Best Garnish Poems
How fast to wiles I fell my damask rose,
awake from slumber slept untold ages.
To gaze so deep in ocean eyes repose,
and print whispered prayer on mind's pages.
Your soul in gleaming shadow found complete,
a thirst no other want or wish contrived.
Nor cherry grown upon the branch so sweet,
without cold and dark of Winter survived.
What heart loved without a madness looming,
secure from injury sure to tarnish.
Unbroken, though lone in sadness' glooming,
and held away from love's fruited garnish.
How true the dove devoted in flight still,
that lasted in love, more than ever will.
Categories:
garnish, imagery, lonely, love, perspective,
Form:
Sonnet
Heart yearns for a remedy to help it unwind,
as thoughts drift to forgotten forests of the mind.
Distant visions with hues of a sepia tone,
soul senses tranquil nourishment of being home.
Sweet serene scents feel like a delicate dream,
as light cascades through a canopy of green.
Silence is stolen by nature's wisp like whispers,
like an orchestra of creaking, crawling murmurs.
Pines and acorns adorn trails of leaves lost from trees,
soft susurrus of sighs echo from birds and bees.
Wildflowers garnish along stream rocks moist with moss,
a fusion of colours adding a touch of gloss.
Bohemian spirit delights in harmony,
rejoicing within an enchanted symphony.
Silent One
2 June 2019
Categories:
garnish, nature, nostalgia,
Form:
Sonnet
Spring
summons
season of
rebirth, where birds
build nests for new-borns.
Nature's palette spreads joy
as bright colours flourish with
buttercups, daffodils, bluebells,
blooming with rows of vibrant tulips.
Golden orb begins to spread its warm rays,
virgin summer roses bloom like rubies.
My inner child smiles at butterflies,
fledglings expand their tiny wings.
Mild rain hydrates perfumed buds.
Rainbow dahlia garnish,
under turquoise skies.
Sweet pea prolongs
around trees,
screening
stalks.
I
shiver
at the loss
of my blossoms
crumbling in Autumn.
Green turns yellow then brown,
as clouds grieve and bleed charcoal.
Auburn leaves decorate soaked paths.
Flock of birds soar to pleasant pastures.
Flashbacks from laid to rest souls resurface.
Winter weaves frozen cobwebs as winds howl.
Dark days, cold nights with nature naked,
sun hides its glow as ground hardens.
Snow kissed evergreen sepals,
covered in pristine white,
appear grand until,
bitter raindrops,
create ice
upon
them.
Categories:
garnish, appreciation, nature, seasons,
Form:
Etheree
Why do they call it 'tourist season'
If you're not allowed to shoot 'em
Seems like a great opportunity
To end the over crowding problem
If a house fly loses both of its wings
Would we have to call them 'walks'
Is it possible to have a civil war
Of course not that's just silly talk
Any idea what the best thing was
That came before sliced bread
If a turtle somehow loses its shell
Is it homeless, naked, or dead
I find this saying quite unnerving
“Practice” is what doctors do
And braille on drive-through windows
Find that kinda scary don't you
If a parsley farmer ever gets sued
Can they legally garnish his wages
Well that's enough of this silly talk
At times I go through these phases
© Jack Ellison 2012
Categories:
garnish, funny, silly,
Form:
Quatrain
Such a finely honed sword is this loneliness
Slicing through tenuous sinews of yesterday.
I search for obscure corridors of happiness
Knowing that somehow I forgot the way.
From gloomy clouds I harvest the sorrow
Dripping into the cupped hands of my heart.
For there is no optimistic promise of tomorrow
As I curse my ship and unintelligible chart.
How bitter sweet this gateaux of quiet solitude
I garnish it with sprinkles of immense silence.
For loneliness is but a mere shift of attitude
From peaceful design to destructive violence.
I gather the jigsaw pieces of empty conversation
Falling snippets swirling on the winds of sound.
