Best Esophagus Poems
Another layer of lavender scented lotion
Rubbed in vehement laughter
A quelling of sadness
Covered up in mascara insanity
Livid strokes of feathered paintbrushes
Hoping to see the big picture
She cried like oil paintings without a purpose.
A treasure hunter searching for rubbery remedies
Without heart’s sanctified atrium
To light the way
She bled from carnivorous pores
Bites against feeding palms
Struggling licks upon pacifier wounds
Mouth
Shut
Stone’s lonely lyric
Thrown against fragile lighthouses
Beaming through unacceptable horizons
Investigation of deity’s hidden agenda,
She questions validation’s esophagus
Its vocal chords
Torn
Another squeeze from lavender bottle
Empty
Its exhales shedding infantile whisper
…
A bounced reality check
Declaring that it wasn’t a disease
That afflicted her bones
©Drake J. Eszes
Categories:
esophagus, character, corruption, lost,
Form:
Free verse
The rosa blanda embroidering your face
will become the veins in my tongue reaching to clog my throat
go past the tonsils and vocal chords and windpipe
down and down still, burrowing into the esophagus
relentless in its pursuit, just, just, just to lay seeds in my chest
tumor a pea, peanut, grape, walnut, lime, matilija, peach, grapefruit
straining muscle surprising itself with the ability to withstand the stretch
craving asphyxiation, those lungs may covet paroxysm
but grieve not the fulfillment of a destiny
this ache, this devastation was meant to be
no, they won’t be careful of what they wish for
you’ll become the air I swallow, and the organ that inhales and exhales it both
viciously lush beauty anywhere and everywhere
so when you see the body that used to be mine,
you’ll gasp in horror or awe or both: which one? I’ll never know
the garden you planted nurses no speech, nor soil, nor hope of infertility
just a promise of bloom and perpetual harvest
a pretty letter from dainty lips, viscous honey quenching its thirst
a giddy blush warming embryos out of stout cases
a brush of apple-sun cheeks dawning moonlight-budding leaves
just a gaze and my heart will melt,
sand that brazenly melds into laminated glass
gifted to strong hands smothered in peppermint lotion
who will keep it safe in their loops, whorls, and arches
brindle cedar irises roots to this infatuation
their existence cruel to a poet who only knows
words mere facets unworthy of describing
fields of cosmoses a cosmos itself
choking on fantasies and tears of scarlet drupes,
I retch out garlands born in guileless meadows
and as the last petal falls,
the sweetest rose hip takes branch
its only sin a love too big
Categories:
esophagus, beauty, love, surreal,
Form:
Free verse
We come into this world, kicking and screaming, like boisterous butterfly birth.
We have nothing to our names, but flesh and bone that bear witness, of Element Earth.
Copper granules mixed with sunshine and water (amalgamations like boy meets daughter)
an investment that pays off with emerald leaves -
the earth is pure potential that the angel's weave into little yous and little mes
(let's not take grace for granted and make the great father grieve)
... rather let's step up to the plate with dirt beneath our nails and heaven in our eyes.
Everything I've learned, from dreary dreams, tell me it's not a time for sleep, but a time to rise.
For we are made of Element Earth, formed as stewards for the planet
from just a whisper and lumps of granite.
Who can measure our worth? (except the ethereal esophagus)
Are we blessed or are we cursed --- dreaming of sarcophagus.
We are doomed to fade!
We are destined to bloom!
(in this big universe I believes there's room
for me and you and everyone)
But pure potential - though essential - is hard to tame.
What kind of earth are you?
The acorn seed, buried deep, with lovely dreams of growing,
or the famous statue, The Thinker, whom contemplates knowing.
Written March 6th, 2016
For the Elements: Part 1, Earth Contest Hosted by Brian Davey
Placed 1st
Categories:
esophagus, analogy, deep, earth, humanity,
Form:
Verse
1. INCIPIENT
the smell of burning body helps me sleep at night
i'd rather ignite this spark in my stomach than shove bread down my throat
singe this hollow home
choke these lungs with bone dry soil so nothing can grow
and maybe they brainwashed me
or i did it to myself
but all of my dreams lead to being skin and bones
the humming of crackling wood whispers
"starve"
i listen
the humming of crackling body whispers
"this is all your fault"
2. GROWTH
this skin is getting too hot to live in
i, the embodiment of a fire breathing dragon
i hunch over
choke on second hand smoke
and misconceptions
there are so many ways to feed into desperate
too many ways to swallow yourself whole
i let this esophagus sizzle and cry
i lie arms spread naked on the bathroom floor catching my breath
a slab of meat thrown onto a cackling grill
fatty and full of blood
sized up and bitten into
violated by my own opinions of beautiful
where bitter
where acidic
where a dysmorphic enemy does not linger
nibbling at my tonsils
3. FULLY DEVELOPED
i am engulfed in flames
these charred hands stain my body with words like
"bony"
like "thin"
like "sick"
this flesh can't escape the freezing creeping up on my being
the trembling of limbs
the chattering of teeth
is a physical trophy
"congratulations!" you are one flicker away from broken
winter almost melts me
christmas and thanksgiving
piles of food fresh like flesh mocking me
rotting in front of me
a mirror image of my organs and intestines
abandoned and squeezed
some sort of puzzle
pieces twisting and breaking
i sit quietly
they ask "aren't you hungry?"
