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"chummy" poems
A chance All that I ask for is a chance A chance to meet and not divide We’ve played this game, Time and again And throughout it all we still remained friends But to write off someone based on what _you_ lack Is a sorry thing that you have a knack Of repeating again and again. I’m not begging for you to be chummy ole pals Only I plead for you to meet without a judgmental scowl. Though a childish endeavor I know it to be, For once I just wish You could see what I see. With out the taint of jealousy.
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Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 3:17 AM UTC
Childish Chance
(Rock Lake, Canada) In this country there is neither measure nor balance To redress the dominance of rocks and woods, The passage, say, of these man-shaming clouds. No gesture of yours or mine could catch their attention, No word make them carry water or fire the kindling Like local trolls in the spell of a superior being. Well, one wearies of the Public Gardens: one wants a vacation Where trees and clouds and animals pay no notice; Away from the labeled elms, the tame tea-roses. It took three days driving north to find a cloud The polite skies over Boston couldn't possibly accommodate. Here on the last frontier of the big, brash spirit The horizons are too far off to be chummy as uncles; The colors assert themselves with a sort of vengeance. Each day concludes in a huge splurge of vermilions And night arrives in one gigantic step. It is comfortable, for a change, to mean so little. These rocks offer no purchase to herbage or people: They are conceiving a dynasty of perfect cold. In a month we'll wonder what plates and forks are for. I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here. The Pilgrims and Indians might never have happened. Planets pulse in the lake like bright amoebas; The pines blot our voices up in their lightest sighs. Around our tent the old simplicities sough Sleepily as Lethe, trying to get in. We'll wake blank-brained as water in the dawn.
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3.8k
Two Campers In Cloud Country
Hey cheeky Teddy Bear! Did they call you fat? No, You aren't baby, You have a wonderful warmth, The earth looks beautiful Through your warmth that hugs Souls with Love and feelings.. Little Doughnut you aren't fat, You are curvy & Chummy Chum. Sweet little potato Smile a loads Yes! You are A Chum chum Plumy Doll. __Fathima Ruhee__
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Aug 15, 2019
Aug 15, 2019 at 1:19 PM UTC
Cheeky Chubby Chum
The Psychedelic Deli Is sometimes in an alley. It can seem accidental, Some of it experimental All completely experiential. There is no shop, no store You must have a friend If you really want to score. Everyone is different Under new management. Let me make this clear; Anything you want, Everything you want is here. From champagne to beer All the time, every year. You can send out for ***** And have nothing to lose. Only just all your money, But you may think that funny Once you’re getting chummy. So mostly bring your own And don’t drink it alone Because it’s best to share That’s true just everywhere If you have the grace to care. The Psychedelic Deli May sell wares ***** nilly They’ll charge you indecently As stuff they made just recently Must be paid for immediately. They have this and that And if you pass the hat You’ll go on a trip with no ticket. You surely don’t want to miss it. But there’s always a bit more to it. So, you better be up to it Because many more blew it And ended like a fish on their belly, Their minds about as stable as jelly, Shopping at the Psychedelic Deli.
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May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 10:51 PM UTC
PSYCHEDELIC DELI
Abandoned, deserted and forsaken to whine. In privation was he left lonely to pine. His friends like a bird fled to another tree, Leaving him to rot away in Dundee. His soul was parched, pained and weary, Longing him to be refreshed speedily. His heart was sad, bitter and lorn, Praying him this even to morn would turn. And the laden lad afterward to London went. By labour and favour did he an apartment rent And began in earnest his early dreams to pursue, Having himself picked up, as a man ought to do-- After a certain disappointment or fall in life-- Chasing no fantasy, frivolities, but working to rule; Neither was he as afore again playing the pool But was saving straight, and soon he success struck, By heaven's fortune that to him came--nay by luck: Like it's no fluke finding a goodly and godly wife-- It was by grace that he was wherefore blessed. So his old chummy comrades to him returned to nest: To wine and dine with him more like before. But he, Once bitten, twice shy, was wise enough to repeat folly.
