Best Eat On Poems
Brother for sale.
I'll deliver him too.
I can send in the mail,
Wrapped in yellow or blue.
He's water potty-trained now,
But that can change in a day.
He'll be bundled with Oreos,
So he can eat on the way.
I can mail him by truck, car, or plane.
He's coming with stuff, his favorite toy train.
He's coming character-recommended, highly by me.
He's a pretty good brother, who is almost three.
We need him back when you get him trained.
We simply cannot seem to get through to his little brain.
That when he has to poop, hiding is no good.
Please train him to use the potty with solids, if you could.
Then send him back, to his crazy, loving home.
And this shall be the end of this tiny poem.
I joined the Brownies when I was seven
Oh what fun I was in seventh heaven
Having fun and making new friends
But in the Brownies my life almost ends
We were doing badges - this particular one was for swimming
I wasn’t a strong swimmer and was having lessons
We sat on edge of the baths in our costumes and hats
Then we had to swim along the side of the middle of the pool
To gain our badge we had to swim a width all the way across
I’d only ever swum in the shallow end before
But everyone else was swimming across…
So I started off… got halfway across…
And then I got into trouble
Began to go under the water…
Down
Down
Down
I sank to the bottom of the pool
Two men dived in to save me
My parents were frantic
They had been watching me ‘swim’
And were sitting upstairs on the balcony
Unfolding before their very eyes
Was their worse nightmare
Thankfully these two men saved my life
All I can remember was being rather ill at the side of the pool
As the water came gushing out of me
One memory I have is of being given chocolate buttons to eat on the way home
AND
I was awarded by Brownie badge – guess it was out of guilt
I never did complete that width.
Now I am scared of deep water
If anyone asks me if I can swim…
I say ‘yes’… like a stone!
11~02~14
Contest: Near Death Or Near Life Experience
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
The Fight, The Prize And Fate
I fought you viciously for my dear life
You that puts dread into long, dark nights
Deep mental cuts were like a sharp knife
Blood gushing forth, horrific sights!
Fought you alone in the midnight hour
Cursed you into deep hell each day
You that cuts down youth's eager flower
Kill all bravely standing in your way!
In the black caverns you cast forth
A chill resides to eat on my bones
Colder than icy wind from the North
Time eating curses uttered in sad tones
Victory over your void I will not gain
For time yields to no earthly power
Yet my fight will remind you yet again
I fought you, fought until the last hour!
Robert J. Lindley, no-date.
Note- a rewrite of my poem written back in 1978
Soda, ice cream, chips and pizza
I love the way they taste
But every time I bring some home
They end up going to waist
My wife screams are you eating again
You’d better heed my warning
I said, no, I’ve only eaten once
But I started early this morning
There’s something wrong with you
The way you eat your meals with such haste
I guess I’m in a hurry to get rid of the food
Because I know it’s going to waist
Don’t sit there eating everything in sight
And smiling trying to act so coy
You’re the only person I know gets a greeting card
From the Pillsbury dough boy
Sorry if my eating habits seem to make you cry
I’ll slow down and only over eat on days that end in Y.
Not funny, not funny she said
Her face as red as a beet
When I asked her to check if my socks matched
Because I couldn’t see my feet
Another day in Paradise
To the dinner table I raced
I guess that all that food she made
Will soon be going to waist.
I write the sadness of the Brazilian forests,
About modern centuries and glass cities,
Tattooed Indians who are murdered too,
For a handle of gold or green diamond,
I write the greatness of Brazilian forests
Roots that descend to explore the earth,
Leaves that capture white light,
Suns that fall on the wild jaguar,
I write the sadness of the Brazilian forests,
Friends of the earth and emerald sky,
Beheaded trunks like haughty kings,
Rivers polluted by bad mercury,
I write the great sadness of happy Indians,
Insects that we eat on the stone
Large trees providing oxygen,
That they slaughter for expensive cosmetics,
I write the sadness of the Brazilian forests,
May it reach our deaf ears,
Let it open our doors as a silence, new one,
A silence deeper than our history and Gods.
