Long Hunky Poems
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I feel yucky and not well
I am in a sickness spell
That's taken over my whole day
I wish it would go away
A banging head and throbbing veins
That are popping with the pain
Eye pressure that's alternating
Back and forth, its aggravating
Relaxing I can't do no more
I end up on the bathroom floor
A throat on fire's getting old
Some thing icy should keep it cold
Breathing's getting hard to do
I am turning very blue
I need a cowboy hunky strong
To help fix whatever's wrong
A six pack and lots of muscle
Who will lasso me and rustle
This illness out very quickly
Then I will only be sickly
For his tight hugs and sweet care
Every day while he is here
Embraces he will wrap me in
Fevers rising skin to skin
Heart rate beating with each touch
From my hero who I love so much
We met online,
I was drawn to his sexy pic;
a tall guy leaning against a Harley,
oh yes, I was smitten.
We agreed on a coffee date for our first meet,
I was sitting at my table waiting for Mr. Hunky;
getting more nervous,
then, I heard a guy say to me- hello beautiful !
I was in shock,
and lost for words- wordless;
for this guy would not be sexy ever,
in fact, never, ever.
He said- you look just like your picture- gulp,
and I replied, well you don't- where is your Harley;
and your leather jacket,
oh, have not had that for twenty years- he said !
And the worst part,
was that when I looked at him;
I did not see sleek black riding boots,
there were no tight fitting jeans either.
in fact, this was a person dressed quite sloppy,
he looked like he just rolled out of bed in fact;
and on his feet,
he was wearing blue fuzzy socks and purple crocs !
____________________
June 9, 2021
Poetry/Free Verse/we met online
Copyright Protected, ID 06-1362-299-09
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Fuzzy Socks and Crocs
sponsor, Francine Roberts, Judged 07/11/2021
By Izunna Okafor
Beyond the shrubs of Sahara
Lifted a munt of brainy bond
Over the Mississippi of Ethiopia
Lofted a penner with his hunky thoughts
Across the bridge of a foreign land
Hovered a book of beautiful pages
Tightly enclaved yet as an Ireland
In a skull rounded in the clime of golden edges
Off the coast of Addis Ababa
Tears rang bell aloud
Beholding a star being staggered
In a nimbus of a faraway land
A heroic pen was raptly melted
As the book of many pages shattered across the ocean
A nation's pride has become ashes
Making a wave in the hist of the deadly world
Oh! he was roasted faraway
Faraway his father land
Amidst tears in the eyes his nation
A great gem was ruefully tossed
The ashes of his fecund head
The cranes of his creative fingers
The cremains of his eagle eyes
Now pose lifeless in a foreign land
He's gone
A hero is gone
Roasted in a faraway land
Oh! He's gone forever.
© Izunna Okafor, 2019.
An Overview
When Villonia Beebe was a baby of three
She got it in her head to trim the Christmas tree.
She lit all the pretty candles,
Tossed the matchstick away,
Sister, brother, dad, and mother
Never saw Christmas Day.
Nine years went by, she bloomed, and when Villonia was twelve,
She got a yen for French and Greek and so decided to delve.
When her language teachers asked her
What she wanted to do,
Villonia taught those profs some things
The French and Greeks never knew.
She played the field with lots of guys but at age thirty-two
She thought to get herself a steady man was what she should do.
She tried out Toms, and Dicks, and Harrys,
And then settled, in due course,
For a handsome hunk named Homer
Whose nickname was "Horse".
They lived as wife and husband then for sixty-four years,
A life of trials and tribulations, lots of laughter, lots of tears.
Homer made and sold corn "likker"
From a still up in the hills,
And Vee would sometimes turn a trick or two
To help pay the bills.
The lovebirds made their minds up when they turned ninety-five
That they would live to be the oldest couple alive,
But time and sex and "likker"
Tend to play funny tricks,
Hunky Homer kicked the bucket
At a neat ninety-six.
Villonia is alone again like when she was three.
She's outlived most of her friends and family.
As she sits, and sips, and waits her turn,
One reflection seems to calm her,
When she's found she'll be so full of 'shine,
They won't bother to embalm her.
