Sandy was a chocoholic,
The worst I've ever seen!
If she didn't eat some daily,
She'd become crazy mean!
It didn't matter what kind it was,
Ice cream, cake, pie or candy,
As long as it was chocolate,
Sandy was fine and dandy!
Then one day the unthinkable happened,
To the chocolate loving miss,
While eating her favorite candy,
She choked on a chocolate kiss!
"Death by chocolate," the coroner concluded,
As to the cause of Sandy's death.
At least she died doing what she loved,
Eating chocolate til her last breath.
11/21/11 for Natalie the Rogue Rhymer's
"Die a fun Death" contest
When I think of the plight that children face all over the world
I just want to cry
Hunger starts and ends their everyday
As many of us continue to waste away
The scraps that we toss could save a child’s life
I’ll tell you the human race is nothing nice
We have no problem spending trillions on war
As children starve to death outside a millionaires store
They put locks on the dumpsters to keep them out
To greedy to give what they are throwing out
I watched a show just the other day
That showed Children just wasting away
Right there in their mothers arms
As I ate my giant bowl of lucky charms
Pirates raiding off the Somalia Coast
Because their children’s eyes are hollow as a ghost
If my Children were starving these words are true
Captain Hook wouldn’t hold a light to you know who
I think in the overhaul scheme of wrong and right
Mankind in general has lost all sight
Could you imagine kissing your child’s last breath?
The rich get richer as they starve to death
So as you all tuck your kids into bed tonight
Kids all over the world will lose their fight
They will simply lie down and die
To hungry to fight to weak to cry
Shelters that feed the Hungry are in every
town, when was the last time that you gave
something. No person is any greater than the
depth of their compassion. To give is to receive
for there is no greater blessing in this life. Keep
what you need and give the rest and the Lord will
make sure you never run out. God Bless, MJ
Written for Sami's contest
Morning light fills in the details
hidden by last night's new moon.
His pillow bears no dent, seems colder
than the draft that she needs to find
and fix, soon, before winter sets in.
It means going into the workshop,
poking through sticky, old drawers,
a territory that was never truly hers.
She must find the caulking gun and try
not to stare at that festooned hat,
the once well-cared for fishing gear
robed in cobwebs, a calendar unturned,
bowling trophies, an empty chair,
one model schooner never finished.
She pours a mug of coffee, though she
prefers tea, slowly steeped in a proper
pot, loose leaf oolong, nicely cozied.
His mug is too large, too practical, too grey,
and her small hand is more familiar with
English bone china, roses and ribbons,
the romantic pattern of their days.
There is a slight dip in the kitchen floor
as though he is still standing by the stove,
as though the tiles hold onto him, too.
Thirty years of omelets, his way-
polish sausage, spanish onion,
over cooked, over salted.
She expects to hear
the whisk, his voice, laughter.
Weekends they'd shop at the market,
Farm fresh eggs, he'd said, were best,
worth the trip and he'd indulge her
love of something sweet or
surprise her with marmalade,
clover honey in tiny jars.
She opens the fridge door, takes out the
cream and settles for toast with jam,
thinks about canceling his subscription
to Sports Illustrated, Rod and Reel,
but decides to wait until tomorrow.
She sees the egg carton, reads:
brown. free run. flax fed.
Some chickens just have it good,
he'd said. Oh, he'd said that often.
She stills and her shell breaks
as she notes the best before date...
Two months have passed since
her world expired.
was taking a bath on hills.
Trees were waiting
for the curtains to rise.
Scented stars would make
giant scars on the clouds,
I would make peace with the sky.
Lids of human greed were laden
with golden dust, I was hoisting the skull.
Of a virgin god who did not
want to live for the blotched up creation.
The decline was obvious. Truth
had refused to climb
on the sky-blue, salted peaks of springs.
Body had arrived,
mourners quietly wailing.
Gouged eyes could not decipher
the script on the halved pyramid.
Sun was sucking the clay.
