We cannot fight old age – So, when I get there… I’ll just embrace it with a big dollop of humour!! Quote by poet.
My decrepit body makes me cry
Growing old ain’t fun, I cannot lie
My bladder leaks, it makes me sigh
Pelvic exercises I will have to try!
I’m not so agile, I am way too slow
When I need the loo I HAVE to go
Cos I can’t control my urine flow
Pass me a nappy, I won’t say no!!
I piddle when I cough or sneeze
I’m chesty, got an awful wheeze
My boobs have sagged well past my knees
Do I want a new body - ooh yes please!
To hear bird song really loud and clear
I need a hearing aid for my deaf ear
Going totally deaf I truly fear
I’ll get ears checked again this year
My aching limbs sure give me gyp
Got arthritis in my knees and hip
No cure for wrinkles around my lip
Anti aging creams dumped in the tip!
I repeat myself, that’s no falsehood
Instructions can be misunderstood
I repeat myself, that’s no falsehood
Oops my memory is not very good
In the seventies lipsticks were beige, blah and nude
Dull, usually colorless and odorless, not to be rude.
Bright reds of the forties and fifties were passe’, out.
The lightest of peaches could be applied to a pout.
Women were expected to be straight up and down.
Twiggy at twenty, twenty, twenty, was paraded around.
Rubenesque chesty women were considered way out of bound.
Emaciated starving young models were the talk of the town.
The troublesome throaty explosion
For which demanded is handkerchief
That helps to hinder hell’s diffusion
By the thoughtless simple man or chief…
The oft-followed by a dragged-out gob
The owner sends straight to nearby soil:
What had tried to chesty freedom rob
And a whole day for sufferer spoils…
A scurrying for antibiotics
Or soon, the chest shall be again heaved:
Haphazard gestures of semiotics,
The jerkily thrown off guard retrieved…
The attacked with, first, expectorant:
Syrupy stuff that keeps it at bay;
For cough’s accursed cause a search warrant,
In one’s airways delightful free way…
Cough’s innocent picture throat-clearing
Yet, muffle for a laughter rearing…
Capsule of disguised danger warning
For one you wish to see, next morning…
Once, I was there to check a tall Zaki
And it became reason to meet khaki,
Very clean but most offices tacky:
A cop could turn one into a lackey!
I know The Police is for the Nation
But I shan’t again a Police Station;
A world plainly paramilitary,
Safer, not better than Solitary,
In every station, obvious gyration;
Canteens that could serve one large ration,
The environment is quite sanitary
But should not clinch The Best Commentary…
Where one runs into AK47,
There holders more than Forty Seven:
Men who could catch rogues but their eyes roguish;
A lot of money make but still languish…
No good guarantee of non-harassment,
A chesty cough attracts embarrassment:
A fat envelope and one reports a case;
A much fatter one to clean and face!
An
Umbrella
Lemon-yellow brilliant
Over my head and shoulders stooped
Protects me from getting the chesty croup
But praise God for long warm sunny days
Warm inviting outside for a relaxing exhilarating stay
Also
Thank
God
For
Your
Cover
y
a
d
T o -
I cannot my body release
To the least hacking disease
For it does spell the end of ease
And me drop on Medicine’s knees.
I shall pay the asked fixed fee
For a winter’s furnace-hot tea
While Government should plant the tall trees
Against our harsh cold breeze…
Men cardigans wear against The Jeez!
We eerily shout as we freeze
I to be not in-the-fridge cheese
Or like the Awfully Chesty wheeze;
To prompt prevention, sticking
Against the time bomb ticking!
Morose morn, but sun’s a catalyst, warm
On the eave, the pigeon’s contumely coo,
rids a night’s cumbersome, cold, smother
New day, dearth of dew on concrete lawn
Its dull gray lightened by that eloquent hi
nodding chesty chary iridescence of dawn
Glamor understated or colors long-fading?
Sipping tea by the roost, the bobbing struts
tread decrepit life under roofs, like a caveat
as nearby, shining freeway cars rush, at sea...
roaring mettles endure, seeking 'the' flower
(4/22/2021)
Cricket is a game of love
Full of puns and innuendo
As a lass I’d love to bowl you over
By having you a maiden over
A couple of opening googlies
Spin balls should do the trick
Middle of the over adds
Two chesty bouncers to the mix
Fifth could be an angler
To draw a lovely catch
Sixth ball to earn a maiden over
What else but a full toss
Just to finish me off
Now all I need to know
With a six dot ball over
Have I won my maiden over
Painful shoulder,
A pain in the neck,
Sore arms,
What the heck?
Chesty cough,
Swollen knee,
Aching joints,
Woe is me.
Runny nose,
It hurts to sneeze,
Enough is enough,
I'm begging, please.
Feeling nauseous,
Pounding head,
Lack of sleep,
I'm going back to bed.
Valor is a better word
Valiance that invincibly fortitudes,
Anticipates its own unfailing courage,
Letting heart ignite the patriotic fire,
On boundaries proves the sanguine mettle,
Recognise and salute the chesty fearless.
Written Jan 15th, 2016
For contest by Verlena
Awarded HM
They all gathered 'round some tittered others smiled
The chesty one with the long legs glared,
Nothing can be more inconsiderate than to be told "no"
Your dream is dead
8/1/'13
When it came to chesty women, I was obsessed.
I wanted a woman who had large breasts.
Now I'm 75 years old and I have something to confess.
I am an old man and I've grown large breasts.
These aren't the kind of boobs that people want to caress.
I put on a 38D bra when I get dressed.
People stare at these big hooters that I've grown.
I no longer need a busty lady because I have big breasts of my own.
(THIS IS A FICTIONAL POEM.)
The Highland Princess
Berthed again
Freshwater Loch
Beautiful Highland Glen
Tranquil pined hillside
Log cabin picturesque
Captain and his dove
Lovingly blessed
As winter sets in
Snow falls so deep
This two in the warmth
In cuddled keep
Roaring log fire
Birch logs a sparking
Face to face
Their hearts a starting
The Captain stands up
And asks for her hand
As he leads her to
A room so grand
Large window they stand
Over the loch they view
He turns to his dove
Declaring, i love you
His manly hands
Undress her so
In her heart she says
Undress me slow
His dove unfeathered
Hands running down her arms
Torso caressed
Her chesty charms
Heaven reached
His hand grooming
As he kisses his dove
Her heart cooing
Four poster bed
Their impressions are made
Moonlight through the window
Passions played
Delicious whispers
In the ear of his dove
As they spoon together
Like a hand in a glove
Together in dreams
Heart to heart
Their next journey
A new start