I'm no grump
nor one to dump
let alone mock
but I can't like or lump
a pudgy frump
in a frock
who my world don't shock
yet here's the kicker
as a chick
she'd be slicker
and not to deride
but if she'd lose a few
a pound or two
the sooner the quicker
on either side
she'd be bodacious
I'd be flirtatious
and we'd roll and rock
around the clock
My brother and I,
while choosing a name for my nephew,
tried hard to think of something unique—
something with variety and charm.
“Tractor” was the first choice,
then came “Tumbler,”
and we fell breathless with laughter,
comparing impossible things—
his eyes to stretching bubblegum.
We joked about how his name
might sound when he grew older.
Laughs and tears rolled down our cheeks.
Your cheeks are tending to the ground
And I’m so slow today
Look at the memory I’ve found
Before it flies away
The lifeline furrow on your palm
Runs through the hills and dales
Inside the storm it could be calm
Despite the blowing gales
My glasses gleam with gold and brown
I have to go again
I cannot see what time is now
Could be the same as then
No winds, its stillness here today
Along the waters green
I’m following your shady way
To let you know I’m in.
.
she doesn't know it yet
but
her purty
sit'n cheeks
are gonna get
rock rash
cauze thar' no stoolz
out here in
thuh voodz
the House Finch visits
with beautiful rosy cheeks
a cheerful morning
Heidi Sands
4/14/25
(C)opyright
Granny decided this week
To no longer wear false teeth
So she eats soft food
Like beans and stew
Much less meat in her cheeks
She discovered sledding when she was three or four
We used to put her on with us, but then she got independent
I think she was five and a half when she wanted to “go alone”.
I am big, she told us. Not to us, but we allowed it.
She did not want to come in for hot chocolate or warmth.
We finally had to drag her kicking and screaming, into the house.
Her cheeks were blood red, assuring us she had a great time!
Fashionable Fall flaunts her lustrous leaves,
catwalks flowing flora with earnest ease.
Haunting lullabies from the quaking trees
cast chilling currents from mountain to keys.
Dancing diamonds of glistening glow
show skies with promise of soon-to-be snow.
Sunrises and sunsets are a fireworks show
scattering the stars like dice in a throw.
Gowns of complementary colors trace
ribboned harvest fields at riotous pace.
Swirling with natural, elegant grace,
her glamor failing and fast losing face.
Tattered trees largely stripped bare of their clothes
leave a psychedelic pathway that flows.
With each rowdy breeze, it gustily blows,
and turns pale snozzle to a reddened nose.
With stinging, shallow breath and crimson cheeks
embrace lacy lakes and mountains’ paling peaks
till Winter steals through Fall and solemnly seeks
favor for upcoming ice-hearted weeks.
Roses are red, indeed they are.
Violets are blue, in weather, fair.
Where’s the romance of moon and stars?
Need to fill up my reservoirs.
Roses are pink against my cheeks.
Violets are small, a token friend.
The sun, likewise, warms up the weak.
The source of truth - the Son, I seek.
6/3/2023
Drifting slow above the steel-tracks
He runs up to the train’s window as her back
Faces him, yells out her name.
"Will you be my wife?"
Her blushing cheeks flame.
7/27/2022
Short Verse Inspired By Pictures Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Lisa YY
inspired by the Picture
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/578431145904762475/
Leaves turned red and gold
Crisp wind blushes childrens' cheeks
indoors turkey roasts
Family gathers, prayers, thanks
Joyful in bounty of love
October 20, 2021
Thanksgiving Japanese Tanka Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Milton Hankins
6th place!
honey crisp apple
swollen with bursting sunlight
afternoon delight
Those apples you call cheeks are as fresh as a currant, grapefruit!
Wanna eat them my luv! For they're chubby and sweet!
The crease on your neck is a line on blue-sky.
It squints for a smooch which my lips can't deny.
Tears some men easily wipe
By smoking a waiting pipe,
The same tears most women shed
Precariously perching on a bed.
Big tears male criers crave
While on female cheeks they’d rave:
Some tears a man strenuously forces,
On the eyelids of a woman racing horses:
A wounded pride’s would eternally last,
The physically injured’s drying up fast;
The messages in men’s tears are short
The ones in women’s a well-aimed shot!
winters osculate
a common intense tongue hides
inside mountains cheeks
1/12/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
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