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Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 4:33 AM UTC
London Lad
*Chitter , chatter chirrup Three birds of a feather A friendly chummy posy - in perfect morning tide pleasure Trilling , thrilling , touring Thrush's in the noon palmettos Chiming sweet refrains in the - broomcorn meadow Musky , dusky weary Gold songsters in a bush A huckleberry trio in the- nighttime hush*
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Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
Three Thrushes
Scanning from the ground upward over my torso Reveals an disturbing inventory of dysfunction brachymetatarsia, in both feet! Unequal leg length Reconditioned knees Atrophied right quadriceps Hernia Scar L4 & L5 Vertebrae way too chummy Are these ******* Are these jowls? Gum recession Moderate gastro intestinal reflux Three diopter challenge in both eyes Dermatochelassis, left and right Scintillating scotoma Male pattern baldness – rear solar panel developing. And yet when asked I reply, Oh, I’m fine! I’m fine. And you, and you, still love me.
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Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
My Medical Inventory, or Erectile Is Not My Only Dysfunction
watching for air                              a mad thing of static to do unwashed  i hold it all foreign   my perspectives clothed as the enemy an agreed muscle of tension       with pockets fracked into my hands  i look out the window   wide agape guidance                                                     invasive drills of heat   the giving sunlight ; punishing, a tree,   the grieving buildings the whinging of cicadas and here i am     watching for air one point for the weather                                                       one point for the view                                                             one big point for my ****** condition                                 one point for the passers by and their galling dramedies and there it is ; the wiry plan that's built                         from one small tickle of wild thought                                                formed long ago trickling to the current day some whipped wit of poisoned psychology                fed to the inbreed   (welcome   you panting imp) decades of saved up fatty layers a deed   of habitual sediment retching until the tide laps become still    a cured and congealed gladness marbled, a butcher would say i am full and hearted and heated and padded senseless         turned under a heel   with my wastrel history   i’ve accomplished this     a stifled condition                                of poisoned obscenity seated deep        almost fully incapacitated   in my armchair   on this chummy day my leisure clothes greasy     sluck against my blemished hide a packet of cigarettes   to my side rounded upon  by sounds of the neighbours affairs with a gasp of energy   i 'skin one off' vigorously my system trembling   with years of hard liquor borderline   to a state of unconscious whelm retained final       prime for ignition i could manage a spectacle a blinding flare                                   a glorious incineration and the release                       of my true oder i light a match for my cigarette
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May 29, 2023
May 29, 2023 at 6:54 PM UTC
a prayer for combustion
watching for air                              a mad thing of static to do unwashed  i hold it all foreign   my perspectives clothed as the enemy an agreed muscle of tension       with pockets fracked into my hands  i look out the window   wide agape guidance                                                     invasive drills of heat   the giving sunlight ; punishing, a tree,   the grieving buildings the whinging of cicadas and here i am     watching for air one point for the weather                                                       one point for the view                                                             one big point for my ****** condition                                 one point for the passers by and their galling dramedies and there it is ; the wiry plan that's built                         from one small tickle of wild thought                                                formed long ago trickling to the current day some whipped wit of poisoned psychology                fed to the inbreed   (welcome   you panting imp) decades of saved up fatty layers a deed   of habitual sediment retching until the tide laps become still    a cured and congealed gladness marbled, a butcher would say i am full and hearted and heated and padded senseless         turned under a heel   with my wastrel history   i’ve accomplished this     a stifled condition                                of poisoned obscenity seated deep        almost fully incapacitated   in my armchair   on this chummy day my leisure clothes greasy     sluck against my blemished hide a packet of cigarettes   to my side rounded upon  by sounds of the neighbours affairs with a gasp of energy   i 'skin one off' vigorously my system trembling   with years of hard liquor borderline   to a state of unconscious whelm retained final       prime for ignition i could manage a spectacle a blinding flare                                   a glorious incineration and the release                       of my true oder i light a match for my cigarette
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Baby watered her bears And fell asleep in a sodden heap Dreaming, no doubt, Of a world where watered teddies grow Like flowers, throw Their paws to the sky, Fur unfolding like petals, Chummy grins becoming monstrous, Button eyes like black holes, Threatening to gobble her up. She woke screaming at 3am I replaced the wet with dry, Soothed with cuddles, Changed the scary dripping bears For dry dollies. Now she's sleeping soundly, Hairy scary bears, downstairs Waiting to be be tumbled, Wanting to be dry.
