Best Bowl Poems

The sky is a gigantic bowl of pink turned upside down,
spilling soft rose petals that peeked out
from beneath snow white billowed clouds
till - fully blossomed...

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Twas the night before Christmas, when all thru the Soup bowl,
Not a poet was writing, not even the musing mole.
All their pens were hung by...

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Toilet Bowl Committee (aka: Uptown Hood)

A lavatory confinement
my$h!tdontstinkcomode.com
---
If you want to moderate this place, pick up the pace
From the mouth down to the @$$
Your so...

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Whisper's of October  

Whispers in this soup bowl
20 minutes after its muse explodes,
Daylight remains nothing more than a dream 
Warding off the howling sound...

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Come to me my child
Rest your head in my lap
My hand strokes your wild curls
Feeling the dampness on your neck
Lamplight caresses your flushed cheeks
Shadows waltzing...

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"I dream of Candy!"

Sweet cakes and peanut butter squares 
A living diabetic's nightmare. --  My heart 
sings to the beat, Under the Neutron Star...

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I Think Of You - Ground Zero (Part 1)

Leaving under a blood moon
            ...

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Life is not as sweet as a bowl of golden glace cherries,
nor is there a golden illuminated future for a fruitless mind.
Trembling hands and gritted...

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*** Notice to the residents of Milton Creek ***

Tom serves as mayor. never complaining, so he gets what he requests 
No blood in his steak,...

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When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
In that old house there by the...

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Oh, scattered flecks that sparkle light

like crystals emptied from a bowl

to dust the skies from some great height!

Oh, scattered flecks that sparkle light,

you sweeten up...

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He just appeared to me, like wispily curling 
Chimney smoke, 
One grim and early morning in the very midst of 
Decembers briefest days, on the...

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The Colours of Happy

I am the painter of happy
Traveling along life's dark streets
listening for the beat
Feeling hidden colors with my feet

I see the beauty 
beyond...

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on...                        ...

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When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
In that old house, where you wove...

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