A is for algae, red, green, blue cells, soaking up sun, sliming teeth
B is for bacterial mat, clumping underneath, earliest born, never asleep
C is for coral reef, the place we all find cover or the sand parrotfish chew and release
D is for diatom, all seeded calcium, all float free, all denizens barely seen
E is for eelgrass, nursery meadows of the anchovy, and other browsers of green
F is for fan worm, filter feeder like a flower, 8000 species on which fish feed
G is for giant kelp, floating on bladders of air they’re forests of cold waters clean
H is for helmet, the royalty of snails who protect our feet, queen, emperor, king
I is for isopod, the chameleon crustacean, they color match what they eat
J is for jellyball, or cannonball jellyfish, not upside down or moon, avoid their heat
K is for keyhole limpet, favorite food of ochre stars, will erect its own wall
L is for laver, the sea lettuce of nori, it swirls red skirt as ocean falls
M is for mermaid’s purse, the sack of the skate whose yolk keeps them alive
N is for nerite, the prisoner striped snail of the rocky zone as numerous as a hive
O is for oyster drills, the snails that slurp oysters and use them to lay eggs
P is for pleurobranch, a sea slug answer for oranges, with one active leg
Q is for quahog, the bivalve seaman who can survive eating the mud
R is for rove beetle, the one waiting to snatch the unwary beach hopper for good
S is for saxitoxin, those red tides produced by mating that can paralyze humans
T is for tubular sponge, they squish, bore and encrust as space lends
U is for urchin, those spiny skinned balls, no eyes or noses but dig food in sand
V is for Venus, Music Volutes dined or Vampire Squids skimming along land
W is for whelk, not the musically inclined, but the slow moving snail in a shell
X is for X and a half, the six rayed star, hungry for anything on the half shell
Y is for yucca, blooming on the beach, they bloom nice and tolerate the sand
Z is for Zostera marinara, the address of eel grass when they're feeling grand
All of this green life is what crunches, stinks, dries and slips underfoot
The rest that find the housing and dining compatible means someone’s on the look.
Dust covered crawled like worms, had no concern
Found on ground ripened apple’s bitter juice
Digging in gluttony without discern
Dark heart in matter chooses wrong produce
Climb from trunk to branches long journey true
Building without rest to sleep in cocoon
While feeding on nourishment from fruit grew
Rise from sleep to sail high sky like balloon
TO THE FACTORY
TO THE SLAUGHTER
TO THE TABLE
INTO THE GREEDY MOUTHS
GOODBYE LAMBS, PIGS AND COWS
Head hung low, I walk the street-
Timid to feel the hangman's loss-
Every step on my blistered feet-
Takes me closer to, the Christian cross-
With every second, my soul does exhaust-
Heat-ridden cheeks from tears I cry-
Hide my eyes my shame is discreet-
Explain to me God, why must I die?
You say the hunger game I did cheat-
I see on that hangman's rope your hands across-
How close I was to starvation beat-
Why must I die for naught but sauce-
On bread instead of my usual moss-
I hope you see my little child cry-
Although to you unjust is a treat-
Hold him God on the day he will die-
With my head hung low, I walk the street-
My family will feel the hangman;s loss-
No more will I walk upon these blistered feet-
Family go, live your life by the Christian Cross-
For my soul is tired, don't let your life exhaust-
My dear sweet loved ones there is no need to cry-
No more reason for you to stand all so discreet-
I am happy at last, on the day that I die-
I will live the rest of my life upon a Christian's Cross-
These murderers relax themselves on their own lie-
In a few short moments I won't feel anymore loss-
I will lift up my head and all so proudly I will die-
Heaven's Rainbow Bridge
green grass and blue skys
fresh water and food to eat
no hunger--no pain
dear friends wait beyond
prismatic spectrumed colours
heaven's rainbow bridge
In 1994, William N. Britton wrote the , "Legend of Rainbow Bridge". It is a hope filled story of where all (pets) "special friends" go when they leave this earth. It's a place of "beautiful meadows, grassy hills...fresh spring water...plenty of their favorite food to eat...others to play with...". That place is called "Rainbow Bridge" and it is where they wait until we get there, "just this side of Heaven", so we may go in together. db
Widow in making
It was the Southern French window blowing open
he came in the night no word spoken
The eyes so sensual and piercing me as if nothing matters
he is all I think of now as each day I grow weaker
I will soon die unsure of my fate
my life I will give to him a offering I ask him to take
This man so desirable with dark eyes and hair
even if he is not a man but a beast
I no longer care I submit to the last drop of blood
As I lay with a cotton white gown in a locked room
I throw my rope of Garlic far to be seen
Nothing can stop this now longing and lustful
feeling like I'm in a forever dream
I wait for him too enter
I wait for him
willing to die
I wait losing my Religion
The Vampires offering am I
" For That Archaic Poets contest " Shanity Rain
when my body is done
put me in an oven
and bury my ashes in a
sea salt shaker
scatter me sparingly
as you would
a fine condiment
in a recipe
into your daily life
during its preparation
we may add the flavor
and the texture
of the past
when it is all gone
the sea salt shaker
The pain I put in the ground.