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Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 3:27 PM UTC
Sippy Cup Shenanigans
A rainbow erupts in your little heart I was hangin' out with blue You were a little chummy with sunny orange Too bad red don't want to be friends with us no more A spectrum erupts in your little heart Did I miss out on a chance at the real thing Because I was distracted by the fog? The fog's turned to smog, And in this smog it's the clearest its ever been all along But just a glimpse of hope is all I ever needed To realize that everything is just a dream That here and now, and this and that All the specifics have turned Upside down and inside out and Become permanent spots in our vision.
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Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 7:18 AM UTC
Colors
Musa stands for banana But his name sake was Furhana His headwear folded like samosa Not to be confused with mimosa Yet the fold was like Koya's head towel Even the fantastic Ayamu's downwell. That said: Koya heckled with his sickle knife Never failed in the field to sit and file The blade to trim out the hedge's tendrils rife Closed one eye to see the fence's profile The cutting-hedge technology of fence Continued without denouncing offense Rarely reaching any end, the dense Fence talk gains again as every day commence. Beauty creation was his faint inclination At the entrance of the tea plantation Stationed near to the police station Part of his task unasked in the division Was standing and talking to the man on the bike Talks like, the strike, the Labour wages hike, How to dodge a strife for a fair bounty With words coated with 'chondy-chandy sugar candy. For its said, he can wear any colour, I-uhml-green or P-yellows To send jaundice or dainties to the Poor-fellows. The talk prolong as the baron mellows Till the madam's call comes from the bungalows. Back to Musa, sorry for the interruption, he was left behind the lines... For names of Mayan, Maanu and Jaanu make a beeline Like Beebi and Kaybee,  maybe the guy too, sounding Shanghai, All are bonanza, for a due stanza. Musa chirped with chops of English And fizzed out the name of fish and dish Proud that he worked even with some British. Once he mumbled the name mom and mummy To call out his humble wife to introduce The visiting chummy colleagues, over there. Her numb eyes goggled out of a slimy shawl to reduce Her head to a crummy Kameez that beleaguered  on her. Not knowing what his trendy husband is telling, And why he is calling her before them, Asia instead of Aisha! His friends knew her trouble and told her its alright And that made her feel she is the same Ayichumma on her own right. Once Musa stumbled on the name 'chips' at a shop in the city; Ordered the same along with other civil society While seeing it packed, he grumbled for his stupidity And burst out, "O, just the Koya fried banana, that's aplenty in our vicinity". The shopkeeper gave a laugh, And there, Musa left in a huff!
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Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 11:25 AM UTC
Musa
Musa stands for banana But his name sake was Furhana His headwear folded like samosa Not to be confused with mimosa Yet the fold was like Koya's head towel Even the fantastic Ayamu's downwell. That said: Koya heckled with his sickle knife Never failed in the field to sit and file The blade to trim out the hedge's tendrils rife Closed one eye to see the fence's profile The cutting-hedge technology of fence Continued without denouncing offense Rarely reaching any end, the dense Fence talk gains again as every day commence. Beauty creation was his faint inclination At the entrance of the tea plantation Stationed near to the police station Part of his task unasked in the division Was standing and talking to the man on the bike Talks like, the strike, the Labour wages hike, How to dodge a strife for a fair bounty With words coated with 'chondy-chandy sugar candy. For its said, he can wear any colour, I-uhml-green or P-yellows To send jaundice or dainties to the Poor-fellows. The talk prolong as the baron mellows Till the madam's call comes from the bungalows. Back to Musa, sorry for the interruption, he was left behind the lines... For names of Mayan, Maanu and Jaanu make a beeline Like Beebi and Kaybee,  maybe the guy too, sounding Shanghai, All are bonanza, for a due stanza. Musa chirped with chops of English And fizzed out the name of fish and dish Proud that he worked even with some British. Once he mumbled the name mom and mummy To call out his humble wife to introduce The visiting chummy colleagues, over there. Her numb eyes goggled out of a slimy shawl to reduce Her head to a crummy Kameez that beleaguered  on her. Not knowing what his trendy husband is telling, And why he is calling her before them, Asia instead of Aisha! His friends knew her trouble and told her its alright And that made her feel she is the same Ayichumma on her own right. Once Musa stumbled on the name 'chips' at a shop in the city; Ordered the same along with other civil society While seeing it packed, he grumbled for his stupidity And burst out, "O, just the Koya fried banana, that's aplenty in our vicinity". The shopkeeper gave a laugh, And there, Musa left in a huff!
