Opening line from "Highway Five Love Poem" by Ruth L. Schwartz
This is a love poem for all the tomatoes
I squished to make our Date-Night spaghetti.
Our love, like the pasta, was shiny. So the story goes.
We sit at our table, between us a rose
Red as the marinara I chose. (He let me).
This is a love poem for all our tomatoes.
We watch the steam, which the mouth quickly blows
Away (like the wind and those petals the day he met me).
Our love, like the pasta, was sticky. So the story goes.
We sip our red wine. Chianti, it has a good nose.
(In the morning, do you think he will regret me?)
This is a love poem. For all our tomatoes
Are gone, just as the wine hides grapes squished by toes
in authentic California vineyards. (You get me?)
Our love, like the pasta, was steamy. So the story goes.
We finish our meal with gestures the other knows.
(I wonder if he'll someday forget me.)
This isn't a love poem for all our tomatoes.
Our love, like our pasta, was al dente. So our story goes.
No mother would fill up her eyes with tears of woman...
if it weren't for God performing a miracle at dawn,
as she cried out in joy and held her baby in trembling arms
but shed many sweet tears hearing his laughter so loud;
oh, he couldn't see her mommy's face through his tiny eyes,
and it will be long before he'll will utter the first word, " Mom."
Now that baby sleeps under the attentive look of his mom,
who's too young to become a mature woman;
many visions of this birth crossed her gleeful eyes
she dreamed of the very same words whispered at each dawn,
repeating them in her silly head as if they sounded too loud...
while cradling a pretty doll in her folded arms.
Will she be welcomed home by her parents opening their arms?
Will they reprimand her and not consider her a legal mom?
Perhaps they will not be angry and speak not so loud:
girls are supposed to be girls, not suddenly turn into woman...
So this innocent girl, deceived by a bad boy, must wake up at dawn
when her baby cries and feed him with scary, childish eyes?
Nights seem longer for her, trying to stay awake rubbing her eyes,
what she beheld in those exciting eyes, now it's a burden in her weary arms;
she remembers that pain was too unbearable, but joy more sublime at dawn...
how will she learn how to care for the infant by watching her mom?
She must have seen a nursery or read a book how to think like a real woman,
and can anyone imagine how she keeps that secret instead of revealing it loud?
She must gather enough courage inside to feed her baby who can't cry loud,
but for now she must carry that baby without sighs of distress into her bright eyes;
and her parents can see the changes making her a loving person already woman;
they may ask questions to why she has gained weight and holds dolls in her arms...
no, they aren't anticipating great news and in doubt, they await a splendid dawn.
Mother and daughter closely together amazed by the coming dawn,
any concealed secret can be easily spoken...somewhat joyful and loud;
they imagine the infant's futures will be part of grandma and mom!
Their reunited hearts come together to show love in their delighted eyes,
and they'll take turns feeding the new-born, tenderly lulling him in their arms;
what if forgiveness hadn't been there to deny her all of the joys of woman?
Would a mother deny her daughter compassion as a good woman?
Even God hurried dawn to offer that gift into her gracious, tender arms...
and those arms accepted it with the gentleness and kindness of mom.
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
Contest:All About ____???
your presence is:
sweeter than a ripe mango
filling to the soul
© Joseph, 6/11/08
© All Rights Reserved
It's been way too long since I have eaten
My cupboards all are barren
I have been searching for some nourishment
To satisfy my needs
I have been hunting for a Georgia peach
To help and soothe my pain
I have been seeking for that perfect doe
To get me through the storm
I heard that there is some really good food
In the valley of the sun
I will go out there and call out her name
Hoping she fills me up
Vanilla bean skin,
Cool sweet breath and cherry lips
Make kissing dessert.
Will you,Eat me; eat me,
please, like A piece,
of Reese's Pieces,
I melt in your mouth,
I am that Kit-Kat,
who will satisfy,
to make the Skor, on
and go nutritiously,
over my babyruth,
for you are, that mounds,
of full almond joy..
