Short Chesty Poems

They all gathered 'round some tittered others smiled
The chesty one with the long legs glared,
Nothing can be more inconsiderate than to be told "no"
Your dream is dead

                                                                     8/1/'13...

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Painful shoulder,
A pain in the neck,
Sore arms,
What the heck?
Chesty cough,
Swollen knee,
Aching joints,
Woe is me.
Runny nose,
It hurts to sneeze,
Enough is enough,
I'm begging, please.
Feeling nauseous,
Pounding head,
Lack of sleep,
I'm going back to bed....

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Valor is a better word





Valiance that invincibly fortitudes,
Anticipates its own unfailing courage,
Letting heart ignite the patriotic fire,
On boundaries proves the sanguine mettle,
Recognise and salute the chesty fearless.





Written Jan 15th, 2016
For contest by Verlena

Awarded HM...

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An 

Umbrella 

Lemon-yellow brilliant 

Over my head and shoulders stooped 

Protects me from getting the chesty croup 

But praise God for long warm sunny days 

Warm inviting outside for a relaxing exhilarating stay 

Also 

Thank  

God  

For  

Your 

Cover    
                  y
                a
            d   
T o -
 ...

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When it came to chesty women, I was obsessed.
I wanted a woman who had large breasts.
Now I'm 75 years old and I have something to confess.
I am an old man and I've grown large breasts.
These aren't the kind of boobs that people want to caress.
I put on a 38D bra when I get dressed.
People stare at these big hooters that I've grown.
I no longer need a busty lady because I have big breasts of my own.

(THIS IS A FICTIONAL POEM.)...

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In the seventies lipsticks were beige, blah and nude
Dull, usually colorless and odorless, not to be rude.
Bright reds of the forties and fifties were passe’, out.
The lightest of peaches could be applied to a pout.

Women were expected to be straight up and down.
Twiggy at twenty, twenty, twenty, was paraded around.
Rubenesque chesty women were considered way out of bound.
Emaciated starving young models were the talk of the town....

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Cricket is a game of love
Full of puns and innuendo
As a lass I’d love to bowl you over
By having you a maiden over
A couple of opening googlies
Spin balls should do the trick
Middle of the over adds
Two chesty bouncers to the mix
Fifth could be an angler
To draw a lovely catch
Sixth ball to earn a maiden over
What else but a full toss 
Just to finish me off
Now all I need to know
With a six dot ball over
Have I won my maiden over...

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I cannot my body release
To the least hacking disease
For it does spell the end of ease
And me drop on Medicine’s knees.
I shall pay the asked fixed fee
For a winter’s furnace-hot tea
While Government should plant the tall trees
Against our harsh cold breeze…

Men cardigans wear against The Jeez!
We eerily shout as we freeze
I to be not in-the-fridge cheese
Or like the Awfully Chesty wheeze;
To prompt prevention, sticking
Against the time bomb ticking!...

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