Best From Scratch Poems
“I don't care what anybody says about me as long as it isn't true.” -Dorothy Parker
“Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone” -Dorothy Parker
Angels connecting
in real live
Thinking reflecting
and keeping us strive
'Say no to consensuality
that's your best quality
You've the audibility
so keep on your prosody'
Always on time
Mr/Miss/Ms/Mrs I'm...
'Shhhhhhh'
with an eye rhyme
"That heinous crime"
Jumping off the metrics
Holy sculls!
Writing isn't mathematics
Such as friendship
Do everything intensively on your trip
If you stumble in the footpath
It's just a turn on
High in raciness
No Life Span
In the wrath
I am You Sylvia Plath
Nightmares and Dreams
In your life
You were anarchical
one of a kind
my new heteronym
named Wolfed Golf
because is worth being Virginia Woolf
In my paintings: pastels oils pencils and markers Paranoia(s) converter(s)
In being a reporter
In my disorder
sometimes being dark and darker
I am you,
Mrs Dorothy Parker
Pie in the oven!
The flaky crust is browning,
Sugar crystallized.
Apple filling, juicy sweet,
I’ll eat it all by myself.
Entered in Soup 2/21/20
'Let the Pens Flow - Tanka' Contest
NO exact
measurement
will do
because
my Poetry is truly
immeasurable
sometimes
heartbreaking
other times
pleasurable.
You definitely
want to
Start with passion
mix it with loss
a dash of pain
from her deceit
with
a pinch or two
of how
I paid the cost.
Blend in tears
we wouldn't want
it to be
D R Y
toss that together
with all the
hundreds
of Times I asked
her WHY?!?
Poetry needs to sit
i n s i d e and Rise.
each new batch is a
Learning experience
and bound to make
You W I S E
©SamHarty
Starting from Scratch with Ol’ Scratch
by Michael R. Burch
Love, with a small, fatalistic sigh
went to the ovens. Please don’t bother to cry.
You could have saved her, but you were all tied up
complaining about the Jews to Reichmeister Grupp.
Scratch that. You were born after World War II.
You had something more important to do:
while the children of the Nakba were perishing in Gaza
with the complicity of your government, you had a noble cause (a
religious tract against homosexual marriage
and various things gods and evangelists disparage.)
Jesus will grok you? Ah, yes, I’m quite sure
that your intentions were good and ineluctably pure.
After all, what the hell does he care about Palestinians?
Certainly, Christians were right about serfs, slaves and Indians.
Scratch that. You’re one of the Devil’s minions.
I like to cook and I love cookies,
So it was off to the store for flour
I bought the cheapest flour I saw
I'll have cookies within the hour!
I made dough just as the recipe said
Who can make cookies? I know I can!
But when I pulled them from the oven
It was one cookie the size of the pan!
I broke off a piece to try it out
It was grainy I thought, "What's the deal?"
When I looked at the flour bag again,
The label clearly said, "White corn meal"
Recipe
Just a small portion
The muffins
The dressing is made from scratch
A little sample in a muffin
Tastes great
Small plate
Cranberry Sauce toppings
Elegant style
Worth the while
Delicious in size.
Homemade
In a fancy dish
Sizeable amounts
12 dressing muffins in a pan
The dressing style
On the entree list.
she showered the sky in anthracite crimson and sepia
eclipsed broken pencils and crayons moulded together
took a fading snap shot in memory of what’s yet to come
a soft touch surpassed clawed grips of splintered sorrow
outlined peripheral beauty on the transcripts of passing
rescued cinnamon and ultramarine from darkness of night
as she climbed past the pinnacle of rational composure
fresh mysterious shades surpassed stark intentional hues
compounded tapestry of magical sketches into her truth
when the moon waxed in slow motion to a tune of innocence
doubts waned as evaporation dried the canvas and pattern
of unrepeatable capture of reason to emotion’s delight
she took another sip from an overflowing fountain of measure
repainted the scene from scrap books of subconscious mind
unaware of translucent epiphanies moistened on parchment
18th May 2020
Some people see a bowl of soup,
I see the ingredients...
Some people see the words...
Nothing wrong with that...
They are talented, artistic...meaningful...
I see the heart capable of forming them
I see the mind behind the words...
I see immense value added to this
Version of reality...
By the words of those....
Far wiser, far kinder,....
Than I....
I see love, concern....
Things I cant find in my own family...
I find hope...the most precious of gifts,
Bestowed upon me by those with
no ulterior motive...
These simple things
Restore my faith in humanity...
How blessedly lucky I must be...
To have stumbled, somehow,
Upon these most gentle, wise, souls
Serendipity at the soup
Soul of the soup...
I sometimes wonder if these
Wonderful people in Georgia
Realize the incredible
service they are providing
for the rich of word,
the rich of heart,
For the beneficial expression,
Of all mankind...
All over the world...
I know they are not getting rich off us,
But we off them..
For uniting those who know
The art of words...
Seemingly....a vanishing art.
The gold mine of thought
To be mined here...
Far exceeds ....
The gold of the richest
Treasure chest....
the noisy gong
echoing the clanging cymbals
seizes the loudness within
as we sing notes without pitch
still our life’s music plays on
the bed with roses
floats on water beneath ice
sailed by the breeze from trees
with barks blinded by sight
still our journey path continues
the morsel of a giant
in the feast of dwarfs
are all fragmented spaces
of a quartered square
still we stand upright to measure
Start from scratch
By Michelle Morris
15/07/2020
When you've spiralled down
And lost your way;
And it feels like your demons
Are here to stay...
Take a breath,
Try to stay calm;
You've hit rock bottom;
It's a new platform...
To build a new life,
Start from scratch;
Have faith in the plan,
That heaven has hatched...
To guide you and mould you,
Perfect and blessed;
You will be fine - soon;
You just have to pass the test...
For life puts us through
So many paces,
But we aren't ever given
More than we can face.
© Michelle Morris, 2020
When you lost everything you worked for
You feel the real affects of being poor
Life isn't normal you dont function the same
Things were stolen from you with no one to blame
Thats when any and everything seems to matter most
As you gain items back you have reason to boast
Losing things quickly when you gained it slowly can be a pain
Feeling as though everything you worked for is in vain
Its not easy starting over when you know what you had
Each time you realize you need something it makes you sad
You feel that nothing is ever going to settle
Your patience wearing thin while gaining little by little
What was taken from you was yours and you want it back
It was here today and gone tomorrow just like that
When you have something for years you grow attached
You feel a sense of emptiness when starting from scratch