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Introspection Food Poems | Introspection Poems About Food

These Introspection Food poems are examples of Introspection poems about Food. These are the best examples of Introspection Food poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Couplet | |

A Bag of Popcorn

They ask me why I’m so happy
Asking me, if I just won a prize
I replied, well I reckon I did
Today is a wonderful surprise

When you have a past like mine
My today is always bright
There is no better feeling on earth
Than the joy of doing right

I may be an old man on a cane
My heart is skipping along
I learned to embrace the meaning
Life is a beautiful song

True life has its ups and downs
There’ll be forks in the road
With a smile I’ll stop for a while
Help you with your load

I had me a bag of popcorn today
It tasted exceptionally good
In fact, I will go as far as to say
Better then it probably should

For years, I had a guard in the pen
Popped him a bag each night
Then he would simply throw it away
His twisted little delight

He knew, it was those little things
Ate at our heart and soul
Movie with the wife Friday night
Popcorn in the bowl

I had a bag of popcorn today
Wife sitting at my side
I had a smile, which lasted awhile
One I could not hide

They ask me why I’m so happy
Asking me, if I won a prize
I replied, I reckon I did
Today is a wonderful surprise


For some reason today I was thinking about C.O. Talbert and
how he would pop a bag of popcorn even though he didn't eat
popcorn. He did it just because he knew it would make everyone
want some. I always felt sorry for him. His life must have been
very disappointing. The moral here: when you learn to appreciate
the little things in life your popcorn will taste a whole lot better. 



Details | Bio | |

All about Dan

So you want to get to know me,ok well here goes It's already in my poetry,but I may have left something out who knows? For the last twenty years I've been wearing Nike shoes,hightops that are black They're alot easier to clean then white ones I must say,that is a definite fact My friends all seem to like me and I greet them all with a big smile I've met alot of them through a life of partying,but now thats been over for a while My favorite book is the bible,because whenever I read it I learn something new My favorite movie I couldn't really tell you,since I have seen oh quite a few My favorite song is from Tim Mcgraw,it's"Live Like You Were Dying" In a funny kind of way it refreshes my soul,and I usually end up crying Favorite singer I don't really have one,so I guess it would have to be myself Because I just love it when I sing all the words and don't need anyones help My hair is a dirty blond thats straight,short and very fine It doesn't have a single curl and I know it's all still mine My favorite shampoo is Pert it leaves my hair so silky smooth With the fine and thining hair that I have,it's the one I prefer to use My favorite food is pizza,but fresh baked bread is my favorite smell If I had a food I'd eat everyday that is the one that would put me through hell I have everything I need,with only a few things that I dislike The only thing I want or really need is the love of my loving wife
Dan Kearley:5-25-12 Contest:All About ____???


Details | Light Poetry | |

Bordeaux Kiss

I set the table, place for one
Pour the wine, cork undone
Filet mignon, to perfection done
Topped with greens, and a sauce of rum

The evening sets, as it always had
A gourmet meal, aint so bad
I make a toast to the other side
As silence waits, I must abide

As I hold my glass
Of Bordeaux wine
I dare to wish but for one more thing
In darkened silence, the phone to ring

Soufflé simply will not do
There is no sweet without you
The perfect meal evades me still
The evening fades into a chill

Sleep evades my dreamy mind
And in the haze of wishful thoughts
Dinner was served
With a Kiss


Details | Verse | |

A Coffee Bar with Orange Paint

A coffee bar with orange paint --
   Brown tables on a tiled, grey floor --
Soft light within blown glass above --
   A neon sign hangs by the door.

I come here sometimes just to write.
   A coffee bar with orange paint
To some would be apalling; but
   I do not see it as a taint.

Tonight an artist's work is hung
   Upon those walls in bold display;
A coffee bar with orange paint
   Allows her dreams to have their say.

I like the color in these walls --
   A brazen hue, not pale or quaint;
And in this place I weave my words --
   A coffee bar with orange paint.


Details | Couplet | |

Emotional Stew

What is emotional stew, you ask
Describing that is in itself a task 

It's a motley mix of chunks and bits
In a pot of feelings where everything fits

Sometimes the batter will taste so sweet
When joy and relief make up the meat

The stew can be peppered with many a spice
Like anger, frustration, and stubborn rice

Or a salty blend with sauce of tears
When sadness combines with multiple fears

The results may yield just one small fault
If you add boredom and apathy without any salt

The coals beneath are stoked to perfection
After dumping in your emotional selection

The stew will boil as the feelings grow
Just mind the mixture, don't let it overflow!


Details | Rhyme | |

Living The Dream

Down in Haiti
Far from the dream
Way on back 
From the vacation scene

Lives the people
Trapped in a life
Poverty, sadness
Toil and strife

Children weeping
From worm infested,
Swollen, malnourished
Starving little bellies

What would Golden 
Flower think of today
The country she loved
Destroyed in such a way


(Missionary from Haiti came to visit our church yesterday.  With his visit and 
talk, I see solutions to problems in an instant.  Something to treat the water 
before the people use it, reforestation, wells in places that need them, and 
proper out door facilities for areas that don't have them.  Money, work, and 
time is needed to carry these projects out .)


Details | Couplet | |

Living the Dream

My nightmare is so tangible...so vividly I dream,
The dream, it feels so true to me...reality it seems.

Exhaust and smoke are all I breathe...the air is full of smog...
The job I do is thankless toil, but I work it like a dog.

There's mercury in the fish I eat...there're toxins in my food...
And drugs, they are a constant scourge...myriads for every mood.

Bipolar is my government...a house divided 'tis...
And corporations drive both sides...in the pockets of "Big Biz".

The icecaps, they are melting...the sea is rising, too.
Pandas, condors, polar bears -- empty cages at the zoo.

My money ne'er seems quite enough...I'm always out of cash...
My freedom fled when I wed my bride...(live I under the lash).

"Entertainment"? Reality TV...maybe some vampire shows...
Or idjits becoming household names for being beachfront "ho's".

People clamor "climate change" from the seats of S.U.V.'s,
And bitter news on the honey front...what's killing all the bees?

Politicians spending more...we go deeper in the red.
Opinions dressed as "news" abound...is journalism dead?

Cell phones are ubiquitous...conversation's endangered now...
And "Kardashians" are famous girls..but who knows why or how?

How strange my twisted psyche is t'make real what must be fake...
Now'f only I could find some way to get myself to wake.


Written on November 27th, 2012
By Daniel Beus (Rebel Sun)


Details | Haiku | |

Make Healthy Choices

live as if you plan
to be an organ donor--
make healthy choices


Details | Couplet | |

What Do I Know About Being German

Born American, sixth generation of great-grands all German,
not much liking sausage or sauerkraut, English speaking all the way,

except the Germany of my ancestry was fought over and broken
so I’m a bit of France, Germany, Poland, Hungary all the Holy

Roman empire, dissolved down, fought over, egotized, horrified 
and remade Into some new state where English is as common as German.

We share a love of flowers in the face of cold and rain, I drink less beer
and wine, meet up somewhere, anywhere around the world on a beach.

From my parents and grandparents, I know to serve up too much food
seven sweets, seven sours and drink and whirl the night away to a band.

Hardworking sorts, unafraid of a little dirt, loving dirt, the turnover
and young sprout brought to fruit, wearing overalls and then washing up.

To sit before a pressed linen table cloth, served up on the finest china,
the cha in my father’s name, the uff da, and other exclamations.

The morning rosaries, the blessed churches where we give thanks for all good
and the setting aside of pride while we work together to make our food.

Sure there are aprons for cooking. Shorts for summertime. A dive into any pool.
What do I know of being German, not much, it's just somewhere in my roots.


Details | Sonnet | |

chicken's chicken soup

chicken soup for the chicken
when the egg starts to thicken
when the yoke's rollin' right
when the white's clear 'n' bright

when the roosters sittin' roostin'
when the hen's right for a'goosin'
when the coop's are all a'coupin'
when said rooster ain't a'droopin'

when the desire's too demandin'
an' all else is notwithstandin'
an' chicken's tongue's unbeaked to cluck
an' sip the soup of what the - heck

that's what makes the chicken flutter
an' Grand Ma don't cook it no better

...that's why the hen crossed the road

© Goode Guy 2014-02-19


Details | Free verse | |

Cookies-Food For Thought

Cookies -
Why can’t I have the chocolate one
I want more
She took my cookie
Hers is bigger than mine
I want to trade
That’s not fair

Cookies +
Thank you for the cookie
I love you
Thanks for all you do for me
I am satisfied
This is good
I am loved
Written By  Deborah Finneran :)  2013


Details | Rhyme | |

He Fled

He fled the faces of his brood --
They cut his soul with edges sharp
From lack of food.
And, although their mouths
Voiced no complaint,
The steady, unaccusing stare
Was so much more than he could bear --
This hero of two foreign wars.
He cowers now in alleyways
(And drinks his courage from a jar)
Beneath a far, unjudging star.


