Grave Food Poems

These Grave Food poems are examples of Grave poems about Food. These are the best examples of Grave Food poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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The poem(s) are below...

Details | Free verse |
You are far away now
Off in fields of gold
Dappled with evenings hot velvety light
90 degrees of separation has dulled the sword
 eased the pain
The grasshoppers chirp in unison to your labors but they no longer ache in your solar plexus
Nor mine
What sweet sorrow is loss and gain
I now walk down the very paths I have always so longed for
 the dark rich peat paths of happiness
contentment oozes from these fingertips as I write and I wonder if happiness is poetry
Or does it preclude it all together

The night sky fills with stars 
The stars fill with fire flies that burst out of them like infinitesimal lightning bolts
jettisoned to my soul

 he and I chase storms on decks swirled in smoke
We banter and bay at one another

 you are in a field of gold somewhere
or beside  

a river bed
The smell of the wet earth of shore beneath you reaches me… but momentarily 
dismissed as the ash of the bonfire of a week ago fire or the grill of last night’s 
unbelievably tasty ribs he concocted from air for me and me alone 

but then we shared with so many

Lingers on my lip tips…the bottom edge

 I kiss him and mean it with all I am 
A being 
a re-being

Super beings are we 
and our colors wash 
upon the canvas of my life 
melding into one great magnificent us 

Spectacular are we
the creatures who so love life 
we give our only begotten selves to each other
and never ever forsake 

Copyright © Ingrid Showalter Swift | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
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.

Copyright © Avery Swarthout | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
                 It was the Southern French window blowing open 
                    he came in the night no word spoken 
                The eyes so sensual and piercing me as if nothing matters
                     he is all I think of now as each day I grow weaker

               I will soon die unsure of my fate 
                  my life I will give to him a offering I ask him to take
               This man so desirable with dark eyes and hair
                  even if he is not a man but a beast 
                I no longer care I submit to the last drop of blood

                 As I lay with a cotton white gown in a locked room 
                   I throw my rope of Garlic far to be seen 
                 Nothing can stop this now longing and lustful 
                      feeling like I'm in a forever dream  

                    I wait for him too enter 
                       I wait for him
                                  willing to die 
                               I wait losing my Religion
                                   The Vampires offering am I              

                 " For That Archaic Poets contest " Shanity Rain 

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Couplet |
Chirping of birds on the balcony grill
Hot Darjeeling Tea with newspaper on day chill

Ringing of Temple bell on a calm early morning
Sweet delicacy melting in mouth without churning   

Thunderous lightning sound in rainy season
Chilly flakes cracking the lips wide open  

Meowing of playful cat on double bed
Sweet-N-Sour soup tingling the taste bud

Hiss of snake scaring playing poodle
Pungent sauce scouring maze of noodles

Jingle of repetitive ad between soap 
Bland as dieticians dinner of soup

Inaudible whisper of dying man nearby
Gulping Bitter medicine with closed eyes

As servant to Sound and Smell, mind has to behave 
Taste and Ear buds left with no rest till grave

( Entry for Members Contest - Sound & Smell by Frank Herrera)

Copyright © Hitendra Mehta | Year Posted 2010

Details | Political Verse |
He grows the seed destined to be the feed
But it dupes him sans any heed
Amidst all the unwanted weeds
He plays with the tree with thoughts of being forever free
By cornering away all his conundrums
Which he earlier masked with cheap and costly rum
Little does he know he is on the way of becoming one
By accompanying the end of his child’s fun
After the rendezvous with the noose
he manages a segment of the prepped-up morning booze
The kings in their gilded castles mourn their loss of food
Whilst removing their bejeweled hoods
He dreamed his child would be rich
His land not to be a filthy witch
But in the future, there are only rags
and stitches or the rope filled with glitches
Loop  of such lives is endless
Troop of fat pursed kings relentless
Scoop of mornings tasteless
To burn the rope seems baseless.

Copyright © Mrimon Guha | Year Posted 2018