Thursday, 7 October 2010

Ode to a Dumpling Dear

My poem for National Poetry Day!

There lived far off, in distant lands
A maiden fair, but plump
All ripe in bloom, and comfy was
The flesh upon her rump.

She lived her life in bliss pursuit
Of puddings, cakes and pies
And heedless she about the growth
Of poundage on her thighs.

Her face rotund would smile at all
The pastry cream delights
The soup suffused with lard and oil
And sugary, chocolate bites.

And then, one day, into her life
A stranger chanced to pass
A Northerner, uncouth and rude,
Remarked upon the lass:

"My word my girl, I do believe
You've set my heart a-thumping
For ne'er have I seen such a mass
I needs must call you 'Dumpling'!"

"Yes, Dumpling Queen, my Dumpling Dear!
You've made me all a-tizzy,
I warrant that you keep a league
Of chefs and bakers busy!"

These words at first did not connect
So strange his ways and speech
What could he mean? What did he say?
A whale upon a beach?

But slowly, surely, as she thought
And pictured in her mind
An explanation formed and grew -
He wasn't being kind!

A raging fire began to burn
Within her heaving breast
That rose and fell with every breath
Her inner wrath confessed.
Her angry heart beat faster
Could her clothes withstand the test?
Pounding and rebounding
'Gainst the fabric of her vest.

And with a roar, she then declared,
"No, I shall never rest
Until the day I rid the world
Of this base, uncultured pest!"

"No more shall I be 'Dumpling Girl',
The subject of such jest!
Henceforth I shall be 'Lovely Girl'
The fairest and the best!"

She looked around, but looked in vain,
For Northern man had fled!
The sight of all that quivering flesh
Had filled the man with dread…

And as the fire within her burned
And she searched far and wide
The quantity of flesh she bore
Did inch, by inch, subside!

Each minute past saw ounces melt
And she grew sleek and slim
Diminishing the wrath she felt
Her fury growing dim.

"Perhaps this Northern man was kind
To emphasise my girth -
Perhaps his tender parts should not
Be bruised for all they're worth."

"Maybe just a well-placed knee
When he suspects it least
Will compensate sufficiently
For being such a beast?"

When next they met, the Northern lad
Could scarce believe his eyes
Could this fair sight before him now
Be the product of those pies?

He gasped at first, and then he groaned
For barely did he see
As the region that would hurt the most
Connected with her knee…

We wonder were her model looks
The reason for the cries
The high-pitched voice, the curious gait,
The water in his eyes?

No more would she be 'Dumpling Girl'
This lovely lass so light
And he would nurse his bruises
In the small hours of the night….

No comments:

Post a Comment