Details | Senryu | |

Temptation

_________________________


Gramma's apple pie
caught my eye upon the shelf-
a forbidding sight..........


_________________________

Contest ~ Apples ? Oranges ?


Details | Limerick | |

Two-Fifty-Four

Two-Fifty-Four
©2012 C. Brent Cloyd

I bought a new scale at the Wal-Mart store.
Made it secure and level on the floor.
I took a breath, then stepped on.
The digits I saw made me moan.
Surely, I do not weigh two-fifty-four!

Let’s balance the scale, then I’ll try once more.
Adjusted proper, they’ll give the right score.
This time the scales will behave.
I stepped on, tried to be brave.
But with a grin they said “two-fifty-four”.

I would like to throw these scales out the door.
Wish they were lying, but I can’t ignore. 
I’ve gobbled many things sweet
And chewed on too much red meat.
My expanding poundage is “two-fifty-four”.

My belly is huge, my chin is galore.
Need to lose it, but process is a chore.
Need diet low in fat and starch.
So my stomach will not arch.
Hope to be smaller than “two-fifty-four”.

Would a brisk walk cause my health to restore?
Would losing blubber help me not to snore?
Let’s get started. Soon I say!
Well - after the holiday!
Cause my clothes don’t fit at “two-fifty-four”.














Details | Rhyme | |

Black Coffee and Apple Pie

Everything a body could need
How happy could it make you be
When nothing can make you is fulfilled
As black coffee and apple pie ending your meal


Details | Senryu | |

' Golden Harvest ... ' 40th Senryu

    Golden, Full Moon Shone
On All The Harvest, That’s Grown
    Welcome In Our Home


Details | Narrative | |

A Very Fine Line - The Restaurant

I just walked past the restaurant
A terrific place I used to go
Early in the evening hours
Of a chilly and recent past night
The fullness of the moon cast a memory
Reminders of my having traveled to these places so often
beneath its comfortable glow.

Places like this I used to dine
In what seems like so many moons ago
Could it have really just have been
Only seemingly late last year?
And then I realized I was outside a window

On the outside looking in
I am on the outside looking in
Of a place where I might or could have been
Tonight or any other evening
And I had been here oh so recently
Only a very short year ago.

Today the price of entry to this place
Is way beyond my meager means.
I recollected that being seen here
Had been so important to me
Now it is the last thought I hold dear.

I saw the fancy tables
of where I used to dine
With only the finest crystal
That held the finest wines.

I saw romantic candles
Flickering and burning bright
I saw tables surrounded with beaming faces
Flushed and filled with anticipatory delight
Anticipation of the wondrous delicacies
They would all soon have and behold.

I saw the sommelier pouring wine
Bottles and endless bottles
Of all the nectars considered to be in vogue
Every one of their prices
Deemed them to taste like liquid gold.

All drinks designed to compliment
The amazing and stylish cuisines
Posh dinners were arriving quickly
Looking as though from magazines
Arranged and prepared with minute details
Nothing ever missing, nothing out of place
Happiness was everywhere.
Joy radiated from every face.

And as the November wind
Begins to blow
I turned my head to go
To walk toward my empty street
My scarf wrapped tightly against the night.
Striding ever more quickly
Trying to beat the wind and cold
I had some thoughts and revelations
About that what I had just seen.

About those who have never been waited upon
Never in their whole lives
And about those who dine within those walls
Whose thoughts have never even considered
That they could end up on the outside looking in.

I who now know for certain
That it is such a very thin line
Between being poor and living fine.

And now I have to wonder
If being there had been some sort of sin
And now that is now the reason
I am on the outside
On the outside looking in
To The Restaurant.

(November 15, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved 


Details | Tanka | |

Regret



Can you hear the sound

     a voice calling out to you

        whispers of times gone

            a could have should have would have

                  regret is a lonely tune...


Details | Rhyme | |

That would be a nice place for a picnic

I can't have a picnic today.
The food, I can't afford to pay.
The price of gas and everything.
Even my heart can't afford to sing.

The blues are sung by yellow wrens.
And the camara's cover is still on the lens.
The joy in life is slowly fading.
As picnic ants are hungryly waiting.

I know this is not what you want to hear.
But empty bellies are living near.
The price for pleasure and blissfulness.
Is much too high for all the rest.



Details | Lyric | |

Magic Beans

European-style elegance
Meets modern ingenuity
Where stools too high to sit in welcome tired feet in flip flops
Near the tourist bookstore
Standing just across the street
In tasteful jingles ~
Creaking through the heavy door
The ordinary becomes more.

Voices rise over carafe’s,
Through Musak in the old café
Where egg-shell mugs are neatly stacked below a chalkboard menu.
And in-between glossy lacquers
A ritual of life endures ~
With whipped cream topping
And a dash of chocolate sprinkles.


Details | I do not know? | |

Had Times Been Different

Down the long graveled road
Flanked by woods with filtered sun
Evening sun signaling me to abode
Where the bitterweed blooms,I run

Join family outside in the twilight
With the moon rising in the East
Offering some soft evening light
Fireflies begin to emerge_beast

Their glow like small little suns
Flashing on and off, on and off
Catch them_place in jar motor runs
On these nights watermelon sliced

Homemade ice cream entombed
In store bought ice with rock salt
Both bought at the freezer store
Where huge chunks of ice stored

Mostly about these times memories
Of you how you could produce 
Much out of nothing and fun
When there was none__

What a character you were
Laughter and joy bubbling over
Then bam angry explosions
Never knew which would come

I always wonder what was wrong
Now I know that you probably 
Had some type of mental illness
Probably some chemical imbalance

Sad _for you could have been
Some very special person
Had times been different
Someday we will understand


Details | I do not know? | |

two

water melon in my garden
like the sun and moon
just two… 
”...launcher ready…”
steady my hand
tending the weeds
near a row of beans
a far away land
”...it’s not a good time…”
so I wondered
and thought of when
wars are just plays
staged in the hands
of writers like me…
I’d arm the nations
with radish leaves
squash for bullets
that unload seeds
Peanuts money
on my jelly spread
I’d share the health
giving lettuce, head…
”... is it a good time now?...”
who wants a cow
chickens grown
in crowded pens
suffering blows
in.human.e hands
glitters the water
between the corn
I’d sale on ships
into rosebud shores
and i’d grow my fish
in between the stores
”...I’m god in my garden…”
and I divide the rows
soing what suits me
in tomato groves
and near my basil
I’ll build a school
teaching the mint
just how to be cool
and over hear
the potatoes anchor
on stalks of beer
”...wellcome…”
to chi…
banana central
read booms of cheer
...but they say I’m mental.
lentils 
are sooo good in soup!
my capitals
I declare are true!
I only cook 
When I brew my stew…
and no one regrets
in the garden of Sue.
”...yes piglet…”
I was Just
Making sure of you.


Details | Epigram | |

Sin Not

Evil thoughts equal sin
One must purge them within


Details | I do not know? | |

Why is it?

Why is it that school's say that they are preparing you for life, 

But really they are preparing you for more school?

Who knows?

That has always been on mind for the past few days.

*comment if you know why or if you have any ideas*




                                        -angel4eva23


Details | Lyric | |

The Hunger Drug

I can't remember
when I ate 
my last meal
How many weeks ago was it?

I cannot recall

or even what it was 
that I had to eat
Turkey I think
on Thanksgiving

Yes, it was Turkey

A turkey 
that some 
generous person
donated 
to the food pantry
that they gave to me

Did 
that generous person know?
Do they know?
That it would be
my only meal

for days and weeks
on end

probably not

and so I wanted 
to write these words
to tell them
“Thank You”

that they made 
a difference 
in my life

that I 
and my children
did not 
have to go to bed
 hungry

three weeks ago
on Thanksgiving
and it was wonderful

I am trying to remember
what that 
felt like


© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
(December 8th, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin USA)


Details | Lyric | |

LSD

Dumb little boy what happened to You?
A father, a mother, we're through.
Brightly coloured feathers, spread and you flew.
Dumb little boy what happened to you?
Crashed! 
Queer? 
I near.
Sat here, sat here.
We sat, drinking dads warm beer.
Dumb little boy your feathers are gone.
WASTED!
LSD on your toungue.
Obliterated! obliterated! 
Wasted! wasted!
Dumb little boy, your brain is fried.
Perfectly twisted.
Now, lets peak inside.


Details | Ballad | |

THE WISHING WELL OF A SUN-RISE,

It is...within the tiny things of early morning, that moment breaths alive, it is within the tiny whisperings, that a melodye plays...like the very dear and the antelope, play home on the range.

so goes the melodye of heart beat, that plays quietly the songs of soul,

here a rhyme is born of day-light coming so soon, through the early morning eyes of the moon-light, and the starry dreams of twilight's transitioning...

into the light of a love letter written to dawn.

soul to soul conversing, as in this love letter, the letters just join hands with the words and just march across the sky...and at the end of the rainbow, there be plenty of golden time,

way down deep on the inside,

...as the inspired choir, of a bumble bee, or a butterfly, starts to sing, like tiny things that live,

flower to flower,
blossom to bloom,

watered and deeply cared for...