J’écris la tristesse des forêts brésiliennes,
Des siècles modernes et des cités de verre,
Des indiens tatoués que l’on assassine trop,
Pour une poignée d’or ou de diamant vert,
J’écris la grandeur des forêts brésiliennes
Des racines qui descendent explorer la terre,
Des feuilles qui capturent la lumière blanche,
Des soleils qui tombent sur le jaguar sauvage,
J’écris la tristesse des forêts brésiliennes,
Des amis de la terre et du ciel d’émeraude,
Des troncs décapités comme des rois hautains,
Des rivières souillées par le mercure mauvais,
J’écris la grande tristesse des indiens joyeux,
Des insectes que l’on mange sur la pierre
Des grands arbres pourvoyeurs d’oxygène,
Que l’on massacre pour des cosmétiques chers,
J’écris la tristesse des forêts brésiliennes,
Qu’elle parvienne jusqu’à nos oreilles sourdes,
Qu’elle ouvre nos portes comme un silence,
Plus profond que notre histoire et nos Dieux.
Sometime ago, we were born.
Wee little things, bundles of
charm,so cuddly and warm.
We learned to walk, eat on our
own.
Mom read to us, wee poets back
then.
Dad showed us the moon and stars
and we were hopelessly lost.
Knowing we were unique somehow,
even back then..
We saw extraordinary beauty
in flowers and trees.
Later, that charming glimpse in
the eyes of our lovers to be.
And tell me, how enchanted you
are by the sea?
Life dances on and we follow it.
We always will see beauty where
others are blind.
That is the lot of poet-kind!
August 7,2019
3am PST
This story I am about to unfold,
is a favorite about my Grandfather.
In which he starts out acting very bold,
yet ends, running up a painful lather.
Down the dirt road, where he lived, when young,
was a farmer growing watermelons.
Ripe, ready to eat, on the vines they hung.
From this patch, the farmer, did sell ‘em.
Being a boy with several brothers,
who were always doing as boys will do
dDdn’t take long, for one to dare the other,
to steal them a watermelon, or two.
Lo and behold, there went my young grandpa,
climbing through the barbed wire fence.
While his older brothers all watched in awe,
as he crawled through the tangled vines, so dense.
He looked around until he found the one,
that was the biggest he could carry.
Cutting the vine, hefting the melon up,
running towards the fence, in a hurry.
Well, that old farmer was wise to boys,
had watched my grandpa crawl through the field.
His double barrel shotgun, he had poised,
to make sure, no more melons, he’d steal.
The farmer had loaded his own brand of shot,
filled with rock salt instead of lead.
Grandpa’s backside got peppered as he trot.
I think nothing more need be said.
This is my favorite poem because it is a true
story about my Grandpa. He was more than a Grandpa to me.
He was my Dad and best friend. My teacher and fellow
trouble maker.
He always called me his "little blue bird of happiness".
I only pee on Tuesdays
I only pee on Tuesdays
Thursdays is for the other way
I only eat on Sundays now
Global warming has come to play
………………………Or so they say
We must do our part
Or better yet do no farts
For global peace and harmony
I used to shower Mondays
Now I feel so so guilty
For now and then I would cheat you see
And when that shower was running hot as can be
I’d have me one extra wee… wee
Shocked was I, when I got me fine
That inspector was in the loo
They sure don’t give you any room
To sneak even an extra poo
No more hot water allowed for now
It’s not politically correct
With all these cold showers
The population will diminish yet
Life used to contain a little fun
We used to have a gas
Now you can’t even let out a little
As you pray at local mass
Note: Inspired by none other than Jan Allison!!!! hope she is smiling!
