"blubbery" poems - Hello Poetry

Off that landspit of stony mouth-plugs, Eyes rolled by white sticks, Ears cupping the sea's incoherences, You house your unnerving head -- God-ball, Lens of mercies, Your stooges Plying their wild cells in my keel's shadow, Pushing by like hearts, Red stigmata at the very center, Riding the rip tide to the nearest point of departure, Dragging their Jesus hair. Did I escape, I wonder? My mind winds to you Old barnacled umbilicus, Atlantic cable, Keeping itself, it seems, in a state of miraculous repair. In any case, you are always there, Tremulous breath at the end of my line, Curve of water upleaping To my water rod, dazzling and grateful, Touching and ******* I didn't call you. I didn't call you at all. Nevertheless, nevertheless You steamed to me over the sea, Fat and red, a placenta Paralyzing the kicking lovers. Cobra light Squeezing the breath from the blood bells Of the fuchsia. I could draw no breath, Dead and moneyless, Overexposed, like an X-ray. Who do you think you are? A Communion wafer? Blubbery Mary? I shall take no bite of your body, Bottle in which I live, Ghastly Vatican. I am sick to death of hot salt. Green as eunuchs, your wishes Hiss at my sins. Off, off, eely tentacle! There is nothing between us.

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19.4k

Sylvia Plath

Medusa

Off that landspit of stony mouth-plugs, Eyes rolled by white sticks, Ears cupping the sea's incoherences, You house your unnerving head -- God-ball, Lens of mercies, Your stooges Plying their wild cells in my keel's shadow, Pushing by like hearts, Red stigmata at the very center, Riding the rip tide to the nearest point of departure, Dragging their Jesus hair. Did I escape, I wonder? My mind winds to you Old barnacled umbilicus, Atlantic cable, Keeping itself, it seems, in a state of miraculous repair. In any case, you are always there, Tremulous breath at the end of my line, Curve of water upleaping To my water rod, dazzling and grateful, Touching and ******* I didn't call you. I didn't call you at all. Nevertheless, nevertheless You steamed to me over the sea, Fat and red, a placenta Paralyzing the kicking lovers. Cobra light Squeezing the breath from the blood bells Of the fuchsia. I could draw no breath, Dead and moneyless, Overexposed, like an X-ray. Who do you think you are? A Communion wafer? Blubbery Mary? I shall take no bite of your body, Bottle in which I live, Ghastly Vatican. I am sick to death of hot salt. Green as eunuchs, your wishes Hiss at my sins. Off, off, eely tentacle! There is nothing between us.

43

Fat; Bubbly lipids gathering and stacking in a fashioned order. Fat; It was not so "fashionista" when she gained and gained. Skinny; She was lost, had no where to run but to the pantry. Skinny; Bones showing, skin glimmering in the sunlight. Fat; Sticking to her bones as paper sticks to glue. Fat; Poking and Prodding at the blubbery material that sits upon her femurs. Unhappy; She will always be.

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May 19, 2013

May 19, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC

emily-mary-1

Fat

Fat; Bubbly lipids gathering and stacking in a fashioned order. Fat; It was not so "fashionista" when she gained and gained. Skinny; She was lost, had no where to run but to the pantry. Skinny; Bones showing, skin glimmering in the sunlight. Fat; Sticking to her bones as paper sticks to glue. Fat; Poking and Prodding at the blubbery material that sits upon her femurs. Unhappy; She will always be.

14

I can tell you’ve never been touched like a hurricane doesn’t matter like 40 below or a deep papercut between your thumb and your index couldn’t do any more harm than a teddybear or marigold — but that was before me before me, you’ve never been touched and you’ve never touched quite like dissolving into the fresh dew on dawn’s grass and you’ve never stopped to feel your ****** like stopping to smell the roses on a worthwhile jaunt or the daffodils or the lilac trees, purple and white or to smile at a happy sunflower like all of your little hesitancies and horrors are of little to no caliber before me, you’d never go a night without at least a sip of something, you’d never give yourself a chance to be yourself in the sober light of love you’re shy and you avoid it but if you counted the number of empty wine & beer bottles on your balcony, you’d finally know you ought to stop pouring at night and figure out how to explore at night; dip your fingers in gooey paint and smear every colour on the pavement for hours and hours until the sun awakes like you have the power to love even if it aches and at first, it will, like frostbite, like papercuts all over your palms, like cartoon cliff jumps that can never **** you, like getting fired or evicted or rejected because remembering something as fierce and as merciless as love is heartbreakingly overwhelming for the fact that you had forgotten and forgetting does not make you strong or shrewd it’ll only ***** you over and give you a blubbery beer belly and empty bottled balcony and before me, I’m pretty sure you thought your life was a tragedy because drinking feels nice and *** releases hurt but I’m just not interested in being with an alcoholic, so it’s best we stop taking off our shirts.

