Best Barbeques Poems
You sleep, I dream,
imagining tomorrow
and all the tomorrows,
of our life.
Will we have children,
change jobs,
buy a house in the suburbs,
have outdoor barbeques?
Perhaps we'll stay in the city,
live in a loft.
decorate in bold colors
and ride our bikes to work.
You sleep, I dream,
imagining tomorrows,
and all the tomorrow
of our love.
It's not about barbeques,
Hamburgers and franks
It's a day set aside,
For offering our thanks,
For those who died,
Or were injured or maimed
To fight against evil,
Whatever it's named
Pity that God couldn't
Give them this day,
To let them come back home,
To their families and stay
Just one day a year
To retaste their love,
And let their dear souls,
Know how we think of them
While they're above,
They sacrificed their greatest gift
To keep us safe
Though in sadness we drift
No more Thanksgiving dinners,
Movies or pies,
Just a host of loved ones
Who can't dry their eyes
I salute you dear brothers in arms,
Men, women, children with innocent charms,
You've done your job,
So adequately well,
It's up to us now,
We live in hell.
Sorrow so heavy
we bend at the knees
No trick or substitution
Ever will please
We hang up your picture
But it doesn't talk back
The love we did share,
We now sorely do lack
Your family and friends,
And your whole country too
Does cry for your sacrifice,
And salute you.
My Heart Bleeds Red, and I Think Yours Beats Blue.
Living together as Neighbors with a White Picket Fence between, Since Our Kids were in Kindergarten, Now they have families of their own, and have Left the Nest.
It Never Bothered Me, because You Were always Reasonable, Till Now.
I Guess it’s Hard Seeing Clearly from the Other Side of the Divide?
We Once ate Dinners, Celebrated 4th of July Barbeques’, and Childhood Milestones and Achievements together,
Now Not So Much.
I Wonder What Has Changed?
It seems like Yesterday when We ate Thanksgiving Together, if Only For the Kids.
I See you both Tending to the Beautiful Rose Bushes in the Backyard, but almost Feel like it Would Be an Imposition To Simply Say Hello.
I Hope that the Cracks, or Crevices, discovered through the passage of time Will Soon Mend, For We Miss Our Friends.
I Never Knew the Changes that Could Come About Over the Process of One Four-Year Period?
When the Term is Over, and the Walls Taken Down, I Wonder If We Can Get Back There?
When Red Was Simply Red, and Blue Was Still Blue, But We Were Both OK With That, and Were Neighbors Anyway.
Friends Who Loved, Laughed, and Cried Together Through the Years.
Till That Day, I’ll Hold Those Fond Memories Close.
Sincerely,
A Guy in A Red Shirt, With a Blue Heart
Author Paul Cumberbatch (July 24th, 2020)
Pastoral country
Where folks wave to passers by--
Farmers plowing
Exit 386
Wal-Mart, fast foods, and hotels--
Tourists stop
Modern businesses
Of every type one might need--
The short road to town
Refurbished storefronts
With arts antiques and barbers--
Downtown businesses
Houses big and small
Fill the local neighborhoods--
Quiet streets
State Parks, music fests
And neighborhood barbeques --
Entertainment
Outside of town
Beautiful farms and woodlands--
The rural folks
The river rises
Bringing water to my land --
Children in kayaks
The home of brave hearts
Who understand nature’s way --
King and rattlesnakes
The home of the free
Where people are seen smiling--
Live Oak, Florida
ã June 5, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member MY LAND IS MY HOME
Sponsored by: ~ SKAT ~
OH HONEY, LOOK AT THE PRETTY PINK HOUSE ON THE ****ING CORNER
Is it all about two promises and two hearts set upon the same goal,
or is it more about two beings sharing the same soul?
Is it more about the places they go and the people they meet,
then wondering if a wife cries at night because her mate’s been indiscreet?
I mean take for instance backyard barbeques with Bill, Betty and cute little Billy,
after all, when cogently taken in with forthrightness isn’t it all rather quite silly?
Not today I can’t honey, remember I’ve a dinner date with that client from Argentina
But don’t say a word to the neighbors regarding what you know about Marge and Tina
Oh you mean those two sassy blondes with matching pony tails and pink rubber bands
Listen, you stupid old b*tch, don’t you get it……. that they do more than just hold hands
Well my dear, but we don’t talk of things like that in this glorious neighborhood
Yeah, well shove this someplace where it won’t do nobody a damned bit of good
So is it about vows lovers kept vying with promises one never meant,
or is about the spirit of sprites two lovers one springtime were sent?