i don't tell them that it is too late for this fire to be put out
or how often i dream of drowning
4. DECAY
a guilty arsonist
i toss my lights and my matches
sweep up the ashes
what is left of my home
and i start building
i blow out the candles
shove my hands into the wreckage and chew it up
i won't spit it out this time
i fill myself up
i introduce myself to my reflection
say,
"hello. i am healthy"
say,
"i've missed you"
a phoenix flies over a body she burned
a city she burned
a world that she burned
says
"go. go find out what happiness tastes like"
Categories:
esophagus, food, health, moving on,
Form:
Free verse
My path beyond the shores of time
from life to there are maritime ripples.
Harrowing blades of rain
hammered from storm-clouds shatter puddles
of glass to rolling streams of echoes,
Misery’s trail towards cleansing waters:
A bloody throat gasping for water
is my alarm clock each day, it hurts all the time.
I drink and gurgle, but none of it matters, echoes
butcher my esophagus with hack-saw ripples
as knees tumble to drown in rusty puddles;
My lungs are a prison withered by the warden’s reign.
This morning I woke to the 13th straight day of rain
in Houston. From my condo overlooking the water
Clear Lake slept like a sidewalk puddle.
In July, humidity is a visceral sweater, sweltered by time
stitched in ‘X’s and needle-strung ripples
suffocating ragdolls in sweat-stained echoes.
I took my coffee on the balcony. Through iron-rods came an echo
redolent the voice of an angel; “Why’s it gotta rain
all the time, daddy?” she asked in wavy curls and golden ripples.
More clever then, I quickly responded, “Because god has to water
his plants, Ava, that’s why it rains all the time.”
It used to be I smiled as she twirled through puddles.
The morning sky darkened as shadowy thorns continued to puddle.
Nearby lightning cracks hid from thundery echoes.
With each explosion my locomotive doubled its time;
Faster and faster screaming and taunting the rain,
inebriated veins screeching “Ice-water!” -
…and then a stillness overtook me. The warden sighed a calm ripple;
From a dream my eyes bathed in tranquil ripples
of shimmering obsidian disguised as puddles.
Behind me were footsteps painted with water.
A song I knew from Radiohead was echoing
a muffled chorus through sliding glass doors; “broken hearts make it rain,
broken hearts make it rain” and I remembered a happier time.
Then ripples staggered down my spine. Tingling echoes
were empty puddles violated by rain in my fingers and toes.
I again looked down at the water and thought, “Better get movin’, it’s breakfast time.”
8/11/2016
2nd Place in contest "Rain" judged 9/10/16
Categories:
esophagus, depression,
Form:
Sestina
cerebral
scrabble babble
is coughed
into
empty couloirs
words lie
disassembled
on jaded
crossword
squares
dumb logic
acronyms
spill
from your tongue
with the intensity
of angel falls
flooding
the tower
of babel s
non existent
dungeon
taut and terse
phrases
are spit
into my mouth
clogging
my esophagus
with the
sweet bile
of your
bitter love
for me
twisted explanations
mixing
with fragments
of admitted guilt
speak
in reverse
similar
to the
uncanny
way
we uttered
our final
wedding vows
do i
poke a spoon
into a puddle
of campbell s
alphabet soup
as I peruse
my leather bound
thesaurus and
nightmarishly
daydream
of you
and now
i m
beginning
to realize
that the
sole existence
of one s
warped sense
of commitment
fortunately
relies
on a duo s
consistent
use
of insensitive
verbal
cryptograms
during the
sharp and
neatly shredded
paper years
when
punctuation
and falsified
adjectives
were hardly
ever
necessary
you love i
Author's Note:
Punctuation marks and capitalization of words
were deliberately omitted for poetic effect.
Categories:
esophagus, devotion, children, inspirational, love,
Form:
Free verse
It took some heavy digging and a lot of clever research.
But scientists have now explained in full detail how evolution works.
Finally it all comes together after much debate and so much time.
(To appeal to the little 'uns they even told it in rhyme).
"And from the mud-baths of primordial soup we came to be.