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Dec 7, 2013

Dec 7, 2013 at 9:15 AM UTC

samasati

before me

I can tell you’ve never been touched like a hurricane doesn’t matter like 40 below or a deep papercut between your thumb and your index couldn’t do any more harm than a teddybear or marigold — but that was before me before me, you’ve never been touched and you’ve never touched quite like dissolving into the fresh dew on dawn’s grass and you’ve never stopped to feel your ****** like stopping to smell the roses on a worthwhile jaunt or the daffodils or the lilac trees, purple and white or to smile at a happy sunflower like all of your little hesitancies and horrors are of little to no caliber before me, you’d never go a night without at least a sip of something, you’d never give yourself a chance to be yourself in the sober light of love you’re shy and you avoid it but if you counted the number of empty wine & beer bottles on your balcony, you’d finally know you ought to stop pouring at night and figure out how to explore at night; dip your fingers in gooey paint and smear every colour on the pavement for hours and hours until the sun awakes like you have the power to love even if it aches and at first, it will, like frostbite, like papercuts all over your palms, like cartoon cliff jumps that can never **** you, like getting fired or evicted or rejected because remembering something as fierce and as merciless as love is heartbreakingly overwhelming for the fact that you had forgotten and forgetting does not make you strong or shrewd it’ll only ***** you over and give you a blubbery beer belly and empty bottled balcony and before me, I’m pretty sure you thought your life was a tragedy because drinking feels nice and *** releases hurt but I’m just not interested in being with an alcoholic, so it’s best we stop taking off our shirts.

60

I dropped more today. From the gelatinous 180 last August To my blubbery 156 I thought this would go faster. She told me it would. Emily is like this corpse, you see… How they’re always on your mind, haunting. Her ***** stained face, flashes, like a memory “This is where you’ll end up. Just ******* wait.” I’m not scared. I promise. But I don’t trust her pretty. Not completely. UPDATE: I tried to ignore the urge to throw up. But now that I gained all of my weight back, I'm throwing caution to the wind, going to college and starving this fat away. I pledge 177 to plunge to 140 by Thanksgiving.

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Jul 17, 2014

Jul 17, 2014 at 3:46 PM UTC

wisp

Get The Skinny On Me

I dropped more today. From the gelatinous 180 last August To my blubbery 156 I thought this would go faster. She told me it would. Emily is like this corpse, you see… How they’re always on your mind, haunting. Her ***** stained face, flashes, like a memory “This is where you’ll end up. Just ******* wait.” I’m not scared. I promise. But I don’t trust her pretty. Not completely. UPDATE: I tried to ignore the urge to throw up. But now that I gained all of my weight back, I'm throwing caution to the wind, going to college and starving this fat away. I pledge 177 to plunge to 140 by Thanksgiving.

19

hows your love life are you somebodys exwife do you lie fat and cry blame him and not try does the single life taste bad try another old picture want ad you say your fat but youre fixxing it but you still want a man that is bank and fit im a fat wallet dude sweet *** on to sit but ill pass on your jabba **** blubbery *** youve wrinkled your envelope really bad you still claim youre beautiful wow thats sad far from your sloth nest is where i will fly and grind my hips on some younger thin thigh see ive got an exwife and now i love life

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Jun 4, 2016

Jun 4, 2016 at 9:00 AM UTC

chump

hippo crite

hows your love life are you somebodys exwife do you lie fat and cry blame him and not try does the single life taste bad try another old picture want ad you say your fat but youre fixxing it but you still want a man that is bank and fit im a fat wallet dude sweet *** on to sit but ill pass on your jabba **** blubbery *** youve wrinkled your envelope really bad you still claim youre beautiful wow thats sad far from your sloth nest is where i will fly and grind my hips on some younger thin thigh see ive got an exwife and now i love life

16

A love poem for Terry Collett **** it, not a single word affixed, and tears come gushing, flooding my cheeks paths, into my mouth comes the salty outpouring my nose blubbery, it’s hard to type when you can’t see and the tissue is engrossed, engrasped in your only good writing hand a lovely Sunday by the Atlantic coast, listening to 60s folk and rock n’ roll, mostly love songs of seeded sadness, simplistic so many tunes of heartbreak long ago planted in our respective souls each one reminds, restores, a heart poking, all your recollections penetrate, as if I was nearer to thee, and I too, weep, missing your Oliver be advised there will never be enough poems to make one/me not want more, for ****** you, these love poems into my interior, learning from you the human how so much more than the when where and why one loves a child resolutely, absolutely for each child the unique reasons differ, but never the how, for you, of this, are the the poet exemplar this makes me weep for so man-many reasons, strangely, a stream of delight runs sweeter deeper within my tears, for which I thank you with this love poem

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Jul 14, 2019

Jul 14, 2019 at 11:25 AM UTC

nat-lipstadt

A love poem for Terry Collett

A love poem for Terry Collett **** it, not a single word affixed, and tears come gushing, flooding my cheeks paths, into my mouth comes the salty outpouring my nose blubbery, it’s hard to type when you can’t see and the tissue is engrossed, engrasped in your only good writing hand a lovely Sunday by the Atlantic coast, listening to 60s folk and rock n’ roll, mostly love songs of seeded sadness, simplistic so many tunes of heartbreak long ago planted in our respective souls each one reminds, restores, a heart poking, all your recollections penetrate, as if I was nearer to thee, and I too, weep, missing your Oliver be advised there will never be enough poems to make one/me not want more, for ****** you, these love poems into my interior, learning from you the human how so much more than the when where and why one loves a child resolutely, absolutely for each child the unique reasons differ, but never the how, for you, of this, are the the poet exemplar this makes me weep for so man-many reasons, strangely, a stream of delight runs sweeter deeper within my tears, for which I thank you with this love poem

