An Erotic Wish As I View You On The Beach
a thin waistline
is what i need
your waistline fused
to mine.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Your waistline chambers
Orchestrate score of feelings
As true luv you feel
haiku by Ken e Hall
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Waistline chamber music
Orchestrate the score of feelings
Love, you can feel it
haiku by Ken e Hall
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Soup Of The Day
Well she thinks shes looking so cool
She thinks shes great but shes just a fool
What awful lack of class makes this kind behave this way
I look and only think of one thing to say
Soup, shes just soup
Soup of the day
Shes thin around the waistline
Thin around the brain
You see this type so many times
Time and time again
How could they really think
Theyd be treated in any other way
Everybodys looking and everybody say
Soup, shes just soup
Soup of the day
Well youd think theyd know better
That behaving in this way
They think theyre being clever
But I really have to say
Youd better think it over
Youll regret it one fine day
When the circus partys over
And you were just soup of the day
Shes just soup
Soup of the day
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The end must be nearing?
Some part of this world is cysted
Making it a hard time
Ones life ruïned by control
Thin waistline taken by chaos
I always hear them,
and always feel them
most of the times
even in my sleep
Some part of this world is a cancer
Trying to kill us all
Turning us to each other
And rape when they can
Just to destroy us all
Defence is not enough
They cursed our souls from the depths
of their blackened hollow heartshaped holes
in their chest, lacking a heart
And vomitting doom as tar from their diseased throats
Who can stop 'em all?
When comes the time?
The Retiree's Lament
It's the retiree's lament
Or retirees's blues
It doesn't matter which title you choose
What's in a name?
When the outcome's the same
For I've lost my hair
My teeth are loose
Had to give up working
I'm of no further use
My waistline's spreading
My memory's gone
And I'm left wondering
What the hell's going on?
But it's bliss not working
I'm happy to say
Though it should've happened to me
Back in the day
When I was young and spritely
Adventurous and bold
O why should retirement be
Wasted on the old?
poem by Mike Green
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Whisky in Oval Glass
Oval glass
Like your waistline
Touches my fingers
Whisky in it
Pretty hard
Soften with
Swing ice cubes
Glitters with cold
Sipping by lips
Like your tits
Taste in love
Fuddled feelings
Slowly lie down
Your glance
Being an image in it
Concavely looks at
While filling up
With another ice cube
Desire reminds
Like talking your eyes
In a short time
Empty glass
Looks at me
In a moment
I stand up
And go for a cigarette.
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Get Mine, Get Yours
Baby you pretend that things aint what they seem
All this tension , titling just exactly what we should be
Baby I dont mind us being some kind casual thing
Listen all I want to do for now is have you come and take all of me,
Can you
Chorus:
Put your hands on my waistline
Want your skin up against mine
Move my hips to the baseline
Let me get mine you get yours
Hang a please dont disturb sign
Put my back into a slow grind
Runnin chills up and down my spine
Let me get mine you get yours
If you see me with a man understand that you cant question me
The feelings taht you caught aint my fault cant help your jealousy
If you can handle the fact that what we have has got to be
Commitment free. then we can keep this undercover lovin commin
Hidden underneath the sheets.
Can you
Chorus
So come on and freak my body we can get nasty naughty
All night private party
Gotta hit that spot just right
Work me like a 9 to 5
It aint about the kissin and huggin cause this is a physical lovin
Straight sweatin our bodies are rubbin
Gotta hit that spot just right work me like a 9 to 5
*whisper*
We have a physcial thing
We make love, but dont fall in love
Let me get mine you get yours
*whisper*
We spend time
Just enough so you get yours, and I get mine
No strings attatched
I want your body
Not your heart
Chorus x2
*whisper*
Yeah,
Dont be shy
I wont bite
Let me get mine you get yours
song performed by by Christina Aguilera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Self-denial....
when old age visits
actually you do not immediately detect its presence
somehow you love to deny
its inevitability
you keep yourself busy and
focus on the strengths
and flexibility of youth
until you finally find it
sitting beside you
and both of you are drunk
making merry
trying to forget the numbers
as the wrinkles
become visible
spreading all over your
body
your skin losing the luster
turning into
a waistline larger
than what you think
and you look at yourself in the mirror
oh God
what an oversized shirt
what a lousy pair of pants
you cannot even recognize
that the bald man
in front of you
is really you but thanks God
you were given
the bonus of
these unearned years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If You Choose To Go
Theres a street outside my window
Theres a light outside my door
Theres a road straight through this old town
Theres a boat on every shore
Theres a promise down that freeway
But there is no guarantee
There are dreams on every ocean
There are storms on every sea
If you choose to go
Now Ive been out upon that ocean
Sometimes further that before
Sometimes not even past my waistline
And I screamed at what I saw
Many times along that freeway
Returning sometimes beat
There are dreams on every ocean
There are storms on every sea
If you choose to go
Plenty of places, plenty of things to see
Plenty of faces, plenty of ways to be
If you choose to go
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those Creams
Clotted and sour, whipped and double,
All delicious when laid on the tongue,
One could find oneself in deep trouble,
It's hard, keeping the figure young.
