Poetry Friday: The Word is BELLY

I have one.
You have one, too.
Some are taut and tan.
Some are squishy and quite pale.
Some are hairy and some are bare,
and they lead kisses down to...there....

The Poetry Friday Word for today is BELLY. Feel free to use that lil word in your blog post today, in whatever warm and fuzzy version you choose...poem, story, photo, guitar solo, David sculpture, video of college guys at the gym pumping iron....

The word BELLY is distracting for me, as I immediately conjure up sexy thoughts.

Hmmm...some right now...my arm around Sergei, my hand on his belly, and then exploring...

...uh...

yeah, that's what I mean.

But not all belly-talk is sexy. Girl-child's belly hurts quite often, it seems, either from hunger or too much food, and she likes me to sit with her and rub her fuzzy puppy belly til she feels better. Boy-child's belly is becoming quite a six-pack, and when he peels off his sweaty soccer shirt, I can see the teenage boy he is soon to become, and oh how the girls will call and call him.

And, of course, my belly is a mess.
But let's not talk about that today.

I have a few slight offerings, words strung together, hurredly, with emotion held back, because if I could, I would scream the word BELLY top of my lungs whilst running naked through the building. There's also a good belly, and a bad belly (Mike Myers, how could you?).

Have a great weekend, y'all!


Bent Willows

In the moment
After the arch
And the release
My legs straddling
Your waist
I collapse
Slowly
An open mouth
Closing
My breasts meet
You first
But it’s the belly
On
The belly
the warm
Folding
That presses
new leaves
Into our skin
Remembrances
As the branches
Lace and
Weave
Trunks
Braided
Dew droplets
Between
And down
sleepy
Roots


Meaning Behind the French

Why?
Why my child?
Well, when you were still a star-twinkle
In two pairs of eyes,
I walked through our garden and
spied a cabbage, a lovely thing,
And set about to eating it.
I did not realize that
Deep within its leaves
Was a seed.
That seed warmed my belly.
Your father tended my garden,
(we laughed afterward
from the tickling of the new shoots growing),
and some time later,
you were born.
That is why
That is why.
And now to bed with you,
And now lay your head down,
Je t'aime,
Mon petit chou.


Gorgeous Belly, starting 40 seconds in. Oh. My. God. Those jeans....




NOT a gorgeous belly. This gives me the dry heaves.