A “Big Mac attack” and “Have it your way”
are all past slogans from fast food places
for most Americans fast food will stay
because Big Macs and Whoppers feed faces
Americans love to eat on the go
we love pizza hamburgers and hot dogs
and the value meals never cost much dough
other countries may think we’re all just hogs
truth be told we need to eat to survive
Burger King and MacDonald’s does the job
some may think fast food as food at a dive
Long John Silver does have corn on the cob
right or wrong fast food will never leave us
until the day all Americans bust
Sunlight at an angle dancing through colored leaves
Cool nights to snuggle beneath the sheets; warm days of ease
Last of gardens harvest; goodbye to summer's bees
Joyful time to harvest soon days a breeze
Pumpkins, winter squash, turnips, and peas
Food in bounty stored away for many days
Christmas will be upon us in just a very few days
The yard will be raked again and again to rid of leaves
Garden vegetables will be stored also cooking of peas
For right after Christmas comes New Years Day with ease
The howling winds will blow and it won't be just a breeze
But now all the bugs have disappeared_gone are the bees
We will not have to worry with yellow jackets or bees
As the night grow longer and shorter the winter days
March soon will come in bringing its strong breeze
Those indominable buds show forth on the trees soon leaves
We will float into warm days and beauty of spring with ease
Now we will have eaten most of those delicious peas
Soon in the newly planted garden_those early June Peas
Newly hatched from their hiding places comes those bees
Just lying around in the hammock with all this ease
These wonderful times_joy of longer days
Joy, oh! joy and joy again with spring's green leaves
Soft and gentle comes a blowing spring's warm breeze
But there is one less chore now for there is no raking leaves
Afternoon in the lazy hammock oh what ease
Glad that in the garden and Pampas Grass stay those bees
These times in life are just fun and a zephyr breeze
Summer comes with the picking, shelling, and freezing peas
These times are wonderful long sunny days
But soon slowly fade, then the change in those leaves
Summer still has a lazy few days with comfy ease
Even if the pollen draws those hungry stinging bees
From the west and north come a much drier breeze
How thankful that we have those great peas
Soon fade those longer sunlit sunny days
No raking leaves in winter, only by firelight with ease and read
All those pesky bees gone now, on the currents winter's breeze brings flurries
Now dine on peas put away to eat on cold fruitless days of old man winter
Orang Bangla, Orang Bangla
Whither goest thou?
Poor Orang!
Need a job, right now?
Come hither, come hither
No worry, at all
Money is calling you, dear Bangal.
Sweep my premises, cut the backyard trees,
I’ll sacrifice full ten ringits.
Need you lodging?
Why am I here, Orang?
Go thither, go thither
Live with the cows, there’s dung
Only, innocent animal litter.
Coming straight from Kualalampur?
What?
From Muradpur to Kualalampur?
I see, you speak some English,
You educated? Want to establish
By working in Ringitpur?
Ok, Orang, start journey
To feed your family distant
You need to eat on this instant?
Long journey? Long time?
Orang, so what?
Need you rest?
NO, Orang, do your best.
I’m a kind Malay-Tamil,
Ok Orang, take two biscuits for meal.
What? Tea? No tea, no tea,
Life’s not so easy.
Now Orang, lets talk business,
Give me your passport
Life, after all, is not all easiness.
Ten ringit full
And live by the cow and bull.
What? More?
Payment on weekend?
You’ll get it at your life’s end
In Malaysia.
Hey Orang, what? Eight weeks’ ringit?
Look Orang, you have no account
Even cows steal here
To me your money is safe and sound.
What? Need to telephone to home?
Why bother them? Here you are at home.
Tell again-
You have a sweetheart? Need to phone her?
NO. Go and work-
She has no wings to fly elsewhere,
Bangla’s Tunku Zafar.
Will not work?
Your father will work.
Want to leave Malaysia?
Without passport you are in Siberia.
Why persist, Orang?
You came here through water and forests dense
On Tarzan visa.
Should I call your father, police?
‘Hello, Inspector Tansri Wahab’-
What? Will work?
