Long Tummies Poems
Long Tummies Poems. Below are the most popular long Tummies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tummies poems by poem length and keyword.
Gorgeous Grass Faerie was sent to soothe the little fellow.
He was lost in the bowels of the jungle with snakes of yellow.
His sniffles were heard by elves, faeries, owls and a gnome.
He was lost, for he had wandered rather far from his home.
The first thing we need to do is give him food the faerie said.
She gathered some strawberries that were magnificently red.
She brought them to him and coaxed him into trying a bite.
He was shy, but he looked up and lost a bit of his enormous fright.
We will take care of you until your mother finds you, she said.
Do not worry, nothing will harm you. The owl will not make you dead.
The owl heard this and agreed, going back to sleep with a wink.
He never ate up baby mice, their tummies were disgustingly pink.
Momo Mouse’s magnificent mama found him about an hour later.
She had been frantic, for he had fallen off an oak tree’s open elevator.
I saw you tumbling, but I lost sight of you in the weeds, my son.
She was grateful for everything Grass Faerie and her friends had done.
Proudly the white tummies purposefully sauntered forth
Orange arrow beaks decidedly pointed
Stubby feet not nearly strong enough to hold them up
Yellow mirrored eyeballs, reflecting the sun
In sheer giddiness, frightening the menfolk.
I stopped the wagon train and gave them a stern talking to.
Yes, I am the wagon master, thank you much.
And this is the Wild Venus, not the Wild West.
It is a new world, of course.
Unfortunately when I stopped them, they fell over
Onto each other’s laps, making the menfolk laugh and laugh
Making me sorry we had given them their lobotomies before we reached destination
It was the only way we knew to control their testosterone,
Of course, it was my idea, one of my worst I later discovered.
We resumed our journey after they all regained a semblance of composure
Our pet menfolk and our pet yellow-bellies.
I smiled, knowing I might have been right all along.
Women would rule the Venus colony
TVs would be banned, and no animals would be harmed
In cages or hunted or trapped or any of that nonsense.
Some other women came to my wagon that night
We formed a sing along bonfire, and we laughed and talked well until morning.
Knowing our menfolk would be more than willing to get up with the
One point two children we had allowed ourselves and our
Yellow penguin brigade.
Congratulating ourselves on our new status
Rulers of Venus, Committee of Sixteen,
Power of the Woman
In Charge Forever
Until we realized sixteen women cannot agree on anything.
Without at least one or two opinions from the yellow penguins.
That is when it all changed. And they slyly took over,
Feeding us the feminine-out-sauce that took away our will and our minds.
Well done white tummies. Well done!
In Gaza's dust, where shadows softly creep,
Small feet once danced, now silent, fast asleep.
A cruel, dark night has swallowed every gleam,
Shattering laughter, like a fragile dream.
Their homes are dust, a broken stone,
No bed to rest, no place to own.
They wander lost, with empty stare,
No safe spot found, nowhere to bear.
The air grown thick with cries and falling stone,
A lullaby of bombs, a mournful moan.
Tiny hands tremble, holding tight to air,
As homes turn dust, consumed by dark despair.
Their tummies ache, a constant pain,
No food, no shelter from the rain.
Their mothers gone, their fathers too,
A lonely world, for me and you.
And mothers mourn, with broken heart,
For children torn, so far apart.
A father's grief, a silent plea,
For what was lost, for what won't be.
So many children, vanished from our sight,
Swallowed by darkness, in the endless fight.
Each stolen breath, a future torn apart,
A bleeding wound upon the world's own heart.
With no sweet lullaby, no story told,
Their fragile dreams, now buried in the cold.
A generation, scattered like the sand,
Their memory etched upon a weary land.
A million tears, a river flowing deep,
For children lost, who only longed to sleep
In peaceful beds, with dreams that children dream,
Not nightmares born, of war's relentless scream.
So many souls, a countless sum,
Before their short, sad life was done.
A million tears for those so small,
Who answered fate's most bitter call.
No glint of hope, just sorrow's heavy chain,
A tragic end, amidst the pouring rain.
A haunting echo, where joy used to reside,
A silent scream, that deep inside will hide.
playground politics
we zap and zip
read my lips
we hide and seek
from teacher's peek
on swings
we wing
on slides
we cried
marbles play
swords we flay
should i repeat
another beat
marbles play
swords we flay
never mind
what we find
king of the hill
jack and jill
story told
she was very bold
jill rode jack
on his back
right over there
under the stairs
we peered
like deer
we all hushed
behind a bush
it was all an act
that was a fact
two bunnies
rubbing tummies
that was it
don't have a fit
we are kids
yes we did
run the playground
round and round
dodge a ball
hide behind a wall
scrape a knees
fall on a bee
hide behind fatty
flirt with patty
hide a corner
there's a loner
hop scotch here
volleyball there
shoot some hoops
assemble troops
we are kids
yes we did
run the playground
round and round
yet get this
gee whiz
stars and stripes borne
teachers scorn
now they come out
to shout
their eyes
and voices chastise
what fools
no praying, too
we cuss
and fuss
we play
our way
yet they dread
if we bow our heads
is this
not preposterous
all i know politics seed
its ugly face bred
3/26/17-No rose again Note-Cyndi wrote in her critique (and I laugh at her) that it is demeaning to describe a child as fatty. Please. Can someone direct her and maybe the judges, too, to playground politics, anti bullying and the world that some of these kids face. It's called reality.Yes, they face this kind of ridicule everyday. It is sad. Yet would it be better to write a bunch of brown nose crap just to be politically correct? No. I just write what I see and feel, more of the pulse. No facade. And especially no artificiality that some here like to swim in.