O' Eden.

I say, deep beneath the surface of a wishing well...where the pennies lay,

I wish a sun-rise.








Details | Quatrain | |

Redeye Gravy

Now sits the redeye gravy in the pan
It certainly is not at all like jam
Mom made it years ago  for her man
Fry some country ham, pour  coffee bam

Never knew why it was called redeye
Then my grandson informed me just why
Men who had been out late had bleareye
Who looked like they had been drip-dry

I always thought that it was because
It had dark red color from drippings
In my home it  got an applause
I thought that it was God's blessings

I learned my husband doesn't like it
My grandson doesn't like redeye gravy
When I make it only make a bit
Always redeye gravy left heavy

Today decided to place on grits
Feed to the cats see if they like it
Now cat is running around won't sit
I guess that caffeine gave them lift


Details | Rubaiyat | |

Outside Of The Box

This is a tale for you regarding Pandora and the box.
Here we find an attempt to put back on the lock
A trip back to Alexandria in your mind we must go
Trying to protect but you can’t turn back the clock

What had tried to be sealed is not what one expect
Only wanting to keep others from trying to dissect
The library was vast holding knowledge long passed
Gallant was the attempt though evil did misdirect

Someone had already check out these 365 books
See the flames raised high the city did overcook
Spread them north and east so ordered the beast
Because at the Star he did not want you to look


Details | Rhyme | |

Binge and Purge

Musta lost five pounds today
hunger hurts
but I suffer anyway
stomach shrinks 
along with guilt
hope this improves 
the way I'm built


Details | Lyric | |

Trees and Dirt

Trees and dirt I sleep on the earth, the dust the sand, longing to birth.
Oil on skin, bare, 
sweat on your back, 
feels amazing.
Yes! Im back on track.
Sleeping cosy as a worm, 
unencumbered by any material possession or fixed term.
Free to explore, a magical universe, 
I must implore.
No home, no chores, no bills to pay. 
Just water, food gathered and warmth today.
A dusty cave, cute as a button, no slamming door, 
just love in your belly, to the very core.
I love this realm, 
just need more time, 
time to explore.
Trees and dirt  I sleep on the earth, the dust, the sand, longing to birth.
And return once again to mother earth.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Binge and Purge

Gorging with impunity to fill an empty void
of hollow needs and guilty deeds that fester
unceasing, into fissures of a vacuous soul
searching, without finding a way to make it whole

Purging with obsession to cleanse a tarnished image
Of distorted ideals with unrealistic appeals that flaunt
False messages into unsuspecting circuits of the mind
Revolving endlessly without stopping to unwind

Binging with a ravenous urge to quell the anguish
of taunted jeers and unfounded fears of rejection
spinning uncontrollably without cause or reason
into fragmented notions and confused emotions

Repelling with compulsion to assuage the shame
Of inaccessible goals and lost controls that mock
Incessantly with bitterness that burns the wounds within
Disgorging undigested pieces of a broken whole


Details | Free verse | |

HER

I want to taste her.
Not anyone specifically,
I just crave to know 
what it all could really mean.
I would fall for her. Knock down these Berlin sized walls I have up. But my world sucks because Her is just a figurative way of discribing something that may never come.


Details | I do not know? | |

Chaos

Immaculate
Random
Gorgeous
Heroic
Expanding mind
Taste Sampling
Divine
Forbidden pleasure
Amazing
Mind numbing
Glorious
Thought inducing
Seducing
Selfless
Explosion
Bright
Last Night


Details | Epulaeryu | |

Not By Bread Alone (Religious Epulaeryu)

O, to sweat, one must commit 
For Earth’s scented wheat-- 
Taste good, even, without meat 
Yet live, not by it 
Alone, but must eat
God’s fruits, sweet--                    
 Eat!




Note: this Poem is based on Mathew 4:4 CEV                         


Details | Epigram | |

Abstract Be the Closed Minded

Selfish and greedy they grasp at one cause
Blind be the dead denying Natures laws


Details | I do not know? | |

Bread Box

I fell asleep in a bread box
filled with musty, fusty rocks
rye and wheat
        whole-grained loaves
pumpernickel
        from the village stoves

once hot;
          now cold

the Baker's life untold.


Details | Rhyme | |

Syrupy Lips

Syrupy goodness touched morn's lips Sweetness lifted nights veil Memories flood heart and mind's eye 'Pon these this day will dwell
Sponsor: Carol Brown Contest: Lips July 19, 2012 Written by: Sara Kendrick


Details | Cowboy | |

gladiator

our skills..talents..gifts,that we have..
these are our tools..weapons..instruments
and we just want to live..
put into a situation in wich we did not choose our roles..
some of us are the fans and the royalty
they watch people like me do what needs to be done...
people like me..we just want to live
so we use our weapons and do what we have to..
we didnt choose for it to be like this..
we watch the fortunate  crowd the seats of this coliseum called life..
and they watch us jump back and forth through shades of color..
they judge us...
but we just want to live


Details | Canzone | |

Embracing Lust Or Being Just

Temptations again they do be daily
Ode to Jesus Christ dare I not fail they
Surround by sin how can I win
With faith and truth of heart
No matter how the enemy comes at me
Be I righteous and show charity


Details | Haiku | |

Attachments Bind

. 
                                          Attached by small stem
                                            Sustainability...free
                                           Floating on wind land


Details | Ode | |

A DRINK IN THE MORNING

Coffee in a cup, makes a cup of coffee;
just as an aroma from within, makes the air,

smell of flowers in the spring

...blossoms,
blooms,

time,

...a sweet thing, like sugar cane is to the tasting,
and the tasting is to stirring the dream,
flavor,

making flavored coffee
soul,

a drink in the morning.


Details | I do not know? | |

ABOLISH TABLE MANNERS!!

Who cares about table manners? Why do you have to have any?
I think being mannerless makes you a better person than many.
Why can’t you hold your fork in the other hand?
And bang your spoon on the glass? I just don’t understand.
What’s all the scandal about using your knife to eat peas?
The peas taste the same – why can’t you do as you please?
Why do you have to spread a clean napkin out?
To get it all dirty and have it cleaned again, no doubt.
It’s just the sort of rule a stuffy grown-up makes up,
To give us all a bad time, instead of pleasure, while we sup. 
Why can’t you slurp your soup and splash it all around?
I think slurping and splashing make rather a nice sound.
They block all the snobbish conversation out,
And give you something to be delighted about.
Why do you have to eat with your mouth shut tight?
And chew every bit of food thirty times day and night?
It just gives you jaw ache, nothing happens to the food!
Once I chewed just fifteen times, and boy, did it feel good!
Why can’t you talk when you’re eating, tell me,
We’ve been blessed with a voice box, haven’t we?
Why does burping or belching nearly give everyone a fit?
It just shows you’re enjoying your food, doesn’t it?
When you get up, why do you have to say, “Excuse me”?
You don’t need to make excuses for washing your hands, you see.
You’re supposed to enjoy what you eat,
Not act like you’ve got cold clammy feet.
How can you really feel the taste,
If you’ve got to sit still like your pants are full of paste?
Table manners were surely invented by someone
Who wanted us kids to stop having fun.
It’s probably a kind of training to turn us boring too,
A crash course in becoming an adult, something our parents went through!
To turn us dull and uninteresting, decidedly stuffy,
Imposing and conceited, haughty and huffy.
So come on, start rebelling! What are you waiting for?
Gulp your water, start food fights, have an ice cream war!
Forget about rules; bend every law that can be bent,
Life’s too short, so start an eternal trend!
But even then you’ll probably be well and truly grounded,
And your lifelong punishment will definitely be sounded.
It’s a way of the world, so you can’t make a fuss,
But eventually table manners will get the better of us.
So have a grand time till you’re grown up for good, 
And then remember not to throw about your food.
Some people like being clean, even if they are few,
But don’t let table manners triumph over you!