For such a precious thing.
The family enjoys their meal.
They plant their leftover kernels.
And wait for me to tend to them.
An endless cycle in which happiness is born.
21 February 2013
Dollars always help .
But the parched earth always wins .
More than dough required .
Inspired by Sami's "piece of bread" , contest .
Summer’s Spilled Milk
City dwellers pumped;
Oil effused into ocean,
Ocean creatures died.
Come little children- come and eat-There’s plenty all scattered about
Stale flat bread and biscuit crumbles -You must dig them out
Banana peelings and lettuce leafs -You may clean the dirt off neat
Perhaps the peelings of a Fu Fu dish- just to make a sweet
Come little one- come and eat- The little child’s belly cries
The flies will lead you to bush meat- the maggots where it lies
Coconut and cassava cakes- perhaps a little rice
Just below the burning heap where the neighbor’s dead dog lies
The smorgasbord lies beyond the hill-the town’s other side
Forgive the stench- just pass the boneyard -where your nine year old brother died
Evil thoughts equal sin
One must purge them within
Five free range chickens surviving earth’s natural selection...
Spring flowers began to emerge while “Hefei” and hens explored.
Wary of snakes and possums, they moved about with caution.
Hunting, pecking and scratching, together in one accord -
One hen snuck into a pitched tent to lay her lovely eggs.
Behind some plants over wintered in a place nice and warm.
With shattered wing and broken shells, she felt survival plagues.
She emerged escaping death this time, enduring deform.
A few days later, she was gone, feathers strewn about.
One hen, then, another hid…sitting on precious eggs.
Within a month, the strutting rooster crowed his prideful shout.
Nineteen little chicks scurried out close to two hens legs.
ã June 7, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Eggs, but NO epulaeryus
Sponsored by: Black Eyed Susan
Even predators have mothers
and with the soft mewling eyes of infancy
they search, search for the breast of mother
the beak, the tooth, the talon, the claw…
Children worldwide hunger.
The small weak voices and stone dead eyes calling out
to those who have…
Mothers making stone soup.
Mothers giving of their own body the last
remnants of harsh life as the haves
go on safari’s or to zoos to
feed the animals.
Tis sore int' thwait
wi mor'n a few folks a gippy
loose tha's snap as M'pessons well
n tek sum brass from t'watter
na its nowt but a mickle midden
but them folks as a good un, narry a one of 'em flit
tek thasen a gander
but the's nowt in Eyam save 'plague
It is bad in the village
with more than a few people sick
Leave your food at Mompessons Well
and take some money from the water
Now it's nothing but a big mess
But the villagers are good people, not any one of them has left
Take yourself a look
but there is nothing in Eyam except the Plague
The village of Eyam in Derbyshire was hit by the plague at the same time as London (1665),
the villagers self imposed a quarantine to prevent the disease spreading any further, the
surrounding villages left food at a well near Eyam, in exchange for money which had been
left in the vinegar filled well to clean it.
