Johnathon Souders Poet I do not know?

Her Taste

My single-serving wait,
That flavor missing,
A sugary rush of femine.

Candy hard, and undesolved,
I salivate, on a smoky.
Bake, for a sleepy fullness.

Craving awake, to 
Late-night in snak,
Wishing, a telling tea at sunrise.

With my fruity-logic,
Time's bagged lunch,
This returns starvation.

Left-overs interrupted,
A cynical side dish,
Questioning my expiration.

In past pallets,
To reality diet plan,
This hunger unending.

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Joanna Smith February 10, 2010 at 6:26 AM wow i really like this poem and very effective last line! =)

Robin L. Gass March 17, 2009 at 5:03 PM Great imagery and phrasing in this creative piece. ike Debbie sais very sensual. Nice work Thank you for your thoughtful comment! Love, Robin

Debbie Guzzi March 15, 2009 at 4:32 PM Longing? Extremely sensual. Life is an acquired taste. Light & Love

Sharon Winter March 12, 2009 at 5:17 AM Hmm...Clever write. Unique indeed and well done. Love, Shar

Carolyn Devonshire March 11, 2009 at 5:29 PM Jonathon, I love the irony in this cleverly-worded poem: "sugary rush of famine," "sleepy fullness," "cynical side dish." Questioning your own expiration is a thought-provoking line. You hit upon the sense and sensuality of taste in "Her Taste." Great work! You can send me a soup mail by clicking on the envelope next to my name at the top of any of my poems. I think you have a unique, creative style; I love it! Carolyn