Is it about nurturing, patience, tolerance, and finding favor with good
Or is it about a shallow existence in the above mentioned mother-f*cking neighborhood© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~
~August~
(Acrostic)
A-ugust is the 8th month of the year
U-ntil this day it has been continually hot
G-reat time for barbeques, the pool and the beach
U-nder the sun everyone has lots of fun
S-ailing, boating, fishing, eating great food and drinking cold tea
T-ake advantage of the last month of summer and enjoy it all you can.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2011
July.30.2016
I always know when it’s last call
That’s when he stumbles home
He’s armed and he’s dangerous
With nowhere to go
But even in his drunken sweat
He knows his next target -
He shuts the windows,
And pulls the drapes closed
Then he’s yelling through the house
I don’t know what it’s about
I’m behind the closet door
Crouched down on the floor
All I can hear is the sound
Of my heart beating
I don’t even realize I’m screaming
As he drags me out by my feet…
We have barbeques outside
And then he’s Mr. Nice Guy
He has all the neighbors fooled
With his helpful attitude
They never see
The monster inside -
He pulls the drapes closed,
And that monster comes alive
He screams and he shouts
Rampaging through the house
All because of a joke
Our kitchen wall has a hole
I run behind the bed
Scrambling to get under it instead
But he yanks me out by the head…
I wake up later on the floor
Wondering who I am anymore
I feel like a pathetic version of me
No longer brave, no longer free
I dream of leaving him every night
But when I’ve left, I’ve paid the price
I don’t know how much more
I can take -
Maybe if I provoke him,
He’ll end this charade…
I stare at paisley drapes
Tan and red swirl in my face
I look up at the walls
If the walls could speak
What would they say?
Would they be my Witness’s,
Or would they turn and run away?
Succumbing to Intimidation?
Fearing Retaliation?
Would there ever be
Any Validation?
Any Compassion?
Or just more of this
Inaction?
One time I hid behind the drapes
But he found me anyway
The smell of fresh cut grass on warm summer day, the sounds of children already at play.
The smell of barbeques in the air, the distant sounds of rides and smells at the county fair.
The sounds of fireworks popping at night, the smell of sulfur in the air after watching them
all night. The sound of distant thunder a summer storm is coming, the smell of electricity in
the air the lightning strike is humming. The sounds of mosquitos buzzing in my ear and the
smell of bug spray near
I like to watch skeins of geese flying in the autumn sky,
And I like the smell of frying bacon and luscious cherry pie!
I like to see the sun tinting Pikes Peak's crown in the early morn,
And the glorious Colorado sky as the sun ends its daily bourne!
I like to feel the tug of a rainbow trout on my fishing line,
And graceful garlands of snow adorning a ponderosa pine!
I like quiet evenings with my spouse nigh a warm and glowing fire,
Where we reminisce and dream of things for which we would aspire!
I like family reunions with my kids, grandkids, uncles and aunts,
And this may sound curious, but I like sharp creases in my pants!
I like to sit on the patio to muse and watch the squirrels at play,
And I like to go to church for inspiration, fellowship and to pray!
I like to listen to classical music or bury my nose in fascinating book,
And take leisurely evening strolls along a rushing mountain brook!
I like ice cream, tater chips, meatloaf, Brussels sprouts and chicken fried,
And I like the American flag that I shall always salute with pride!
I like it when the Denver Broncos and the Colorado Rockies win!
(But, alas, neither team is doing that well, much to my chagrin!)
I like to hear the rolling thunder and rain gently falling on my roof,
And the rhythmic clip-clop upon the pavement of a horse's hoof!
I like barbeques and fireworks in the park on Independence Day,
And the mulitude of stars winking at me from the Milky Way!
I like the smell of roses and the rejuvenation of April showers,
And I like work - I can sit and watch it for hours and hours!
I like the charm and beauty of a little child's beguiling grin.
I like Laurel and Hardy and Jack Benny with his squawking violin!
I like to socialize with folks with can-do attitudes and high ambitions!
(I like most everything I reckon, 'cept sloven schmucks and politicians!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I picture Kashmir through lightened KL. I see Kashmir through deserted eyes.
I am writing an elegy. While my Kashmir burns.
My blood has contents of a coward.
What results my thoughts will forward.
Tears have dried. Heart has cried.
My pen drops dead. Its enough, there is nothing to hide.
It’s his anniversary again. I forgot this day again.
I pray for his soul. While my Kashmir howls.
I can write no more. My pen drops dead.
But mouj Kashir wails:
Bullets won’t stop
Young souls will depart.
MEANING OF SOME WORDS FROM PART 1,2,3,and 4
Kashmir: Usually called "Switzeland of east".A disputed state. Presentely annexed by
India. There are almost 1 million army personals in kashmir. People are fighting against
their opression and anarchy. UN still declares kashmir as indepent country.
KL : Kuala lumpur. Capital of Malaysia.
Karbala: place in Iraq where grandson of Prophet Muhammed(PBUH. prophet of Islam) and his
followers where murdered.
Imaam: Person who is incharge of a mosque(muslim worshipping place)
Patan and Sopor: two districts in Kashmir
Kupwara: A district in kashmir were Indian army violates human rights at its best.