A soliloquy of madness expressed in futile oration
In chilling isolation the laughter of my soul is bound.
I strain to catch the words swirling on the breeze
Yesterday was surely a symphony of chatter.
This finely honed sword cuts deeply with ease
And though I bleed... it surely doesn't matter.
Categories:
garnish, introspection, life
Form:
Rhyme
Woo the woman
Love the lady
Mellow the maiden
Manage the maid
Garnish the girl
Dazzle the damsel
Bar the bimbo
Latch the lass
Silence the siren
Moor the mermaid
Net the nymph
Madden the madam
Tame the tart
Court the courtesan
Nudge the nurse
Null the nun
Shun the spinster
Strap the stewardess
Venerate the virgin
Vex the vixen
Vacate the vamp
Curb the coquette
Con the concubine
Whack the whore
Whip the wench
Pooh-pooh the prostitute
Slam the ****
Harem the harlot
Screw the shrew
Dally with a divorcee
Eschew the enchantress
Wallop the witch
Garb Godiva
Jail Jezebel
Lambaste Lilith
Dump Delilah
Gore the Gorgons
Harness Hecuba
Xpunge Xanthippe
Wed the widow!
~03/08/2013
~Contest: Your Personal Favorite #2
~Sponsor: L Milton Hankins.
Categories:
garnish, eve, woman,
Form:
Free verse
Scratching their heads
They look at me
Am I a tree stump
Am I a grotesque face
Inside I am laughing
I know what I am.
Am a freak of nature
Plus the imaginative mind
Of my master
Stand back
see the root of me
My ivy hair
Sightless eyes
Garland of lemons garnish my neck
I am singular
A one off piece of art
I am me ....symbolising winter.
The flash of cameras
Light my wrinkled face
Can feel the warmth of inquisition
Words float by as voices are raised
Conclusion ...no conclusion.
Giuseppe Arcimbodo painting .....Winter 1573
Penned Aug 26 2017
Artwork Contest Judged: 9/6/2017 9:32:00 PM
Categories:
garnish, identity,
Form:
Personification
What now of heroes can I speak
Who raise the mild and loft the meek
Bequeathing glory, love untold
With ne’re a thought their heart unfolds
A spirit bright so kind are they
Their own life’s pain they hide away
Their selfless gifts cast near and far
They’ll hand you moons and cast you stars
In what choice god you do believe
He’s planted in them kindness seeds
With selfless stealth they will achieve
To garnish souls with ruby beads
Intentions oft misunderstood
They only know how to do good
Altruistic warrior hearts
Empathy is their unique art
Incognito these ones remain
Actions speaking louder than fame
Gifted with words to comfort pain
Casting rainbows, banishing rain
Unsung heroes they will remain
Singing their songs without refrain
Broken angels with hidden wings
Healing souls whilst weaving heart strings.
November 26, 2017
Written for “Hero” Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
Categories:
garnish, hero,
Form:
Quatrain
Alluring elegance of Simla, the queen of hills,
Morning pleasant breeze, at night gives chills !
Snow clad mountains, silvery charming shine,
Tall Deodar trees , dense forest , also few Pine,
Aromatic flowers garnish nature's platter, vividly grow,
Rivers run smooth , at times exhibit a turbulent flow !
Soulful scenic marvel, must artistry come alive,
No artist or poet here can ever fail to thrive,
Green valley on one side, hilly serpentine road,
As summer sun peaks, it is my heavenly abode !
Written on 13/6/14
Contest- Hills are alive with poetry
Sponsor- Scott thirty seven
* Simla is the capital of state Himachal Pradesh ( Devbhumi Himachal meaning thereby Land of Gods ) in India.
Ranked 5th
Now for Andrea's contest- let's get technical
Awarded HM
Categories:
garnish, beauty,
Form:
Couplet
What use is a poet,
if without a pen,
like a chef without
a sharp set of knives.
How bland is the soup,
without sincere ingredients.
