Oh, melty cheese, your temptress sly,
Deep-fried bliss, you wink an eye.
Comforting carbs, a doughy friend,
My cravings sing, and my willpower bends.
But wait! A rumble down below,
A traitorous gurgle, oh no!
This love affair, it comes at a cost,
A belly full, a battle lost.
Pizza Dreams and Burger Towers,
Funyuns, eaten by the hours.
They whisper sweet, then make me groan,
In this love-hate dance, I sing alone.
Food, my frenemy, oh so dear,
A continual battle, year after year.
My stomach wins, a joyful ache,
But oh, the price my pants will take!
Started off with climbing tree.
Rush to hospital to pump wee stomach.
Evidence on cherry stained t-shirt.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
I think the sun rises not from the east—
but from your stomach
Nor does it sink from the west—
but returns to your stomach
When I touched it I truly understood the work of art that God created
So called Chef
How much time do I have left?
The mouth was waiting for food to eat
The eyes said it had to retreat
No one knew what was cooked
All one had to do was take a look
The mouth wanted a food taste, the stomach wanted to take away
This was the stomach’s getaway
The mouth seriously wanted to try
The stomach said, “Do you want to die”?
The Chef cooked a full course meal
The eyes saw and said, “Is this Chef for real”?
The stomach formed its own seal
The mouth said the food couldn’t be that bad
Want a bet?
The meat was tough
The Vegetables were fresh
The thought of the matter was don’t eat
Running out of excuses, but didn’t want to insult the Chef
There were no excuses left
Suddenly an outburst, let me go and get a friend
Pepto Bismol to the rescue and relief at the end.
STATION MEETING
The time has come
years depart
I slap your stomach
You throttle me for my
gems
I have none
my gems are the stars
sardines swim towards me
chains rattle loose
to the children in the
Wilderness I flee
verse2016
object
be silent
not signed about
take the present
it a meaningful moment
at that cornered life
you scram
behind the bent
stand she and he hide
out
for once and for naught
a single ounce
you got left to sell
comin in a center
miss perfect
deflecting death
shirt coats end polish
pranks and bank shot calling
from my starched abandon
lifetimes no skranton
big world owners and rulers
standard operator error
get blues when?
My “honey” with chestnuts will not come for Christmas,
It’s life, you have to enjoy yourself anyway
once a year,
New Year’s menu to enjoy at the time you like,
Foie gras with a glass of Monbazillac,
Snails with butter,
Scallop shell with lemon-white butter
Short break
Quail with hot mango
and hazelnut potatoes,
Maybe cheese with the tour des grands ducs (local wine)
Then the dessert
Traditional bûche de Noël
You are all welcome
No need to be a millionaire even at Christmas
Merry Christmas ou Joyeux Noël
Ma « dinde » aux marrons ne sera pas pour Noël,
C’est la vie, il faut se faire plaisir quand même
une fois dans l’année,
menu du réveillon à déguster à l’heure qu’il vous plaît,
Foie gras avec un petit verre de Monbazillac,
Escargots au beurre persillé,
coquille Saint jacques au beurre blanc citronné
Petite pause,
Cailles accompagnés de mangue chaude
et de pommes noisette,
Peut être du fromage avec la tournée des grands ducs ( vin local)
Puis le dessert
Bûche de Noël traditionnelle,
Vous êtes tous invités
Pas besoin d’être millionnaire même à Noël
Joyeux Noël
this surgery is never guaranteed
some come away looking terrific
they don’t publicize those left dead
buried in a foreign grave
my friends will take the risk
dreams of being thin
not me this time
I shall stay
alive
fat
Give thanks for a stomach-ache
same as for a birthday cake
Do your elbows feel good today ~
that'll seal the deal, the grateful say
In whispers of silk, your body unfurls,
A canvas of grace, where desire swirls.
Amongst her treasures, a sight to behold,
Your beautiful stomach, a tale untold.
A gentle curve, an ethereal shrine,
Where secrets reside, and love intertwines.
Sculpted with grace, by nature's own hand,
A sanctuary of beauty, forever grand.
Soft as a rose, inviting caress,
Your stomach whispers of dreams, no less.
A testament to life, where passion can rest,
Your beautiful stomach, a love's gentle quest.
While I am indulging
stomach had been bulging
sins apparently plunging
Politicians with stomachs of steel
Infrastructure for their meals
Their stomachs strong and robust
To digest the food they must
They'll eat and eat with great enthusiasm
Their stomachs toil with great endurance
Their stomach infrastructure's a sight
To see them eat is quite a delight
But when it comes to our own needs
They often fall short, indeed
They'll feast on fancy meals and more
While we're left to starve, poor
So let's vote for those with stomachs true
And the infrastructure to see it through
A leader who'll eat and work just as well
For the good of all, and not just themselves.
Sung to the tune of:
"He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother"
The spice was strong
The pasta was cooked too long
The garlic was everywhere, everywhere
And I know, meatballs were a big mistake
It laid heavy on my stomach
I ate too much
Butter and bread and such
The garlic was everywhere, everywhere
And I know, meatballs were a big mistake
It laid heavy on my stomach
If I lay down at all
I’ll get up with nausea
And then it’s up all night
that’s what garlic will cause ya
I know, cause I’m still belching
It laid heavy on my stomach
feeling pangs of lust
in the pit of my stomach
took seltzer water
could be mistaken for love
or having eaten oysters
SECOND PLACE WINNER
written May 28, 2021
for "Tanka" Poetry Contest
sponsored by M.L. Kiser
The stomach of the sky is rumblin'
and I fear that I'll be consumed;
the oceans are dying, the earth turns to sand,
and I sense the day of my doom.
If we're going to change this we'd better get started
stop making excuses and cut to the chase;
I fear this movie will have a bad ending
if we don't meet our demons face to face.
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