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Energy The Treasury If someone asked me what would be The perfect present I would answer in a wink, without a think: Energy! And probably Add Peace inside So I can ride out tough spots, Tragic phases when they come, For come they do as surely as My name is You. But this you have to know also: They go And something takes their place. Just the same, old chummy peace Craves energy to be released. When Mr E goes into hibernation Taking toll on all relations, I retreat, wait and relax, Force a hope that it comes back, Charging up my back-tery. A temple of potential, energy! I’ve written poetry, I’ve called for, chronicled, Describing, naming, yelling, telling for, It is the germ of wholeness. Energy The Treasury 7.13.2016 Circling Round Energy; Arlene Corwin
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Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 12:29 PM UTC
Energy The Treasury
How it was grass greened for little feet, tickled by their absurd bursts of joy. As between tinklings time sussed out a sun, and the cheeks of chummy cherubs dimpled like embedded kisses. Good as good graces may be in, a child for all the world stood--newly made, round as play. Then one day in its sad, slow way... something shadowed play. What sunk that sinking feeling, and turned magic on its head? What left a laden cloud to blankly hug a dreamless field?
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May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 8:49 PM UTC
Something Shadowed Play
Drank the morning rain and felt it in my chest Clung, suspended with the fog on my vanity I have a pencil to my temple,the graphite looks impressed It sees the twitch in my neck, before you ever spoke with breath like turpentine All in all the days are just one big joke -I should be the chummy punchline
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Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC
ArtFraud
John Ashley and Jake Albert are brothers Like a candy jam in a bottle when together Sharing precious moments with each other Sticky and chummy, and that's until forever. John Ashley was born in November Jake Albert came next in October 1989 and 1990 are years to remember So important to me, being their mother. Miguel is the last name of their father This name has been added to the former JAM  resulted out of the initial letters And also being followed by their sisters. But there is something that really matters Because the initials J A M means further It's about a family who loves every member Yes, this is what that makes our life happier.
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Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
My Two Boys Brought Me A JAM
You held me when I wanted to give up, You gave me courage, But this was love. You said that you love me, Even though I had no one, My friend is what I call, I was proud to have someone. Never letting you go, I promise to make our friendship worth something. So never think our friendship is nothing, Our friendship strong, Just like your heart it's says trusting, in my honesty it's stunning, never change, because your heart makes life feel lovely. Thank you for protecting me, you brought my heart back to recovery, I'm just so lucky, you filled my world with perfection, I am proud to call you my buddy. well this is the end of my poem, I hope it didn't sound chummy, see you next time, I hope these word were touchy. -Michael Elizalde-
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
Friend
Snarling clues underneath the dollies Waiting for a nudge to rise up and vanish And pop back only when the fret breaks into a moan They will never find Why else do you think people still talk about the people on Titanic? Chummy jays Cockooing with crows saying its alright Mocking sad a bulge hiding behind the crooked crimson spring They will never see Why else do you think Amazon Rainforest is not a Honeymoon destination yet!
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Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 1:16 AM UTC
PERENNIAL BLUES
Ha. I've too much stacked up on all accounts for your feeble dispute, if any, to be heard. (sonnet #MMMMMMMDCLXXII) He led me on a wild goose chase, to thence Look was't half sheepish, 'fessing in betrayl Twas all a ruse. No kisses either, pale Night bitter, though alive and listning hence Mair keenly than I cared t'acknowledge, sense Upon its honour as a watchman they'll Arraign for sleeping on his post, t'avail I had a ball despite was't ill intents? What DOES "I love you" signify as twere? Folk never knew what was afoot 'til to Effect twas: over. He's most chummy fer Good show now my heart's lost. The weeks we two Spent in a whirlwind romance are gone, poor As his late overtures who can not woo. 27Jan19b
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Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 12:41 AM UTC
Reality Is A Drag, You Know?