Nourishing soul food needs
fresh free verses of vegetables,
sweet syllables of stock
and an alliteration of
parmesan, paprika or parsley.
It is pointless being mute,
when there is so much to say.
But too much salt in the soup,
can leave a bitter taste.
No pen scribes with the same garnish,
each pair of eyes focus differently.
Like they say,
too many grammar police,
can spoil the broth.
Too much pepper in
a poem will lead to sneezing.
Not all poets,
share the same beliefs.
Not all soup lovers,
enjoy chicken soup-
especially those with a
vegetarian vocabulary.
In the absence of judgement,
words becomes pure.
With the right ingredients,
the soup is a symphony of flavours.
Let the blood that flows
from your veins,
become the ink that
creates the perfect soup.
Categories:
garnish, analogy,
Form:
Free verse
Anytime I feel hungry instead of eating a full meal I eat Honey.
The best part is that Honey doesn't mind, she's a sweetheart.
Maurice Yvonne
20~11~2014
The Refrain
I bought a box of Animal Crackers.
On the box it said
"Do not eat if seal is broken"
So I opened the box.
I looked inside and sure enough...
The Encore
If a parsley farmer doesn't pay his bills
can they garnish his wages?
Closing Remarks
There is a new virus. It has no symptoms and no consequences.
I am terrified. It turns out I have been diagnosed with it.
I am not a hypochondriac. I really do have it. If you
don't believe me ask my Gynecologist!
Maurice Yvonne
11~20~2014
Categories:
garnish, humor, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
.
Soft flame flutters gently before surrendering to darkness
A wealth of golden glow
Your mind has been captured by dreams, pirates of the imagination
Controlling your activity
One circle of gray light fades through the arch windows
You become spotlight bright
And I study your eyes as they dash
Through never-ever real land
Are you racing, trying to catch the runaway unicorn?
Steady, boy, this is your fantasy; let the legend come to you
Garnish him with a crimson saddle
And canter across hills of sweet poppies
Your yellow-brick road need not bear lions
Unless you wish to be their king
A color-splashed vision
Enhanced by your chestnut mane
And so you roll, and our waterbed rolls wave-like with you
Lions and unicorns dwell not within the sea
So they vanish
Creating a tiny subconscious wrinkle of memory
Your fingers tighten, clinging to your raft
Tossed by the tides and waves
But Pan flutes from the banks’ hanging cliff
The turbulence subsides; you float smoothly o’er open sea
So you mellow your mood and follow your eyes
Up, up, it glares but does not burn
For the sun cannot hurt dreamer’s eyes
Unless you let it
Stare as it slowly sinks to a spectral sunset
That becomes a rainbow because you see it that way
And your raft is now a craft, thirty feet, steel-plated
Sprouting rings of purple smoke and wings of green feathers
Your chariot, my lean and softly-lit friend,
Chases the sun across the sky to find your pot of gold
When the soft flame flutters gently
Before surrendering to darkness
Categories:
garnish, fantasy, imaginationsun,
Form:
Free verse
Soft flame flutters gently before surrendering to darkness
wealth of golden glow.
Your mind has been captured by dreams, pirates of the imagination
controlling your activity.
Crescent of gray light fades through the arch windows;
you become spotlight bright!
I study your eyes as they dash
through never-ever real land.
Are you racing, trying to catch the runaway unicorn?
Steady, boy, this is your fantasy; let the legend come to you.
Garnish him with a crimson saddle,
canter across hills of sweet poppies.
Your yellow-brick road need not bear lions,
unless you wish to be their king --
color-splashed vision,
enhanced by your chestnut mane.
You roll; our waterbed rolls wave-like with you.
lions and unicorns dwell not within the sea;
they vanish,
creating a tiny subconscious wrinkle of memory.
Your fingers tighten, clinging to your raft,
tossed by the tides and waves.
Pan flutes from the bank's hanging cliff --
turbulence subsides; you float smoothly o’er open sea.
