"waddled" poems
I made it...
Though I haven't much of what it takes.
I certainly saw some pretty dark days
Though I have had my fair share of heartbreaks,
The Lord has blessed me in many ways.
I made it...
Even though I've waddled in emptiness
And had my share of disappointments
And my equal share of Loneliness
I have also had so many blessed moments.
I Made It...
Though I had my share of sorrow
Despite all this and through it all,
God kept me here to see tomorrow
I know by grace I will not fall.
I Made it...
Even though I made it without any money
And have had my share of Troubles,
I know my joy will come in the morning
For my meals will be served on many tables.
I made it!
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 7:05 PM UTC
If this poem had a life before I wrote it,
this poem was a penguin.
This poem waddled,
not just because it was a penguin,
also because this poem was fat.
This poem was a fat penguin.
And not just the black and white kind;
this poem was an electric blue fat penguin
who never really understood it was different
until its parents let it out to play with the other little penguins
and they started teasing it and calling it blue bird.
Until that moment,
this poem had no idea that it was a bird.
All this poem knew was that its heartbeat was like a simile
and it had metaphors for feet
and they did not dance.
This poem embraced its electric blue nature
and never saw itself as the underdog
because it was a penguin who lived in Antarctica
and it had no concept of what a dog was
or what it might be under.
Penguins just don’t think like that.
This poem smacked a seal with a couplet underwater.
None of the other penguins believed it,
but it did.
This poem waddled with a lazy swag
and leaned a little to the right
so sometimes it walked in circles.
This poem had 360 degrees of perspective
and -50 degree wind chills.
This poem had more than 50 words for snow
and no words for poetry.
It just lived
and didn't even listen to what other people wrote about it
because it's windy in Antarctica
and you can't really hear much.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
PARODY OF "THE DUCK SONG"
A duck walked down where the Democrats go
And he said to the man runnin' the show:
"Hey! Got any guns?"
The man said: "No, we just sell this ********
But it's dumb, and I'll bet, you'll buy all of it!
Can we count on your vote?"
The duck said: "No."
Then he waddled away - waddle waddle
'Til the very next day...
When the duck walked down where the Democrats go
And he said to the man runnin' the show:
"Hey! Got any guns?"
The man said: "No, like I said yesterday
We just sell you ******** okay?
Why not vote for our guy?"
The duck said: "Good bye."
Then he waddled away - waddle waddle
Then he waddled away - waddle waddle
Then he waddled away - waddle waddle
'Til the very next day...
When the duck walked down where the Democrats go
And he said to the man runnin' the show:
"Hey! Got any guns?"
The man said: "Look, this is gettin' old.
I mean, ******** is all we've ever sold.
Why not give us your vote?"
The duck said: "How about... no."
Then he waddled away - waddle waddle
Then he waddled away - waddle waddle waddle
Then he waddled away - waddle waddle
'Til the very next day...
When the duck walked down where the Democrats go
And he said to the man runnin' the show:
"Hey! Got any guns?"
The man said: "That's it! If you don't stay the **** away,
you're a terrorist bound straight for Guantanamo Bay.
So give us your vote!"
The duck said: "Adios!"
Then he waddled away - waddle waddle
Then he waddled away - waddle waddle waddle
Then he waddled away - waddle waddle
'Til the very next day...
When the duck walked down where the Democrats go
And he said to the man runnin' the show:
"Hey! Got your Free Speech?"
"What?" "Got your Free Speech?" "No, why would I - oh..."
"Then one more question for you:
"Got any guns?"
And the man just stopped,
The he started to twitch,
He started to cry,
then started to *****
He said: "Come on, duck,
Let's go to DC.
Talk to Obama,
So you don't have to harass me."
So they went to DC,
And Obama said “Hey”.
Tried to shake the duck's hand,
And the duck said: "Hmm, no thanks.
“But you know what I think?
And this is real as it gets
I think DC...
I think DC...
I think DC
is full of ********
Then he waddled away - waddle waddle
Then he waddled away - waddle waddle waddle
Then he waddled away - waddle waddle
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
It just takes a heartbeat.
