Nowhere near a force of nature
Challenging a source of nature
Building with the will to survive
A small measurement for those who strive
Lessons when it comes to strength
Multiplying the time found in length
Stop and learn the sound of weakness
Hard to find when one is relentless
Improving in a mental task
The answers are found when we ask
Stamina mania, you and I
To perform bravely in all we do
pump for long
yet never strong
Learn when ideas seem to fail
The wrong action is to bail
Thinking, thinking what could it be
Will not solve the problem between you and me
Practice is the best energy
Memorize it-- stamina will come naturally
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
"Oodles of Joy"
In the morning of everyday i
I make a food that's really
Crunch'em, rip'em, and pour'em out
As saliva pools form in my
Put it in the mic for just about
Impatiently watching those
beautiful noodles waiting for
When the time Is up
I Pop it open and take them out
And start shoving "Oodle's of
Noodles" into my mouth.
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
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
I love the way it looks,
Glistening and steaming on the stove
The way it smells,
Giving color to aroma
To taste it?
Oh! Gift from above!
Chocolate, cherry, apple, lime
Love 'em all—if only time
If I see a slice,
I'll want to smell it
When I get the scent,
I'll most assuredly want a bite
And if I taste,
I'll spoil my supper
It would be best for me to keep my nose in a book
And never ever enter the kitchen for a look
Gazing out upon dusky barren moor,
Where gray grass grasps the air
Finding no purchase but sad allure
Straight stalks elapse their endless despair.
Teased by tales of golden reach
Tricked by gales, whose song they preach.
Redtail’s velvet wings breach the sky,
Maroon lips who kiss the grass
Stirring the song, its desperate sigh
Catching the words, her beak of crystal glass
Behind her, midnight shadow draws
Fells her beauty with unseen charcoal paws
Scarlet tears dampen the earth below
Nurture the roots held by dusty truth
Finally, the wind, gray grass’ will bestow
The hawk once, now the fountain of youth.
Litany of silence reigns in dusky glare,
Each blade bowed in mournful prayer.
Satiated by you, your love, your love making, I sigh with contentment…no longer hungry…My mouth still savoring the flavors of love….I run the tip of my tongue over your lips to catch the last remnants of my dessert…..Satiated I am, my love. Satiated to my inner core…Satiated by feasting on you!
(There was roast chicken too with potatoes and cheese, though in the picture not seen! Before the shot they had been gobbled up...)
A table laid and baskets heap'd,
Sheltered in the deep scented darkness of the trees;
The wild strawberries picked ripe in the elven woods,
Jam in the pots delicious sweet.
Wine's enchanted icy cold, tumblers filled up to the brim,
Been touched with specks of gold, poured from a bubbling spring.
At the foot of the hills, and dressed in black,
I stood there still with your ghost, and a few yellow'd leaves.
Rising against the wind, a rose bloom dances through the breeze;
Sends her perfume to the silver greens,
And to the far corners of the vale.
Under the lids, dripping dew from twigs, I watch
The rolling mist that hides her face,
And the forsaken wedding feast.
A shadow falls on her heart.
Beneath the tall oak her secret bed,
The flower simply drops to the earth,
And there it goes to sleep.
As the distant music, and the autumn wind from hills;
Fall into a hush, the final notes recede.
For Giorgio AV's : Ekphrasis Contest 01
It’s good to get together as friends and confreres
like in table fellowship or religious convocation
and then, enjoy the company of each other’s culture
as Italians, Colombians, Filipinos or Brazilians.
The day after Easter Sunday adds another occasion
for us Scalabrinians to be reunited at this point in time
sharing the gifts of food, life, humor and relationship
with a space for fraternity, some updates and good wishes.
Truly, it shows the spirit of oneness and fraternal fellowship
sharing the commonality of our commitmment to faith
as brothers in Christ and members of our Founder’s order,
the religious congregation that cares for migrant people.
There’s much to do and plan for what we aim to materialize
in today’s world where migration poses a huge issue
like a salad bowl with mozzarella, tomato and olive oil
a metaphor for migration that deals with human cultures.
Described in the Bible as a growing missionary virtue
hospitality as a key to open one’s heart in this journey
With fearlessness and confidence, it’s a major issue
depicting the picture of global movements raised in action.
Our days of darkness, our bickering confreres in places –
where community life matters and features one’s emptiness
in dealing with one another in our quest for human and divine.
it’s indeed a challenge and will always be a test of faith, thus far.
This helps us understand through our setbacks, pains and joys,
with friends around and those who share with us many times
those sacred stories of being called to worship God and be present
especially in the Eucharist that nourishes our souls to be whole.
Along with Jesus' discourse as the Bread of Life,
bears a powerful meaning of his divinity.
It's a metaphor with spiritual truth,
that identifies himself as food for our souls.
As a sign of his broken body and his shed blood;
the inner call reflects to abide in him.
We partake of the meal, a sacred meal,
to make us one with him, abiding in the Lord Jesus Christ.
What an experience of joy to receive him!
with a great deal of gratitude and reflection.
It's a spiritual fulfillment, a source of strength
that enables one to sustain his life amid struggles.
The Eucharist we celebrate each day
draws us to believe that there's hope.
As a spiritual food that makes us grow,
we're hopeful to embrace life and start anew.