.
hern camberz
thuh bard would say
yet
'long camberz
hern
soft eyne
mine
roam'd
'hind doorz
hern passionate
claim'd
titillate hern
'long
length
'hind hiz
vindowz
silhouette hern transparent
coquette
Sunken ships, drowning sorrows.
I wonder about the stories the sea has swallowed.
With her wide, ravenous mouth,
How many sailors has she lapped up?
Her salty, gritted teeth chewing them whole.
Ones with dreams of treasure and mermaids below.
Fathers and mothers, journeying home…
Lost to the sea, never returned.
The comfort of their beds they'll miss.
Now they only know the belly of the beast, and her starved wet kiss.
A coughing coffin,
When befriending HIV —
A double trouble;
They both bring death in a private jet.
Its cough is tough,
Appetite grows tight,
Its fever can boil a river,
And weight is lost as death awaits.
Treat it — that’s how to beat it,
For death is a debt.
So don’t shrug off the drugs —
Complete them at least.
Stigma erupts like magma,
Losing friends becomes a trend;
Though the battle may rattle you,
Revival will bring survival.
Whet my keen appetite?
Yes, you have - for revenge
against my long standing,
wry, furry nemesis.
He's not wet...
yet. Blast a
water jet!
Get that scamp
to regret.
Around the kitchen
I was bumbling
with pots and pans
see me fumbling
for something yummy
with an empty tummy
it was rumbling
took a long hard look
and now I'm mumbling
as there's not a lot to cook
but bread crusts crumbling
long past their sell-by date
it's ever-so humbling
but there's no point at all
this late in grumbling
about standing the heat
or beating a retreat
but better yet than
simply stumbling
out of the frying pan
and into the fire tumbling
Sandra’s appetite was elephantine
People gathered at nine to watch her dine
She loved her beef, ham, and duck in a roast.
Also. cheesy eggs, ham and beans, and melba toast.
Breakfast was hashbrowns, bacon, cheese and ham.
Left of the plate was a brown gravy mashed up damn.
Lunch was never a sandwich or anything small.
Sandra weighed four hundred pounds and was two foot tall.
VORACIOUS APPETITE
My washing machine ate a sock today.
This time it was a blue one.
Last week, it had a taste for red
And worse, it was a new one.
I’ve read the user’s manual
To make sure I’m doing things right,
But I can’t find any reference
To the wretched thing’s appetite.
I now have a drawer full of odd socks,
I’m completely inundated.
I suppose they might come in handy,
Should I have a leg amputated.
But now I’ve found a solution.
It was obvious I suppose.
I’ve bought a pair of sandals.
You don’t wear socks with those.
Bugs to flour
plants to wheat
you eat your bugs
I will eat wheat flour
you watch the crickets
I will watch wind blow sheaves
You spend millions on a bug factory
but cannot spend it on health care satisfactory
You can have your crickets while I enjoy my big steak treat
Bon appetite hope you don't heave with vomit at your feet.
A Dining Hall’s famous passion
And signal stomachs have vision.
Not shown ignites cook’s confusion,
The proudest chef slight convulsion…
Determines how far feeders go
With that which makes human being grow;
The Richest Cake won’t with one flow,
If sugar does not make one glow,
The blackest dish as white as snow,
Because one’s captured mind it’d blow…
Poorest Appetite – Appetizer,
Aroused one skips sanitizer.
But now things are horribly tight
Commonsense rules, not Appetite,
Your Heavy lunch to now make light,
So that next meals come with less fight.
A little thing spoils the appetite.
Mine and face just had to become tight
Dulled what had been luminously bright
Because the matter was far from light...
What was it, again? Oh yes, Hot Tea!
I'd been asked to tea: Some two cups free;
What giver would want from me: 'Agree'.
Cups if I tasted down on my knees!
Gingerly placed before me kettle
I free to finish it or take little;
But before I could saw host's spittle
And to simply reach kettle battle...
Speeding car in a herd of cattle.
Wuzzy, a voracious reader,
chewed through books, a reading speeder.
A vocabulary leader,
gobbled all her folks would feed her.
On her shelf, a ten volume set,
one that she had not read yet.
Covers each an eighth inch thick,
thousand page tomes, four-inch bricks.
Wuzzy could not help herself;
devoured them right on the shelf.
Starting at book one, page one,
she chewed till ten’s last page was done.
So here’s a puzzle just for you:
what length of books did Wuzzy chew through?
----------
for the Kids Creativity and Learning Poetry Contest
sponsored by Eve Roper
written on 3/11/23
Longing for delicacy
Is no fault
We all like delicious and tasty food
Delicacy is also a style of life
An art of life
A variety of life
It's speciality and essence
Increase appetite and pleasure
A relaxation of life
But please don't forget
The secret danger of sugar,salt and oil in seasoning
Salt is mixed with sugar
Sugar replaces Ajinomotor in use
Oil is used abundantly in frying
An extra will be harmful to sickly people
Your taste buds are not sensitive or wiser enough
For man's tricks
Are they
What do you suppose a star eats for breakfast?
I have always thought that Cheerios make perfect sense
but then again, they must get the flickering just right
I hear a healthy heart is not ideal for bouts of irregular motion
At any rate a breakfast cereal would be in order
there is no shortage of milk in space
as any child could remind you that certain bovines
have a proclivity for hurdling the moon
Nevertheless the question stands
without reasonable means to ascertain an answer
Manages to stir the side of me that
clings to a line of poetry
debates the proper way to walk
listens to the protests of plants cropping up through the cracks in cement
And dares to wonder then
what stars might eat for lunch
Dining alfresco under blue sky.
Heard loud, smelly fart nearby
Culprit laughed until he cried;
T'was a kid wolfing down stir fry
My appetite was shot, no lie;
Couldn't finish my apple pie.
Fart-Tastic Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
Date written: 09/26/2021
Note: This is a silly work of fiction, so the "no lie" in line 5 is obviously a lie, lol.
Oh that I am that just a rock
dirt and dust where am I on
this earth and do I matter this
I must once young once held
power in my hands and arms
oh, I am that I am just dust
a dirt mound once beating
I'm found in the crust of earth
I'm just dirt once moving soil
a boil bones immortalize as
the wind went into my being
I was breathing alive so am I
just there molded by the hands
of a mighty God he breath into
Into my nostrils I stood I arose
I arrived our last this is part of my past
at last not here Northern I am a spirit
molded by clay within the air I breathe
long as I'm alive I live the wind passes
I fall I crumble I'm dead so consuming
is the thought that I am now abandoned
at not now Spirit from Heaven that fell
now I am just an abandoned wicken bone
stone dirt shell and if not repented fully
repented delivered are in my days forever
in hell
9/14/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
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