Details | Haiku | |

In a Nutshell

Hard on the outside,
But a good, hearty middle:
Me in a nutshell


Details | Diamante | |

The Spirit Flows

The Spirit Flows





                                             Hunger
                                         Painful Empty
                              Yearning, Desiring, Longing   
                    Appetite, Weakness, Abundance, Copiousness      
                                   Filling, Growing, Obtaining
                                     Augmentable, Full
                                            Overflow


Details | Rhyme | |

Poetry About Poetry

Shades of color bounce within
Singing their hues dancing in place
Vivid lines colored outside
Rules broken with empty space
A midnights dream heard and seen
Gleaming from the twinkle of a eye
Wings touched flown and plucked
Gliding like a bird up in the sky
Wishes from pennies thrown into tears
The reservoir over flowing with pigments of pain
Drowning from the shadows 
The flood paints the day
Words speak volumes of silence hidden
Their sounds blind to what they see
Mirrors of nouns and verbs 
Their meaning and secrets lost at sea
Emotions ruled by laws of language
Spelled in boxes of glass
Melted from sands inside
That voices strangle to grasp


Details | Haiku | |

eggs

morning scrambled eggs cracked into a clear glass bowl... translucence reflects


Details | Free verse | |

Untimely Fig

There is a cluster of figs
One is good size not far from getting ripe
But this time of year on this hillside
Next to the creek soon frost could come
Ole' Jack Frost bringing that white

Devoring tender shoots and figs
Figs that are late out of season 
So as to speak
But there is hope for that one fig

Maybe I will get to taste of its
Delicate fruit that is delicious
Wonderful to the hungry soul
I hope that I do; nothing like a mature fig


Details | Free verse | |

To Bare My Bones

Sometimes I visit pro-anoretic 
things

Out of curiosity
Out of concern
A desire to relate?
A strange urge to study the 
sick.

Am I one of them?

But every time
The more thinspiration
Self-motivation
And self-hatred that I see,

The hungrier I get
The more I feel my waist
The more I notice the softness 
of my flesh
The pleasant give of my arms
The rolling contrast of my 
proportions
The more I regard “squish” 
With fondness.

And when I feel bone 
Jut through a pillow of body
I regard it with distaste,
As I would a jagged corner
Jutting through a bedroom 
pillow,

This interruption of that which 
is 
Soft and warm and comforting. 
I care little about what look is 
yielded 
By something so thoroughly 
nice to feel, 
Whose presence exists to be 
touched. 

And to delve into boneculture,
A figure so opposite as to repel 
everything,
To repel food is to repel touch
To repel human contact
The basis of humanity
To become inhuman untainted 
by other humans,

Is repellant to me.

Though it is to be said 
That I am able to revel in being 
human,
To have power in my human 
needs
Without need to have power 
over them.

As such
I see my ribs, I feel sick
I wish to cover them
They interrupt my humanness,
To bare my skeleton is to walk 
dead.

I cover them
With muscle, with enough 
Adipose for a nice give,
Whatever I determine that to be,

Because I am alive
And crave contact
And am human
And those things are beautiful.


Details | Senryu | |

caramelized

burnt sugar caramelized hopes and dreams patience learned


Details | Narrative | |

SEA TO SHINNING SEA

SEA TO SHINNING SEA,
 
...this is so intimate of time, as a first kiss of time is...so close of soul, so near, so dear of heart beat, so precious a rhyme that flows so intimately,
 
deep of time, down by the Crystal Seas...
 
...this is so intimate of dreams,
dreaming reality,
 
as the Crystal Sea so reveals of destinies galore,
sparkles,
destined as the night light of the moon-glows of starry eyes,
upon the waters,
 
...gazing
 
...seeing tranquility upon the waves...
watching to the depth of a dream,
and a sun-rise
 
being so true...
 
for underneath and within this a moon-lit poem of starry night eyes, down by the Crystal Seas, a vessel sets sail upon the deep...into a kiss of dawn...
 
Sea to shinning Sea.
 
mb(2011)
 


Details | Lyric | |

Empty Tables

there are empty tables
many empty tables
in this country
and in this 
world

I sit
and I look at one of them
and wonder
if anyone else feels the way 
I do

when their child tells them
they are hungry
and you have 
no food to give 
them

and then your child cries
and then you cry
and then they cry 
some more
and then you cry

until finally
you both
just go to bed 
living with a hunger
that does not ever sleep

© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
(December 8th, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin USA)


Details | Narrative | |

After Dinner

After dinner
Taco night
Nearly midnight
Running up the stairs

Oh God
I had done so well
The family ate
And I ate
Seven o’clock on a Tuesday 
Only two
I only ate two
No cheese
No sour cream
I had done wonderfully

Eleven thirty on Tuesday
Everyone in bed
Everyone but me 
I approached the kitchen
I ate it all

No one saw how much was left
They won’t notice it’s gone
I put it all away
They didn’t see it
But I ate it all

Running up the stairs
They have their fans on
They’re asleep
They won’t hear me

I find my familiar place
Kneeling at my altar
Forgiveness is always found here
It’s time to confess my sins

My fingers slip into a spot they know too well
I struggle for a moment
Nothing will come up
Oh God
No
Don’t let it stay inside me
Another moment
Gagging
Retching
I feel it coming now

Oh thank God
It’s all gone
Now I can sleep soundly

I wash my hands and face
Rinse my mouth
I look in the mirror
Why?
Why is this happening?
Oh my God
Look at me
This can’t be me
This can’t be what I’ve become

But what choice do I have?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Potbound

Coming out on the porch this morning after the sun had risen far above the horizon...I 
noticed that my herbs looked wilted.  Checked but not really dry just potbound or rootbound
in too small of a container..Life___how many of us are potbound or rootbound contained in a 
container that we outgrew years ago___stuck, complacent not growing and soon will die from
starvation because we can't receive the nourishment from the source of our total being the 
giver of life the One Who gives the Living Waters....In the next few days I will get larger 
pots, fresh soil, and remove those plants..distrub their roots...Repot them giving their root 
system room to grow..They will come out giving me fresh French Tarragon, and Lemon 
Thyme all summer..I will enjoy watching them grow and produce....What about me?  Will I 
get out of the pot that is too small and grow?


Details | Free verse | |

Sunday-Night Vigil

This was a cooking Sunday;
A mushroom tarragon
French cuisine Sunday;
Where the rapture of Julia Child
Days of cooking, cooking, cooking
Rose deep from every pore,
With the bliss of adding
Unmeasured ingredients
And delight in the territory
Of rarely explored spices.
Feeling, sensing the mind
Going into a place of creative joy,
A place of quiet surrender,
With nothing left to do
But leave all behind.
"Bon appetit."


Details | Rhyme | |

"THE WORD"


                                             THE WORD




THE WORD WAS SOO POWERFUL 
IT WAS BETTER THAN MOMMA'S COLLAR'S GREENS  WITH ALL THE FIXINGS..

THE WORD
WAS LIKE SUNDAY SCHOOL WRAPPING THE MENTAL AROUND THE FOUNDATIONS OF BIBLE 
PRINCIPLES THROUGH PARABLES ...THE BACKGROUND HISTORY WAS NO LONGER A 
MYSTERY...
THE WORD
HAS OPEN THE EYES OF MY HEART
THE WORD
WAS DISSECTED LINE UPON LINE
PRECEPT UPON PRECEPT
THE WORD
WAS CHEWED FOR SOME BECAUSE OF THE BABE LIKE MENTALITY
SO THEY COULD PROPERLY DIGEST SPIRITUALLY
EVERY MORSEL WAS DELIGHTFUL
THE WORD
RENDERED TEACHING ALONG WITH SPECIFIC INSTRUCTIONS
THE WORD
IS THE TWO EDGE SWORD THAT CIRCUMCISE MY HEART
GIVING ME A BRAND NEW START
THE WORD


Details | Epulaeryu | |

Lentil Soup and Bread (Epulaeryu)

Pottage of lentil and bread Thank you Lord I’m fed With wheat, barley and flour Filled my cup this hour Overflows with grace Bless this taste Yes! ~~~~~~~ Place among 273 Semi-Finalist Total of 1034 Entries Poetry Soup International Poetry Contest March 6, 2008 ~~~~~~~


Details | Free verse | |

I Will Survive.

I sprain my ankle alot
doing things my ankle can't handle,
obviously.
My fondue is simmered by the pain; the flame of new.
Makes me feel alive,
and a bit horny too.
I will survive.


Details | Haiku | |

HEART OF AN SMALL ANT

                                                heart of an small ant 
                                            if really loves whole world
                                                 we have to know it

                                                  small living insect
                                              voice is not read by any
                                              language need to know


Details | Free verse | |

Holiday Gift

The greatest gift I ever got, came with a year that definitely was not.
Health costs and a scam had emptied everyone’s pot.
The tree was bare with nothing to hand out…
And my son had to work thru the Christmas Holliday, we all sought.

We wished him home but he had to work if he was to eat.
And for several years he had not wanted, with us to be.
But this year had taught him we were better than he had perceived.
And he wanted to come home to hold and be hugged, you see.

At the last moment he got the Christmas Day off.
Our gift to him was the price of gas and food on the four-hour trip back.
But his gift to us… you see was the greatest of all…
For he wanted to come home and simply be with us all.

Twenty-four hours minus 8 hours on the trip.
Dinner wasn’t much but it was all we could give.
But no one noticed as everyone talked…
It truly was the greatest holiday present of them all… that we ever got.

Thank you God... your gift to us wasn't lost.


