Best Cornmeal Poems


Pizza Prayer

Tumble, crumble cornmeal, salted flour 
Stream olive oil
Feed water and toasty yeast with sugar
Crinkle, rumple, crease, and fold
Smooth a silky, doughy globe.

Cover, leave the orb to grow
Keep baby warm
Wrap with snug and swaddling towel
Linger, loiter, wait and proof
Sing a sunny, happy tune.

Overturn the ball on flour
Dust a wooden pin
Feed heart and conscience with honey
Rotate, flatten, compress, admire
Make a downy, level sphere.

Bridge the stretchy bread to pan
Curl edges like leaves
Swirl and ladle a coat of tomato 
Thick, chunky, bright, and red
Sway to kitchen melody.

Peppers, onions, olives, chokes
Sausage for some
Rain down the mozzarella and Swiss
Turn and toss, precipitate
Drizzle a snowy blend.

Push the pie into a hot cathedral
Pray for happiness
Think about joy and contentment
Pause, watch, patience, serenity
This journey bakes the future.

Copyright © 2016 Tess Harvester
Categories: cornmeal, food, meaningful, metaphor, philosophy,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Been Fishing

Fresh cornmeal battered catfish
Deep fried with corn and
Smoked potato and wheels of
Tomato’s served up
With sweet tea and mint
Marvelous
Thrill!
Categories: cornmeal, appreciation, drink, fish, food,
Form: Epulaeryu

Chatterbox

We all meet Friends like these and sometimes we keep them!!
Written with a bit of Jamaican Patois thrown in.

           
                                 Chatterbox
Some people when them when they start chat
Just cant stop at all
Not a word in edgeways
You are a fly on the wall
Just like a runaway train 
You wish their mouth would stall
All the world revolve round them
And the echoes from their eardrums 
Don't resonate, to their braincells at all
Impervious to the voice of reason
Tougher than a granite wall

Do they ever stop to think for a moment
That for every problem they got
There are many a solutions
But they never give you a chance
To answer them back.

Last time you were telling me
How you fall out with your friend
Instead of complaining to me
Why not talk to him
Continue with your chatter
Then tell me 'bout his mother
Sister, and a brother called Glen
But you wearing me down 
With all your problems

I have my Water Rates
Gas and electricity to pay
Already got the final letter
And tomorrow is cut off day!

Not too bothered 'bout the cooking
Cornmeal mi know to turn
But if mi have no drinking water 
Mi have no where to turn.
Cleanliness is next to godliness
ChikV on the rise
And keep spreading
Without water to keep clean
Pickney them will get sick 
And Catch germ

Mi know Mass Bertie
Is a good and honest man.
He is not a borrower 
But he will lend
So if its money you want from me
Don't look in my direction
Go and borrow from him.

My parents all use to tell me
Life is not an easy ride
As fast as you fall down
So you must try to rise
Same thing the elders told me
Same thing has just arrived
Same thing I experience
Same way you must learn
Once you suffer from laziness
Dollars you  cease to earn
If you continue with your foolishness
And don't move up a gear
Same thing whey happen last year 
Same thing will happen this year

Working hard is no science
Its brings its reward
Food on the table
And forges self-reliance
So if you have nothing further to say
Please get out of my way 
I have a pressing day
While I bid you farewell
And wish you good day.
Categories: cornmeal, allusion, feelings, humorous,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


In the Embrace of Mountains

Mountain soften the gawp of sun 
far beyond the boondocks, 
where the fog plays in stillness,
 ‘fore the banties arouse the glade
When life came to Bottom Land 
bare feet stomped common paths 
Between the tall oak trees 
echoes stood for seconds, 
as tiny voices cartwheeled  
from hanging rocks that bite into the dell

The Good River lend a hand, Big Sandy, 
to water the Bottom Land, 
three acres that fed nine mouths
 and satisfy our bellies
When the snow turn up, 
and pile high on the new year, 
like cotton on a mule cart, 
Pap wore rags to keep his toes; 
we count ten in early spring
When God send Roosevelt and the WPA, 
Pap wore cow hide boots like men ought to

The log cabin was heaven; we lived like gods
In winter, we listen to the hissing of burning 
fir and pinewood, and Pap’s alluring hunting tales
Ma’s fried-green tomatoes and cornmeal pancakes 
were more than quails falling ‘fore Mt Horeb,
and Pap was more than Moses, 
We loved more than Israel, 
far from the isle where milk and honey flow
Categories: cornmeal, childhood, father, mother,
Form: Narrative

Bubble Up

De love inna mi heart, it a bubble. It a bubble (3*)
Mi say the love inna mi heart it a bubble. “  “  ”
Mi get beaten from parents
Mi get beaten from strangers
Mi get beaten from me teachers 
But mi never gets any beaten from my grandmothers

But mi love all them who ill-treat mi
Mi love all them who bad mind mi
Mi love all them who still a chat mi
That’s way

De love inna mi heart, it a bubble….. 
Like cornmeal dumpling, a so it a bubble
Like Mazola yam	       ““   ““    “
Like Cassava dumpling		“
Like Brown rice			“
Like Banana				“
Like Pumpkin				“
Like Potato pudding			“
Like Yellow yam			“
Like Steam fish and vegetables

De love inna mi heart, it a bubble…..
Love all of them who dad mind you. 
Love all of them who a try stop you.
Love all of them who Ill-treat you.
Love all of them who still a chat you.

