Best Appetite Poems
Kisses like candy
One leads to anoher one
A sweet sugar rush
Tasting with my hands
Breathing in all swallowed
An appetite I touched
AN APPETITE FOR SOCKS
We load up our washing machine,
With clothes that practically, weigh a ton,
But why is it when we put in a pair of socks,
And then open the dryer door, we only find one?
Our washer and dryer is like the Bermuda Triangle,
We always deposit our socks by the pair,
You would normally expect, what goes in must come out,
But one of those socks manages to disappear.
This is one of the mysteries of the universe,
It doesn’t matter whether the socks are cotton or wool,
Maybe, just maybe, those socks turn into lint,
And that’s why those lint traps are always full.
Somewhere, there are close to a dozen socks,
That either my washing machine or dryer ate,
As a result, we have a bag of mismatched socks,
That are quite lonely, because they’re missing their mate.
Well, I guess it’s off to the department store,
Some more socks I will have to buy,
I know my appliances have an appetite for socks,
But what I really would like to know, is why?
Glance
Gaze
Crave
Fixate
Taste
Appreciate
Cherish
Obsess
Possess
Ingest
Indulge
Engulf
Full
Bulge
Break
Ache
Distaste
Disgust
Disgorge
Disinterest
Ignore
Bored
More
The world shifted a bit when I walked inside,
my resolution blind to the choke of memory.
It wasn't even you, just your little sister..
I still wanted to turn around, and walk right
back out of the restaurant. Go home.
**** lunch. Hungry for solitude, I fumbled
with the menu and meditated on the restless
scabs of a beer battered soul.
My father watched my jaw clench
and squinted. Mumbled his query,
but didn't push it. I couldn't speak,
bloody tidal waves surging toward
my eyelids, blurred the menu.
Brinzano? Sea Bass with a
Chipotle sauce on a bed of rice.
Unsure of my palate, my tongue
slowly shoveled the words out
and I ordered despite my appetite
for closure. We locked eyes for a
moment, and she smiled.
I nodded. Stroked my beard,
and looked toward the truck.
Stuck.
It was probably rude.
A bit pathetic.
It wasn't even you, just your sister.
But a relative of a butcher,
still sometimes smells of blood.
The food, flavorless in the mouth
of bitter reflection wasted.
The wait for the check, ticked
slowly across my spine
and I wondered if you ever
saw the flesh of my posture
in a crowd; If it stood out?
Made you hungry?
Or if you have forgotten,
the way I've been trying to
for so long.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
McGee's oldest son, graduated from school
But McGee wished he had more ambition
Instead of a doctor, a Lawyer or Cop
He became an astute, dietitian
But, all in all McGee was still proud
And happy his son was now home
Took him out to the pub for a meal
And a pint with a nice head of foam
As soon as McGee's butt hit the chair
Said the Barmaid "I'll take your order"
"For me a pint and a good Irish stew"
But his son, orders salad and water
McGee taken back, said "What is this now ?"
"Now Dad just let me explain,
Red meat is a poison that'll kill you in time
It gums up blood in your veins"
McGee thought a moment, then whispered quite soft
There's something, my son you should know
"I think you are right, cause I'm dying by inches
From something I ate long ago"
His son was alarmed as he grabbed McGee arm
"Please tell me---- for heavens sake"
"It's hard to admit but I'm sure it was it
A slice of me own wedding cake".
My Dear Carolyn, I want to Thank-YOU for YOUR Contest “ The Work You Do? ”
I usually Do not Brag, but I’m going to in this Piece I also may throw in Kitchen Humor
I Dedicate this to YOU : Carolyn Devonshire My POETRY “ TEACHER “ LOVE, HG
The first two quotes I heard in the beginning of My Career
“People will always Eat” ( Chef Lis ) : “People eat with their eyes” :
( Mr. Franklin Whalen ; ) Owner of The “Barrington House Restaurant”
Forty-Four years later, the Sonata of these words Still Rings in my ears
The Aromas, sweet and spicy, sour ,tart, fruity, meaty, waif through my nose
I remember the smell of burning starch, elbows set in ice cold water on the stove, two hours
Taste buds come alive, epicurean; connoisseurs : enticing The palette soothing the throat
I read my breath, in the dire cold of the freezer: a block of ice becomes A Heart of Swans
The Center Piece of Mr. & Mrs. Posner’s 75th Wedding Anniversary Dinner
On a Pedestal , in the centre of the “Swan Heart : I carved the “POSNER" Holding Hands
How Sweet, When they asked me “Would You makes us one of YOUR Classic Dinners?”
“The Rack of Lamb, with the Plum- Mint Jelly” “ Don’t forget his Famous “Béarnaise Sauce”
A Vegetable Bouquetire , Cottage Fries, with a special “Flaming Cherries Jubilee” for Desert
Perhaps, as they did when : Young : Their eyes found each other, as they fed each other
The Gleam in their Eyes, reflecting the Jubilee’s flame Opening the Mirror of Their “ L O V E “
As a Chef The work I do is very Rewarding and I shall Cook until I die( and even Then!! )
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?
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for the Kids Creativity and Learning Poetry Contest
sponsored by Eve Roper
written on 3/11/23
Have you heard the Panther’s roar?
A sickly sweet odor.
He traps his prey in his paws,
devours them with beastly jaws.
Have you heard the Panther’s roar?
Three torpid days, he’ll snore.
Appetite he can’t sate.
Constant hunger is his fate.
Have you heard the Panther’s roar?
He requires so much more.
Dragon eludes him despite his feat.
He’ll never taste the other white meat.
I am
lying
here
quiet and peaceful
surrounded
by the earth
grass
woods and sky
seeing feeling
tasting smelling
hearing
nothing
fat insects
are crawling
up and down
my body
bon appetite
Your love
Was nourishing
And sustaining
But overly seasoned
With my tears
Ardency is the drive of life,
Beings journey in it vehicle.
For the rumination of thoughts,
The hunger race is infinite.
Ideas conceived are perceived,
Concepts are boundless,
Notions are yet born,
That man's itch is immeasurable.
Insatiablilty pervades the air,
Taste rises,
Hunger inflicts - and,
Cravings to be served is intense.
Man shouldn't be by bread alone.
Today thinks not,
For all seek to yield - to,
Their endless tort yens.
On a summer’s day,
Drowsily as I lay;
On my soft bed,
On an empty head;
Eating all the muffins away!
'Summer Laziness' Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mohan Chutani
Written and Submitted on: 05/06/2020
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
How refresh is my heart
in the presence of you and
how reviving is this love
we both feel. How truly
revitalising it feels when
we touch, the beauty of
your lips upon me and the
rush my body endures so
pure, my refreshing appetite.
The nature of seduction
from your body's heat
makes me boil beneath my
bones and the detection
as my radar finds you,
make me crack in my tones.
Refreshing appetite, you're
the refreshment my body
dreams and the mental
stimulant my brain needs
to feel.