Details | Burlesque | |

I Feel Ashamed

I am hungry, what will it be?
Ham, turkey or that nasty bologna?
I am hungry, chickpea mash?
Spam or that disgusting Hash?
I am hungry, mountain oysters anyone?
Fish eggs? Or sushi that is "not done?"
Such meager questions on what to eat.
There are people out there who are starving.
I feel ashamed and should do my part.
To give the shirt off my back would be a start.


Details | Free verse | |

Hungry

Aren't you tired?


Tired?


The light, phased through and crawled on millions of tiny fingers; rather nail less fingers; with aimless digits, that had no base of palm and hold of arm. Just grasping, searching, scratching fingers. Still nail less.

They engulf as they traveled.

Engulf the floor I step on.
Engulf the lonely twin that helps in the covering of my feet. His brother went missing after five washes ago.
Travel upon the wrapping of conglomerate food brand decisions, looking like a scene from: The Night Of The Comet; a 1984 horror/sci-fi zombie flick. Clothes and no bodies. A fast food rapture. And then, the light slowly crept upon me. Reached above my chest and passed upon my lips and nostrils; breathing in, and as it passed to breach eyes, the fingers grabbed and pulled( roped an eyelash if they must )my lids; but surely and slowly and gently enough. The sun woke me up.


Aren't you tired?


..Tired?


And there I sit.
Sit. Sit. Sit.
Contemplation in the form of a hunched back sprouting a neck holding a abysmal head; downwardly facing a floor that wonders: Wrong side to look at isn't it? : to eyes that still have not focused on the dead roach that was killed in a drunken, nauseated hurry, to lay in bed last night.

Or

Uninhibited anti-motivational growth that I am becoming.
If there's no fire, you get cold. But, if there no fire, you can't get burned either.

                                      Time.        To       Get.               Up.


Aren't you tired?


..Tired..?


Ah! the source of warmth and movement beams at me.

The sky is bright
with waves of light
that vibe and wash my skin.
The color blue
in every hue
is blocking thoughts of dim.
But in a hour
stalled milk's been soured
just like my mind with in.

Ah. Another day to walk unknowing the difference of yesterday.

Yesterday
Was it a Tuesday?

Time
Utilized
Easily
Showing
Dull
Adequate 
Youth

Yesterday?
Wasted youth.



Aren't you tired?


...Tired...



....Tired, but hungry.


Details | Free verse | |

Somebody Loves Me

Produced 50 yrs ago
My master Pravin Pant Sr.
Felt it was time for my Just Born coop to grow
So he introduced me to some other chicks
Bunnies bats cats pumpkins and
Even thought of placing some lucky stars
In for the heck of it what a day of cellabration
Now he has flipped his lid once again and took a few friends back
Had turned them into lip balms but I don't mind
For they will stay forever fresh on my lips as I speak of them
I been dropped off buildings had been steam rolled over
And each time I bounced back with zest
So please come rescue us from this crazy farmer
Place me in a warm basket or cake or even a dressed table 
For I m just a little peep looking for somebody to love



To The Peep 
In All Of Us    LOL


Details | Triolet | |

Answers You Seek

These next few days, listen to your friends.
You will find the answers you seek
And make many changes before happily settling down.
These next few days, listen to your friends
For the support and comfort when you smile or frown.
You will never need to worry for a steady income.
These next few days, listen to your friends;
You will find the answers you seek.

(3 Fortunes After Dinner at Peking Palace With My Family)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dying Dreams

The young dream their dreams away at night

Hoping they come true

A doctor,policemen,veterinarian and other dreams are developed by the young

Too naive to understand the ways of the world

Determined as ever to achieve their dreams

The old regret the dreams they could never accomplish

They had dreams but unknowingly never came true

You go from living a world full of dreams

To living the reality that is life

Why do we let our dreams die

We were so excited as young kids

At the foot step of our dreams

Were we haunted by the mountain we had to climb

To make our dreams come true

Did we simply quit

Because of society’s pressure

Did money deter our dreams away while we slept at night

Did we let doubt creepy into our hearts

Silently killing all of our dreams without realizing it

Why do dreams die so quickly

When we spent years of our youth

Hoping that we could get an opportunity

To make them come true

Dream big, chase your dreams and never let them die


Details | Free verse | |

The Well Seasoned Cauldron

I am a smoldering cauldron of verbs
Confined in a disturbing squadron of nerves
So I use a glistening array of words
To keep them listening as they observe

Attempting to explore lifes tabooed pleasures
So tempting these doors like much wooed treasures
Unwilling to ignore resembling intense peer pressure
Willing to mentor the cunning presence of a hustler

Adamantly grasping for more precise understanding
Savagely gasping no advice just demanding
Carving patterns in your mind like a space ship landing
A starving lantern but I shine so I dont need handling

In death words become unequivocally timeless
So my breath wont succumb to the blantantly lifeless
If our lives have a code we are not who designed it
Will we survive to decode bet the answer is priceless


Details | Pantoum | |

A Womans Gift

She laughed as softly  as if she cried
Her smile revealed things only I could see
My love and joy swelled up untill I cried
I wondered  though would she ever love me

Her smile revealed things only I could see
Now would I tell her of the things I thought
I wondered though would she ever love me
What is this feeling that has made me taut

Now would I tell her of  the things I thought
All other food but  love I'd surely spare
What is this feeling that has made me taut
My life I'd gently give to her  with care

All other food but love I'd surely spare
Then I would be hers and she would be mine
My life I'd gently give to her with care
I'd love her dearly throughout time

Then I  would be hers and she would be mine
A life together we would have to build
I'd love her dearly throughout time
I'd be her love, companion and her shield

A life together we would have to build 
My love and joy swelled up until I cried
I'd be her love,companion and her shield
She laughed as softly as if she cried


Details | Light Poetry | |

TABLE SINS

TABLE SIN OF NOUVEAU RICHE

sweetest dawn he ever knew
Toast was perfect, sky was blue

from the window all he saw ---
Sparkling as the artists draw


BUT
that
NIGHT

didn't whine, didn't stutter
when he wakened in the gutter


Didn't know he'd tempted Fate
Nibbling garnish from his plate


Details | Rhyme | |

Him or Eggs

You picked this day to die
My hair's a mess
I'm really tired
Stopped at the super market
Needed some eggs to make a pie
You didn't say what time
I guess I really didn't know
Should I wait around awhile
Or were You ever gonna show
These eggs, they have expired
Guess that's just the way it goes
Things do require
Things do expire
If someone noticed I suppose


Details | Alliteration | |

See All That You Have Done

Desires, Drive, Deeds
He, Him, Heed
Child's, Chosen, Choice

Regret, Repent, Rejoice
Attune, Always, Around 
Savior, Sailing, Sea
 
Left, Land, Lost
Pitifully, Punks, Playing
Dying, Dead, Death 


Details | Rhyme | |

The Ballad of Jeremiah Macabenta

The King hosted a feast, 
   as it was his custom, 
to once a year, feed the least
   blessed in his kingdom.
So the ragged came in flocks
   and in the courtyard gathered, 
hushed in anticipation
   of, finally, a warm supper.
All the King's men guided
   them, so it will be orderly
along dozen long tables
   arranged conformingly.
The guests then sat, food was served, 
   each with equal servings; 
a plate of veggies, a cut of meat, 
   rice and corn soup steaming.

Among those who supped was
   Jeremiah Macabenta, 
perhaps the most haughty glutton
   of the millennia.
His infamy was that, amongst
   vagrants, he could
eat in one meal what 
   normally three men took.
Though he was looked upon
   as comically fat, 
his life as a rat 
   was tragically sad.
—having no means of living
   at that—
so to the King's dinner, an
   invitation, he got.

Back to the feast, after servings
   were done, 
Jeremiah called for one of
   the servers to come; 
He said, 'Look at my plate, 
   of meat, it has none.
Only veggies, rice and soup! '
   So the server gave him one.
Just then a cat with fur
   shiny and black
—which, according to myth, is
   the cause of bad luck—
suddenly jumped onto an
   eating lady's lap, 
who then shoo'ed it away; 
   to the table it leapt back.

Landing in chaos upon
   Jeremiah's place, 
exposing two pieces of meat
   he hid under his plate; 
caught red-handed, he'd only
   sheepishly grin, 
while the King's witnessed this, 
   much to his chagrin.
The King then ordered Jeremiah
   banished from the tables, 
of controlling his anger, 
   he was barely able; 
shocked that this tramp would
   abuse his charity, 
when he most wanted to
   treat his guests equally.

Now this is where it's not
   clearly distinguished
what truly transpired from
   only just gossip; 
for it was manifested that
   Jeremiah was punished, 
but the story that spread
   was incredibly horrid
It was said that Jeremiah
   was chained onto a rock   
and into his mouth, food was
   endlessly stuffed, 
till he choked and gasped
   and breathed his last air, 
while bits and morsels trickled
   down his nose and ear.

(And to confound the story 
   of Jeremiah's end, 
after the feast, he was never
   heard from again.)       