So you mellow your mood, follow your eyes
up, up, it glares but does not burn.
Sun cannot hurt a dreamer’s eyes
unless you let it.
Stare as it slowly sinks to a spectral sunset
that becomes a rainbow -- because you see it that way!
Your raft is now a craft, thirty feet, steel-plated,
sprouting rings of purple smoke and wings of green feathers.
Your chariot, my lean and softly-lit friend,
chases the sun across the sky to find your pot of gold,
when the soft flame flutters gently
before surrendering to darkness.
*Entry for the "Dream On" Contest
Categories:
garnish, fantasy, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
I missed the meals mama used to cook
Her recipes were not in the cookery book
Mama was just more of a kitchen queen
She's the best cook we have ever seen
Mama's Fufu with Chicken soup was my best
The manner she cooked it was better than the rest
Her meals always nourished the spirit
As they filled the stomach every minute
After school she served us with spaghetti
Mama's garnish as elegant as bugatti
She'll serve with eggs and some salad dressing
It was a special kind of love, very impressing
Oh my gosh! Her meals saved me countless times
I cannot really explain that in poetic lines
Family dinner was a time of joy and conversation
A time of fellowship, laughter and celebrations
She sprinkled all her meals with goodness
And carefully spooned cinnamon for sweetness
Making dessert, bread and cakes for birthdays
Chicken sauce and pineapple drinks on holidays
Never was there a meal like her morning prayers
She'll spend early hours of her days in prayers
Her heart was full of love, peace and joy
She was our lamp, like a light in the city of Troy
Categories:
garnish, care, celebration, love, missing
Form:
Quatrain
To Eat A Peach
Spring is here.
The delicate tree blossoms replace
the delicate white lights of Winter.
From the petals fruit will grow.
Pears, plums, apricots, cherries,
nectarines...
Peaches.
I set the unripe soft rose and yellow
orb on the windowsill.
Two days later I tenderly lift it
and gently squeeze its warmth before
I wash it.
Biting into it...
the sweet liquid is Ambrosia.
The juice runs down my chin onto
my tee.
I greedily suck the peach’s flesh dry.
I daydream as I munch.
Peach cobbler, peach pie with a lattice crust,
peach shortcake, peach muffins,
stewed peaches, peach tea bread,
slices on your cereal, slices in a bowl with cream.
OR...only for dessert?
How would a
chicken breast soaked in a peach marinade taste?
My taste buds begin chattering.
Summer’s here!
corn on the cob, okra, tomatoes:
small ones that pop in your mouth
and big beefy wedges that
garnish crisp celery slices, carrot medallions,
tender Bibb lettuce, sliced mushrooms, cucumbers,
asparagus, broccoli, Vidalia onions, cauliflower...
Watermelon, blueberries, cantaloupe,
strawberries, honeydews, raspberries...
Juicy hot dogs, spicy barbecue, thick charbroiled hamburgers,
hot German potato salad, 3-bean salad, macaroni salad,
potato chips and French onion soup dip,
soft pretzels dipped in brown mustard, popcorn...
chocolate chip cookies, Snickerdoodles,
strawberry shortcake,
chocolate cake with red, white and blue frosting for the 4th,
apple pie
— softball, Mom, doggies —
I awake with a start. There is drool
on my pillow.
Another day begins but it’s really
not another day.
It’s the same day I’ve been living
since 1 May 2017 ~
The day I let the dentist pull
out the last 5 teeth I had
in my lower jaw.
And as I come to consciousness
my tongue pushes
against and spills out over the
the soft toothless tissue that burns constantly
and is covered in a thick gooey saliva ~ place a
teaspoon of Elmer's
glue in your mouth ~ if
you care to have a taste
of my reality.
Summer’s here.
Clear your palate.
Clean your plate.
Barbara Dickenson
1 May 2018
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Categories:
garnish, anniversary, body, change, courage,
Form:
Bio