Best Chopped Liver Poems
New mother and babe
Nurturing, nursing, cooing
~ Father's chopped liver
January 02, 2019
Senryu on Mother Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jenish Somadas
Most restful sleep since... being in utero
Courtesy restless leg syndrome
spouse called me expletive rat fink
ousted me out the bed with plink
as lovely bones almost got extinct,
whence consoled self singing ditty
Skidamarink a-dink a-dink
makeshift burrow of pillows nsync
shuteye analogous to grateful dead,
Elysian Fields I did drink
yours truly fast asleep
found repose within eyeblink
awoke rested minus
knotted knobs entire body kink
metaphorical twisted human pretzel,
yours truly did not shrink
though disabled to walk,
hence mobility regressed
circumscribing me ambulatory
range to crawl and slink,
no matter paralyzed
(albeit temporarily), I think
above mentioned rectifies
Quandary whereat legs
shimmy and shake
keeping the missus awake
she requires daily at least
twenty four hours
of beauty rest to slake
lest she renders me into
chopped liver and/
or skewered beefcake
nuttin I divulge "fake,"
courtesy this corny flake,
who years gone by
a scoundrel and rake
straying against marital fidelity
triggering psychological earthquake
present crisis pits less at stake,
thus forgive wordplay
much more age
appropriate than pattycake,
perhaps slight hyperbole
thee only literary gambit
up figurative sleeve,
me ain't no magician,
nor gifted with holiness
able to walk across lake
thus harmlessly,
kiddingly, purposelessly...
cavort, frolick,
before darkness, when I
unduly forced to betake
self and disappear hoping the morrow
will find most bushy tailed wideawake.
Once had a friend, Ken Steeles
With the girlies he sure had appeal
Outshone me I agree
Chopped liver was me
But my star possession was concealed
© Jack Ellison 2015
Hotdogs without the skin is like unrequited love,
all sorts with no where to put it.
Bravery pig with no city to save,
chopped liver makes it the same.
Beef tenderloin
and it followed the stretch to the fryer.
Medium rare
like it should be
but still not what it requires.
i posted poems earlier, why no reviews?
What will this world continue to make of me?
What will I continue to make of myself?
And the melding henceforth.
Minced meat, chopped liver.
Or a strand of grey pearls.
These days it's a new way of life.
A new way of living.
Oh, I just had a senior moment.
I need to dye my hair.
I'VE GOT NO POST TRAUMATIC STRESS SYNDROME
Oh dear what can the matter be
There’s a mail strike and I’m into philately
I’ve had no letters from Monday to Saturday
The postmen are really unfair
They promised last week that they would deliver
Some stamps from Hong Kong and box of chopped liver
But nothing’s arrived, oh how my lips quiver
My mailbox is terribly bare
Inspired by contest
**** Total Fiction write ****
2/03/18
Down For The Count
By MEH3
1....2....3
That was a devastating blow
4....5....6
He is beat up, defeated it is OVER!
7....8....9
Hold on
What do we have here?
Is he getting back on his feet!
Ooh my God
It is a miracle
After that one
he looked like he was
down for the count
Just when I thought it was over
and felt I was defeated
He got me back on my feet
I took blows
from my head to my toes
been shook, shaken and beaten
When they said
"Down he goes"
They thought I was done
Little did they know
He had a plan
for his son
They said..."stay down"
"Don’t get up"
"This is not for you"
"Just let it go"
He said NO!!!
I got you,
I will fight your battles until the end
So get up
and get back in
I will carry you to a win
A victory,
a champion
you will never give in
But I was thinking
"I cannot"
"I give up"
"he wins"
He said, looked at me
are you doubting me again?
I never said it would be easy
You have to stick in there until the end!
You thought it was over
But I have a friend
Who is above all those
Who counted me out
You thought I was done
But it is was not in His plan
He said do not worry about it
and gave me a sneak peek at His hand
Looking forward
I got excited
and jumped to my feet
They said he is crazy
Chopped liver
Done, Complete
But as I caught my second wind
I thought
well let the fight begin
I am ready,
yeah ready to win
I have no worries, no doubts
so let's get it in
Because now I have the faith
that He will be by my side
That He holds my hand
He carried me on His back
Fought that fight
and of course He got that win
Even in defeat He got me back on my feet
I will never be down for the count
Until that day we meet
Even then
it would not be the end
Because I have eternal life
When you thought it was over
He extended His hand
picked me up and gave me another chance
He knew I was a sinner
but He showed me
the true definition of a friend
He told me He will be there until the end
Even though He knows I will sin again
He said He will not depart me
So I got up being determined to never give up
Understanding that I am not down for the count
I am just being patient until then
#ItzMeThePoet
Body, Mind, And Spirit Triage Co-Opted
Viral microbes didst relish
meaty morsel feast
hyperbole (included greased
for dramatic effect) ceased
not, but linkedin
constituent facets increased
with right wing conspiracy
of mine physical health least
up to par today found me writhing,
asper like a wounded beast.
I feel as if giant size
(yes...with closed eyes try to see)
nasty bugaboos did invade me,
and shrunk down yours truly prithee,
(this from gorging on one not so heavy
corporeal doddering entity) si,
whose light humors opposite of glee,
thus envision this bard, granting himself
woolworth truevalue as a flea
to continue poetic tale
(agonizing sham “FAKE” rocked Leprechaun)
on microscopic scale
essentially, a myopic seek reacher
relative of Spongebob, the latter hale
ling from Bikini Bottom,
whose absence aye still bewail,
especially his misfortune sail
ling from toilet bowl
into water treatment plant
leaving sopping wet trail
of eyes rubbed red,
which sadness happens to this male,
when he experiences
invisible nine inch nail
piercing vital organs
with no energy to wail.