They melt with so much pleasure,
When you deem to taste their charm,
And if you're sampling them at leisure,
They can do you a lot of harm.
Inches creep onto your waistline,
And without warning, before very long,
Your poor body becomes less divine,
And your willpower, becomes less strong.
The flavoured ones, they are so yummy,
Nutty mixtures, with chocolate and fudge,
But they're no good at all for your tummy,
And will not help those inches to budge.
Those creams call out, waiting to tempt you,
And so you really just have to resist,
You should try out the 'Weight Watchers' menu,
Now then girls, do you follow the gist?
poem by Ernestine Northover
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A Woman's Mind
What goes on in a woman's mind?
Boggles scientists and other men.
A whirlpool of everyday pantomine.
Not one, not two but more than ten.
If you can peer into womankind.
Where do we really draw the line?
Thoughts circle thoughts, to no end,
Until we lay our heads to sleep intend.
We are incline when in a bind,
Emotion eats there is no line.
What waste
To taste
Sweets, what line?
Goodbye waistline.
We give, We care,
Can't breathe, no air,
Who gives, who cares?
Depleting health.
Heartbreaks we get,
Makes us deflate
And then inflate,
On creams and cake.
Like mountain bend
Like whirlpool spin
Dear man, Good men,
You just can't win.
Never ending Cyberline,
That sums up a woman's mind.
Modus Operandi
Blood spews from the pharynx
of the heel's eruption,
pelting the potter's field,
with stippled corruption!
Hands broken by murder,
mended by bloodshed,
hang below his waistline,
as he walks on the dead!
He paves the road ahead;
His path of destruction.
The sun won't rise again,
thanks to death's construction!
The cold wind follows him,
carrying the echoes,
of their cries and pleas
to give them tomorrow!
Mind broken by murder,
mended by bloodshed,
carries him into rest,
as he dreams in their beds!
He paves the road ahead;
His path of destruction.
The sun won't rise again,
thanks to death's construction!
poem by Michael Fischer
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Shrinking
Have you ever had that feeling
you are growing,
or is it your clothes are shrinking?
You know when your trouser bottoms
start creeping up to your knees,
or your shirt sleeves
start climbing up to your elbows,
or your waistline begins to grow,
but your belt hangs loose,
or your chest is expanding
because the buttons keep popping of your shirt.
Oh yea, I know that feeling ever so well
as it happens to me all the time
just after my wife does the washing.
She follows the instructions to the letter,
but still they begin to shrink.
Nothing is unshrinkable when she goes to wash,
except once.
There always has to be one exception.
I had a nice towelin shirt
and when she had finished with it,
the shirt touched my knees
and looked like I was wearing a skirt.
Here I am six foot three,
yet my clothes will fit someone three feet three
and a lot thinner than me.
Now I am at my wits end wondering just what to do.
It feels like playing Russian roulette
when the next wash begins.
31 January 2011
poem by David Harris
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Clearly Confused
She was clearly confused
Bewildered and bemused
How can it be called a civil war?
Brooding on it more and more
Dining on some jumbo shrimp
That waiter is such a wimp
Need more sweet and sour sauce
If only she had some dental floss
Hoping the bill wasn't pretty ugly
Pants are fitting a little more snugly
All in all, the meal was awfully good
Waistline was tight after she stood
Her car is parked by a Dodge Ram
Take 4th St. to avoid a traffic jam
A genuine-imitation leather purse
With a matching wallet, of course
Need to stop for some Icy Hot
Using it more often than not
It's now new and improved
Wish that store hadn't moved
A detailed summary, still to write
About that incident overnight
When the airplane crash landed
It all seems so underhanded
Was it a Peace-Keeper missile?