For "Sista's Bloody Sista's" contest run by Deborah Guzzi
I do not know?
main hu ek aajad pakshi ki trah
udti hu khule aasman me
jise n koi chinta, kisi ke shikar karne ki
udati rahu puri jindagi, aajad pakshi ki trah
koi n rakhe mujhe bandhi bna kar
udati rahu, udati rahu, aajad pakshi ki trah
khane ke liye bhatku idhar -udhar
n mile mujhe khane ke liye
bhukhe pet hi so jau
kitne bhi kasht mile, has kar sah lu unhe
koi phark n pade, ab kisi kasht ka
aadat hi ho gayi ab hume
main hu ek aajad pakshi ki trah
udati hu khule aasman me
When the coven of ill-willed women seek revenge,
from anyone they deem too big for their britches,
They go to the book of sorcery for witches,
In the book, they seek deliverance from women
who shine brighter than morning stars,
looking for panaceas and disasters,
Brews that could curl their hair and tarnish their shoes,
Nothing short of voodoo,
They'd even stoop to mixing up batches of goulash,
sprinkled with feces, and disguised by hash,
Their boundaries are limitless when they want to anhiliate,
They would go as far as tempting fate,
A feast of feces becomes no trouble at all,
when they want to cast anyone away,
so they may become the Belles of the Balls.......
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
Selfish and greedy they grasp at one cause
Blind be the dead denying Natures laws
Time And Chance
“11 I have seen something else under the sun: The race is not to the swift
or the battle to the strong, nor does food come to the wise or wealth to the brilliant or favor to the learned; but time and chance happen to them all. 12 Moreover, no one knows when their hour will come: As fish are caught in a cruel net, or birds are taken in a snare, so people are trapped by evil times that fall unexpectedly upon them.” Phil 3:18-21 NIV
The race is not won by the swift,
Nor is the battle won by the strong.
Wealth is not given to the brilliant,
Nor food to the wise belong.
Favor is not given to the learned
And death not claimed only by the old.
Men are trapped by evil
‘Til their bodies grow still and cold.
Time And Chance affect all mankind—
No man knows when his hour will come.
Wisdom belongs to God;
All wisdom above and under the sun.
Time And Chance are in His hands;
Many simply must comply.
God builds up or breaks down;
Kings and nations to occupy.
Fools are placed in high positions,
And the rich are often laid low.
Is everything understood by man?
How does God work on earth below?
If clouds are full of water,
They pour rain upon the earth.
But man is a mystery;
Time And Chance not in his death or birth.
We do not understand the hand
That makes the seed spring forth;
How the human body is formed,
Or how the womb gives birth.
Time And Chance are the equation
That only God does know.
Man is truly ignorant of how
Time And Chance works here below.
© Copyright 2012 Maureen LeFanue
There once lived a woman called Lady-de Leisure, who turned not to men, but food for
She ate everything spicy and sticky and sweet, the poor lady could not even see her poor
feet. From dusk until dawn, all she would do was eat, drink, break wind, burp belch and poo.
But one day whilst eating her thirty fifth pie, the lady burped loudly, keeled over and died.
The funeral had to be held outside, but people they came to say goodbye.
The coffin itself, you’ve never seen bigger. The bearers were three forklift trucks and a
The hole in the ground was fourteen feet wide, and even then the coffin scraped at the sides.
So if you are thinking about being a lady of leisure, look elsewhere than food solely for
F A M I N E II
(Thousands of children, all over the world, die every day for lack of food)
© Demetrios Trifiatis
08 MAY 2013
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION
or tired love?
and weak games
Look at you!
Your such a lame!
Me cry?! Ha! Not no more!
Five point five years
What a joke?!
All you do is lie
Keep smoking your life away!
Wake up before its too late!
Before this love turns into hate!
Your too old to act this way!
Your too comfortable
You cant stay!
In my life!
In my way!
Goodbye to you!!!
I hope and pray, I never die like this.
For this would not have any bliss.
Running to a room with pain in chest,
Maybe from something I did digest.
Hoping to get rid of something thwarted,
Dying from heart attack as it departed.
Sitting upon a white porcelain throne,
This is not the way I want to be known.
Though hopefully my actions will pass,
Maybe oh maybe, it’s only a little gas.
If I were a king, then I wouldn’t mind.
Upon a golden throne they would find.
That I had died in gracious peace at last.
Though, my before mentioned place aghast,
Since I am no king, to pass away in jest,
There’re worse ways to die, then doing my best.
Sponsor Natalie The Rogue Rhymer
Contest Name Die A 'Fun' Death Contest