Go to school is the right thing
Have manners is the right thing 
And give thanks and praise to the almighty king.
And make the 
Love inna your heart, make it bubble.
Make it bubble (3*) 

De love inna mi heart, it a bubble. It a bubble (3*)
Mi say the love inna mi heart it a bubble. “  “  ”
Mi get lick from parents
Mi get lick from strangers
Mi get lick from me teachers 
But mi never gets any lick from my grandmothers

But mi love all of them who ill-treat mi
Mi love all of them who bad mind mi
Mi love all of them who still a chat mi
That’s way

De love inna mi heart, it a bubble…  
Like natral roots, a so it a bubble
Like Cassava dumpling	“	“
Like all ground food		“	“ 
Like Steam fish and vegetables

De love inna your heart, it a bubble..
Educate yourself that is the right thing
Have manners that is the right thing 
And give thanks and praise to the almighty king.

And make the love in your heart, make it bubble.
Make it bubble, make it bubble, make it bubble (2*)

Flood the world with peace and love
Bubble the universe with lots and lots of love
Love your enemies and know your friends
Bubble the universe, bubble bubble
Categories: cornmeal, forgiveness, friendship, happiness, life,
Form: Dramatic Verse

All My Champions

Here’s to all my champions, yes you, this is my thing
You are the yam, cocoa, breadfruit, cornmeal dumpling 
Pumpkin, dasheen, and potato, in my pot of soup
An excellent, poetic, supportive, pen loving group

You, David Smalling, make my day most bright
With Audrey, you encourage me to put forth a good write
Sweetheart Linda, love her spirit, says such sweet things
Constance, Sara, Wilma, Doris and Carolyn, you give me wings

Carol, Andrea, Thvia, Nette, Joyce, John Freeman, Dr Ram
L’nass, John Loving iii, Poet Destroyer, the best with a slam
Monica, Nikko, Francine, SKAT, HGarvey, Nate, Chris, Sheri, Carrie
Catie, Noel, Rachel, Robert, Matthew, Walayee, sweet like cheery

Susan, Adell, Fabiyas, Sena, Sylvia, Sharon, Ralph, it is true
Barbara, Rick, Diane, Robert Dufresne, it is all because of you
Hai Au Chu, David Byrne, Jayne, Diane, each giving as a friend
Kimberly, Michael, Kevin, not the least because you are at the end

With Thanks always,  Joy (Jew)
Categories: cornmeal, dedicationsweet, me, sweet,
Form: Rhyme


Tribute To Bob Marley

Did you ever Roberto Nesto … the reggae maestro
Decorating rocks in the ghetto … children’s falsetto
Rising for liberation from tenures of poverty
Logwood lit from the shredded ash of ganja smoke
Rising to rinse the heart of woe … the clarity
Of things about his ragged ghetto … father broke
Love pregnant on cornmeal porridge … don’t cry
O woman, don’t cry, memory in music exploding
And now the world will dance to marijuana high
Dreams rocking, shooting, looting the tenors meaning
We were left nothing, now watching mainstream sings
Tributes to us for gifts of culture and the game: 
The balladeer circles the sun on broken wings
Oh he made melodies out of the ghetto’s shame.

(Sorry folks, I could not resist the temptation, the rebel I am, to explode High cultural 
traditions and provide a door for the  people to celebrate from street and ghetto their own - 
since none of the classical masters means anything in the pop world. Robert "Bob" Nesta 
Marley OM ... February 6, 1945 – May 11, 1981 ... was a Jamaican singer-songwriter and 
musician. He was the lead singer, songwriter and guitarist for the ska, rocksteady and 
reggae bands: The Wailers (1964 – 1974) and Bob Marley & the Wailers (1974 – 1981). 
Marley remains the most widely known and revered performer of reggae music, and is 
credited for helping spread Jamaican music to the worldwide audience. "No Woman Nuh Cry" 
is rated a classic by many musicologists.)
Categories: cornmeal, artmusic, music,
Form: Verse

Somewhere In Southern Texas

Is this a true story or a legend still believed by the locals? 

Somewhere in Southern Texas,
there's a small church with a white marble cross
which sways as desert willows...
when the crisp ocean's morning breeze  blows. 


The Spanish Missionaries built it
with rocks that rolled down the cliff 
to honor Christ, the conqueror of death...  
then the natives were converted by it.


Overlooking the Gulf of Mexico and hidden
among palm trees, this sanctuary was forbidden
to anyone who had an extra matrimonial affair,
and the one who disregarded it, would have died there.


How can anyone, who worshiped God with a bowed head,
have cursed this house of prayer where the faithful prayed?
Was he an excommunicate monk who had rebelled against the Pope?
Had that harsh punishment turned into vengeance tighter than a rope? 
 

