There is a story behind it,
you can see and find it.
But hurt, anger, every shed of tear, every throw up, every stomach ache, every sneeze, every hair that is easily to rip off, every scream of father, every sadness of mother, and the strength of men is not with: "everything happens for a reason" excused.
Because these people didn't deserve,
needing the nerve,
After being abused.
No headache for me
stomach ache can pass on by
it's deeper than that
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
I love Jewish food,
So does my tum,
It makes my mouth water
And delights my tongue.
I worked in the City.
Of London years ago
London brings back memories,
That I treasure so.
I used to pass a Jewish Deli,
As I walked along the street,
The smells coming from that Deli,
It smelled marvellous to eat.
A little bell tinkled as I opened the door
The aroma of Wally in spiced vinegar
It was a smell not to ignore.
These pickles were in a huge barrel
Made of wood and copper,
You placed your hand into the tub
And hope to find a whopper.
One of my favourite Jewish foods
Is chopped liver
The thought of it now
It makes my taste buds quiver.
Upon the shop counter, I spied,
Mozzah and Gefilte fish
It was hard not to purchase
Every single dish.
I adored Latkes,
Flat Potato Cakes
Just thinking of the flavour
It makes my stomach ache,
Freshly baked Bagels,
A bread roll shaped like a ring
Solly, the deli owner,
Sold everything.
I will always remember shopping.
At Solly's old-fashioned deli,
I have fond memories of his shop
And so does my belly.
A customer ordered rare steak
The waitress went on a wee break
She did him wrong
So dipped her thong
He dined without a stomach ache
He ate one apple, then two pears,
Three plums and, likely, unawares,
Four strawberries, then what came next?
Five oranges, as per the text.
Not finished, there was chocolate cake,
An ice cream cone and, no mistake,
A pickle and Swiss cheese, a slice,
Another of salami – nice!
A lollipop, some cherry pie,
A sausage and a cupcake; why
Continue? For the story’s sake,
One snack to go ‘fore stomach ache.
And that would be, in Carle’s cool tellin’
One fat slice of watermelon.
What would follow would be brief –
Relief, from munching on a leaf.
Eric Carle, a kids’ lit thriller,
Wrote The Hungry Caterpillar
More than fifty years ago
And every reader in the know
Should feel forever in his debt
For showing us, the best way yet,
That life may take us for a spin
But beauty waits for us within.
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
Tears flowing down my face
Teasing me make funny
Tell laughs my stomach ache
Touch of sadness today
Today hurtful words-things
Test-life many tears fall
To come heaven no tears
Date Written: 4/26/2021
3 Place
6 syllables
Pleiades T Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Merryman
Death by Insurance
She sits in her car,
in the parking lot
of the emergency room,
with the worst stomach ache of her life.
Watching the fluorescent lights rhythmically blink,
she blinks back her tears.
Caught in a web of indecision,
she doesn’t know what to do.
She thinks about her health insurance,
and her $8,000 deductible,
and she wishes she lived in Canada or England or France,
because she needs that money for food, and rent,
and life.
Her brain exploding with uncertainty,
her stomach erupting in pain,
she stays in her car and drives home.
And she eats some antacids and goes to bed,
promising herself that if she doesn’t feel better in the morning,
she will return to the emergency room.
Her mother, devastated and ruined,
identifies her body at the morgue.
What a waste of a life, they say.
Such a shame.
If only she had gone to the hospital sooner.
February 11, 2020
Love can make your heart beat fast
it can tease and taunt
your thoughts and dreams to wild desire
it can make your stomach ache
and your armpits sweat with fire
it can warm your body
and take away your every breath
it can make you jealous,
a green obsessed with envy's test
it can burn your soul
with a wanting force of touch and lust
it can change all feelings
and emotion from me and you to us
it's that touch,
that unintended spark
tell me again,
and still,
I won't believe
that sometimes love is not enough,
when you're in love
love is enough.
Silent One contest, Sometimes love is not enough
A Vegetable Story
Broccoli, Spinach, yummy fresh Garden Peas,
Cabbages, Winter Greens, Cauliflower Trees.
Runner Beans and broad, Mange Tout so Francais,
Curly Kale, Crunchy Sprouts on a cold windy day.
Onions, Parsnips, Carrots and tall Welsh Leek,
King Edwards, Purple Turnip, ready next week.
Corn cut off the cob with sweet Barley Rice,
Mash up that Swede for a treat savour nice.
Tips of Asparagus are one acquired taste,
Into the soup, don’t let them go to waste.
Vegetable Squash with Butternut and Pumpkin,
Tearing Sour dough bread, ready for dunking.
Please don’t choke on a strange looking Arti’
Exclusively reserved for a Vegan style party.
Try some boiled Beet and a large slice of Yam,
Fennel is soporific, a bit like I am.
Parsley and Cress make a simple garnish,
Spring Onion and Celery, very Saladish.
Going to the wood, picking wild Mushroom,
Beware some are poison, Stomach-ache of doom.
Lots of choice for a Veggie style life,
No need for meat, no need of a knife.
Don’t want to preach, so my voice is on mute,
That’s all from the Veg, lets start on the Fruit.
This story is one of great rapport
About a boy and a pasty long told evermore
And an auntie who really couldn’t cook
Who made a pasty right out of a cook book
But alas the recipe wasn’t all it seemed
As it was shared around as the China gleamed
It didn’t take long for their bowels to work
As toilet bowls were painted by the family screaming, “It hurts”
The days lengthen whilst the suffering went on
From their tops and bottoms in a sickly song
But not for one of the favoured sons
With no stomach ache occurring his laughter so long
Winning the title of “Cast iron Guts” with digestion so strong
And the legend still lives as it remains in folk lore forever along.
© Paul Warren Poetry
CARLIN EATS EM UP----
There was a boy named Carlin
Who used to suck his two fingers
Hungry or not he'll eat up all the food he can find
And then to unwind, he'll continue to eat more he finds
But during a break
He made a mistake, got a stomach ache
looks around gives a call ask his mother for more
For heaven sake boy, save some food for me sis and daddy
What a terrible day for this family
3/13/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Oreos with chocolate chips
Potato sticks with onion dip
Drip the cheese all over those fries
Three scoops of ice cream and apple pie
Frito-lay corn chips beside a guacamole-filled bowl
Don't forget those Boston-creme doughnut...holes
And how about all the candies and the chocolate cake
Something's got to give you a slight stomach ache
These are merely appetizers, of course
Now it's time for the game, to eat like a horse
First comes the turkey, with stuffing and butttered yams
Along with sides of potato fritters and honey-glazed ham
Throw in a few sirloin steaks with sauteed onions, hot off the grill
A Reuben sandwich with sauerkraut'll give your taste buds a thrill
Now -- how foolish of me! -- I've forgotten the drinks
Left them in a cooler under the kitchen sink ...
So let's down a few maragaritas and some imported red wine
Y'all leave some room for beer chasers --- in a mug or a stein
Yes, fans, it's under two months till Super Bowl Sunday
Better start dieting now, so you'll still fit in your undies!
So much depends on a red umbrella
the metallic grey skies
that open up and cry so they
become waterfalls.
Your feet stay dry, yet you notice
the the streets turn to streams,
but you stay safe under your
little piece of refuge...
So much depends on
the tiny wishing well-like
puddles forming on the sidewalk
transforming into pools
Everything becomes the color of
sadness, sky moans and groans.
sounds like a stomach ache
maybe something he ate
I hate the rain, but none of that
matters because of this tiny
umbrella
So much of me depends on this
small, blush-colored of a
thing that provides an
intangible feeling of warmth and
protection
So much depends on a red umbrella.
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