Onion of Passion (A Blitz Poem for Poetry Soup)
Start with an idea
Start with an onion
Onion on a cutting board
Onion from the crisper drawer
Drawer of firm vegetables
Drawer of future soup
Soup to feed the poet’s soul
Soup to cure the common cold
Cold days feeling uninspired
Cold nights feeling over tired
Tired of the same same same
Tired of this empty feeling
Hungry for a poem to come
Hungry for some hearty soup
Soup flavored with Whitman’s marrow
Soup that starts with his sort of rawness
Rawness of starchy emotion
Rawness of aromatic images
Images of stiff green celery stalks
Images of bright chunked carrot snips
Snips sautéing in olive oil (dash of salt!)
Snips of memory softening
Softening and blending into metaphors
Softening with those onions now translucent
Translucent as distant dreams
Translucent as childhood kisses
Kisses snuck behind the bushes or
Kisses from great grandma
Grandma gave this life recipe
Grandma said to let things simmer
Simmer with love like chicken stock
Simmer then add the bag of herbs
Herbs are like adjectives
Herbs like just the right verbs
Verbs of action rather than being
Verbs like heat and sear and cook and flavor
Flavor the soup
Flavor for sharing
Sharing is why
Why we cook these chunky poems
Why we cook anything
Anything at all
Anything with passion
Passion and heart
Have you ever had sweet strawberry wine?
Delicious fruit from straight off the vine
The heady taste….a love of mine
Delicate and tempting me
Of summer sun and free
Have a glass and see
Shimmers of light
Of that crimson berry
Two chilled glasses-you and me
The heady taste….a love of mine
Delicious fruit from straight off the vine
Have you ever had sweet strawberry wine?
I call this form Reflection
Lines go from ten syllables down to one then one syllable back up to ten
With a rhyme scheme of aaa bbb ccc dd ccc bbb aaa and the first three lines
Are the same as the last three lines.
Inspired by Mr. Michaels original form contest
Delicious, warm, and and tastes of home...
as if you were still here....
Early in the morning just beyond daybreak, the cooing of doves
Coo, coo, coo always in threes, conveying to its mate of his love
Soon sun will be higher, proof of love will begin with the feedings
I will NOT be satisfied with the crumbs
That fall from your banquet table of love
I’m here to have a gluttonous feast
Don’t….Don’t insult me with tiny morsels
You throw my way
I’m to sit at the head of the table
My rightful place
And eat and drink to my fill
To satiation’s upper limit
My heart and soul, YES, my BODY nourished
S A T S F I E D
With the eclectic fare of delicacies
For is that not
The kind of feast
You are used to having from me?
I slave away for days on end
To prepare and offer to you, my King
The most scrumptious repast
And you leave MY banquet table
With the decadent savor
Of my sweetness in your mouth
No, this will not do
Until you tempt my appetite
With the fairest of delights
Don’t you dare think
That these mere crumbs will do
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Candy its yummy
It tastes so good
When it enters my tummy
I will love to give some to robin hood
You can get cavities
But its worth eating
Cavities hurt so much you cant do activities
Then you start mistreating
Candy just melts slowly in mouth
Everytime you think about why it melts you get the chills
Then you think about heading to south
To go to Beverly hills
I've said this before
And now i'm going to explore
Mamma Anna made the best Babba' al Rhum,
you should have seen me how it made me slightly drunk;
and jumping and screaming I danced to the beats of a drum...
then grandma joined in and she sang a classical song!
And the sweet cream was on my lips and cheeks,
the Babba' al Rhum was delicious and I topped it with chocolate;
everybody began shouting, "It came from Paris,
but we Neapolitans reinvented it by improving its shape and taste!"
Mamma Anna made the best Babba' al Rhum, soaking it in that liqueur much longer;
and Papa' always told me to eat more of it...saying with a suppressing laughter,
"It's a man's dessert, after you eat it, you'll be strong!"
Oh, did he really tell me the truth? No, he was wrong!
It's so very sad that they aren't here,
and I am eating pretzels and drink a beer,
the harmony that stirred their passion can't possibly return...
as they danced on the terrace to celebrate the day I was born!
Mamma Anna knew how to make the best Babba' al Rhum,
and I licked the dripping rum with my finger...not my tongue!
She spoke calmly...when she should have gotten mad and picked up a broom;
no, she was never mean and rude, or ever said to me, " Go to your room!"
I do not know?
Love is like sugary foods:
some people don`t need it at all!