Mahjoor: Romantic Kashmiri poet
Khayam’s: A place in kashmir known for its barbeques.
Jhelum: a river that flows through Kashmir
Shah-Hamdan: A scared place to kashmiri's.
ninder yee nai. Gahas Kormakh Khudayas Hawale: kashmiri translation of "Let you
sleep.Goobye May God protect you"
Madrasa: Place where children are taught Quran(holy book of muslims)
Gulistans: gardens of exquisite flowers
kaasmir: Kashmir in Indian accent. Usually people from other states of India pronounce
like that.
Dastegeer’s: scared place to kashmiri's
Maisuma : a place in kashmir where confrontations with Indian army are common.
Azadi: freedom in Urdu language.
Jinazah: a prayer offered when a muslim dies
khansaib-bun: a village in kashmir. known for its hills.
mouj Kashir : kashmiri translation of " mother Kashmir"
A holiday to commemorate the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
Red, white, and blue everywhere you look; during this exciting summer holiday.
Families gather together for barbeques, picnics, family reunions, baseball games and parades.
Patriotic songs fill the air, and everyone is signing America the Beautiful.
Little kids running around with sparklers & excitement in their eyes.
Fireworks fill the night sky with dazzling colors and loud explosions.
Pride runs deep as we remember all those who help us keep our hard earned freedom.
The Universe is contained
Not in a unlimited vast space
But in the street in front of my yard
My universe is magnificent
Blackholes in stomachs and cyclones of tortillas with mantiquilla
Salsa so spicy, young ladies so feisty flirting with men over fences
Watching Sunsets over mountains and waiting for the street lamps to
Switch and brighten the night
Little kids running around dripping ice cold
Cream to heal the cracks
Wounds and aches of the barrio
I say I’ll never leave
But if I did then it’ll be to devote back
To the bones that made me hustle
Struggle, all in the care of a family
Brothers and Sisters, Fathers and Mothers
I thank thee
This hip-hop, won’t stop, running though my veins
I could sway to the music of the streets all night
With the window open and letting
Southwestern air soak into my skin
To the beauty within
We shall win, all the games
That matter because it is my culture
Basketball, scraped knees
Barbeques and tamales
Profusions of colliding emotions
Broken hearts and soothed souls
All over my nana’s best bowl of Menudo
I could laugh to tears about memories
I learned more sitting outside listening to the wind
Rustling though the leaves
Then in a classroom outside of the streets and blocks
I keep my own, I learn
Listening to the Nana’s speak softly
Feeling the soul of my people wash over
Feeding me with stories, life, intensity
Hopes and dreams
That are passed onto generations
The courage to strive and become
Our own makers
Here I stand, ready to give
To what was given to me
Barbeques sizzle as spirits soar into the dazzling day.
Fun in the sun abounds as children ageless come out to play!
written 6/10/2013
for Andrea's contest
Your love for me has died
I am shattered In pieces
a broken doll
Pieces of my body scattered all over the floor
I can't stop crying
I am a broken record player
My screaming thoughts have awoken the neighbors
your love for me has died
My dear all that lingers
are our cries and laughter's
that we shared
A scrapbook half filled with memories
spent at family parties, barbeques
and special anniversaries
it's sad to say your love for me
has died.
I've come to accept this hardship
This isn't the end of my book but
the beginning of a new chapter
your love for me may have
died but the love I have
for myself hasn't
T.H
A ten pence curve on a nine cent? Oh dear. It is a shame when the circles form. Either a circumference is allowed to exist or it is chipped away. Thus is not the fault of the peasantry nor the fault of a passing fallow deer. It is merely the eradication duty of an authorisational ball of fur. Blurred out. Blacked out. So cannot always be seen except for the eyes of a lizard lounging beside a rock pool. Besiege not a frozen free falling pan of casserole. For when it explodes there are way to many components to collect. When angles are sharp the birds call. When twigs break the ground laughs. The trade deals from an ironic ignorant ignoramus are destined to be ignored as all shall mount the horses and trot off underground. And of course underwater. But hesitate not oh those with no neigh will be baked, fried, and served to the sky in rapidly increasing dust clouds. So do not consider a clicking kitten shoe show to be sexy. For it is an aversion of very demonic drains. Derive not an arrival list from a shooting star. And weary not when travelling over the weekend plates. For it is best to support barbeques than cast banquets. Leering laughing lolloping lecherous lingering lines. And a great big dollup of iced tea. Take one not two. And whirl around. In a foreground sense it is the duty at this time to carryout teapot missions in a global scale of tee. Miss one mouse then a house would topple. So go and eat now. Fifty three toasts and a melon jam with cream. Goodnight said hello to the sun. Something of importance in a carbonated blanket. Dig dig dig. Pickle the pig lights up at night in the far east. Good. Great. Fantastic. Toys then. Haha haha and a bean sprout in pin striped suit. Hahahaha and a little man too. Xxxxx flesh fakes xx categorisation Z z z