Long Waistband Poems
Long Waistband Poems. Below are the most popular long Waistband by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Waistband poems by poem length and keyword.
Leftover Willpower
David J Walker
I know
I know
What I said last night
After the last bite of
Turkey and dressing and
Cranberry sauce and
Pumpkin pie
That I
Would never eat again
At least, not this much
So much
That it stretched my belly to
New dimensions forcing me to
Unbutton the waistband of my
Khaki dress slacks
I know
I know
How good it all was
and yet how
Bad for me at the same time
And how I fell asleep in the
Recliner watching reruns of
“It’s a Wonderful Life”
And the morning after
When I cannot think of putting
Any more food in my mouth
Somewhere in the back of my head
Hatches a plan for later
Sliders
Maybe one
Reheated roll with
Turkey and dressing and
Cranberry sauce
Small Sliders
Maybe two
Just two
No more
But surely not three
Would you think it profane to
Curse the names of every Pilgrim
Who landed on Plymouth Rock?
The bane of my weakening
Leftover willpower
IT’s ALL THEIR FAULT!
Argh, I Ne'er Got Got Bran Did With...
A Muffin Top Before - Why Now!?
Impossible firm he (reed myth self)
to compete with Adonis, no way no chance
asthma gut busts over
waistband of sweatpants,
the choice couture,
asper this poet, who kant's
cease spewing regularly
(quotidian) raves and rants
years ago (another lifetime),
I partook of contra dance
sing, (and most casual suitable
place to find romance)
plus burn calories matter of fact,
a milieu to buff and enhance
physique, while simultaneously
kibitizing with great expanse
of pleasant gals and guys
one must not be afraid to prance
(albeit in accordance
with a caller on stage,
and maintain endurance)
synonymous with aerobic exercise,
and also act flirtatiously amorously glance
sing and/or stealing a French fried
kiss, yup dashing all
the way out to France,
yet returning just in time and proper,
or improper instance
all the while sustaining
the energetic activity over expanse
of a few hours (traditionally
held on Thursday evenings)
and for that block of time held in a trance,
asper...analogous to
spellbinding arrow or lance
suspended part way thru flight,
cuz all troubles troubles
temporarily melt away
which venue mentioned,
which small number of bucks one did pay
to participate among mine weekly highpoint,
where life liberty, and pursuit of happiness
which place this then akin to a cray
zee lee whirling dervish, did pine
to spruced himself up, and ready to hay
for four, thus sped without delay
this bag of lovely bones hapt tubby
more more trim, unlike
less physically fit body of today,
and scant finances find me find
foregoing joyfully
listening to musicians play
and healthily exhausted
with closing waltz,
thence out tummy car
yours truly did sashay!
Christy did not know how she was going to fix the problem.
Her sister Carol, had confided in her.
Christy knew she could not let Carol return out of state with her abusive husband.
The abuser was glaring at her when Christy came into the living room.
“Where is Carol?” he demanded. He was impatient to get going.
On automatic pilot, Christy said “DAD!”
Her father was lying on the floor watching TV
DAD!
He looked at her this time.
“Steve has been beating Carol.”
Without a word the sisters’ father got up off the floor.
Walked to Steve, spun him, and walked him out the door.
He had a hold of his neck.
He put his other hand on his waistband and plunked him over the porch railing.
It was about a fourteen foot drop.
Without another word Dad returned to his place on the floor.
Brenda is pretty, Brenda is sweet
She’s not very big, in fact she’s petite.
Brenda’s creative, now that’s a surprise
She has a good wit and has opened my eyes.
She’s cruel to a point,, my blunder she extols,
The trouble I have with some toilet rolls.
They roll from my waistband and not from the holder
Tyrone only noticed when he looked over my shoulder.
The last time I saw her she was just a scrubber
Now what example is that, and her a grandmother.
her husband walked into the room, her bottom he could see
Sticking up in the air, but where was she?
He rushed to the oven, the door open wide
And there was Brenda kneeling inside.
Brenda my love he cried ... I’m sorry whatever
Take your head out the oven and I’ll make it better.
What are talking about she cried and removed her head,
The scrubbing brush in hand she looked at him and said.
This is the cupboard I’m giving a scrub
The ovens electric and it would do no good.
Thanks goodness for that he said in relief,
The meters being read and I don’t want the grief.
The cupboard is clean for when the grandson arrives
We need somewhere to put him, so we can survive.
GG 2012