life in soup is big fun
spice ‘n juice, plenty to run
Soupers please
accept my greetings
For all the nice
poetry and readings
life in soup is big fun
spice ‘n juice, plenty to run
You all love
the good lines
you do cheer
all that shines
life in soup is big fun
spice ‘n juice, plenty to run
Let me tell you
my good friends
How life in soup
it nicely blends
life in soup is big fun
spice ‘n juice, plenty to run
all you have to do
is sit and snoop
while the others
weave a secret loop
life in soup is big fun
spice ‘n juice, plenty to run
some times
you also chip in
lines that you
pen ‘n kick in
life in soup is big fun
spice ‘n juice, plenty to run
Feel other bards’
highs and lows
For life is uneven
and it blows
life in soup is big fun
spice ‘n juice, plenty to run
I look forward to read
others’ home run
learning to appreciate
others is big fun
life in soup is big fun
spice ‘n juice, plenty to run
new forms of poetry
I learn there
new friends I make
and we share
life in soup is big fun
spice ‘n juice, plenty to run
it keeps me glued
to the net I swear
never felt so afflicted
I must declare
life in soup is big fun
spice ‘n juice, plenty to run
contests are fought very keenly
but in spirit frank 'n friendly
winners get a shine 'n glory
and it all ends in hunky dory
life in soup is big fun
spice ‘n juice, plenty to run
Mohan Chutani
Date: 30.6.2014
Sponsor: Dave Wood
Contest: The Contest of my Dreams!
Do any of you guys wake up feeling great
And can't figure the reason why
Don't question it, just go along with the flow
High five every passer by
Some will smile and wish you a good day
While others will just walk on by
Mumbling things like “What's up with him?”
“Escaped from the funny farm” they sigh
Wanna know the secret to a stress free life
One with perpetual good times
Where every damn day is hunky dory
And the big old world is in rhyme
It doesn't always have to be like a fairy tale
Always living happily ever after
Just seven days a week would be fine with me
With good times and lots of laughter
Let me know if I'm overdoing this stuff
Love sharing my happy with you
Been on this kick for quite a long while
So get off your butt and giggle too
I'm not overly fond of receiving a family's annual gushing story,
In the form of a Christmas Letter stating that all is hunky-dory.
I received one the other day in which they told the honest truth,
And I'll relay its contents though of me it may be somewhat uncouth!
"My son Jimmy who was in the army gave a sergeant a lot of sass,
And was unceremoniously invited to leave the service by the army brass!
Daughter Sarah became in a 'family way' bringing me much disgrace.
The father of the kid left the state and of him there is not a trace!"
"Son Robert attempted to rob a bank and now languishes in jail.
The judged sentenced him to twenty years sans the benefit of bail.
My husband up and left me for that hussy waitress at Joe's Cafe.
That left me with little money, having to keep bill-collectors at bay!"
"My sister fell on hard times and moved in with her three little brats.
She also brought along three hounds, a nasty parrot and two hissing cats!
My trusty old 85 Chevy blew a rod and left me without wheels;
I can't afford another car because of outrageously high-priced deals!"
She goes on to say, "I hope all has gone well at your house this year.
As you can see, this past year ain't been one for me of great cheer!"
I appreciated her honesty but found her dismal plight quite appalling.
Her letter left me quite bereft and before you know it, I started bawling!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Echo blasts,
as it's all hunky-dorey in an iconoclasts contrasts,
displacement of my courageousness on a dumb-fast
tele~cast,
the resumed movement 28 days later wasn't even just as fast;
it was what was all along in my
aged economical forestry please-
in a delved and dormant door-mat that I once seized-
it came and went like a breeze,
but over came me,
it even behaved like the beast.
But with all this loss of law please-
unveil for a prince his own memory,
travel for the farm every existence in sequential feast-
the con-mans academic lean,
a sordid snape's reconciliation.
See through peace as peace was once an innocent things thing,
but never bring,
never feel a sleeping wing,
just josh and joist with brothers keepers,
steal the stew we love deeper seasoned and evaporated reapers-
because lord did they appear,
and dormant was their meal,
my first,
my last,
and entry of my free feel.
Computers can absolutely drive us to drink
It's programmed into their memory
Just when we think things are all hunky dory
It lets us down unceremoniously
To frustrate us more we even lose some data
Though we often hit “command/save”
But wouldn't you know it this was the exception
To these monsters we're truly enslaved
The damn things treats us like a piece of crap
I'm sure there are gremlins inside
Trying to turn us into some raving maniacs
Delight when they see us cry
Can't live with them, can't live without them
They've got us by those short curlicues
It's almost like they enjoy watching us struggle
But give in we absolutely refuse
They can drive us to drink, a bloody caesar
Every single night before bed
Oh for the days before technology reigned
When people ruled the world instead
© Jack Ellison 2015
8/4/17
Never once was it all hunky-dory
Let me tell you my story
Grew up in rural territory
I went around and through terrain that was thorny
Whether or not the weather was clear or stormy
It quickly became gory
For those that called me dorky
And said my lyrics were corny
Because I was after much more than money, wisdom, and glory
I've seen my fair share of Rick and Morty
Spent a lot of time in a laboratory
And less near a quarry
Had a cat that was a tortie
Haven't yet had a corgi
Or Forgis
Pockets were looking slim or porky
Put down another forty
Meanwhile myself and shorty
Started getting horny
Telling me about how much she adores me