You are brought into this world
Shaking and crying
Confused and lost
Awake and aware
Unable to speak
Barely breathing
Eyes wide with innocence
Pure as sunlight
Screaming from the pain
And your mother
Collapsed in agony
Suddenly detached
From her first born
Relieved yet bitter
Nostalgic and anxious
Her precious child
With nothing more
Than a pulse,
A heartbeat,
And wide eyes
Revealing the universe
With every blink
And you grew up so fast
Too fast, she claims
As you watch the home movies together
Over popcorn
And cigarettes
And the pixels expose
How you waddled through the weeds
Speaking in tongues
And gibberish
And you fell down
But you never cried
You look over
And your mother is passed out
On the old tattered couch
Slowly, mechanically, you rise
And sneak out the front door
Delicately and deviously
Alone and brave
Unaware that the youth
Are far from invincible
Your pal Trevor meets you
A block down
Blasting that punk rock ****
Because your mother hates it
And secretly, so do you
And in a heartbeat
You're in his front seat
Screaming about the world
And how ******
It all is
Trev smiles sadistically
Passing you a ****
Of something sweet
To take all your troubles away
And suddenly
You're flying
Down the highway
With your arm out the window
A wing spread
Your heart bursts
You grow up so fast
And suddenly
You don't hate the world at all
But it's far too late
You look over
And Trevor is passed out
In his old, beat up Chevy
Gracefully, rapidly, you rise
And ascend up to the pearly gates
Tragically and disturbingly
Alone and afraid
Suddenly aware that the youth
Are far from invincible
And your mother gets the call
Four in the morning
Distraught and confused
Suddenly the words pieced together
And she lost her baby
To this cruel, ****** up place.
She screams.
And sobs.
You were taken from this world
Shaking and crying
Confused and lost
Awake and aware
Unable to speak
Barely breathing
Eyes wide with innocence
Pure as sunlight
Screaming from the pain
It just takes a heartbeat.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 9:29 PM UTC
I love you like I love fish
I catch it in the open ocean
Bring it to kitchen
And cook it with such devotion
Then eat it with pleasure with no end
Though it sounds wrong to love fish
By killing it
By boiling it
putting seasoning on it
And swallow bit of pieces of it
So, I can't say I love you like I love fish
"I love eating fish" would be better to say
Though I realize its egotistic
That I indulge myself eating fish everyday
What about the fish that I picked?
The fish that I picked have feelings too
Did I ever asked for its feelings?
I need to feel the fish
feel the fins that clings
And try to fulfill its wish
Blub blub it says
Blub blub it cries
Blub blub I reply
Blub blub till the morning rise
Blub blub don't know why
It came to a point
where I don't know what to do
To The fish I'm holding
What should I do
To the fish I'm not eating?
I will tell you
We shared an amazing moment
On the open, sea the fish and I
On this ship event
Saw eye to eye
The eye that stared back
Never once blink
Tears filled in my eyes
And there's no more time to think
The calm weather cries
I put the fish back to the ocean
Its body waddled about
I slowly looked away
And tried not to look back without a doubt
It was a very emotional day.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 10:32 AM UTC
Let me tell you a story
From a time gone by
The tale of a greedy butcher
And a pig that could fly
In the little village of Piddle Brook
There lived a butcher named Mr.Ham
He was bearded, bulky, and a belcher
And was rumored to eat his own toe jam
A lover of all meat
Pork,beef,duck,chicken, and mutton
All this gorger did was eat
He was a professional glutton
But Mr.Ham’s appetite was not satisfied
He longed for some thick greasy bacon
Just a few strips, nicely fried
Served with pickled daikon
He peeked through his window
And with one beady eye
Spotted his neighbors hog
And pictured a flaky pork pie
His mouth watered
"What a delicious midnight snack!"
"I will barbecue,braise and fry her"
"But first I will launch my attack"
"Oh but I shan’t become a thief!"
"T’was only a whim!"
