Best Chicory Poems
It is not a conversation you overhear,
Like the questions rolling underfoot,
"Who goes there?".
You can see the grass has told
How tall to grow
To the chicory, dandelions and clover.
At the edge of the pitch
Where competition is stiff,
They grow bigger, taller and bolder;
Yet in each new match, every plant,
Agrees to a height and no taller.
Till in the next field over, where it's wild and fallowed,
It's to the death, all bets are off, and no foul.
2,21,2020
Categories:
chicory, flower, nature, sports,
Form:
Light Verse
Waves crash the rocks in ecstasy
as I pass the archway
to the sea.
Onwards to the village,
busy cafes,
the aroma of coffee brewing,
as a power of teens gather, texting.
I venture down
a chestnut lined road
under a canopy
of Copper Beech
where bright shafts of sun
illuminate a lane of lavender
a sea of perfume
wafts the air.
Climbing an incline,
hills in view,
the distant sobbing
of water sounds
a trickling brook emerges
ambling through magenta heather
and thorny gorse.
I reach a stile,
entrance to the woods
where a carpet
of frosted red cyclamen
bleeds down to a deep dark glen.
A chicory lake lies there, frozen
as a mist uncurls between reeds.
The granite hills,
soft with snow,
luminous against a whale grey sky.
A copse of pine trees
surround a curving river
where trout pout, bubbling.
At the fold of day,
returning hom
The pale sun sinks the horizon
as stars tremble
into a velvet night
Categories:
chicory, adventure, happiness, life, love,
Form:
Free verse
Charlieku (var of 2-3-4)
engraved bubbling hark! the tinkling
on hard rock with happiness laughter
a pact of love wild daisies of bluebells
blooming the joy begonia
with rising sun of giving sweet promises
chicory no bartering at stake
meditation like a crocus her words
in the woods open up a fleeting touch
silence to warmth of warm breeze
justice- frothy bridge crossing
truth is not indulgence the stream and I
exchangeable morning pleasure skipping
a free deal riding waves soulful
at the grocer’s- living clarity
gossip for the moment chickadee’s song
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A Charlieku 4-3-2 Contest
Hosted by Charles Messina
Placed 2nd
© 15th October 2018
Categories:
chicory, perspective,
Form:
Haiku
The decanter is filled with chicory blooms
(blue, for the sky is her pleasure)
while the snapshot turns nigrescent
marking rain for the evening weather
The ring with which they two had wed
lay gilded 'round her finger
With her eyes closed oboes quarreled
'gainst the scent of him, that lingered.
Her languish comes but once a day
She turns to the mackerel sky
and sits upon her lonely porch
In sight the ibis fly.
She remembers sweet the sparkling mint
his eyes had held in winter
and the rush of tangling wild wars
they waged when he did kiss her.
As evening falls the grass gives up
it's scent from dew to rain
and again her footsteps lead her
to a solitary grave.
Categories:
chicory, death, life, loss, lost
Form:
Free verse
Glossy, heart-shaped leaves of galax
ringed ‘round the lingering lilacs
that played across the garden gate,
bent now – bowed from foliage’ weight.
Wild roses replace Venus et fleur
having a sweet natural alure.
Chicory and Madonna lily
grow here and there, and willy-nilly.
Bachelor buttons and blue bonnets
clothe the field with unsung sonnets.
Coreopsis and black-eyed Susans
frolic with their rambunctious cousins.
Of all the flowers God has wrought
I love the ones that were last thought.
Haphazard flair of wild flowers
bestow joy with dewy showers.
Categories:
chicory, creation, environment, flower, garden,
Form:
Rhyme
Out in the field is a bed of chicory,
down along the ditch, wild hydrangeas grow.
Dandelions in the yard are quite tasty,
so is the duckweed by the side of the road.
Wild lettuce, lamb’s quarter, and some wild onions,
there’s watercress, fennel, grape leaves, and cherries.
We also have mallow, milkweeds, oxtails, chives,
Chanterelle mushrooms, morels, and blackberries.
Along with sassafras, raspberries, and more,
you’ll have a lunch that will make your stomach sing.
God bless all of nature’s wonderful bounty,
providing an Ozark meal fit for a king.
