Best Flavors Poems
A woman's soul, is it as porous
as the air that breaks the water and earth
apart from each other?
In the slither of liquid contours,
this maiden's essence blows into tiny
glints of filling days’ silent pages
without having to fill in the blanks.
But such fire in her navel;
swelling, leaping forth unto a black dahlia
of night dripping with all the kerosene stars
like a tigress on a hidden, sensuous prowl...
This is her shape.
Then coming from metal gut, she fumes
of musky-flavored energy, steaming
the brain for a war of poker in a den
filled with invincible men as she raises
the bets for a royal flush of aces...
This is her bullish time.
Yet, curling into late evening
she enters into the pillows
of her soul rinsed from the bouquet
and incense of a dulcet day,
her bosom of long breaths warming the lamp
gentle, temperate, and mild in peace,
coasting along the ledge of her swan sleep...
This is her soul's time, shape and peace.
For Laura Loo's Second Place Challenge
Resubmitted 6/27/2016
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Place 2nd in the Contest:The Scent Of Your Soul
Judged 10/18/2014
can you taste the w i n d . . .
evergreens . . . junipers . . . furs
love upon the tongue
In memory of Chief Seattle of the Duwamish League of Puget Sound
David Meade
Live Generously
Life is like a nut,
Differs in shape, size, color or crust,
Life is like a nut.
For some, it’s like a coconut,
Beyond the reach, safe from gust
Very important, much privileged!
Whether unripen or matured.
For some it’s like a peanut,
Malleable, fit in budget
Widely spread, versatile no doubt
However, down and out.
For some it’s like a walnut,
You can see the eminence clear cut
Set comfortably in its dwell,
In a hard stilted shell.
For some it’s like a pine nut,
Gazes weird I tell you what
Shielded with strong beautiful woody cone,
Prevents you! to invade its zone.
For some it’s like a cashew nut,
Self-interested, pricy somewhat
Tightly attached with red pulpy drupe,
Be cautious! While shelling the fruit
For some it’s like a chestnut,
Down-to-earth, graceful but,
Surrounded with sharp spines called “Bur”
All adversities ought to conquer.
Life is like a nut,
Differs in shape, size, color or crust,
Life is like a nut.
Love is like a Lollipop
you don't know what's inside until you taste it and describe
If it's Cherry, you won't have to worry because he's always merry
and very imaginary
If it's Chocolate, your ready for wedlock
because you've finally meet your Camelot
If it's Cinnamon, he's hot and ready for a short stop
because for you he has forgot
If it's Grape, put on your brakes he might be great
but he isn't straight
If it's Strawberry, you've won the lottery you'll have his property
and he won't commit adultery
If it's peppermint, you'll have a saint his charm will make you faint
and you'll never have complaints
If it's Caramel, you'll have a professional who's always rational
and very inspirational
If it's Licorice, you'll have a plagiarist who's always gibberish
and thank he's a theorist
If it's Sour, ladies beware he's always in despair
and will always need repairs
So don't be shy have a taste and give it a try
you might be pleasantly Surprised!
3/7/2015
1st Place
Her canvas awaits the first scoop,
She dips her brush in the soup
Bouillabaisse caresses her canvas,
Stirring the senses of her palate
She dips her brush in yet
As the stove heats up her palette,
Painting the dawn sky
With tints of butternut squash
Split pea flavor colors the trees
Minestrone sways the flower in a breeze,
And roses find their hue
With brushstrokes of tomato soup
She adds a stroke of egg drop too
Just a touch of lentil soup will do,
Her canvas seems so edible
She lets it simmer for a while
She can taste her painting's flavor
With each brush stroke to savor
Now she's ready to eat,
Time for a bowl of soup!!
5-11-2022
A Merger With Food Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Natasha L Scragg
Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, peppermint
They all taste better than belly-button lint
Why do I write such nonsensical stuff
Apparently, my readers can't get enough
It's colder than snow
ready to soothe your palate
throughout the long day.
Three superb flavors,
taste them and dream of Naples
and of its colors.
While eating this ice cream,
explore that southern city
on the bluest shore.
When I love you I'd do anything for you
Give my all to you
Do anything you ask and more
So eventually you won't even need to ask at all
You say you love me
Do people love differently? They must.
Because I don't see much effort from you
Things that if I were in love I'd want to do
You've even gone so far as to have refused to
Will anyone ever love me the way that I love you?
Does anybody out there love in the same flavor I do?
Or are you all just mediocre?