But Mr.Ham’s thin scruples vanished
His growling belly got the better of him
He grabbed a pitchfork
And the hefty hooligan set out
He advanced on the sleeping hog
And grabbed her by the snout
Her piggy eyes shot open
And in a flash
She darted past the butcher
And ran past the fence in a dash
Mr.Ham bellowed in rage
And waddled after the beast
But the pig was too quick
Yet Mr.Ham never ceased
And so the chase continued
A wild game of cat and mouse
They ran through the streets
Row upon row,house after house
Finally the swine was cornered
The escaped pig let out a squeal
And great feathery wings sprouted from her back
Said the pig “Thou shalt not steal”
And with one final snort
Two leaps and a hop
The winged sow flew away
And Mr. Ham collapsed with a plop
"I suppose it was a sign from above"
Mr.Ham sighed with defeat
From then on the rotund carnivore
Gave up on eating meat
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
Looking out at the world before him
Scanning people on the fly
John Jenkins watched as they passed his building
All in a hurry, but why?
He'd sit feeding pigeons when the weather was nice
With seed brought from the local Bodega
For two bucks a week, he'd keep them all fed
With a bag bought from Jose Montega
Each day he would watch, as the people ran by
Never stopping to watch as they passed
This man in the shadows, feeding the birds
And each day, he would watch the same cast
The birds never wavered as the people ran on
Never concerned with their lives, just with John
You could shoot off a gun, and not one would fly
Although, you would expect them all gone
He'd sat here for years, since he retired way back
No one saw him as he sat with the birds
He would say "hi" as the people went by
But, I'm sure no one heard the words
He was passed off as crazy, just a loon on a bench
He's a fixture that no one can see
And except for the birds and the Bodega's Jose
I would sit here and say I agree
One morning, downstairs, as the people passed by
John got up and went up to his place
The birds never left, they just waddled around
And the people went on with their race
The next morning, no John, no one down with the birds
He had died in his sleep in the night
But, the people passed by, never noticed him gone
And the birds, waddled round from their flight
He left nary a mark on the world he had left
He was mad, they said, but that was okay
And the people passed by, and the birds were still fed
By the new man on the bench called Jose.
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 8:41 PM UTC
Nothing scares me anymore.
I have been hurt to the core,
Hated by so many people,
For the spoils of my hustle.
I have lived in darkness,
And experienced sadness,
Waddled in disappointments
Victimized by false statements.
I have seen evil humans
Been attacked by demons.
One thing that's certain,
I will never ever give in.
Like the wet monsoon rains
And old locomotive trains,
My lines are uniquely powerful.
And for this, I remain grateful.
In spite of my misfortunes,
My name's not on these gravestones.
Like the mighty balboa tree
I stand strong and free.
IB-Poetry ©
15/12/2018
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 5:48 PM UTC
Like a bouncing putty, I can still bounce.
Look at me, I can dance.
I am not drunk,
Just only a bit tipsy,
I am chemically off balance!
From roses to doses,
They did, they do and are done watering roses with alcohol.
Since I was conceived my blood is that much of methanol and that disturbs my devotion.
She had turned her womb, my temporary home into an ocean of *****
From which i was swimming in whisky,
As much as this is risky, I was sleeping on bedrums.
At times I woul'd feel drums booming such that my heart skips beats,
But still pump methanol, my source of oxygen.
She had turned her womb into a savannah biome,
My life was dry but still i survived.
What a beautiful galaxy within which I existed?
Made of Heineken stars and clip drift ropes,
That keeps on drifting and leaves me tipsy!
Like a bouncing putty, I can still bounce.
Look at me, I can dance.
I am not drunk,
Just only a bit tipsy,
I am chemically off balance!
I wonder if Black labels is the reason i am black?
If my birth in autumn would be ascribed to autumn harvest?
Only lucky Brandy is my name, rather than smin off spin.
Like a stranger in his own element,
For my first foot steps I waddled, twisted and turned.
For my first blood test, mother came back in mascara ***** tears
Not because I was positive neither negative but alcoholic.
my blood is invalid, that is the product of the woman in *****
Like a bouncing putty, i can still bounce.