Categories:
chicory, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
After Eight Mints
Anchovies
Apple Pancakes
Applesauce
Atlantic Cod
Barbecue Sauce
Black Bean Soup
Blue Cheese
Blueberry Pancakes
Brussels Sprouts and Lamb
Buttermilk
Caribou Liver
Carrots
Cauliflower
Chicken Breast
Chicken Patty
Chicory Roots
Chocolate Pudding
Chocolate Pudding !!!
Cinnamon Raisin Bagel
Coffee Cake
Coleslaw
Donkey Balls
Dried Plums
Durian Fruit
Garlic
Garlic Roast Chicken
Green & Yellow Peppers
Green Leaf Lettuce
Grilled Cheese
Hamburger
Hashed Brown Potatoes
Honey Pops
Horseradish
Iron Steak
Jellied bouillon with frankfurters
Jelly Sandwich
Marinara Sauce
Melba Toast Crackers
Milky Way Bar
Mozzarella Cheese
Muffins
Onions
Pasta Shells
Peanut Butter
Plain Bagel
Pot Pie
Potato Medley
Potatoes
Queso Asadero
Salisbury Steak
Shredded Gruyere
Shrimp
Smoked Chicken Sandwich
Smoked Ham
South-western Sandwich
Turkey Pastrami on Rye
Waffles
Weight Watchers Chicken Enchiladas
Whole Wheat Bread
He comments Beuys’ art
they hang to his dentalia
in slimy appearance
menus on wrapping paper
then
note the mental thing
yes, yes, he said so,
and where are the nuts
the crackers, the slow food
crisscross
crosscriss
a cookie with my coffee
still harvests thoughts
wrong war thoughts
so wrong during the war
November sun
warms a sanitary finger
and goldfish in my hand
hidden under fallen leaves
in brown memories
alma
Explanation
Joseph Beuys is a controversial artist, one of his
works is called 'food for thought'. I saw this at
the museum of psychiatry when I guided some folks;
theme of the exposition was "lost in memory".
Next to the museum is the garden where 3 of my
sculptural works can be visited. We did so.
Categories:
chicory, life, people, places, urban
Form:
Free verse
Ain't nothin' like a steamin' cup o' coffee to greet the early morn.
It'll calm yer nerves and git you goin' just as sure as you wuz born!
With mixin's added to suit yer taste, it must be scaldin' hot,
Decaf, regular, chicory-strong or mild, it really matters not!
Some folks prefer a styrofoam cup, others a massive mug,
But those proffer an indelicate way to down a gulpin' slug.
Others, a dainty cup and saucer, pinkie sedately bent,
Sippin' delicately so social faux pas one is sure to prevent!
I hear it ain't acceptable to dunk a donut in yer mug o' java,
Or pour coffee in a saucer to cool, tho' it's hot as flowin' lava.
But I ain't concerned about it bein' a great big social blunder,
As folks disdainfully stare at me as if I wuz some alien wonder!
Docs debate the merits of caffeine, whether it's healthy or not.
Let 'em bicker, I'll decide what to percolate in my coffee pot!
My dear old Dad had his daily caffeine fix, livin' 'til ninety-four.
I've done the same fer years and I'm approachin' nigh four-score!
Nowadays, fancy concoctions are brewed for the discernin' taste;
Expresso, mocha, cappuccino, even Irish whiskey laced!
Such exotic ambrosia to others I'll graciously defer.
I'll keep on slurpin' an ordinary cop 'o joe, which I much prefer!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
chicory, funnysocial,
Form:
Rhyme
Her voice was soft on the telephone
She had gentility, like the part of the city she once lived
We talked of tragedy and chicory coffee
My friends had told me the situation was still grim
I asked her of Galatoire's and Brennan's
Of the Ninth Ward, and of her home
While I, pining and homesick, sipped coffee the color
Of the mulatto Mississippi River. . .
So polite and patient she was
For one who had lost everything
Categories:
chicory, natural disasters, loss, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse
Even before the arrival of the first snows, so brilliantly candid,
we climbed mounts less dangerous than the Alps's;
and we proudly chalked it up to our experience.
Now the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders,
have lost their captious and so beatific image,
and quite too often we got pinched by burdock,
distracted by the robins chattering on a coarse descent;
I champed on crisp strawberries, while he challenged his strength.
My buddy never castigated me for my bizarre behavior,
and I admired him for displaying humor without repulsion,
or retort, and with chisel and hammer we engraved faces of historic men
on the smoothest rocks which were replete with their handsomeness.