39

UFO I believe UFO exist it would be strange if they didn´t considering the many planets in the vast galaxy. I have not seen a UFO person close up with the exception of my face in the morning before coffee. The picture I have seen is always at a distance and tend to be grainy. Some people insist they have been captured by UFO, analyzed and sent back to earth again presumable because the UFO being found them of no interest. The UFO world does not call us human but the strange blubbery beings with a penchant for killings and fighting wars. They, the UFO is petrified by us keep their distance hence “grainy photos.” Still, I believe the UFO people are a friendly sort all we have to do is to stop wars, be polite and they will come to us not necessarily in human form, and show us how it is possible to move so fast through space and defy gravity.

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Jun 16, 2021

Jun 16, 2021 at 7:27 AM UTC

jan-oskar-hansen

UFO

UFO I believe UFO exist it would be strange if they didn´t considering the many planets in the vast galaxy. I have not seen a UFO person close up with the exception of my face in the morning before coffee. The picture I have seen is always at a distance and tend to be grainy. Some people insist they have been captured by UFO, analyzed and sent back to earth again presumable because the UFO being found them of no interest. The UFO world does not call us human but the strange blubbery beings with a penchant for killings and fighting wars. They, the UFO is petrified by us keep their distance hence “grainy photos.” Still, I believe the UFO people are a friendly sort all we have to do is to stop wars, be polite and they will come to us not necessarily in human form, and show us how it is possible to move so fast through space and defy gravity.

18

I loathe shucking clothes, (no matter eyes severely myopic) in preparation for here goes another warm shower quickly relaxing this senescent body ready to doze soon after lathering this blubbery body most unwanted fat grows on me, no matter healthy diet of worms, or how I stand, not so easy add a pose zing losing battle – Mary Jo's if and geeze us of bulge ill flattering particularly quiverly, sans white "WALL" tire tread fully goes steely belted around lower abdominal area like lava floes siring unsightly expose yore squishy Jew dish priestly punchy,plasma paunchy, gristly... pillow like marshmallows fittingly, rotundly soundly identical with other schlep tin (tin tabulation) grungy hobos, this lap ****** lard (lord) Who Lee bemoaning, how ilk readily knows, where unwanted bulky flab... most detested - hence Corp Yule Lance leaves noth thin to noblesse oblige, know bull eats obese, anorexia nervosa or chance barking out orders reminiscent, when he hapt tubby a caller at weekly square and/or contra dance, now requisitioned to insulate and excessively enhance body electric can be mushed into likeness of fleshy France or repurposed into expanse resembling any country, whose name Kants be easily pronounced, and historical events glommed together recognizable as Ataturk with a lance bequeathed to rule World advance sing gluttony as his divine providence, thus requires deep dish allegiance (non - fiber - binding contract) for eats and make decadent every fleshpot gourmand stretching cellular skein to capacitance bestowing guaranteed deliverance with their rolling ballooning massive circumference into orbit with Earthly moon officiant eternal fondue irrelevance!

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Mar 4, 2019

Mar 4, 2019 at 11:32 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

A Former Slender Man Deplores Weight Gain

I loathe shucking clothes, (no matter eyes severely myopic) in preparation for here goes another warm shower quickly relaxing this senescent body ready to doze soon after lathering this blubbery body most unwanted fat grows on me, no matter healthy diet of worms, or how I stand, not so easy add a pose zing losing battle – Mary Jo's if and geeze us of bulge ill flattering particularly quiverly, sans white "WALL" tire tread fully goes steely belted around lower abdominal area like lava floes siring unsightly expose yore squishy Jew dish priestly punchy,plasma paunchy, gristly... pillow like marshmallows fittingly, rotundly soundly identical with other schlep tin (tin tabulation) grungy hobos, this lap ****** lard (lord) Who Lee bemoaning, how ilk readily knows, where unwanted bulky flab... most detested - hence Corp Yule Lance leaves noth thin to noblesse oblige, know bull eats obese, anorexia nervosa or chance barking out orders reminiscent, when he hapt tubby a caller at weekly square and/or contra dance, now requisitioned to insulate and excessively enhance body electric can be mushed into likeness of fleshy France or repurposed into expanse resembling any country, whose name Kants be easily pronounced, and historical events glommed together recognizable as Ataturk with a lance bequeathed to rule World advance sing gluttony as his divine providence, thus requires deep dish allegiance (non - fiber - binding contract) for eats and make decadent every fleshpot gourmand stretching cellular skein to capacitance bestowing guaranteed deliverance with their rolling ballooning massive circumference into orbit with Earthly moon officiant eternal fondue irrelevance!

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