Look at me, I can dance.
I am not drunk,
Just only a bit tipsy,
I am chemically off balance!
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 9:56 AM UTC
For background - read "The Frumpy Tale of Riley River Duck"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the frigid winters of June
With the snow scattering over the crystal lagoon
Puffy white frost pillows covered the ground
The sunshine making them glitter all around
Riley sat with a piping hot cup of tea
Conversing eloquently with Cecelia the flea
The happy duck sat, blankets covering her slick feathers
Helping her brave even the harshest weathers
Out of nowhere came a huge “thump”
Causing Riley to jump
She waddled to the window
Just to see a cloud of dust and kindle
An avalanche slowly slithered along
The beast heaved, wicked and strong
Flicking up ice, draping the sun with a gown
Speckling, flickering and finally glittering down
Outside came a muffled scream
It could’ve been from a dream
Riley rushed outside
With the sun her only guide
She saw a **** of snow wiggle and grow
How was anyone to know?
That the avalanche had awoken an animal
Cory the angry camel
See the snow and lumber
Woke him up from his slumber
Along with the snow, his temper seemed to grow
And his **** was in a frump
Riley waddled out
To settle this bout
She pleaded and reasoned him to see
That the snow was very fun to throw
All the animals of the Great Oak Tree crowded around the fight
Till the day turned into night
Cory was smiling and laughing, his mood lifted
As his big hooves sifted
He lifted up a snowball, and threw it into the sky
Riley could only watch it fly…
It hit her in the beak
So her mouth was too cold to speak
She looked in shock
As Cory ran amok
The camel had won the fight
Just as the day turned to night
The day came to an end
And Cory couldn’t help but pretend
That he wasn’t happy that he won
Throwing snow was very fun
Riley saved the day
In the late winters of May
She took Cory into her house
Quiet as a mouse….
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
I chanced upon Polly Wolly
Walking one day after school
Clearly without her doodle
Something she thought she'd never lose
She told me she had sat it down
As it was out of tune
And when doodles sound more like poodles
What else is there to do
So I took a hold of Polly
And led her by the hand
Downtown to the lost and found
Where all that's lost is left
She went on and on about her doodle
Like a long lost friend
She asked the lass behind the desk
If she'd ever see her doodle again
The lass asked the doodles color scheme
And how large it was in size
Seems people lose their doodles often
If not most all the time
When they handed her her doodle back
There really wasn't much to say
As Polly Wolly and her doodle
Waddled arm in arm merrily away
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 4:23 PM UTC
Sometimes we would make it
down the corridor
to bath-time,
As penguins
Teetering; me, and tall; you.
Your giant feet
Were my stilts as we waddled
Left, right, left
All the way,
To the brass finish line.
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 8:28 PM UTC
the fat boy with the ruddy red cheeks
waddled to the front of the counter
eyes shining with the reflection of the
brightly lit menu board above him,
he handed the cashier his crumpled dollar bills
and ***** pennies and eagerly awaited
the arrival of his beloved
it came on a tray, wrapped in thin yellow paper
breathing in the saucy aroma
he felt the corners of his mouth
begin to water with lust
seating himself at a hard plastic booth
he began delicately ********** his greasy lover
slight wisps of steam danced before him
as he surveyed the beauty that lay
seductively on the tray
in between those light tan buns
was charbroiled meaty delight
blanketed by melted yellow cheese
with ketchup and mayo dribbling down the sides
tangy onions and pickles shyly hid themselves
teasingly peaking out here and there
his thick fingers wrapped themselves
around the warm soft buns
bringing that juicy creation to
his wide open mouth
with a grunt and two large bites it was gone
his square teeth tore it apart
the chomping and chewing an opera
he breathed loudly
his eyes were slits of pleasure
as juices escaped and stained his pants
licking his fingers and sighing with satisfaction
the fat boy crumpled up the yellow wrapper
and tossed it in the trash
exiting the scene of his fast love.
