Short Overfed Poems
Short Overfed Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Overfed by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Overfed by length and keyword.
So overfed, the nice salesman said,
"You clipped my wings, oh how they bleed, Ed."
Low overhead, so we spent our bread,
On many things, we never needed!
Shh! The kitty is sleeping the faerie village was whispering.
The slumbering child was almost ready to fall off the tulip’s head.
The sun was warm that day, but not so hot to be blistering.
The kitty snored away, in a twilight sleep, dreams overfed.
I'm hanging on to summertime
like monkeys hanging on a vine,
like kitty cats on old screen doors,
like winter snows in Labrador,
like spiders on a silken thread,
like bellies that were overfed,
like kites trapped in an apple tree,
but Fall will come eventually.
pour me apple wine
and pour me red instead
what I meant to align
with cheese and bread
sundown apple crystalline
a bit of beef overfed
hearty paprika soup
better goulash, deep red
with rainbow salad scoop
and geripptes of apfelwein
jalapeno peppers have put me down
I eat them in my dressing gown
cannot give them up, I like things tart
bit of a burn they give to my heart
my lala land calls me back to bed
way for me not to be overfed
when I am asleep, I need no food
a nap puts me in a kinder mood
Santa lay
Sick on bed all through day,
Unable to wake up, as if dead.
It was going to be Christmas, he thought with dread
Doctor said, he was too fat being overfed
To get through chimney, he must lose weight
Now, should wait at each gate.
What a fate!
OVERWEIGHT SANTA
Father Christmas had been overfed
And could barely fit onto the sled.
When he reached the first flue,
Far too fat to squeeze through,
He made Rudolph go down it instead
27th November 2022
A Funny Christmas Or December Holiday Limerick Contest
Sponsor - Tania Kitchin
Is it now a time
of indifference
as we slowly kill
our conscience
Sinking into stupor
compassion dead
instincts do compel
ego be overfed
Creature of habit
slave to senses
fearing the light
taking no chances
Life ebbs away
moment by moment
as does diminish
our love quotient
23-October-2020
Dreaming of the days
of the lost tomorrow,
of what went wrong.
What should have been said.
Mulling over a broken heart,
Long since been overfed,
with happy memories
of a better yesterday,
long since past.
Filling both mind and heart
with sickening dread.
Always dreaming,
always wishing
for the lost tomorrow.
I know this might sound kind of wrong
But I am making up a ditty of a cute little song
About how hedgehog loves his smelly patchouli bong
How can I distribute it to this hippie throng?
Hedgehog is a private guy, I said.
You might be messing with his head.
I would write a song about myself instead.
Maybe about how you keep overfed.
duck marched by wearing a hat on his head
he was fluffy, as if he had been overfed
he stumbled into a pillow and slid down a hill
I grabbed his rain hat and have it still
If he returns, he can have it of course
a rain hat looks silly on an aged old horse
But I am hoping to once again see that duck
Because I heard that rubbing their head brings you good luck
Grandma’s face on a paper mache’ dog
What could be better? Nothing she thought.
Her overfed dog looks a bit like a stuffed hog.
We could not believe what the sculpture brought.
Behind grandma’s back we laughed our petootsies off.
In front of her face tears ran, as we tried not to cough.
It was the craziest thing I had ever seen, no contest.
She left it to me, for I was the one who lied the best.
skinny witch did not care about food
though it would have put her in a much better mood
I forget to eat, she admitted to those who knew her best
They brought her cookies and pies, a little test.
skinny witch laughed, and brushed the food away.
I’m too busy to eat, I am here to fly and sway.
You had better eat something fluffy corpulent witches said.
Hated to see her as skinny as they were overfed.
dizain
Good grief! in our office - a predator
lurking about without saying hello.
Lack of discernment veiled its character -
pale green with greed and a jaundiced yellow.
Spite voiced hate through this parasite-fellow.
A new employee makes department head,
my talents ignored, I was seeing red!
Dissing a "freshmen" who deserved a break,
I was obliged, with envy overfed
to bid spite "Goodbye." Romance was at stake.
overfed rooster had a harem of eight little hens
they brought his feed, as he sat on his whims
fattened him up, so that he started to look like a hulk.
He demanded cranberry juice, and they brought it in bulk
It is their fault I am getting bigger he told the goat next door.
They are always bringing me tasty goodies to store.
I spend my afternoons lying around in bed with a snore.
How much more can I eat? I am as wide as a door.
Kind and cute not for me and my hearts’ desire
A Rogue i’d Pick out of the line to simply light my fire
Chemistry and thighs of steal and IQ rather high
Easy going all his teeth never ask me Why?
Yes to me and never No a lover in my bed
Strong willed lean self respect never overfed
Love of creatures great and small
Furred and feathered short and tall
A life of grace two souls shall meet
Through laughter love a life so sweet
Your soothing palm a wet towel
Soaking my naked fears
To your heart a brimming bowl
Of toppling love from which I'm overfed
I am the speechless lips to your eyes
When the silence between us smiles
Your love is the compass to a heart lost
When in the presence of my thoughts, you're host..
I photograph our everlasting love
At least a thousand times a day
Download and replay your every move
Every second of everyday so forever we’ll stay
Said Hyacinth
Shadow is in my garden again.
That Ugly chubby plumb British bulldog.
Why can't the Hamilton's keep her over there.
This a place for birds, bees
and gently dragon fly.
Yet comes this slob rubbing up on my roses.
You rascal!
Just look at you,
sprawled legs scattered up in the air
soaking in the sunshine.
Never mind,
just take your fat overfed self and run along.
Yes I am talking to You!
© Al. Juman The "said" Poet 6/24/2016
(World War II)
"Bloody Yanks," he said.
"Crawling in like cockroaches,
gobbling up our women."
His words hung heavy
in the thick smoke.
"Aye," said the bartender.
"Overpaid, overfed, oversexed."
"And over here!" the old man growled.
The young couple danced snug,
barely noticing
as he slammed his glass down
on the counter,
slid off his stool,
and stomped out the door.