Rising from the currents of a ginormous boiling sea.
Once things cooled down a bit, leaving cells with room to breath,
things developed quite gradually,
as each individual body part became part of the team."
The Mouth said to the Ear:
You there! Get your Butt over here!
What the Mouth didn't yet know, however,
was that that the Butt was still processing
in some foul smelling black ether.
(Just ask Nose and he'll tell you clear as day,
that smell was nothing short of risque.)
Mouth's voice was very muffled you see,
lacking the Ear's wondrous ability
to take in sound.
You could see it for yourself if you wanted too
(still Eyeball was no where to be found).
Somewhere along the road the Head came rolling down.
He had great determination in his jaunt,
though those big gaping eye-holes were sure to haunt.
And after a two million year nap,
at long last, the Elbow and Knee Cap
came oozing their way from the horrid soup.
Once attached to Mouth and Vocal Chord, they beamed,
"Pee-YOU that reeks, if Stomach were here I'd surely turn green.
One sure develops an appetite after a billion year fast.
If someone doesn't throw me some grub I don't think I'll last!"
After such great struggle there was still so much to be done
Feet and Legs were still in a hot sweaty run
trying for a thousand years at least to find Crotch and Torso
(To make matters worse they needed Esophagus to get re-hydrated also!).
But after all that I think you will find the struggle worth it.
What great things can happen when we're all so close knit.
We're not perfect yet, as you can see, evolution is a work in progress.
Things could always improve, it just takes time to process.
One fellow man of science inquired a rough estimation
of just how long it would take to grow wings
(some bickering was involved, due to his ridiculous proposition).
The real concern is however being totally ignored,
of which I think you will be completely appalled.
It will probably take another 17 billion years,
at least, to get the Brain installed.
Categories:
esophagus, humorous, philosophy,
Form:
Light Verse
the skeleton that was me
i remember him well
sweating in the port-a-john
wondering what went wrong
the skeleton that was me
i remember him well
walking the shaky leg walk
to any type of water fountain
the skeleton that was me
i remember him well
looking at everything yellow
at the mere attempt the simply sit up
the skeleton that was me
i remember him well
living my life in the underwhelming
state of parking lot depression
the skeleton that was me
i remember him well
daydreaming as the moon
shined over my offensive, weary presentation
the skeleton that was me
i remember him well
becoming lost as that welcoming
bowl of hot soup medicinally burned the rust off of my esophagus
the skeleton that was me
i remember him well
thanking him for surviving and adding
to the autobiographical art that is now Me....
Categories:
esophagus, growth, memory, recovery from,
Form:
Free verse
Meddlesome acknowledgement was my gift to many
I wondered where the nutrients were coming from
I was absorbing your words, parched by my own dimming light-years
There I was stunned by the legion of black-faced martyrs
Exasperation of the undeniable misunderstanding of every conceivable word
Left me with another path onto death
And not nearly dying, but regenerating in technological, factorial woe
Demon thoughts squeezed bile from the brim of subconscious drivel
Accelerating the ghouls from the gull of my esophagus
I was held down from the dreams of the fortnight
From words of architecture ascending from the brims of the archangels
Eyes remained closed
And I felt the actual descent of my downfall
I did not open my eyes at all
I did not mean to pry into your life, oh beautiful soul
Please accept my gift today
My fierce gaze into your lavishing grail
Led me to accept and love where I often fail
I am no longer smothered in your intricate designs
Though I am surely small to you
Though I feel only a fraction of a fool
I am the hidden spark under the timbers of lies
I am the hidden spark under the timbers of lies
Categories:
esophagus, absence, abuse, analogy, art,
Form:
Free verse
Feeling kinda cruddy, yup, that's the word
Too many fries, too many burgs
When will I learn I can't handle that stuff
Stomach rebels, starts causing a fuss
Once could eat nails and all kinds of gunk
Now I eat mush and ground up junk
My teeth are all gone, can't chew anymore
Things go down whole, my tummy gets sore
So such is the life of this senior type dude
Head for the washroom, each time I eat food
Food disappears like famous greased lightning
Or I sit there for hours, really quite frightening
Irregularity's my name, I'm Irreg for short
Hope an operation, I don't have to resort
An artificial esophagus transplanted in me
So I can go regular like it once used to be
Oh for the days when I could eat all that junk
Those days are gone, who woulda thunk
That one day I'd be eating my morning cereal
Laced with Metamucil or some such material!
© Jack Ellison 2012
Categories:
esophagus, food, funny, health,
Form:
Couplet
Hot peppers and spicy horseradish
a gut-punch to the solar plexus
Snake venom with moldy cheese
not tonight, if you please...