Perhaps the moral is this: 
   we should never take advantage
should the kindness that is
   shared to us we acknowledge, 
lest we fall into the pit
   of Jeremiah's plight
—in gluttony he lived, 
   in gluttony he died.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Dewali Festival of lights

Remember dewali in Trinidad
We use to decorate the streets
Then all my Hindu friends 
Bring me foods and sweets

My table was full with
Food and all kind of goodies
Because my Hindu friends
Use to bring so much for me

Dewali marks the return
To ayodhya of lord Rama
He returns to his kingdom
After defeating demon king ravana

It was the victory of good over evil
In the epic story of Ramayana
And also the slaying of evil demon
King Narakasura by Lord Krishna

Ravana had 10 heads and 20 arms
He saw Rama beautiful wife sita
While they were hunting in the forest
And he plot to kidnap her

So he disguises his servant maricha
As a golden deer to lead Rama 
And lakshman away in the forest
Lakshman drew a circle around her

And told her not to step out
But ravana turn as a beggar man
And ask her for food and water
Then turn back as he holds her hand

She cried for help and a fierce bird
Jatayu attacked ravana to save her
But ravana cut off his wings 
And when away with princess sita

She threw her necklace downs
So Rama can follow to save her
They slay ravana and Narakasura
And they return to his kingdom in Ayodhya

And the people light the streets
And every houses celebrating
With foods and sweets and music
To welcome home their beloved king

And that is the origin of dewali
And every year on that date
Around the world every where
Diwali are being celebrated

Sorry have to end this poem now
Because my Hindu friends at the gate
With bags of food and goodies
And I’m drooling I just can’t wait


Details | Free verse | |

S.O.S.

He loomed large, his white t-shirt bulging, 
his apron hanging off an impressive gut.  
“Keep stirring,” he said, 
slapping me on my back as he wandered off.  
Over his shoulder, “Just keep stirring.”  

The pot loomed large, 
with an equally large wooden spoon.  
I stood on a chair and stirred.  

The white gooey matter didn’t look like food,
 but it smelled creamy, 
with a hint of something else.  
The spoon moved easily in the pot, 
and I felt it slide across the bottom, 
and saw the liquid well up.  

I began to sweat, first from the heat 
and then from the work of stirring.  
Was it my imagination, or did 
the spoon move more slowly now.  
I gripped it with both hands, 
and remembered his order: 
Just keep stirring.

I imagined this pot, this goop, 
sloshing inside a floating metal box, 
thickening as hundreds of hungry young men 
in blue and white waited patiently to 
clog their guts or,
clutching a pitching rail, 
empty them.  

I weakened, I think, 
as I struggled to move the spoon.  
It felt like hands were gripping it, 
preventing me from stirring.  
I pushed with all my strength, 
knowing that the white paste would brown, 
then burn, 
if it stayed on the bottom too long.  

My adolescent body began to fail, and I called out: 
“Help!  I can’t stir the pot!”  

In a flash he was back, 
dumping gallons of milk into the pot, 
the paste immediately loosening 
its grip on the spoon.  

“Thanks for your help,” he said.  
“I’ve got it from here.”


Details | I do not know? | |

Feast Or Famine

Passionate kisses fall upon my hungry lips, 
As loving hands, caress my cheeks. 

Knowing eyes look deep into my soul, 
Searching for my innocence 
That wanders lost and starving 
Inside my darkness.  

Soothing words call forth restrained emotions 
Locked deep within the ravenous confines 
Of my loneliness.  

The sweet aroma of your passion 
Wafts gently into my nose 
And fills my head with the promise 
of your delectable sustenance. 

Do I break my fast 
And ingest your delicious promises 
That entice my hungry senses? 

Do I let my love starved innocents 
Be found by your searching eyes? 

Shall I follow those soothing words 
Straight to the rapturous bounty 
That is your love? 

Or trust those loving hands 
And take hold, 
And be pulled from the dark depths 
Of my loneliness and emotional famine? 

Am I ready 
to feast upon the sumptuous banquet you offer, 
Or has my appetite been lost forever? 

I think I will just taste your passionate kisses
And let my heart decide 
How hungry it really is.


Details | Narrative | |

The Waffle House Way!

Customers are like bouquets of flowers passing through our twenty-four hours.
Breakfast, lunch, or dinner all 365 calendar days guaranteed for a full twenty-four seven.
“Hello Sir”! Welcome to Waffle House America’s favorite place to eat!
Some say we are the closest thing next to God's Great Heaven!
We have a confusing language of our own, the blabbering towers of the real “April Showers”
Service with a smile that has walked the many hard-earned extra tenths of miles,
Nothing computerized with files, just organized by our own genuine unique styles.
Waitresses are serving with hard enduring time and each crosses over a mighty fine line,
Master grill operators optimize a divine talent marking your plates perfectly aligned.
Friday and Saturday nights the party train arrives blessed coffee to the many lips we’ll revive.
Regulars and irregulars you’re served just the same, pardon me did I really get your name?
Loud ones, quiet ones, and even the picky ones strive to come back to us,
Here we bring back the basics of being alive.
Scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, diced, peppered, capped, or topped? 
So do you want them “All the way or just partly aflame”!
Young, old, or different at being indifferent just being sane, 
Especially when the “Waffle House Way” is to say the first “HELLO”!
“Morning Mam”! Can I get you your usual or will you be having something different  “TO GO”?
Brief moments of insanity with the moods that walk through our doors, 
Thank God for every single one of those Jukeboxes!
The quality of service opening an eye to the sly foxes, 
We’d really be in trouble if we sold liquors!
Foreign, military, and even civilian are in and out, 
Our servers are like the gold stored at Fort Knox.
So what can we get you today that you haven’t already had before?
 “The Waffle House Way” America shouts!
 It’s like being home because that’s what we are all about.


Details | Cinquain | |

No Reprieve

deprived --
main course only!
no chocolate ice cream,
when you sup at the restaurant.
no treat.


Details | Narrative | |

A Modern Travesty

I Did Not Consume My Exquisitely Delicious Boston Cream At The Local donut shop on East Colonial Boulevard For Breakfast This Morning While On My Ravenous Way To My Place Of Employment .


Details | Light Poetry | |

Tofu

Whole day in the kitchen
Making my girlfriend favorite dish
I cooking for her tofu
With tomato and salt fish

Tofu is a food can be cook
In so many different ways
She really love it
So I surprising her today

Tofu is made from soybeans
Can absorb flavors of spices and marinades
Is has been a nutritional value
For Asian cuisines for hundred of years

It’s her first time in America
So I want to make it right
With tofu for dinner
Serving under candle lights

I can’t wait to see her smile
When she sees the food I cook
I know she will watch me 
And give me that special look

My girl friend is amazing
To me she means the world
She is more precious than diamond
And the seas full of pearls

I really wish to tell her 
She my heaven on earth
And I mean it from my heart
And I miss her so much it hurt

She told me about tofu
Very popular in western cooking
There is even a tofu festival
Every year they does be celebrating

I have never try tofu
But my girlfriend is very sweet
So what ever she likes 
Bet your dollar I’m going to eat

And I never eat onions
Don’t like how it feels in my mouth
But if she cook it for me
I will eat it all with out a doubt

My girl friend is the best
I’m really in love with her
And she loves tofu
So I will always cook it for her


Details | Imagism | |

The Eatery

urban alienation
pehaps ambiance of loneliness
or circumstances ambiguous to show



Automat - 1927

Edward Hopper 
  










Tribute To All Nighter Cafe's
Also Entry For Brian Strands Contest


Details | Rhyme | |

The Biscuit Maker

Going back to my childhood home today
Oaks still there even though been long away
Your memories I take with me heavy
They are on my back; leaving them___ready
To be free of oppressing memories
Remembering him in his dungarees
Yet hard seems the memory of him now
Fierce, stony was his attitude somehow
Fear and tension he did bring to the child
Leave that one; go to another for awhile
Inhale the aroma of Sweet Shrub__spring
She would take child there__ the pleasant place bring
Her kitchen pleasant aroma__biscuits
Warmth, love, food, and comfort her best portraits

(After reading Edna St. Vincent Millay,  I was impressed to write this one..)


Details | I do not know? | |

Gift of Poverty

My mother would sit there, 
And watched as we ate,
She lied about eating,
As we cleaned our plate...
The clothes that we wore,
Were ones that she made,
Since she couldn’t afford,
After bills were all paid...
And I still remember,
Me shoveling coal,
While others used oil,
For heat through the cold...
So the room that we shared,
Would always stay warm,
While plastic taped windows,
Would hold back the storm...
Many will tell you,
That I grew up poor,
But poverty blessed us,
With gifts that meant more...
 