Your love scrambled my heart as if it were a three egg omelet
Breaking the shell of my soul till it crumbled
I am trying so hard just to forget
My inner self tumbled, bumbled
I felt shuffled
I feel ruffled
I would rather baste than forget
Or fry if our times you regret
My love muffled
My emotions coupled
Left with no appeal
Spending time, letting my soul heal
My mind sighs blackberries
and a moonstruck melody
plays along my spine
as I soak up the fruited juice
of I love you coloring your lips.
The cherry blush of breathless,
And a smile amid the wash
Of blueberry eyes, should indicate
My intended reply.
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.
Candle light and sweet wine
Dinner for two and soft music
A night made for love
Never much money did my grandpa have,
but love, yes love, was all around,
his weathered skin, and calloused hands,
showed the world, he was a hardworking man.
With a tired old mule, he plowed his fields,
planting his crops, so all could have meals.
No Food Stamps way back then,
just neighbor helping neighbor, time, and again.
All the children had chores to do,
before the rooster crowed, before they left for
Five little children, their hair so white,
walking down a dirt road, imagine the sight.
I do not know?
Just a few more sips
And I'm loving the taste of you on my lips
I like the way you move in my mouth
And when you start to head down south
You are the one I love in deed
Because Coca-Cola you're all I need.
I do not know?
I am looking blindly into the fridge
Searching and savouring the chilled air, I reach in
Take hold of a strawberry and hand it to you.
Its body, fresh and pure can relax in your palm.
You are the keeper of my heart.
Its many eyes, black seeds that rest around
The waist, sleep in cycles, stare out into the darkness.
It remains on your flesh, Merges like a collage with the twists and bends.
As time passes, its chill dwindles. Harsh heat invades the creases.
Its natural form bleeds away in a sticky juice.
Foods we all love to eat
And don't forget about something sweet
Pineapple,chocolate,and cocoa nut cakes
Some of our favorites that Mom bakes
Apple pie, peach cobbler, and sweet potatoe pies a few other she makes
Especially on a holiday
But we wish she'll do this everyday
Home made macaroni and cheese
That's made to please
Corn bread, buttermilk biscuits made with ease
Chicken and dumpling with gravy
This just drives me crazy
Chicken can be fried,barbequed,baked or stewed
Drinks like kool-aid,tea,sodas, and coffee freshly brewed
We just have to take a dip or slice
Are great with just any dish
Peanut butter,cookies,and chips
Rabbits,squirrels,raccoons,and deer meat too
When prepared right they'll do
A morning looking in a coffee cup,
My soul is asking questions of the heart,
As destiny reveals itself in art,
Should inquiry find truth in crumpled dreams,
And bring the eye to look so gently up,
The heart must be ready to flow soul streams.
Form: Wordsworth's Sestet
Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama)
Have you ever written anything without sub combing to tears ?
My Family portrait in my mind , 2 older sisters , 2 brothers
My Mother caring about all five in different ways
Just with Mom & Dad there having the best of Holidays
My sisters laying out on the deck of river bank for 4th of July ~
Listening to " Honkey Chateau " and all by Elton John.
music a great memory ~Disco , Donna summer , Grease ~ Jaws !
Dad's records to Tony Bennett , Hank W Sr. , Count Basie & Louis Armstrong.
The music takes me home in a wagon filled with children and a dog "Lucky "
My Older brother , athletic , always fishing & hunting.
My younger , my Rock , Swimming and netting for fish,
feeding our Fat cat Perch off the rocks patiently awaits her food
the yelling , slamming of doors , tempers Flare , passion
Our Parents , passionate love yet passionate Hate .
After being a Family of Seven , Divorcing their fate ..
Why did that show " Dallas " bring out the Divorce in all ?
Scottish ~ Irish ~ French Iroquois ~ Cherokee
No matter what the mix ..Our curse Alcohol ~
the Screaming , Drinking , this memory I wish to shut the door on .
Going to A & W or making Cheerleading ,The Bears of course~
Excited in Chicago ! seeing Elton John in the Summer of 1976 ~
Cubs , museum of Wax , Museum of science & History , Pizza !
Expeditions of discovery ,little brother & I finding arrowheads on the Shore.
Our Grandparents Faithful Celebrations ! Chiffon cake , Apple strudel `
Our Cousins on Holidays , going for ice cream cones ,
scent of wet rain on oak leaves ~Before Halloween was bought in stores.
~ That is the Family I Love ,
that is the Family I choose to miss ~