You naughty, orang otang
feral lotus focus
ferocious locus
hocus pocus proportions
bogus contortions
notions that are hopeless
clueless and helpless caution
careful not to touch my foolish Johnson
useless toothless rush of jarring jargon
ill gotten fruit rotten loot bargains
a fierce farce thrilling scar gardens
watered by the crying moon's nightly opus
meaty power ball bonus
eat on the hour in small doses
are you enjoying
the coldness of the soulless
the boldness of the boneless
fried chicken
rhymes fresh out the prison kitchen
master plans schemes to elude the system
hidden lyrical lemon lime missions
building beautiful babbling creations
my cruse
my sickness with no nurse
my fascination of profound
powerful philosophical verbalization
who dare demands demonstration
a little literary illuminating illustrations
painting marvelous monstrous
conscious concentrations
fainting over lust bitter kiss
patience to con a sin to fruition
too late the apple has been bitten
My name is Yù míng
Jade brightness is what it means
I’m a Praying Mantis and we look like string beans
I jump about the grass to chew up flowers, leaves
and stems of plants between the trees
It’s only these I eat, on insects I will pass
I never tire of living in the grass
Twigs and leaves I’ll rest up on in my new Eden
Of all the paths I came up on I choose your lovely garden
An evening serenade, a blusterous chirping song
My wings are light and striking as I glide along
Today I move on, but still the same regime
I'll creep between the grass blades gently and so feminine
I do the Praying Mantis pose it comes naturally
It’s a yoga stance, and they named it after me!
What I Want For Christmas
By Curtis Johnson
I suppose I could use a new pair of pants, a suit of cloths, a coat, or a light jacket. But that is not what I want. I don’t need new front teeth, but I suppose that I’d be happy with a nice new Volvo. But that’s not what I want. So please don’t ask me about needs and wants, because the media keeps me occupied with such things.
When I consider the plight of the lonely, the wounded, and the poor, I suppose that I would be happy if I received nothing at all. I would not complaint if I were simply blessed to be alive, fed, dry, and warm.
It’s Christmas, and there are always many things that people seek. Christmas is a season to draw near, to be dear, and to show love outside of the box. It’s even more meaningful if we keep it simple, avoid all the fuss, the rush, the stress, and maybe spend a little bit less.
There really is something that I would like for Christmas, but it’s more to do with giving to others and nothing to do with personal getting. It doesn’t cost a lot of money or a lot of time; and I don’t have to camp out in front of a store or form a long line. It’s like this: I want to see my family get together on Christmas eve, enjoy one another, have a nice meal, and share a gift or two. I want the satisfaction of knowing that two families in Uganda, Africa will eat on Christmas Day, because my wife and I sent money to them on December 3rd.
Christmas doesn’t have to cost much, if we would stop the rush, and cease buying so much of such and such. This blessed Christmas season, I would like to recapture three captivating moments that I experienced as a little boy at Christmas time.
I would like to recapture the aroma of my mama’s fresh baked cakes and pies at Christmas time. I would like to recapture the magnificent fragrance of apples and oranges throughout our house at Christmas time. And I would like to recapture the pleasant look on my daddy’s face after he had done his best to make all 12 of his children happy at Christmas time.
The blessedness of family life, and being able to give a little love outside the box.
Recapturing the aroma of mama’s baking, the fragrance of fruit, and daddy’s face at Christmas time. Some things in life are costly, but what I want most for Christmas is priceless.
Cj121107
My wife's been whining for some time now
Wanting me to take her on a cruise
Now we've been married for twenty-five years
So she wasn't gonna let me refuse
So we packed up our bags and off we went
Kinda like a second honeymoon
I said, "Fix us some sandwiches to eat on the way"
Then I told her we'd be there soon
She said, "Where are we going Hawaii or Bahamas?"
I said, "This place is better than that"
We stopped at a place that said, "Paddle Boats Here"
I said, "We're here, now don't forget your hat"
Well, now needless to say, I did something wrong
'Cause my wife started throwing such a fit
We went around circles for at least twenty minutes
'Cause everytime I'd paddle, she'd quit
Now I wasn't gonna pay for no life perservers
My bicycle tubes worked fine
My wife had that tube wrapped around her neck
And both of her hands around mine
Well, to make a long story short, she'll never forget
That time I took her on a cruise
And everytime I even try to forget it
I remember that horrible bruise