( Thank you mom now I see )
 


Details | Haiku | |

Satan Sets the Table

satan sets the table
invites you to the big feast
then nibbles your soul


Details | Narrative | |

Gratitude

Birthdays come but once a year
A day we celebrate, a day to cheer
We all know the day we're born and our age
For birthdays bring us joy or change of stage

The day I celebrated my fourty-ninth year
On the other side of the world fear
Horror for a young girl named Heather
Who was swimming in ocean waters from boat tethered

Swimming around the ocean deep 
Working up an appetitate for something to eat
Was a great white shark fourteen feet, whopper
Jaws powerful enough to bite through copper

At home I thought I had turned fifty
I figured this year would be very nifty
My father who was in his nineties
Reminded me that I was only fourty-ninty

In a land way down yonder
A girl named Heather was pulled under
Great white figured she was good meat
Nice and tender a very tasty treat

A girl named Heather was saved
That very day lived to be one to praise
People who worked to keep her alive
She praised God who lives in hearts and on high

Sara lived many years
Saw her grandsons through tears
She was the strength and glue
Who saw her family's problems through

Just in recent years in a land down under
A fourteen foot great white shark did blunder
Caught in a fisherman's net
He'll probably live this mistake regret

No, the fisherman cuts the lines
Frees his catch and shark from bind
Now the shark he named Cindy
Follows him around even when windy

Follows him everywhere he goes
Let's him pet her on her nose
Rub her belly and dorsal fin
She even grunts and tries to grin

Which of these do you think is the most grateful
Heather who is now disable
The shark who was spared his life
Or Sara the mother, grandmother, and wife


(The story about Heather is true. The shark circled and bit her right leg.  Then circled and 
grabbed her left leg.  The people on the boat were hitting the shark and try to pull her into 
the boat and the shark took her whole left leg off.  She was only attended by a nurse who 
was on the boat and radioed a doctor on shore as to what to do.  She was 20 hours away 
from the nearest doctor.  She was lifeflighted to a hospital in California where she had to 
have multiple surgeries and now has an artificial leg.     The story about the shark caught in 
a fisherman's net was really not true.  The grandmother here was a true story.)


Details | Senryu | |

E. Coli Outbreak

cartoon character's 
favorite veggie is off
the market.  oh drat!


--  This is for all of us who like spinach and can't eat it until the E. Coli
outbreak has been fixed.


Details | Senryu | |

' Complicated ' 5th Senryu

‘ Complicated ’

Give Me Crème-Fill-Cake
Complicated Cookies Bake
Nuts, That I Can’t Take ! ...


Details | Haiku | |

Windmill

Slowly turns windmill
By the gentle wind, grass grows
Eaten by the cows


Details | Senryu | |

' Clearly Grace ... ' 42nd Senryu


  Yeah, Can’t Wait To Taste
But, Before We Feed Our Face …
     Get A Glass Of Grace


Details | Haiku | |

Meals Make Memories

          E    E
     H    .    .    S          memories
C   .       .       .   E            made   
---------------------         together
A N D    C U R D S
---------------------               just
B   .       .       .   R            eat &
     U    .    .    E                enjoy
          R    G

(By curds, I am referring to cheese curds.)


Details | Blank verse | |

mental digestion

they puddle
pale green like mud
or alphabet soup
words & thoughts
dissolve
into letters & impulse
broken down to base parts;
under enough pressure,
anything will crumble


Details | Senryu | |

Powdered Sugar Mountain Fair

Powdered Sugar Mountain Fair
Ephemeral fair,
Hundreds of funnel cakes made;
Fluid team work day.


Details | Rhyme | |

Sly Ole Fox

Sly red fox sneaking around
The master's great estate
Watching and waiting for one
To open the gate  to  the crate

That housed a hen that was a ten
She was fat and sleek with plenty to eat
Rested, refreshed with leisure complete
That sly ole fox found a spot

Hidden from view so he thought
He watched as the master
Opened the crate door letting
The fat hen  come  out and explore

So that's how to get at that hen
I'll dress up and just pretend
That I am the master of the estate
Then I'll just open the gate

I'll get that hen that is a ten
And for lunch I'll invite her in
But in the pot of stew she will go
She'll make dumplings for me to show


Details | I do not know? | |

Seen Only By God

Ka-boom! An explosion shatters the mid morning sky!
A new face of ledge now greets the eye.
Dynamite, in a skilled blaster's hands
Will create a new road to satisfy society's demands.
Drill time and load time never happen real fast;
Careful preparations are done before it is time to blast.
And, following the removal of the soil and the sod,
Something is visible, that was previously seen only by God!

My alarm splits the silence; and I roll out of bed.
Now to prepare myself for the long day ahead.
Coffee is brewing; the cereal is in the bowl.
Should I slice my banana--or just eat it whole?
It's a strange sensation that I feel,
Splitting open that bright yellow peel.
Perhaps to you this observation may seem a trifle odd;
This banana I now observe, has previously been seen only by God!


My day progresses, and my morning runs fine.
The noon whistle blows;this lunch time is mine!
Another thought occurs in my mind
While I'm relieving my orange of it's thick rind.
Once I've broken through that tough outer skin,
I can never restore it's integrity again!
Like the relationship 'tween a pea and it's pod,
These foods in their casings have been previously seen only by God!


And the same God who packed these things with such tender care,
Looks at my head and numbers each hair!
Having a loving Father, Who treats us this way,
Makes it hard to understand how people can turn Him away.
                                                                                               Charlie Pelota  


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Yes Ye Will-Will Come

Oh, how it is so much fun
All having been given a choice
You can hear it in their voice
As we all dance and play in the sun

The there are many who shall turn and run
Living a continuous life of evil
End the end it will only bring upheaval
In truth their virtue, they have none


Details | Senryu | |

How Solutions Can Be Born

credit bills piling
on the kitchen table. it
is time for a fast.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Dreaded Day

Today is the Dreaded Day
That many will be put out on the street
And others won’t have any power
And others won’t have any food to eat.

And other’s children won’t have a Christmas
They won’t have any presents by a tree
They won’t even have a tree at all
They’ll feel lucky if they get to eat.

This is American reality today
People are living on the streets
People who could never have imagined
That this is where that they would be.

They look at themselves in the mirror
And wonder where did they go wrong
They live in this great country
How long can this go on?

These are highly educated people
With their Masters and Phds
Why is there no work for them?
There is no  place for them to work
How is it that this can be?

And then there are the other ones
Who just want to work for an honest wage
And there is no work for them as well
No chance of employment at any place.

The weeks and months have been turned into years by now
They’ve long since lost track of how many days.

There has to be a solution
For our country to get back to where it’s been
Something is going to have to give
For all Americans to live as men.

We didn’t ask to live like a bunch of animals
To be begging for food on the streets
We deserve to have some dignity
We should be able to work for what we need.

So damn all those who have caused this financial mess
Those who have injured all those of us with pride
Let them live with the devil until eternity ends
It’ll be a fitting punishment for what they’ve done to others in this life.

God bless all of those who are fighting every day just to survive
Who now don’t even have enough to eat
God bless their defenseless children
Who continue to struggle and live in need.

One has to continue to believe in goodness
That those who do the right thing will somehow win
And that American Prosperity and Industry
Will return to our country once again.

Today is the Dreaded Day
That many will be put on the street
And others won’t have any power
And others won’t have any food to eat.

(December 22,  2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,


Details | Senryu | |

Bread and Water

Two women
Fought for one
Slice of bread.

One man drank
Two glasses
Of water.


Details | ABC | |

THINGS NOT EQUAL

THINGS NOT EQUAL

There are those who reach an age past  100,
while some never chanced to live.
There are those who share their blessings,
while some choose not to give.

There are those who have never gone hungry,
while some never survive.
There are those who find fame and fortune, 
while some dreams shatter and die.

There are those who are rich and famous,
while some are poor and alone,
There are those with power and possessions,
while some are without a home.

There are those who are happy and healthy,
While some are sick and depressed.
There are those who believe life is the end,
while some say:  “it was just a test!”

By Milton Lopez Delgado
December 4, 2011


Details | Light Poetry | |

Exercise

Granny, you need to push back the plate
Or go down stairs and work on that weight
Granny, you needed to start watching what you ate

Oh! That hurts, you weigh too much
I don't mean to be a grouch and such
But when on me your whole weight touch

My springs start to sag and padding goes flat
Especially when you also add the fat cat
Or that chubbie granddog who weighs ..well fat

Promise me you'll make a new year's resolution
To lose ten pounds that would be the solution
No more confections  or pizza or fries try exercise, exercise

(I could not think of one from a chair's point of view and I know that you will find this 
strange but I am through.  For the Speak, Chair contest.)


Details | Ode | |

Untitled #206 / Icee

Mmm, Icee
it’s so
icy
so icy


Details | Ode | |

Friends & Pizza

Tonight we celebrate and toast
the kindness of our loving host
I do not mean to brag or boast
but we’ll enjoy this yummy roast!

