Acquired Poems - Poems about Acquired

Seaweed, another nutritious meal, With an acquired taste in a meal, I desire for my breakfast, What is the purpose, Is it the cellulose, That is so delicate to be pulled by the force, Enhanced by the source, Here, I found the origin, I wish it would taste addictive like margarine, Or tangerine, In the summer, I blenched it with salt and water, It could not...

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The peach sits heavy in my palm, its fuzz a soft promise against my calloused hand. I bite in too soon, its flesh hard and sour. A pit splits open revealing cyanide disguised as an almond. The juice drips down my chin, sticky and acidic, but I swallow anyway— wanting doesn’t...

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Like fine wine, She's an acquired taste. Some will like her, Others will not. They can take her In small sized portions, Samples, Or one sip at a time. Not a full glass, And never in one go. She may be What they want at first, But so time will move And while wine Goes better with time, She is decidedly not Or so they will say As they grow tired...

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In 2016 when I bought my town house, one of my first visitor's was my ex-spouse. He wanted me prepared for life's breaks and knocks, so he gifted me my very first tool box.. I never acquired these skills in our long marriage he was the fixer, and I never felt disparaged. A hammer comes in handy and pliers...

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The quiet heart dines with memories stored payment acquired from every charade some are of dark times by my own accord I've no concern about how long they've stayed some are pleasant guests lost in a daydream when life was consumed in joyous fashion and moonbeam faces held smiles all agleam as emotion fills each cup with passion pleasant or dark each memory...

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The cooks in the Japanese navy Make a dish of aquatic fly larvae. Too small to filet them, They just lightly sauté them In well-sugared soy sauce as gravy. That Venezuelans eat spiders may be new to a few, Though tarantulas rarely end up in a stew. They're best when they're toasted, Or freshly fire roasted, Yielding eight tasty drumsticks instead of just two. Some...

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Kids and dogs tend to like me. The kids because they sense I haven’t grown up yet, The dogs sniffing the essence Of a long-lost puppy inside. Adults seem to be more standoffish Probably put off by my lingering puppy grin. Eventually we find a common ground As I have been defined as “an acquired taste”. And cats, self-centered as they are Often seek my...

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You are what you eat; it is true, So cannibals are people too! ...

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Faith is a purchased, acquired taste; when faith well tested often left little trace – auto insur., house insur., marriage certificate, legal documents galore, the myth of a handshake, like the welcome at the door, even the priest not free to freely explore, known for his faithless donations, and perhaps nameless more – “Praise the Lord, and pass the ammunition” –...

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The odor of spoiled milk waged a scented battle with a too full diaper. His pablum drool swung on a saliva string. "Ain't he cute!!" I asked "He's my baby brudder." John G. Lawless 12/1/2020...

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An Acquired Taste for Wine David J Walker A sip only And Only a sip That might be savored Avoiding the bitter The soured Searching for the Unique in flavor A bouquet That which does not flower Before its time Rather than Falling into the dark Drunkenness Of the wrong wine...

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I sit on the fence Would like to be eccentric But don’t quite pull it off I still cater to way too many people Yet I’ll never become their puppet So beware to those who Try to pull their stunts I don’t handle well Being manipulated Though I’ll applaud it If well done I no longer have it in me to be That lovely little cheerful...

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gain human conscience make understandable science...

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I want to be a fireman I want to be a cop I want to be a celebrity Don't want to work at I-Hop I want to be a quarterback I want to be a split end I want to be a running back Don't want to be a lineman I want to be a...

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Sweet sweets, the marrow and feets. This lusting for organs, sinew, and meats. Lovely is this vibration of death echoing along my taste buds. Warm, pungent breath. Like a holocaust nightmare filling my lungs with blood. I’ve that slow motion gaze. Trapped in a moment on repeat. It’s flavor. It’s...

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