Tadpole skins and locust larvae
strains my stomach of iron
But a bloody Mary eggnog combo
gags the esophagus of this Hawaiian
Wonder how I developed my bizarre sense of taste?
~ A flush of the toilet for whoever said, 'Haste makes waste'
Categories:
esophagus, food, health, hyperbole,
Form:
Light Verse
Acid reflux ~ 7:00 post meridiem September 24th, 2019
Ah... nothing more enjoyable than acidic gastric fluid flowing backward into esophagus, resulting in heartburn, disrupting pleasant dreams, nor unsure how successful literary endeavor crafting poem regarding aforementioned will yield.
While deeply asleep
during late afternoon siesta
above name named date/time,
yours truly immediately awoke
with a start, at strong violent
urge to upheap
I made little or no bowed peep,
but sat bolt upright stock still
tear ducts activated eyes
as if ready to weep.
Sadness less pervasive than fright
since reverse peristalsis uncommon
within body electric regarding plight,
which analogous volcanic eruption
albeit bubbling magmatic flow slight
reverse peristalsis found yours truly
on par with fire breathing dragon ar
goo ably momentarily nonplussed -
while dry cough minus gushing lava
gratefully only smoldered before sim
ring upper gastrointestinal tract did
allow, enable, and provide mouths
full of distilled water quench sudden
unquenchable thirst relieved result
ant unpleasant aftertaste (no pun
intended), yet distilling humor helps
me weather, manage, cope... with
unexpected physiological fee nom
mina - shot straight up within digest
heave tract, and did lament this rick
hitty packet of muscle and bone aft
times susceptible to disheartening
woebegone news afflicting this non
Norwegian bachelor farmer, whom
if the missus cooking triggered bout
unleashing bit torrent of unsavory
plate tectonics, perhaps indicative
of continental drift shrunk down to
miniature, where fault in thee stars
must be held in contempt of court
if for no other reason, I just wanted
to incorporate said phrase, tip here
me got some legal lear'n, when truth
Philly admits he seems to know less,
the he learns, which prompts me to
posit emphatically that ignorance iz
equivalent to bliss, thus presenting
quandary how kin this pronouncedly
reasonably intelligent garden variety
*****sapiens unfetter himself with
cumulative knowledge without reek
horse to invasive surgery such as...
prefrontal lobotomy, or te deum down
smarts some unknown cyber surfer(s)
could easily misconstrue as vainness,
smugness, quintessential pomposity?
Categories:
esophagus, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Free verse
Soon as I realized I had married this dude for life
I tried some tricks and formulae to be a happy wife
Every man has a weakness and thankfully his was food
With delectable bites on his tongue, he could be subdued
Understood that the key to his love lay in the pit of his stomach
Started trying recipes from his mom’s cookbook, hoping for some luck
A naive cook that I was, many a times, I burnt my hands
But knew with a little effort, at a vantage point I’ll stand
Now, as the aroma of his family’s food in my kitchen lingers
I have him wrapped around my skinny little fingers
As the morsels of his favorite food slowly traipse his esophagus
He looks at me dazed, as if he’s lost all his consciousness
The pulverized bits and sips in the intestine sing him a sweet lullaby
And he says yes to about anything I wish under the blue sky
But these poems of mine I should keep in check
If he finds out, he’ll surely wring my slender neck
Written on 09/10/2016
Contest:'A body of work' by Viv Wigley
Body part names used:
Stomach
Fingers
Esophagus
Neck
Hand
Tongue
intestine
Categories:
esophagus, funny, , Lullaby,
Form:
Couplet
The Whole In The Donut
Nothing
Look deeper
Many souls have been lost here
At the stake of convenience
All that sugar
Has to go some where
Down through your esophagus
Into your kidneys
Then it's cancer
No wonder people are dying
Frantic consumers filled with emotion
Stick to fruits and vegetables
Dunkin Donuts is making a killing
All because they can
Not to mention the hike in their sale price
Somebody must stick it to the man
When will we ever understand
© right now, chevyvent hope • humor • spiritual • society
Categories:
esophagus, adventure, angel, anxiety, baptism,
Form:
Free verse
My teeth hurt. No wait. It is my gums.
My gums are sore. Chewing is a killer.
I am pretty sure I have periodontal disease.
I will probably die.
My husband rolls his eyes.
My weight is killing me.
I think I am crushing my lungs when I lay down.
When I eat I can hear my esophagus crying.
My colon is screaming; I might die.
My husband keeps his mouth shut.
My ankles have arthritis.
When I step down it feels like they are broken.
Sometimes it is my right ankle.
Other times my left ankle.
I will probably die.
My husband will be long gone, on to a younger woman.
Categories:
esophagus, age, health,
Form:
Prose