The onions sliced, the mushrooms diced
and thrice the crushed red pepper dashed
inside the oven crust does rise
and crisps and browns upon the racks

Half an hour we do laugh
and drink to our shared memories
no one could feel the moments pass
until we heard the timer beep

The air smells warm! The moment’s nigh!
Let’s slice the pizza into pieces!
Together, let’s enjoy the taste of life
until the light within us ceases!


Details | Free verse | |

I Burned Myself

To satisfy my sweet tooth,
I stole a stranger's honey bun
When no one was looking.
I took it out of its wrapper
And laid it on a plate.
It smelled delicious.
I opened up a small door
And closed the one behind me.
I set the timer and it revolved
Until the sweet icing melted
On the soft bubbling pastry.
Its aroma filled the room.
Quickly!  I took the delicacy.
Hot and sticky on my fingers...
I could hardly hold it in my hands.
Hot and sticky on my lips...
Though I tried to be careful,
I burned the roof of my mouth,
And my tongue felt fuzzy.
All to satisfy my sweet tooth...
I ate the swirl in a hurry 
Rolling it over my tongue
Taking in quick cool breaths
With animated chewing
And grimaced facial expressions.
I didn't enjoy it with the time
That I had hoped I could have.
Then, I threw the evidence away
In plain sight and opened the door.
I left the room at a swift pace
As if on important business.
The stranger had no idea...
Except that his honey bun was gone.


Details | Narrative | |

Mansions in the Sky

The Stars lit up the skies and nothing could I see,
Except these huge Mansions that fly in the sky.
Swirling winds picked me up and carried me high.
Making trails in the clouds it was just me.
It was breathtaking just to be,
Afloat the top of mansions that fly.
The Moon was bright and the Sun a bit dry.
They were huge and magnificent to oversea.
 Mansions in the sky that fly above it all.
Mesmerized I went in and found no end.
None were too small.
None occupied, not even by a friend!
Mansions that fly fill a brilliant sky,
All emptied but not by I!
 
 
© Copyright: Ann Rich  2006


Details | Rhyme | |

Memorial Day

Gorgeous day!  Wrapped with warm weather,
quietude in surroundings early this morning;
roads are clear; driving isn’t a problem at all,
there’s no rush and one freely takes his time.

Invitations from friends and other relations
a cookout in the yard or dining in a restaurant;
a common tradition to American people,
a wonderful experience, a day to remember.

Our major print, news and TV networks,
show varied events, places, and peoples;
with distinctive features of the celebration
that trace back history and meaning to recall.

As singularly punctuated with solemnity
those veterans in the army and other dignitaries,
along with the president of this beautiful country,
America: the land of free, unity and diversity.

Names engraved in the annals of history
are those heroes who served in this country,
they offered their lives for love and loyalty,
indisputably, heroic giants of the century.

Across the years, memories of the past
continue to serve as a treasure trove,
a wellspring of thought and inspiration;
indeed, a living legacy worthy of imitation.

Kudos and more power to these people
though they’re all gone into the silent land
their spirit, mem’ry and legacy to everyone
unites the whole nation for love and remembrance.


Details | Rhyme | |

Humanity Via Pleasure

about the time
i had some wine.
you had some gin.
we burped chagrin,
and we toasted metered
glee of intoxication
by intrusive manners.


Details | I do not know? | |

Cranberries for Sale!

Thickly populated, not with society
Instead this uniquely lavish fruit
A trailing path of intertwining vines
Your taste buds soon to root

Deep scarlet red are the berries
With a cream-white inner core
Tiny seeds of brown amidst
This delicious treat of more

Perhaps a faint taste of bitter
As the berry first enters your lips
Next an irresistible taste experience
More berries you then do grip

September marks the season
When farmers harvest this tasty crop
Bogs are filled with vibrant colors of red
Ripened berries abundantly in stock

Semi-trailers start rolling in
As the harvesters begin to coral
Months of growth in the waiting
The money to be earned is their moral

Knee deep in cold frigid water
The wind chills against their face
Crewman exhausted pushing forward
Maintaining their steady worn out pace

Barrels upon barrels keep stacking up
Semi-trailers haul towards the destination spot
Shipping them to the desired location
Plenty of cranberries here to be bought

© Stacy Lynn Stiles


Details | Name | |

Slow or fast

Fast how fast, slow how slowly?
A person can accelerate himself,
If he has no food to eat or
If he has no water to drink.

A person can drive his vehicle,
Fast or slow, whatever he wants,
When engine works properly,
Petrol, oil and water are sufficient.

He can run a race,
To reduce the smoke,
To produce more burn, to accelerate 
Fire for extra power with high energy.

It is law, petrol for burn, 
Oil for smoke and water for pressure,
If oil is dirty, engine starts to smoke,
If water is empty, pressure can fire on.

Natural system applies every where,
A human life needs also to live,
A Fresh Air, Healthy Food and fresh water,
Damped material is a cause of disease.


Details | Free verse | |

The Little Things

"It's all about the little things in life."
I say with little reserve.
If they only knew
The little thinsg in life are full moons and first kisses, 
good conversations and hot tea,
the warm breeze that blows through thin jeans on an icy day,
old photographs you thought were lost
and rain and blankets just out of the dryer
and long hikes and sunflowers...
And me
I am a little thing in life.
and things are just objects
They are broken by careless children.
and lost in the mail
and forgotten by past lovers
and left on shelves to collect dust
What do i matter?
I'm just a thing.
But i am a wild thing.
I belong to noone...
just myself
No one will ever have the opportunity to break me.
When i get lost i know where to find me.
and a wild thing hardly holds still enough to collect dust.
There's just me.
and how little i eat,
how little i rest,
how little i'm worth,
how little people know,
and how little i am.
After all..
"It is all about the little things in life."


Details | Lyric | |

Peeling Thy Self

It seems so easy 
to feel what is like 
to be a poet, 
trying to peel 
a banana, for a fruity shake.



Details | Free verse | |

Carpe diem

 Carpe diem 
Carpe diem 
 
 
Carpe diem seized the raison pie sliced. 
Raison pie sitting in the sun ants come rain some wind finds the plate 
Snow melts upon the pie crust ice forms on the crumbs flies come 
Cover is placed in place an amount on a sign is added $1.79 centavos for a slice 
of raison pie long meant to be taken to the trash can and left there to be given to 
decay but sold to the man with the watch left in place of cash he was hungry and 
no idea was entered in his memory bank of raison pie left on the shelf and 
roaches crawled upon the left over raison melted mess. 
The waiter was just drinking coffee no beer at all. 
Carpe diem seized the plated raison given. 


Details | Rhyme | |

Dishes

Ok one poem,
Then to work for me.
I felt guilty this morning,
Then I broke down,
 And washed my dishes.
I thought I would drown.
The plate wasn’t so bad,
Nor was the spoon,
But the pan lid and pan,
Sung a different tune.
I got in there and did it,
I was bound and determined.
It took less than a minute,
To my good fortune.
It seemed an eternity,
To get this job done,
Is not where I wanted to be,
It was not much fun.
The water was so hot,
That the grime couldn’t riot,
Next time You come over,
Then you can try it.


Details | Free verse | |

we're not in Kansas anymore

Have you ever found your mind
drifting into that dark place
that secret and dense absence of light
look into the mirror and say
"There is beauty in destruction"
running your fingertips down your spine 
collarbone wrists hips ankles
only to feel numb
your heart imploding 
as the gravitational pull
plays tug-o-war 
with your passion
10 versus 1
your heartbeat slows
leaving behind a shell
the exquisite mask your sold your soul to construct
was it worth it
did all of your dreams come true
are you happy
pure 
untouched
perfect
no
just the 3rd degree burn of deception
fall to your knees 
beg for the last five years of your life back
thin chance
slim chance
anything but fat chance
click your heels 3 times
all that glitters is long gone
follow the yellow brick road back to your heart 
grab hold of yourself
time waits for no one 
not even you


Details | I do not know? | |

Florida

Warm Key Lime Pie
Sitting on the lemon-green windowsill.
Snaking scents of bittersweet sugar
Ascending in the air and traveling
West, forced by the bursts of wind
From the salty green sea to the east.

I stood on my porch with a lime
In my right hand,
Florida on my mind.

To my right, the ocean waves
Slapped the shore
With electric resonance.

Ocean water, green like the lime in my hand,
Just as bumpy,
Just as flowing.

The salt in the air mingled
With the sweet of the pie
Above my head,
Keeping me tied in a bind
With Florida on my mind.


Details | Blank verse | |

Instant Coffee

it always ends the same
too much sticky-sweet silt
lying at the bottom of
a round ceramic basin.
a funny kind of river 
once lived there;
tar black, 
with swirling hints of deeper cream
something you might scry in,
if you had the right affinity
haven't most of us sat
on an off day,
feeling lost & helpless to the world,
starring into this brown-black oblivion,
seeking answers that only lie within ourselves
it reminds me of regret;
this bottom layer
clinging to everything it touches,
something we're never able to completely wash away