Mind boggling to this scribe
how itty bitty organisms can imbibe
every last drop of vitality, describe
epidemic, which if blithely ignored
more virulent parasites could
affect the entire human tribe
fallout nearly as complete
approximately bajillion years ago,
an unimaginable feat
asteroids crashed Earth
generating temperatures
greater than Miami heat
surface with scarring and beat
meteoric plowed shares into swords
whereby predominant species
huge lumbering beasts uttered holy sheet
or a similar facsimile thereof
similar to poet reduced to (of course)
NON GMO gluten free shredded wheat
resembling chopped liver
after trampled by Little Feet!
I love Jewish food,
So does my tum,
It makes my mouth water
And delights my tongue.
I worked in the City.
Of London years ago
London brings back memories,
That I treasure so.
I used to pass a Jewish Deli,
As I walked along the street,
The smells coming from that Deli,
It smelled marvellous to eat.
A little bell tinkled as I opened the door
The aroma of Wally in spiced vinegar
It was a smell not to ignore.
These pickles were in a huge barrel
Made of wood and copper,
You placed your hand into the tub
And hope to find a whopper.
One of my favourite Jewish foods
Is chopped liver
The thought of it now
It makes my taste buds quiver.
Upon the shop counter, I spied,
Mozzah and Gefilte fish
It was hard not to purchase
Every single dish.
I adored Latkes,
Flat Potato Cakes
Just thinking of the flavour
It makes my stomach ache,
Freshly baked Bagels,
A bread roll shaped like a ring
Solly, the deli owner,
Sold everything.
I will always remember shopping.
At Solly's old-fashioned deli,
I have fond memories of his shop
And so does my belly.
Before.
Birth.
Cry some breaths.
Eat some chopped liver with tofu and salsa.
Do some things for money and some for fun.
Love some hopefully.
Death.
After
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by me Nancy Jones
between 12:36 and 12:38 EDT on Sunday, October somethingth (my comp only shows time, not date), 2011 CE (aka AD)
for Russell Sivey's 'test named “Challenge - Max 8 lines!!! “
Anxious in Ancona (2)
The Doge has apportioned a fleet for his use,
but is proving an Indian giver.
A pope with a navy (and with a screw loose)
is no-one’s idea of chopped liver,
so Venice, delaying and playing obtuse,
is selling the pope down the river.
A Christian army, devoted to God,
is what Pius imagines he’s shaping,
but this one is riding distinctly rough-shod:
Ancona’s awash with the scrapings
of Europe: and here, where the Caesars once trod,
they are busily looting and raping.
There ain’t going to be any ardent crusade,
and Pius is dying, for certain.
They’ve all came to nothing, those plans that he laid,
and his project has gone for a burton.
To stop him from seeing his “army”, his aide
has fastened the litter’s gauze curtain.
He thought to have fought at the head of a host:
but reality isn’t like that.
We babble and squabble, we brag and we boast,
but our fantasies always fall flat.
Poor Pius was no Alexander. At most,
he was sort of an Anwar Sadat.
We curse our ill fortune and, wringing our hands,
we wail at our undeserved lot.
But is it so rare, as we formulate plans,
to end up with diddly squat?
If that’s how it goes with the Number One man,
what chance have the rest of us got?
Sourpuss People
Sourpuss people are the opposite of sweet,
And can turn a sunny day into mincemeat.
Their smiles are forced and bitterly insincere,
Revealing no sense of humour or good cheer.
They sneer and wink and chatter behind your back,
And rain on your parade every chance they get.
Complaining and griping about this and that,
While arguing with nothing good to extract.
Their cold hearts are mean because they seek power,
And bully others like they’re chopped liver.
And though it’s wrong to get mad and retaliate,
Sometimes lines are drawn when there’s no other way.
It’s incorrect behaviour to fight with them,
Because others might not see the difference.
Ivory tower dweller;
born with a silver spoon
in his mouth.
He's used to riding
the lofty coattails
of his tycoon father
Selfish,
arrogant
and self-centered,
he expects people
in his life to go
the extra mile to keep
his life "comfortable"
When they fall short,
he treats them
like chopped liver.
He's convinced himself
the world owes him
something.
Date written: 06/04/2021
12/30/20
Their stuff they are flashing
Towards others they are bashing
They get a kick out of it, and continue laughing
They think they are all that
Against me, you'll fall flat
And never get a call back
Just another small cat
Who always tries to talk crap
When you see me, panic and walk fast
Come get it, if you want the ball back
Or continue being a mall rat
Life showing so much beauty and turning ugly
Knuckles often bloody
They always find it funny
They got so much money
And your struggling, daily and monthly
Often self-inflicted
Or from addiction and prescriptions
By myself can't always fix it
Often need help, just can't kick this
Until I'm fully committed
Go figure
There really is a bigger
Picture
I'm working on vigor
And rigor
How dare you litter
Got no time to bicker
Or remain bitter
Don't care if we differ
People often thinking they are quicker
Richer
Slicker
And thinking sinister
Most just trying to get through winter
Not getting upset if they lose and aren't always the winner
Or going around and calling others a sinner
Just trying to remain chipper
On both sides of the river
It warms the soul, or gives you shivers
I'm not being a kidder
Here's the kicker
If you want to be a trickster
Prepare to be chopped liver