AtreyaSarma Uppaluri

Rookie (Hyderabad, AP, India)

My Weighty Lady - Poem by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri

(1)

I fell in love with her and fully so, at her first sight.
At five feet two, my angel is not of much height:
A score and hundred pounds, she isn’t fatty in weight.

Her figure sculpturesque. Perfect her sizes vital,
Medium is her complexion, yet clear like a crystal.
That’s why I love to call her, “My dear Angelina! ”

Her hair, dense, not very long; has that natural sheen -
No dye or spray. Even after two decades of marriage
And four children grown up, it has its original gleam.

Her lips are invitingly full; the smile off her lips is a hook
Her eyes speak. Only I know her lingo, language and book!

A dainty dimple on her rosy cheek, simple gentle and sweet
Not like Priety Zinta’s that looks like a manhole in a street!

On her chin a tiny beauty spot. How really snug down below!
My face and head ever crave to rest there on that downy pillow!

More than her physiognomy it’s her heart evergreen
And the nobility of her soul that made our union pristine.

They say excess will depress, and moderation is the key;
My doe-eyed one has that appealing moderation, in plenty.

Her supple body and ample love tie me onto her apron strings.
There are no ripples in our life, no provocation for any strife…

(2)

Then, that night, after returning from a soiree, she didn’t shower -
A surprise to me. She didn’t talk or smile. In shock I’d to cower.

She slumped onto the bed, a mile away from me on the king-size.
She clung to the edge, facing her side of the wall. Why penalize?
Slinking onto my edge, I lay toward her venturing many a surmise.

Still the same distance. A volley of questions worried my mind.
I fed my eyes on the valley of her waist; to rush it, not inclined.

Her heave was more than the usual, the frigid stillness, now a fluster
Orchestrating her jerky motions, her sobs, and sniffles filled the air…

I gently rolled over to her and tenderly drew her toward me…
No words I muttered…minutes just ticked away…me and she…

(3)

Then I kissed away her tears, partly dried and moist in part
And whispered in my softest tone, “Did I do any wrong, dear? ”

“No, not you as such, it’s they, the wild cats, they did sear…
They talked of dress, jewels, all blah-blah, and gossip so tart…

“You know, I like not their company; yet for snobbish etiquette
You waved me away with a hush into their boring and garish net.

“Their most hurtful sting: they said with a smirk:
‘Hi, you’ve put in a lot of weight, have you cleverly
Offloaded all your chores on your willing hubby? ’
They giggled and went on…‘Hey, this top doesn’t go well…
This ring is a retro, not hip; it looks cheap like a bauble…’

“But it’s the weight barb! My raw nerve it did rudely hit
Am I un-comely, say my dear? ” she pleaded, choked up a bit.

“Worry you not, my darling. Let it not weigh down on you anymore.
It’s I that bear your weight, not any of those old bags with an eyesore.

“You don’t have any sagging or pot belly
It’s flat as the Nebraskan plains so fairly
And steady as the level of the Platte so lovely! ”

I soothed her, running my hand on her midriff and fiddling,
And then I resumed to reassure my mate sweetly crooning
“Grow even a pound or more, it only pleases me the more
Your weight is, after all, to my taste and urge. And it I adore! ”

Her eyes brightened up even in pitch darkness. I went on:
“Honey, you know, I am not for size zero! There you feel
Only a cold touch of dry wood from a bony skinny skeleton!

“A little flesh in place is always lush; it‘d tingle and fill the bill,
As you and I bill and coo…and canoodle in wanton gambol…”
I had to pause as she swiftly locked my lips…
Locked and unlocked, again locked and unlocked…
Her dress loosened and slipped, my amorous address kept on:

“A little weight gives you a springy bounce, a swan-like sway
If you’re lanky, you’d be a pair of walking pincers, I daresay! ”

“Had you been heavy, you would have already crushed me
Into pulp and paste - for all my passion. So take it easy…”

“Whee! ” she rolled into a laughter gurgling
Her fingers were to my cheeks a-tweaking.
I pulled her over onto me. There she lay all the night…

[Dec 15,2009: : Lincoln, NE, USA]


Comments about My Weighty Lady by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri

  • (12/26/2009 2:31:00 PM)


    twas so nice, you have described her beauty in a manner which is so detailed and funny at the same time. you write really well, you must never stop. twas plain talent. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 22, 2009



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