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.
What crashes into them
is the oceans voice beheaded.
Seabirds skim upon verge and crest,
a green swell of rise and fall.
Open mouths trawl the air
then plunge into a rising wave
to scoop a thrashing fin
that dangles now
between life and death.
Gullets gulp down then wide wings
swim on.
Indoor cats stare out of windows
as the heckling hunters tumble and dive
for shadows of silver iridescence.
Those engaged upon the land
hear the piratical calls of ocean winds,
the harsh and throaty feasting
above the seas rolling tongue.
A fishing village witnesses
this wild dance of catch and hide,
overhears that high cry above
the restless surf and spray;
and when the fishing boats return
they haul the harvest in.
Here under a shale roofed salty cottage
a portly house cat abides beside a tin dish
for its daily dine of scaly fish.
© 4 hours ago
"I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it"
Quote _ by E.E. Cummings
Elizabeth was my father's mother,
a portly woman who was country raised.
She was called grammy, never grandmother,
and told me stories that held me amazed.
She was wise but could neither read nor write,
spinning tales of magic and fairy folk.
Whenever I got scared, she'd hold me tight;
and I'd listened to every word she spoke.
She'd check on me before she went to bed,
lovingly tucking me in for the night.
And she oft visits my dreams, though she's dead,
assuring me that she entered the light.
I carry her image within my heart,
for even Death cannot keep us apart.
(Sonnet)
09/07/2022
Writing Challenge- In My Heart- S Forms - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Lost to Heaven- Grammy
I
Mr. R. was in rapt reverie
Mr. M rowed the boat
A last minute rescue mission
For otter gone over, for a Piper
Not Pied, but he may as well have been
Lured the junior from Mr. Portly O.
Otter senior, according to K. Grahame
II
Before messrs R & M (rat & mole) that is,
Found the young otter who'd gone missing
Causing grief to all back home, & Dad -
They found God: Awe, Presence, Friend & Helper
Led by the piping of a heavenly Piper
In the chapter of WIND IN THE WILLOWS named:
The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn
If a Rat & Mole can find God through Music,
What's your Excuse (no pressure, LOL!)
III
President Teddy Roosevelt wrote the author, 17 January 1909, from the White House, that he had come round to liking the (third) book by Kenneth Grahame. Most readers & critics, & the public resisted liking this book because of his earlier success (with two children's stories). Grahame's Rat, Mole, Badger, Toad, and Otters have become widely accepted & loved. Better late than never. Thx Teddy Bear Prez. (Prez. TR founded the US Wildlife Refuge system)
Waddling in like a drunken shadow,
my portly belly cannot pass unseen.
And once spotted, I meow my hello
regal-like, reaffirming I'm their queen.
I'm finicky and won't use my litter
unless it's paw-print deep and freshly cleaned.
And yet, though somewhat slow, I'm no quitter,
keeping myself meticulously preened.
I'm attended by my subjects, my two friends,
who have pampered and groomed me from the start.
And I trust they will until my life ends,
for we have bonded, heart, to heart, to heart.
And when one brushes my ebony fur,
I snuggle in their lap and purr, purr, purr.
(Personification/Sonnet)
06/06/2022
Personification- Pets Talking Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
1. your pet now
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