The Flavors of Darkness
The numbing blackness without cold or heat engulfs.
I float in calm brackish decaying still waters offering no struggle.
My lips taste its decomposing and dying matter.
I should cough and gag on its foul disdainful taste.
Swallowing without thought I do not relish nor disdain it.
The raging river of inky waters flows around me.
I find power in the rage that burns within my mind.
My tongue lashes out with curses at its metallic flavor.
I fight with inhuman strength against the relentless flood.
Sinking again beneath the fury my mouth spews yet more obscenities.
The stream of the unseen falls pours over my soggy soul.
I fall sunken to my knees beneath its pelting lying flow.
My lips taste the two hundred tears, I add to the deluge.
I can taste no more my Aquarius upon my brine burned lips.
Slowly, I fall to my lowest estate far from the banks of the Danube.
The water flows through my fingers as I grasp trying to contain.
I stand knee-deep in the still waters, sulfur burning my nostrils.
My tongue refuses waters cupped in my hands as my lips convulse.
I curl upon myself and submerge beneath as I flow into the black sea.
Sleep below the breathless death brings no rest to my lost spirit.
Rich hot chocolate
marshmallows roast o’er the pit
gazing China moon
twinkling stars in midnight blue
laughter and snuggling galore!
~*~
Remember when each of the tastes
bitter, sweet, sour, salty and umani,
had their own special place on your tongue?
When you could lick and flick a tongue tip
to savor one by one,
each titillating and tantalizing tidbit,
and avoid the bitter, sour and salty,
in the hors d'oeuvre samples and starters?
But turns out all the taste buds
of different types are a mishmash,
spread all over the palette
like mixed berry jam jelly on toast.
So blitz the blender,
pulse, pulse, pulse the mush to liquefy,
to make your next bender meld,
to an homogeneous amorphous blend,
a potpourri punch
fit for a sourpuss.
My favorite painting-a special theme
A small bright colored truck that sells ice cream
How flavorless and pale its nature now seems
Its palette has faded for many a year
It speaks fatigued like an old man’s dream
Its vision has little euphony, no pleasure I fear
My fairytale is no longer eagerly read
The storyline seems all too common
The characters are bland and dead
The parable within is long forgotten
Much to do about nothing I can recall
Like an empty portrait on a blank white wall
Where is the zest-filled life that I once felt and saw?
It disappeared without my knowing at all
And now it’s fading each day more and more
Where is that scrumptious ice cream truck that visited my door?
January 17, 2021
Rewrite January 18, 2021
Watered-Down Juice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Savory flavors
Tasting love,
sating a hungered palate
delicious desires served hot
Licked lips
of savory flavors
drenching me,
dripping from my chin
satisfying a desperate appetite
Sticky fingers
grasping delectable morsels
sans silverware
between sautéed folds
tempting the tongue
Nectarous juices flow
in appetizing moans
as desert comes
And who says you shouldn’t
play with your food
:)
So many flavors from which to choose
A vanilla swirl dipped in blues,
A scoop of chocolate to enthuse
A dash of strawberry to infuse
Rocky Road to smooth the palate
Butter Pecan tastes great,
Add a flavorful dream
Of cookies and cream
Neopolitan, flavors in triple
Enjoy a bowl of raspberry Ripple
Butter Scotch slides of the tongue
Before you know it's all done!
7-14-2022
Coffee, I adore thee,
somehow you never bore me.
Bold and dark or mild and smooth,
you get me up and on the move.
In warm embrace or cool frappe,
mocha, french roast, or tall latte,
crema, sospeso or con panna,
you never fail to make my day.
It’s the best thing ever manufactured,
without it, my mind is slow and scattered,
for a quiz or formulating I’d be knackered,
every morning the Keurig is where we gather.
You pick me up and keep me keen,
in complementing any cuisine,
by delivering a dose of sweet caffeine,
you are the original magic bean.
In doses quick or lingered over,
on mornings with a hangover,
I reach for you, your warm embrace,
the morning fogginess to erase.
The flavor, the scent, which is the best?
They are of compound Interest.
French press or espresso - take your pick
- they all provide that delicious kick.
Jitter juice, rocket fuel, cup of joe,
cuppa, morning brew or ristretto,
your flavors please, your scent rouses,
a coffee shop is where the crowd is.
In slang they call it Mormon-crack,
but sugared up or with a snack,
with creamy art or straight-up black
once I’ve got it, you won’t get it back
.
.
Webster: Knackered = “very tired or exhausted.”