Their wedding was toted “best of this century”
They had both been born wealthy.
Neither appreciated how rare this elegance was in 1930.
Their parents had kept it from them.
There were elaborate bouquets in silver vases.
Thousands of people were starving, but this meant nothing.
Her silk gown had been flown in from Paris.
French Parisian lace and pearls adorned the bodice.
He wore a top hat, and a frock that screamed expensive.
They were oblivious to the starving children, and empty tummies.
Neither heard the cries and wails of those who were homeless.
Their wedding was toted the “best of the century”.
Obscene really
Oh my!
Halloween night
Of fun and spooky fright
Moonlight creating flickering
Shadows
Children
Quite elated
Trick-or-treating with friends
Who’s creepiest with make-up and
Costumes
Evening
Getting cooler
Night is getting darker
Children walking with bright flashlights
Chilling
Goblins,
Haunted houses,
Black cats, witches on brooms,
Owls hoot, bats silhouette the moon
Eerie!
Carved out
Spooky pumpkins
Glowing flickering eyes
Watch out for small ghost and goblins
Door sign
Grumpy
Children to bed
Sick with crampy tummies
Halloween candy hangover
Nightmares
10/17/2015
It's back to the wilds, for the unexplored
Panama's island, Pygmy Three-Toed Sloths.
Tree huggers, twenty hours daily, course, lots
of trees. Four of a kind, their fifth, record
as the smallest. Clocked slow, a leaf lasts one
month in its tummies till its slow slop drops.
They're six pounds and twenty inches, a pop.
Furs algae-fied hide them. Swim can be done.
Again, it resurfaces, a world-wide
dilemma, in pictures and portrait drapes
over a posh hotel table of crepes.
Concerned and unconcerned, great the divide.
In twenty-twelve, I.U.C.N., counted ...
less than eighty, now ... they're, unaccounted.
Sunny yellow straw hats with ribbons and bows,
Butterflies that shine when the full moon glows,
Feather cushions scattered of bright pink and blue,
Buttercups and daises have such a magnificent hue,
The above are my dreams as I think of you.
Chocolates, candy and rainbow-colored gummies,
Fill us up and says no more for you to our tummies,
Kittens that meow and cuddly puppies that bark,
Make me want to take off and fly and sing as a lark,
The above are my dreams as I think of you.
Warm gloves, beanies and scarves knitted by granny,
Keep me warm in winter as I’m told by nanny,
The brilliant green lawn is such fun to roll on,
Maxine visited France brought me yummy bonbons.
The above are my dreams as I think of you.
If I’m ever really feeling lonely or sad,
I walk to the bottom of the garden,
Our password, I beg your pardon,
I visit Maxine, and I don’t feel so bad.
Jelly like silkworms spin golden threads,
I have a clown who is funny, we are good friends,
Wish I had a teddy bear sister, must be able to walk,
But God please give her a voice, so we can talk,
The above are my dreams as I think of you.
I would really like to visit the moon or maybe mars,
And take a space ride in the galaxy among the stars,
Or dive deep down into the sea, shake all the eight,
Tentacles of an octopus and take a selfie on that date,
The above are my dreams as I think of you.
Maxine, may we play magic, could you take me to your land,
Not for keeps, I think that would be so grand,
Maxine whispered your parents would ever so sad,
Give it some thought, just a tad, rather stay in your own pad,
The above are my dreams as I think of you.
If I’m ever feeling lonely or sad,
I walk to the bottom of the garden,
Our password, I beg your pardon,
I visit Maxine and don’t feel so bad.
High is the humidity,
Unpredictable like the economy.
I watch the once grassland begone into the tummies of the rigid structures.
Waiting for the rain.
The world is quite fast
Not wanting to take a rest.
They said there would be rest,
All I see are hamsters,
Running the wheel of progression.
Young and old alike.
Wonderful were the days
When the old brother played in the fields.
The race of life has driven the wheel.
Quiet is the silence,not wanting to acknowledge.
All I see is,are the sins of the past.
Regrets may have been lead to growth,
Not the hearted gold.
Words can be written,
In the slate of the grave,
Or in the notes of the piano.
It isn't lonely when the reaper is here,
But the vale of the rail.
When the young lied,
It broke the strings,
None at fault,not at all.
Laughters can be seen,
If the check is played right.
Value can be rewritten once the one is no longer.
It can be a bit harsh
To forget the beloved,
The wheels are cog for the watch,
Spinning forever and will be lost in time.
Strings can be knitted,
But not connected.
It's not that much,
To accept the deed
And move on.
Drops on knee
Marry me
Select day
First of May
Choose right dress
Oh what stress!
Mother bakes
Wedding cakes
Guest’s arrive
At church drive
My bridesmaid
Is delayed
Bridal car
Wait with pa
Drive past church
Tummies lurch
Must take stock
Go round block
Let out cheer
Bridesmaid here
Blushing bride
Dad feels pride
Walk down aisle
Beaming smile
Get wed now
Repeat vow
Hymns to sing
Exchange ring
Wedded bliss
Sealed with kiss
Buffet time
Food’s sublime
Best man speaks …
Groom’s flushed cheeks!
Toasts the bride
At groom’s side
Our first dance
Such romance
Wedding night…
Pure delight!
Threes, Please Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Beth Evans
09/10/20