Dumpy Poems | Examples

dummy spit

dumpy trumpeter 
spat the dummy
when his taco toppled
off his pastiche wall

Pie-in-the-sky-Pin-a-tail-on-a-donkey

Democrats like Damocles Sword's imminent jeopardized positions of power hail her rise,
Decades of teamsters support, NO, Harris-Demos few endorsed her in the public's eyes,
Democrats today are like the Dixiecrats of Dewey's days are playing old-school, sex-race cards,
Repubs set in their ways, and Demos are bendable like what's his face got her on second base, charades.
He needed to win, expendable, same cards played, sex-(win over for the women voters) it is a given for the race.
D for Demos who are Distancing from Drunkards--her hidden card takes centerstage--loses face.
First line expounded of my original Pie-in-the-sky, and
the rest was a shot in the dark, played with dance cards.

*She can seek help if she don't slur her words on camera that she is, 
being tailed., f0x learned from Di' lawsuit--pass the buck.

Repubs are no angels in this with Trumy-Dumpy on a ticket and not a wall, the third possible gallops in time with withdrawals TBA.

maybe it doesn't matter

     too young for Woodstock
     too old for Barbie dolls
     I wore blue denim bell-bottoms
     sometimes flowers in my hair
     she arrived with summer wind
     my friend Squeek 
     wild one exuding sensuality 
     as easy as breathing
     making testosterone go crazy
     she ran with bad boys
     let me tag-a-long
     one brief friendship then
     she was gone 
     vanished like summer sun
     what did she see in me
     the dumpy ugly fat girl
     maybe she was dream 
     maybe she was lesson
     maybe it doesn't matter
     fifty years later I'm still groovy
     damned near perfect
     I think about her and wonder

I used to be able to

I used to be able to run full steam all day with little sleep
Now I can barely walk unless I have a little cat nap
because I still am a fitful sleeper at night, up and down

I once ran around my yard with my dogs
Now arthritis in my ankles has me ambling, slowly
I dream of walking fast, which I also did once upon a time

My vision used to be better than twenty-twenty
Now I cannot read books or magazines unless they are big print
or I keep a magnifying glass close by my easy chair

Sitting around watching TV was the last thing I would do
until ten years ago when I tore my meniscus
Now I spend a lot of time eating potato chips in front of the boob tube

I used to be clever and funny and fun
I do not feel that way anymore
I feel dumpy and frumpy

Do what you can while you are young
Fifty five is a lot younger than seventy-three.
You might as well know it now.

Wallaby

I wanna be a wallaby
And not just a wanna-be,
Not a kangaroo or 
Silly platypus

But, if I can’t be a wallaby
I think that I would wanna be
A plump and dumpy
Hippopotamus!

Seeing Timidia In a New Way

"I go to Burning Man every year," Timidia told us.
My husband and I nearly spit out our coffee.
She was an accountant, unassuming, dumpy.
She wore shirts with plastic pen protectors.

Timidia attended Burning Man!
What?
In those clothes? I asked her.
She shook her head, no.  "In no clothes at all"

I now picture her in a whole new way.
Wishing that she weighed a teensy bit less.
I go too, her Bohemian husband said.
He has hair down to his hoo-hah. No surprise here.

Learning About Timida

"I go to Burning Man every year," Timidia told us.
My husband and I nearly spit out our coffee.
She was an accountant, unassuming, dumpy.
She wore shirts with plastic pen protectors.

Timidia attended Burning Man!
What?
In those clothes? I asked her.
She shook her head, no.  "In no clothes at all"

I now picture her in a whole new way.
Wishing that she weighed a teensy bit less.
I go too, her Bohemian husband said.
He has hair down to his hoo-hah. No surprise here.

I Have Optimistic Ideas

I will win this race I think forgetting that my body does not run.
I will dance my jeans off I believe forgetting I have a torn meniscus.
I will do a double triple quadruple skate move at the Olympics I brag.
My ankles groan, they are filled with arthritis now.

I will climb that mountain so high!
My lungs laugh, reminding me of our asthma
I will win all the marathons in the continental USA
Unless this frumpy dumpy flesh body holds me back.

Feeling It

"I am feeling it." He said.
He meant his age. As I watched
I saw a vision…

Out from the cuttlefish bones of his breast
grime coughed up and dribbled.
I saw his heart stutter, the vapid flutter,
watched his lungs belch and utter
like a broken bladder.

A horseman on a creaking steed
raised its hoary head
and pointed an ancient ladle
speaking thus -

"Stir me belly lad," it said,
"spoon me sticky sump,
dole globs of lymph from here to there.
Me grease is dumpy and lumpy.
Me hip-bones crunch
while me dingle wilts and dangles.
Me ears is gummy lad,
I've gone to the bad.”

The specter faded.

The old guy smiles, rubs his thin hair.
"I also see it sometimes," he says,
"that liver-spotted ghost
that chains me to an even older vision
of you."