It still remains a mystery linked to a superstitious legend causing disarray;
there was a well-known, lantern-lit den of witches not far away...
they sold potions in exchange for cornmeal and homemade Tequila,
and they got drunk every Sunday while the organ played, " Ave Maria."


Somewhere in Southern Texas,
I stand on the decaying steps
of a Baroque Church that angels still defend,
noticing the deep columns cracks filled with sand.


Written by Andrew Crisci
for Constance's contest,
" The Church By The Ocean "
October 1, 2011
Categories: cornmeal, art, history, music, nostalgia,
Form: Rhyme

Hot Muffins

Butter, sugar, honey, eggs
Salt, flour, cornmeal
Mix in baking powder too
Don’t forget the milk
Green peppers and corn
Bake and eat
Yum
© Lulu Cobb  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: cornmeal, food
Form: Epulaeryu

Kat-Fishin

Down by the river can you picture me here?
    Fishing pole in hand, sipping on a beer.
Life is just sweeter than sweet.
     Hopefully by night there’ll be a good mess of fish for me to eat.
Well my line just went slack,
     Now something seems to be a bringing it back.
Hope it’s a big ole blue cat a taking a bite.
     He’ll be frying in the frying pan come later tonight.
I got my camp all set and a fire a burning low,
    Cast iron skillet goes with me wherever I go.
Got cornmeal and fixings to make it taste right, you know bamm, I call it poww.
    That was an ole blue cat and I’ve got him cooking right now. 
Got taters and onions stinking up that ole grease,
     Sure is good catfish reckon I’d better get me another piece.
Sure do wish ya’ll were all here,
      Got plenty of catfish but you’ll have to bring your own beer.
Bring along a fishing pole or two,
      Bait it up and throw it out is all you need to do.
This ole water hole is just plumb full of fish,
     And cooking over the grill makes it simply delish.
I spit on my bait, throw it out, and in a minute or two,
     I’m reeling in a catfish and betcha you can too.
Categories: cornmeal, funny, imagination, me, blue,
Form: Narrative

Premium Member The Old Gristmill

The Old Gristmill
(Not fit for the contest)


Way across the glen,
Many years gone passed
There lived a beauty of a woman
With her fine little lass

Her daughter was a charmer
And she could take me at will
To do a little grinding, 
At that wonderful old mill

Yes, those days seemed simple
Now that I am looking back
At how well she ground my corn 
And the way she held my sack

Times have really changed though
I buy cornmeal in a bag
And the girl from the Gristmill
Is now a mean old hag


Yes, those days seemed simple
Now that I am looking back
At how well she ground my corn 
And the way she held my sack


Times have really changed though
I buy cornmeal in a bag
And the girl from the Gristmill
Is now a mean old hag
Categories: cornmeal, first love, humor, humorous,
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Sipsey's Special

Tomatos,medium green
 bacon drippings,lean
cornmeal,coated on both sides
Seasoned with pepper
Alabama fried,
Whistle stop
Mean !


Acknowledgements to, in  this tribute to novelist Fannie Flagg
Categories: cornmeal, food, places,
Form: Epulaeryu

Premium Member The Pattern of Stars, one and all

Like snowflakes, no two stars are alike,
despite their myriad declension,
to minuscule pin-pricks in sky above.
Unlike the sameness of sand-grains 
scattered willy-nilly on a beach,
that no one notices or cares
of their randomness in profusions,
looking up, we see the pattern of stars,
unique, one by one or in gathered collusion.

In galaxies, the blinking stars curl and swirl. 
Their spiral arms stream to awaken their dangling tales.
To the ancient star gazers the milky way appears as milk split
by the Greek goddess Hera while nursing Heracles.
Or as cornmeal crumbs dropped 
as the Cherokee dog ran away.
It's a pathway, a rainbow, a river, a snake or a crocodile
connecting heavens and Earth, 
connecting spirits and souls to hope and the underworld.

For us, here and now with all our fancy scopes,
The more you look, the more you see.
Each star in the sprinkle is unique in color, shape, age, and its twinkle.
The more you venture back in time,
into the myriads of mind boggling light years away,
the more the unique layers of patterns
are revealed, with countless, endless
myriads of possibilities, beyond apprehension,
in the milky way, supposedly spat out 
by Big Bang spurts.
Categories: cornmeal, space, stars,
Form: Free verse

Fortunate Fellow

I love that one
what's in this one
its got chocolate on it
try one of these
put cornmeal in it
apple sauce in this one
what does that do anyway
makes better texture
softens, adds a nice flavor
my, these are really good
are there raisins in them?
just cranberries, dates
finished breakfast
just had to sample
chocolate and the bran muffin
another cup of coffee
you need a little butter on it,                                                                        
want me to bring you some butter
sure. what a fortunate fellow
cozy home, loving wife
hot muffins for breakfast
Categories: cornmeal, happiness
Form: Light Verse

Scrapple Breakfast

Pork, cornmeal, chicken broth, thyme
Salt, pepper, flour
Bake, freeze, cool, slice to slow cook  
Flour, season, fry
Toast, tea, and fried eggs
marmalade
Ah!
© Joi Simms  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: cornmeal, food
Form: Epulaeryu
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