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 7:51 AM UTC
My words sting like the subject of divorced marriage and daddy issues
And yet you want to hear what I have to say
So lay it all on the table
Tell me you're giving up
But you won't find me plastered on a sidewalk like waddled up, gravel stuck, unwanted gum waiting for love
You've got me ****** up
I never thought
This early
I would be finding myself head over heels in love
Tell me I'm dreaming
Please tell me
Save me the pity of when I do find out
Because now.... he is slipping through every broken finger I can't use to get a tight grip
Reality is setting in
Love is either hard work
Or hard time
You just have to decide
How hard are you fighting?
And do you have time?
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 12:39 AM UTC
Miss Ashdown
faced the blackboard
and chalked leaves
and buds and stems
her fat behind waddled
as she moved
from side to side
and Carmody said
if you peep through
the small hole
in the toilets
you can see
into the girl’s cubicle
and see their *******
you stared
at the teacher’s behind
half listening
to Carmody’s yak
she moved the chalk
along the board
a stem appeared in green
her plump arm supported
her chubby hand and fingers
Carmody went on and on
about what he saw
in whispering voice
now
Miss Ashdown said
turning around
her big ******* bulging
behind her purple dress
here I have drawn the stem
of a flower and here
she said
pointing to the blackboard
is the bud and here is the stem
and so she went on
pointing out each aspect
of the nature study plants
she’d drawn
see her down the front
with her pink bow
and ginger hair?
Carmody asked
you nodded
to his whispering voice
your eyes on the girl
at the front desk
next to Helen
she wears blue *******
Carmody informed
saw them this morning
you saw the girl
raise a hand to ask
questions about the plants
or to be excused to urinate
her blue cardigan covered arm
lifted the small hand
waving in the air
and here
Miss Ashdown said
is the root layout
see how its spreads
to gather food
and moisture
to the plant
she ignored
the raised hand
and the blue cardiganed arm
went down and out of view
and her over there
Carmody said
by the chart of trees
she wears white
you moved away slightly
from Carmody’s head
remembering
some one had said
that morning
he had fleas.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 3:05 PM UTC
This morning I saw
A turtle dove
It flew across my path
It landed on the pavement
And then it waddled off
I wondered what it was doing
What thoughts were in its head?
'I must gather food
I must perfect my nest
I must look after my child'
I wondered as I walked
About the thoughts I possess
My family
My workplace
Society
A mess?
Would it be simpler if I were a turtle dove?
Being human means caring for everything
The sun
The sky
The earth
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
"the locks
click click clicked
smiles here
kisses there
strangers waddled
click
this ones for us,
the metal collides
starlight hidden within it I'm sure
the promise of a lifetime
and click
click clicked
"I love you,
forgive me"
click click clicked
"Goodbye"
click
the starlight bursts in fragments of pain, falling into a river of broken promises,
click click,
clicked."
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 8:19 AM UTC
Today while I was at work,
an elderly couple came through my line.
Their faces were heavily wrinkled,
aged over time.
The man greeted me kindly,
asking for paper and plastic.
His voice was rough, raspy, and weak,
and most certainly unenthusiastic.
As I bagged his groceries,
I watched as he talked with his wife.
The woman he had to chosen to be with,
for the rest of his life.
Once we were done ringing up his food,
he reached out to pay.
His hand trembled when he extended it,
as I continued to survey.
"Debit?" he quivered with uncertainty,
as the cashier kindly took his card.
"Just confirm and sign right there." she said,
as he concentrated very hard.
Bent over slightly, eyes squinted,
he shakily signed his name.
A receipt printed, and was handed to him,
"Alright, have a great day."
I turned to the man and his wife,
and smiled as they smiled back at me.
"Thanks kid, don't work too hard!",
he said to me gleefully.
I nodded and smiled as they slowly waddled away,
and headed out the door.
I watched as they left, out of my sight, and thought,
there has to be more.
There has to be more to this measly life,
than just what I can see.
There has to be more to this pathetic life,
which means nothing to me.
The thought of death, it scares me so,
and leaves me shaking in fear.
My mind is clouded, thoughts a blur,
nothing seems to be clear.
