MFP Cheesy Poetry Thread

Together

Round and round, the pleasures bind.
Fleeting moments, self’s unwind.

Moisture pools on fevered skin.
Trembles start and turn within.

Looking deep within my soul,
Waiting, wanting, knowing, bold.

Giving up sweet minutes long,
Beneath your fingers I am drawn.

A sigh in the darkness.


-me-

I really like this one.

Thank you!

I didn't know that mfp has so many poets. All people here look too busy building muscles, losing weight for any artistic work, but here I am - mistaken again!:flowerforyou: :drinker: :bigsmile:

Wrote this in January for the newbies.

http://www.myfitnesspal.com/blog/downsizinghoss/view/journeyman-s-song-of-january-476238

Journeyman's song of January


The new year has brought determination anew.
He has vowed to enter the company of few.

The battle of the bulge is on yet again.
To fight the evil and decadence of all past sin.

The waist has expanded to quite a great length.
His wind has departed along with his strength.

so the music doth blast through the headphones so shiny
as the journeyman pedges to lose the great hiney.

He has searched the web for answers, near and far
bought the gym membership, found a smoothie bar.

The journey has begun, the effort in earnest.
He eats breakfast early to fire up his furnace.

the carbs have been shunned, no flour for him
DVDs have been purchased for when there's no gym.

He enters the gym, the temple of exertion
this time he means it, there will be no desertion.

The sweat it comes freely as he pushes along
the music cranked up to his favorite fast song.

The problem it seems comes from his own pace
It has been 4 whole days, but no change in his face.

So he looks for the answers as seen on TV
The juicers, the ketones, the body by V.

He goes to the programs to target his belly,
He skips all the sugars and avoids even jelly.

Maybe there is hope, how about shakeology?
or one of those courses of liquid proctology?

He eats a banana and is riddled with guilt.
with mistakes like these, he will never be built.

He knows now why he is doomed to be fat.
He is quite big boned, no way around that.

This can't possibly work. he sobs and he quakes.
What should I do, being a special snowflake?

But then he takes solace as it hits him like that.
He is doing just fine, muscle weighs more than fat!

It is obvious now, he needs not be sulky.
He should probably slow down. Who wants to be bulky?

His shake weight, his zumba, his work on his core.
With all of these options he could never get bored.

He works and he sweats. He cuts out all dairy.
Where the hell has she gone, the weight loss fairy?

Two pounds in a week, I have seen the show.
Less than 10 pounds and you might as well go.

So the winter moves forward. February is here.
Well this isn't working....

maybe next year.

Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturitions are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath bitled out,
Its earted jurtles,
Into a rancid festering confectious inner-sphincter. [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and slipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime,
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turling dromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don't.

I heart this one!!

Shakespeare does MFP:



To MFP or not to MFP: that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the belly to suffer
The (onion) rings and marrow of outrageous calories
Or to take up lifestyles against a sea of fads
And by opposing end them? To diet, to starve;
No more; and by starving we say to begin the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ‘tis a consummation devoutly to be wished? To diet, to starve;
To starve: perchance to binge: ay there’s the rub;
For in that starvation diet what losses may come when we have shuffled off this metabolic rate
Must give us pause: there’s the respect that makes calamity of so long dieting;
For who would bear the words and scorns of time,
The “bully’s” wrong, the proud member’s contumely
The pangs of despised advice, the mod’s delay
The insolence of veterans and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a Dr. Oz? Who would buttocks
bare,
To grunt and sweat under a clingy wrap
But that the dread of something after loss
The undiscover’d state from whose bourn
No purger returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those lbs we
Have
Than lift to others that we know not of?
Thus sloth does make cowards of us
All;
And thus the native hue of ketones
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought
And undertakings of great pitch and moment
With this regard their cleanses turn awry,
And lose the name of action. – Soft tissue now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy diaries
Be all my binges remember’d.

Uh. This is totally creative and wonderful!

Love is a gamble
Kissing's a game Guys do the necking
Girls get the blame
Few nights of pleasure
Nine months of pain
Couple days in the hospital
Baby gets a name
Love, Love, Love means More, More, More
When a guy gets a girl on the Floor, Floor, Floor.

P.S.
Would you like a demonstration to increase the population of the younger generation?

*Don't know where it came from but I remember saying it as a teenager

Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturitions are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath bitled out,
Its earted jurtles,
Into a rancid festering confectious inner-sphincter. [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and slipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime,
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turling dromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don't.

I've got a knack for creating Haiku on the fly so:

Ads in the sidebar
Show shrinking women and I
Think "Total bull$hit"

More Haiku!

Haiku are easy
But sometimes they don't make sense
Refrigerator

Shakespeare does MFP:



To MFP or not to MFP: that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the belly to suffer
The (onion) rings and marrow of outrageous calories
Or to take up lifestyles against a sea of fads
And by opposing end them? To diet, to starve;
No more; and by starving we say to begin the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ‘tis a consummation devoutly to be wished? To diet, to starve;
To starve: perchance to binge: ay there’s the rub;
For in that starvation diet what losses may come when we have shuffled off this metabolic rate
Must give us pause: there’s the respect that makes calamity of so long dieting;
For who would bear the words and scorns of time,
The “bully’s” wrong, the proud member’s contumely
The pangs of despised advice, the mod’s delay
The insolence of veterans and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a Dr. Oz? Who would buttocks
bare,
To grunt and sweat under a clingy wrap
But that the dread of something after loss
The undiscover’d state from whose bourn
No purger returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those lbs we
Have
Than lift to others that we know not of?
Thus sloth does make cowards of us
All;
And thus the native hue of ketones
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought
And undertakings of great pitch and moment
With this regard their cleanses turn awry,
And lose the name of action. – Soft tissue now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy diaries
Be all my binges remember’d.

Uh. This is totally creative and wonderful!

Thank you

Okay, so I looked up anhedonia. Yay for learning!

Yep. Initially, I took it for a name. smh.