Mistress of deception,
as in victual monogamy.
A deceit of one’s perception,
without an irksome homily.
Mushrooms drop into a pot,
with peppers, once pureed.
Zucchini dance as they are tossed
amidst confetti of celery seed.
Onions sing out with Garlic,
part of the tomato cabaret.
They drop, sway, and frolic,
below the leaves of dried up bay.
A precipitation of spices,
fine herbs and hot chilies.
If omitted a possible crisis,
like the heel of Achilles.
Then a most decisive stroke,
wheat pasta hits the stage.
With every furtive jab and poke…
Spaghetti is still the rage!
The incredible superpower
of the aroma of bacon frying
And the pungent scent
of fresh brewed coffee…
To me, this shouts out
It has the power to move
The most sleepy persons
The power to lift leaden eyelids
The ability to make frowns
Turn to smiles and evoke memories
Of timeworn kitchen tables
And chipped coffee cups
And cold linoleum floors
No more or less
It’s parents and grandparents
Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall
And yet all it truly is
Is a bit of aromatic vapor
Just bacon frying
I'm not no Picasso, and I'm not no Poe.
The only thing I need, is a late night woman.
And a whole lot of dough.
Apple and pumpkin, they're a cool kind of pie.
Preferred by me, is ham on rye.
There she was, so sexy and nice.
My late night woman.After striking out twice.
I met her in the bleachers, at a Friday night game.
My apple and pumpkin didn't taste the same.
And my late night woman, wouldn't take the blame.
Then we saw the kicker.Kick the ball so high.
It made us so unhappy.We were about to cry.
Anyways, the whole damn thing, made me drop my
ham on rye..
Humorous Poetry By Kim Robin Edwards
ALL rights reserved..
Coffee in a cup, makes a cup of coffee;
just as an aroma from within, makes the air,
smell of flowers in the spring
...a sweet thing, like sugar cane is to the tasting,
and the tasting is to stirring the dream,
making flavored coffee
a drink in the morning.
Although we all know it,
you can't spell out perfection,
and our stomachs to it we commit,
under our seasoned inspection,
the smell is in the air,
so thick we can almos taste its glory,
O how we try to not stare,
and like a wolf with its quarry,
we leap at it with great joy,
the texture O so splendid,
unmatchable by any false decoy,
the only thing we ever did,
was eat the Crispito.
Her skin is like a manuscript
Gone fragile with old age
That crumbles at the slightest touch
Each time you turn the page.
But if you delve below her skin
Prepare to shed a tear
A poignant multi-layered core
Dwells 'neath her thin veneer.
Content to wait on ripening time
She patiently defers
With firm and solid dignity
Until the hour is hers.
Once hunger's longing flame is lit
Her transformation starts
She glows transluscent tenderness
Her essence she imparts.
Her kiss doth linger through the night
Her perfume ere next day
Oh, fragrant onion, thou art beast!
That's all I have to say.
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!
Shaped like a
polar magnetic field
but more greener
with a stub of a stem
let me see here
your name is
Crisp and Tangy
4017, Produce of USA
A fine specimen indeed!
I hope the fruit pickers
didn’t put their
all over your
The rough world’s bruised you
but not enough to save you.
You die tomorrow at sunup.
Larry Rice did something nice
When he made his life a sacrifice
Larry Rice did something right
By turning someone's darkness into light
As I wonder about right and right
I wonder what God did to Larry Rice
And I see visions of the bitterly poor
Those cursing God for being so poor
I see visions of Gods children
without a home, without a coat
without food, without pity
Then I see a vision of God
raising up a man
A man who would turn pity
And then turn repentance
into a gift
to and from God
And not just stop at pity
God did something very nice
When God made Larry Rice