The thought that someday when I'm old,
I'll wake up and think to myself,
"Welp, this is the end of the line,"
is really something else.
Because to be quite honest, I don't want to have to think,
"this is the final stretch."
I would rather not have to confront,
such an evil as death.
I don't want to face a wrinkled face,
brittle bones and a deteriorated mind.
I don't want to grow old, or die alone,
or face the powerful Father Time.
But then I remember what I saw today,
and it makes me realize how I will survive.
The man had a love, his wife, his soul mate,
which kept him alive all along.
So I will face my wrinkled face,
and I will face brittle bones.
I will face my deteriorating mind,
and I won't face them alone.
I will love you all my life,
and I will make you my wife.
And we will fight Father Time,
together, side by side.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 5:12 PM UTC
A memory of you waddled onto the shores of my mind
flipping in the foamy waves that wash along my thoughts
I picked you up and examined your scales the touch of your floundering fins
I inhaled your scent and savored your taste
but I'm remembering now how the pain of you feels
underneath your scales are spikes that ***** my heart
so I took one last look one last smell one last taste
and threw you back into the ocean to float far away.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
Dumbstruck by the transvestite with the electric blue hair.
Hanging shoulder length.
His hair looked sheer, shiny and just fantastic.
He wore flip-flops and blue tights.
Never ever wore a coat.
Not being judgemental of course, I never am that's for sure.
Close enough to notice the evening shadow, as it crept over his man shaped face.
I passed him by.
His feet are big enough to belong to a giant, an ogre maybe, one that didn't bite.
His footwear looked rather curious in his flip-flops as he waddled along through the pouring rain, down the street and back again.
Almost a penguin, was he, awkward and ungainly.
Accepting of the fact that he would never fly.
But very confident, much more confident than me.
I admired his frank openness, of maybe what he sought to be.
(C) Livvi
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
The walrus waddled along
the icebergs of despair
Holding out his severed tusks
for everyone was there
As killer whales swam out
and gasped, full of dismay
Wailing at the injustice
in complete dire disarray
****** if done or not
no recourse for the shame
It's not like he did it himself
not garnering the blame
The tiger seals and penguins
had nothing to compare
So they grieved their very best
and cried, of C'est La Guerre
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 1:49 PM UTC
We drove to the park
the closest thing to Nature
Walked and talked
of unborn dreams
Till a bird on the ground
didn't fly up
Its mate calling from above
it waddled into tall grass
We left it to Nature
its plight forgotten
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
Raglan Roc was a Warlock, and
He lived up on Mandrake Hill,
Up where the witches gathered
Once a month, for a coven spell,
He tended his herbal garden, growing
Mugwort, sage and ash,
Supplying the monthly coven, though
He never would deal in cash.
They paid him in philtres, magic charms,
And the odd love potion or two,
For some of the witches were younger ones,
He’d say, ‘Let’s try it on you.’
And they would giggle and ride their brooms
Right into the witching Dell,
To check out the Warlock’s magic wand
As he put them under his spell.
He didn’t believe in favourites
But welcomed more than a few,
Till half the coven had buns in the oven
And didn’t know what to do.
They got too heavy to ride their brooms
Back down to the village street,
But waddled along the cobblestones,
Tripping over their feet.
And husband’s, down in the village square
Would mutter and moan, nonplussed,
‘Here comes another, a magic mother,
It should have been one of us.
The place will be full of ankle biters
If this don’t come to a stop,
All with a set of tiny horns
And looking like Raglan Roc.’
They followed the witches up the hill
On a coven day in June,
And each one carried a baseball bat
On that sunny afternoon,
They played a tinkling game that day
On his ribs and his Warlock form,
And by the time that they went away
They’d chopped off his favourite horn.
The witches no longer go up the hill
They say it isn’t much fun,
Not since the Warlock lost his pants
And his flirting days are done.
They get their herbs from the corner shop
And they weave their spells ad hoc,
While ankle biters still roam the streets
To remind them of Raglan Roc.
David Lewis Paget
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 11:53 PM UTC