and heavenly.....
I fail to describe any further....I am stunned 'he further said.
As we were thus watching these nests in awe
night's darkness came hanging... soon to be
driven by the rays of cool stunning silvery moonlight
the light focussed on these nests of weavers
transformed them at once into
heavenly nests of silver ....
with a hear unwilling to leave
we bid 'adieu.... to these birds of wonder
treading on the coastal silvery sands
like angels in a wonder land.
We looked at the world through rose-colored glasses,
sped through the night under blue moons,
parked in cars and gave boys the green light.
Explored gray areas, dreamed of golden boys,
painted the town red and got caught red-handed.
We saw adult freedoms and were green with envy,
we experienced blackouts (I’m talkin’ to you 151 rum),
swam in black water alone and talked to strangers,
told little white lies, yet somehow, we didn’t die young.
I think of college students as dyed-in-the-wool adults.
The grass always looked greener on the adult side,
and we’re tickled pink not to be infantilized any more.
We’ll show the world our true colors
and pass college with flying colors.
Life won't be handed to us on silver platters,
we’ll get white collar jobs.
Of course, as adults, we’ll have to deal with red tape,
and we can’t be yellow-bellied or try to whitewash things.
We’ll stay out of the red or sing the blues.
We’ll stay off the yellow lines, seek golden opportunities,
attend black tie events, obey the golden rule, avoid pink slips,
support our men in blue and look for silver linings.
Adulthood sounds exhausting.
On the positive side, I’m told adults practice safe sex.
Practice means what it’s always meant - right?
Is that why adults go to bed so early?
Besides, as adults, we won’t be kept in the dark anymore,
and we’ll get to chase rainbows!
It's a wild tourist attraction
for the stoic opulent mess,
Atrocity in its burning glory,
joyous and omnipresent,
The fire singeing my wry reaction,
heroically in distress—
Cowering to their nefarious core,
until we eat the resin.
Although I'm frightened and rigid,
but not quite to death,
With all the holiest war torn grief
pinned upon my breast,
I refuse to taste or even to give it
a chance to take my breath—
Whatever it is that I've become
has sworn to thwart their quest.
Everything here ends in tears
with sorry sullied intentions,
The mighty deception of the night
would blame its friends for less,
Nobody ever mends their fears
in yellow-bellied dimensions—
Perceptions of the light will change
when it bends to convalesce.
So as it stands; crumbling down,
I'll climb the wheel to flee,
And though they'll grin, so shall I,
as it rolls into the sea.
There is a harbor, dark and still,
That formed ten thousand years ago.
It lies upon the western sill
Of Grand Manan, in indigo.
Seagulls soar above the cliffs.
Puffins nest on jagged rock.
From herring weirs, in island skiffs,
The fishermen return to dock.
Where seaweed grows a tangled mess,
Where buoys bounce, it has been said
That barnacles, like warts, caress
A horrid, torrid dragon's head!
This monster of the Fundy Isles
Has zigzagged to Dark Harbor shore.
With nostrils wide, this crocodile
Can clear her throat with one big
ROOOAAAAAAAARRRRRR!!!
Mouth of fire, darting tongue,
Orange eyeballs, scales of green;
Glistening white, her teeth are strung,
A yellow-bellied squirmy Queen.
But then, a melody so rare
Rises up from ocean brine!
Haunting echoes everywhere,
How magically they intertwine!
The ocean sways as Dragon sings,
Tides rising to the highest note.
Back and forth, the sea world swings
In eddies round her slimy throat.
Then all along the rocky face,
On every ledge from salty douse,
The shoreline birds select their place
Inside this outdoor opera house.
A foghorn drones in mournful bass.
A whale donates a whistling tune.
A hush embraces ocean's face,
A lullaby for stars and moon.
Then Dragon's song is finally done.
She sinks beneath a gentle wave.
As birds fly to the rising sun,
The dragon slips into her cave.
There is a harbor, dark and still,
With coastal birds from gull to wren.
Tonight they'll watch and wait until
The dragon sings her song again.
Agog
bemusement careened
dreamed enchantment
first gaze, hoped in jeopardy
keeling lust made nectarine offer piquant...
quagmire’s ruse stirred
torturing umber veins
Wife X-tenuations…
Yellow-bellied zilch!
(1/14/2019: '89 Irwin 38; Brisbane)