the professional explorer will be along shortly
Do not stare, he is kind of a stereotype, said my pal, Portly.
I had no idea what that meant until the explorer showed his face
It was Indiana Pones Penguin, I welcomed him with some grace
Mr Benjamin Khazi from Libya
who went by 'Ben' we are taught
when wanting to loosen his load
if ever he were caught short
designed a camping commode
as a potentially preferable portable place
to park his portly posterior
then had them manufactured en masse
with a motive quite ulterior
for he turned his thought into gold
altho' on a whim yet going out on a limb
more than several such stools were sold
which aptly were named 'Khazi' after him
My old four paw boy is a senior
Although older he has a nice demeanour
He is strong, loyal and portly
Turned from centre stage to mr grumpy
His eyes still shine bright
His mind and tummy are still right
Brings so much joy to the family
And enjoys his days lazily
He is the dog version of Goldilocks
Everything to be just right with no shocks
No fireworks or loud noises
Not too hot or too cold, only wants specific voices
He is a wonderful boy, kind and compassionate
Always listens while sat up straight
Friendly with children
He is one on a trillion
The best friend anyone could ever have
Just have a treat close to hand
my mouth eats silence
watch its words, calorie counters.
its portly lips compact,
deft, effusive, fulsome,
potent, quixotic,
resounding.
key instrument
of joy and peace,
warbling melodies,
telling my story
I
A portly man out on a stroll
approached an egg and ate him whole.
II
When he saw what he had done,
he ate another one.
III
This man, beyond reproaching,
was thrown in jail for poaching.
A portly man with manner, droll,
approached an egg out on a stroll,
kindly offering him a ride,
and soon that egg was fried.
Plump with plums, rich and round,
Plum pudding is a delightful dessert.
Pleiades-like it's a constellation.
Perfectly poised fruit, nuts and spices.
Positioned within a rich, dark and moist cake,
Plunged in portly brandy butter sauce,
Proudly, it's a panorama of bliss, starburst.
The refrigerator opened by itself tonight
Weird because I had closed it good and tight
Ketchup bottle fell out to dance along the floor
We watched, expecting a few escapees more
Maybe mustard and jelly would be along shortly
And that apple butter jar that was a bit portly
But nothing else flipped out or seemed at all wrong
The ketchup bottle began a tomato song
We were tomatoes, all round and red.
Loving our life in the garden bed
But we were taken out and crucified
Now we are ketchup, buried deep inside
Oh woe is us, this was a horrible fate.
You do not care; pouring us on a plate
A little respect for our death, you brute.
I said to my husband “that was kind of cute.”
Jack and the Beanstalk was exaggerated some
I know ‘cause I heard the real tale from my mum.
She was high when she told me, filled up with rum
I was terrified at her “fee fie foe fum!”
Jack was my uncle, and he kept that bean stalk
But could not climb it when he was too old to walk
He got stuck for a day, had to be rescued by me
Then the beanstalk dissolved, so it no longer “be”.
I pictured my uncle climbing the stalk, way up high.
He was a portly, asthmatic, arthritic kind of guy.
I do not want to say that I think my mom would lie.
But she gets crazy when she is juiced up so high
I love my homemade split pea soup
With tiny bits of ham
A bit is like a bite of it
To bring an extra wham
I never knew the peas I grew
Were fit to taste so good
Until I ate them in a pod
Or split them when I could
The salty peas are buttery
To satisfy my taste
I love to eat them in a bowl
Without unduly haste
If anyone should call on me
To satisfy the group
The subject is my garden pea
Or ham and split pea soup
But that is just a ploy, it seems
For what they crave the most
Is what my stove is cooking now
When I return as host
My split pea pot is portly plus
For groups and friends who call
The conversation always turns
To how I please them all
If you are not familiar
With a split pea luxury
Then you should deviate your day
To share some soup with me.
Steep In thee seat of tradition
poor as a country man can be
readin' my paper for my world about me
lonely, without companion, my impression
wow; I think I've misjudged some things
whereas in my heart, what is important
is to find my mate, my wife, what sings
change my life's importance
say, may we live in peace
with a thousand reasons to rejoice
my health, wealth are before me
portly or thin, indeed I see...
by choice, my Bible, my mate a perfect match
so to Love, so governed by religious laws
traditionally so deep routed, such a great catch
A panda, called Amanda
thought she was so much grander;
and ever so much finer
than all the tea in China.
Although a little fatter
(Which did not seem to matter)
than leopard or the monkey;
she was, for sure, less chunky
than mistress trunky trunky;
who had the largest belly
this side of Eastern Delhi.
Amanda lazed, ate bamboo;
sometimes practiced her Kung-Fu
(which didn't make her leaner,
or alter her demeanor).
The panda called Amanda,
knew she was so much grander
than all creatures on the earth,
even with her portly girth.
A meal worm eats me like a gourd of flesh,
this slimy beast I dread; two weeks or more
until my heart's (that once was young and fresh)
a hole that brims with the plaque of its gore.
Soft-bodied, legless, and writhing, this meal worm,
like yeast that leavens a raw loaf of baked bread,
or phage that necrotizes like a germ,
consumes its host until it's thoroughly fed.
Elongated and portly, like a porcine
(a fat creature and ravenous parasite!)
with the over-sized appetite of a swine,
you threaten me with a sick, terminal blight.
But if I were the brave one, O meal worm,
I'd make a meal of you and watch you squirm!
I love you rain
Come at me
With your sparkling
Diamond splashing
Water baguettes
Diamondize me
Lick me with your
Splishering diamond joys
I love you rain
Come at me
With your portly portable pumping poetry
Flitter pitter patter buoying boosty banter
Pouring snoring, roaring soaring, jumping jets
Splitting swishing swashbuckling glitzy gorgeous glitterama
Blinging blanging clanging gluey golden glory
Air cleansing wooing wooshing wooting wind friend story
I love you rain
Come at me
With your dancing
Deftly dangling diamonds
Unfurl glowing skies
Flights of soothing cries
Your micro thunder
Kiss parade bluster
Skywide rosary seeds
Natures prayer leads
Meditation chi gong traffic
Micro hugs of time's fabric
I love you rain
Come at me
With your awe inspiring
Diamond light cracking crackling kisses
That sharpen, brighten, spin, shower, empower
The kaleidoscopic bright lips of faceted light!
Nurture us all, fill us all, with your connected inside out love!
Load us up with your resilient diamond fiber winks & glows
Quiet slinging sure serene silent super strength that guides the cosmos
I love you rain
Come at me
By Davieo, David Rothchild
I’ve never really seen a toad
sitting on a toadstool.
A cheating mushroom farmer
has bad morel character.
I wonder what your life is like
if that’s what you call fun, gus?
Edible, yes, but some will kill
and others make you mellow.
Not your favorite?
Be a good spore, don’t make a fuss.
I’m kind of guessing portobello
was a portly fellow.
I don’t know who could live in those;
there doesn’t seem to be mush room.
Shiitake is the trash-mouthed one
who has bad takes and fumes.
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