Admission only when it's unofficial
Working in military intelligence
Involves a certain unpleasantness
End up another unsolved mystery
In the dust bin of forgotten history
poem by Charles Hancock
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African Mama
African Mama as she struts down the catwalk
African mama with that multi-colored headdress
Vuluptuous woman
Independant woman
A woman of style
Africa's pride
Not fasion model's skinny legs
and flat bottom
Not half-shrunk cloth over disapearing waistline
Curves of Africa
Beauty of Africa
She is unconventional
Under-rated
Rich Beauty
Shocked faces stare as she transforms the stage
with her multi-faceted elagance
with her charm
and many colours
She is proud to be a woman
She she is mother
she is daughter
she will one day be grandmother telling stories around fireplaces
Her beauty is more than magazines
more than clothing
Her beauty is in who she is
In her free spirit
In her deep soul
In her rhythem
And in her heritage
She is Mama Africa
A woman of beauty
poem by Jessica Nobubele Frame
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Giving it plenty
A girl of 16 is an old mans dream
Sweet, naive, not hard to please
When she reaches 18 she's ripe for dating
With a father figure in her schemes
A woman of 20 of them there are plenty,
avoiding cheap leers, chasing careers,
At 30 she'll marry, find some young Harry,
biological clock going ticky, tick tock.
She's feeling maternal broody and mumsy,
she'll rip off his clothes and grope at his undies.
But soon she'll complain that the baby is tiresome,
her body is flumpy, her boobies are dumpy.
She'll crave to be youthful, do something useful,
starting to fancy men young and fruitful.
Men turning 20, men earning plenty,
buying her roses and licking her toeses.
By the time little Johnny attends boarding school
Mummy's out flirting breaking some rules.
Buying new dresses, coiffuring her tresses,
sporting her jewellery, enjoying tom foolery
Toy boys and teddies, husband too sweaty,
watching her waistline and giving it plenty!
poem by Ruth Walters
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One Thin Dime
(m. heenay, j. leap)
Your minds made up
Youre gonna leave
Nothing I can say will stop you so it seems
But before you up and go
Theres just something you should know
When you find that Im the one you still need
Chorus:
One thin dime
Is all it takes
When you need someone who cares
These arms of mine
Are always open
One thin dime is all you need
And Ill be there
Oh youre chasing rainbows and I understand
When youre through Ill take you back again
Ill be waiting patiently
For when you come back to me
Aint nobody else can love you like I can
Repeat chorus
You know the number
Im always home
So honey just pick up and dial that telephone
When this world treats you unkind
Get your momma on the line
There aint no need for you to ever be alone
Repeat chorus
These arms of mine
Oh theyre always open
One thin dime is all you need
And Ill be there
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Promise You (Trijan Refrain)
Oh love of mine, Oh love of mine,
Come to me in this day,
I'll save you from this world's opine
These judgements I will slay.
I'll hold you in my arms so tight
And shield our love with all my might...
I promise you
I promise you
Oh love of mine, I'll always fight.
Oh love of mine, Oh love of mine,
I'll always keep you warm,
Through thick and thin, it will be fine
I'll shield you from the storm.
Through all the battles and the wars
No matter their rank or their scores...
I promise you
I promise you
To keep love strong, what's mine and yours.
Oh love of mine, Oh love of mine,
I'll fight this to the end,
I'll put myself on the front line
To be there to defend.
I'll never let them take our love
This gift was given from above...
I promise you
I promise you
Our love they'll never deprive of.
poem by Adam McKim
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Thin
Thin, thin was the soup
ladled into the bowl.
It was watered down to make it last
as if it would keep them whole.
Thin, thin were the bodies
that sat 'round the table to eat.
They shared the watery sparseness of soup
with nary a piece of meat.
A time of discontent was here
and stomachs were never full.
This was the time they'd heard about,
stories that seemed so dull.
These stories were told with passion
by those who came before.
They jumped out of windows and stood in lines
saying, 'Please may I have some more? '
Thin, thin are the excuses
given by those in power.
No substance to substantiate the lies
given us hour by hour.
And so where does this leave us,
facing a 3rd world war?
For times become prosporous.
Isn't that what wars are for?
Thin, thin are the hopes now
that sanity will pervade the mind
of those who reap the profits
while our youth again will find
that they have been used as fodder
to bring our economy back.
Thin, thin are the excuses
for us being on the wrong track.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Tall Figures of Giacometti
We move by means of our mud bumps.
We bubble as do the dead but more slowly.
The products of excruciating purges
we are squeezed out thin hard and dry.
If we exude a stench it is petrified sainthood.
Our feet are large crude fused together
solid like anvils. Ugly as truth is ugly
we are meant to stand upright a long time
and shudder without motion
under the scintillating pins of light
that dart between our bodies
of pimpled mud and your eyes.
poem by May Swenson
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