The Girls Were Middle School Mean

The girls were middle school mean.
They invited a dowdy dumpy frumpy girl named Jean.
They told her she would have to wear a weird hat.
The weirdest you can find, one that makes you phat.

Jean was thrilled to be invited to their table.
She incorporated her grandmother, name of Mable.
Mable made her a mushroom hat – she looked like a buffoon.
It was a fancy restaurant, she looked silly in the room.

The waitress figured it out and led her to her own table.
She sat with her and spoke with her calmly, like Mable.
Letting her know that mean girls will always be mean.
But she does not have to see them again, just be her best Jean.

I Love Lucy

Ricky Ricardo,
handsome talent of the Tropicana show.
serious, he cracks the whip, practices -
his bongos distract us.

Lucy,
his fiery red-headed wife - we
follow her madcap schemes,
her showbiz dreams.

Fred,
dumpy, grumpy, nearly dead
except he comes alive with dance -
far-fetched romance.

Ethel,
the love of his life? Well…
a partner in dance. Lucy’s sometimes friend.
They always make up in the end.

Little Ricky,
bongo player — itty bitty
show stealer. Not a natural son,
Keith’s not credited but the golden ticket, he won!

I Love Lucy
gets along famously,
handles the trite matters
of life. Laughter on a silver platter.

9/5/2021

Clothes Choices For Old Women

I dreaded it when I hit the age of waist band stretch.
The choices I have are butterflies with glitter; they make me wretch.
Can you spell dumpy and frumpy? Because now I can for sure.
Fashion designers have excused themselves from old women mature.

Sure, we are slower, but are we less wise in the head?
Do we want to wear navy and black for years ‘til we’re dead?
I look at my choices. Where are the oranges? A purple or pink?
The fact is that in woman’s world, my options pretty much stink. 

I see the size two’s and three’s and fours, and I want to wear them.
They are colorful and sexy, I think as I cough up my phlegm. 
I see no linens, no waists, nothing fitted or smart.
I leave the store gladly, exiting with a well-chosen fart.

I want something sensual, colorful, and fashionable too.
The best I can do is a two-toned high-heeled shoe.
Where are the fashion designers for women of distinction like me?
I walk to the next store, where the selections are identical, I see.

Me and My Body She

I keep feeding her pastries, sugars and salts.
Anything animal – cow, pig, chicken, fish.
She is getting dumpier and lumpier.
We are waddling now. It’s a struggle to walk.
Stairs? You have to be kidding. 
I gladly walk sixteen thousand steps to the elevator

Until the arthritis in my ankles kick in
A result of me not being careful when I stepped back
And stood on the top of a chair instead of the seat of it.
When I landed I was in shock, and knew I had done some damage.
Her foot was parked in the weirdest angle.
A brainless nurse tried to straighten us out.
My other leg kicked her hands away.

This body of mine probably hates me.
As we put on pound after pound of ugly fleshy fat.
I am sure my major organs are crying daily.
I do not apologize to her or give her any empathy.
Angry that she is getting older and frumpier, dumpy even.
I am sure she hates me now. I would.

My Dog Named Hicks -The Dog That Licks the Frog He Found In the Log

My dog named “Hicks” 
'The dog that licks the frog he found in the log'

that delightful, disgusting dog that lick the fluffy, hairy frog he found in the marshy, low log
My dog  “Hicks
the dear, domestic dog that lick the fancy frog he found in the lovable log


depressed, dazzling the legendary, lumpy dog

the determined, dumpy dog that wants to eat the fantastic, famous frog he found in the loud, lost log

the funny, fat frog he found in the large, long log

the dank, different dog that lick the fake, fine frog he found in the loving, loyal log

the depressing, dark dog that licks the furry, frightening frog he found in the lit, little log “bark” “ribbit-ribbit rip”   Swhoop YUM….


11/22/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.

The Halloween Cat

Down the lane in a dark alley lives a slinky cat with superpowers. Her abilities go beyond your wildest dreams. They call her Dumpy cuz she eats at the local dump , scraps down under. Her green eyes shine like glass marbles in the dark and her sheen resembles dark sleek oil when the moon hits it just right. On Halloween night she flies out into the night shapeshifting and moving through the throng of children.
She is in search of dark entities that roam the streets in search of victims. Kids are safe when Dumpy becomes "Voltron" legendary defender and superhero of children. 
She's a Halloween vigilante that gathers them behind steel
whiskers and spits them out into a roaring fire, watching them 
burn til' all Saints day. 
The only tell tale sign that she has been on the prowl is a small singed tail that waves around happily as old Zee leaves a plateful of clams by the back door. "
Honey she's back " says Chef wiping his hands on an apron "Here give her this" replies J passing him an old water bowl.
Down the lane in a dark alley lives a slinky black cat with superpowers. She's been known to give out a battle cry or two on Halloween night.

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