Those adventurous afternoons are repealed when we look up,
and recreate them through our Male Chauvinism, cheery not dumb;
we felt like cave men making rudimentary drawings of their hunted animals,
while their women picked wild chicory for an early dinner.
Chums we were, resembling cowboys with wide hats in a chiaroscuro,
drinking in a bar filled with fashionable ladies frolicking and saying hello;
and chili con carne we ate, and plenty of beers to wash it down.
After our money was all squandered, our pockets were empty and we felt alone,
dazed...wobbling with fear, afraid to face our witless wives at home;
we were two idiots wooing empathy and some undeserving love.
And didn't they seem two witches ready for vengeance in their frown,
trying to squeeze the truth out of our silent and pretentious mouths too fulsome?
Frost will bring winter soon, and the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders will be covered,
our hair have turned almost white to match the bright color of the deep snows,
as this river is freezing up, to become a sheet of ice, where no boats or barges pass;
and we play chess, the intramural game of a confined life, without those clandestine affairs.
Our darlings approve with sweet intonation, intensifying their affection so amorous;
and we embrace them with that tenderness that they have long desired...
staring at the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders that these two climbers made their own,
remembering the cold and the shivering...coming down to a valley of comfort and domain.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Categories:
chicory, adventure, dedication, devotion, family,
Form:
Ottava rima
A novel that I haven’t read
Is Fifty Shades of Grey.
I know what it’s about, but why the grey?
I couldn’t say.
The only greys that I could name
Are charcoal, smoke or ash.
But fifty shades of brown?
Now, I could name them in a flash!
There’s mocha, chocolate, bittersweet,
Mahogany and umber;
Burnt sienna, saddle and
More tans that I could number.
Butterscotch and caramel,
Espresso, cocoa, rust;
Copper, coffee, khaki, chestnut –
There are more, I trust.
Cinnamon and chicory,
Malt and dirt and clay;
Sand and nutmeg, earth and mud
And one I cannot say.
Camouflage, bamboo and beige,
Bronze and fox and mink;
Camel, pecan, palomino –
Time to stop, I think.
I’ve made my point; as colors go,
I think it’s fair to say
That Fifty Shades of Brown makes sense
Much more than Shades of Grey!
Categories:
chicory, parody,
Form:
Rhyme
My mind is up to trickery,
to find the words like chicory,
rhyme them with words like hickory,
and keep this poem going.
Rarely do I know,
which way the ink will flow,
how far the words will go,
and exactly what they're showing.
But something must be said,
to keep at bay my head.
So visions can't be seen and felt,
like the swelt upon the dead.
Forgetfully remembering,
unlearnedness of soul.
Restless forever searching,
out things I think,
I do not know.
I must stop this fire here,
I must stop,
and drop,
and roll...
Categories:
chicory, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
Fragments of copper scatter;
smothers an Opal kiss
the surface only matters;
ardour does not exist,
and deserts of weary Chicory
sway with limestone tips,
swelling like the cactus
blistering our lips.
Categories:
chicory, life, lost love, love,
Form:
Lyric
Saphire is the vaulted dome, the blue arch of the sky
Interspersed with plumes and dunes (the white clouds rolling by)
The grasses, plants and flowers, entangled, sway and bend
In the capricious wanderings of the rambling, blowing wind:
The Lamb's Ear and Queen Anne's Lace with Susanne of Black Eyes
Embraced by Morning Glory, with the sun, whose blooms arise;
The glassy glade is interspersed with nuts of Hicory
As it is with Dandelion and sprigs of Chicory.
Mayapple and Henbane grow wild, without fear or care
As the delightful smell of Bergamot is carried through the air;
Motherswort, Bedstraw, Shepherd's Purse and scented Goldenrod
Each a member of the prairie, they all compose the sod;
Echinacia, conicle, who blooms with such delight
Amid the vines of Wild Grapes, climbing to any height;
The different types of Plantan, Nettle White, Yellow or Stinging-
They all compose Gesamtkunstwerk, when the birds start their singing!
Milkweed, Daisies, Thistles, Columbine and Butterfly Weed
All day long -dusk to noon to morning, when bedecked in dewy beads-
These native plants around us all, they purify the air,
A body ought to thank them, but only if it cares.
Categories:
chicory, nature,
Form:
along the roadside
chicory and a goldfinch
this August morning
Categories:
chicory, animal, august, bird, flower,
Form:
Haiku