Best Ladled Poems
In a moment of juvenile jealousy
he envies his red rival
with its intimate and greedy embrace of her angels’ share
of honey and vanilla spice
as wet stretchy hands of fervent fabric
possessively cup
her brandied beauty
amidst wistful notions
to revive his parched heart
he craves to be ladled with her ardent spirits
to be cradled in the tulip of her essence -
evaporating every chill from the calyx of her sweetened cordial
warming her in the hearth of his hands
as she melts
like buttery sunbeams
intoxicating the bleached beachy sands..
his dreamy grin falters and his tantric trance fades
as tattered edges of reverie unravel -
a haze beclouds his aged green-eyed gaze
graying his white periwinkle pipe dream
as he sees that his best days are long past
Susan Ashley
July 18, 2018
Categories:
ladled, age, desire, fate, irony,
Form:
Free verse
Amidst wistful notions
to revive his parched heart,
he craves to be ladled with her ardent spirits,
to be cradled... in the tulip of her essence.
Susan Ashley
July 19, 2019
~ Tenth Place ~
An excerpt from: The Irony Of Fate (written July 18, 2018)
Submitted for contest: July 19, 2019
Premiere Contest: Arbitrium Divisa 3
Sponsor: Gregory R Barden
Categories:
ladled, beauty, longing, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
youth, where imperfections trip upon each other
and opportunistic peers joyfully celebrate the folly
- glass tree houses be damned...
and - a spun bottle breaks blood brotherhoods
where fragile crevices expose truths and
welcome untested kinships to fill the void.
the leftover baggage - will it be burden or buoyant?
like Scrooge's chains, worked upon - idyllic dreams
dragged into reality.
we're told to pull ourselves together -
while drowning in emotional incontinence
like this stumbling poem, trying to balance
reason ... and sanity
then - tossed to time's tumult,
life's bitter tempering, yet -
gold in our veins
a vessel that can hold
all that is ladled in...
Categories:
ladled, life,
Form:
Free verse
I pick up little treasures of poetic swirls
like heavy cream on a sundae, here at poetry soup.
Rich meaty soup, a bean mix from around the world
Seasoned with exotic herbs from many nations
Shaped in crocks from potters hands uniquely molded
Ladled and tasted across the ocean
Shared and savored
Favored and cherished
Poetry soup friends!!
Categories:
ladled, dedication
Form:
Light Verse
Oh so found; here I am two centuries into this recipe; within ironic caldron
The finest ingredients have been bestowed; in every friend found beyond
Based this broth on the deepest marrow of their love; careful memories thought
When it started to simmer they welcomed me; I was no forget me not
It's warmed by a glow from far away; behold this inferno of passion
I had become a vegetable; my thoughts had caused a bad reaction
Cut them on a souls keyboard; just added them into this life's consomme
Supporting; you are all around; found your limerence is beauty to me
Coming together with a spiritual rice, drop in dumplings of great
This PoetrySoup; you've all just been ladled a bowl; please be nourished; you all changed my fate
Categories:
ladled, friend, friendship, growth, happiness,
Form:
Free verse
Take me to the water once again
where seashells are cradled
by the soft lull of shore's end
sitting contented and ladled
At the seaside two discarded oars
traded in for a summer jaunt
across the waters, a dormi d'or
waving at an early morning font...
Lead me to God's paradise on earth
and dip me in the waters blue
for I am a piscean girl at birth
and I'll know just what to do
When you glide me into waters
deeper than the ocean floor
I'll be a doting good daughter
just open me the door.
Categories:
ladled, analogy, water,
Form:
Rhyme
A farmer's son was once tending to his mother's hens,
Collecting their eggs to sell,
At his family's road-side market stand when,
He found a purple egg with a rotten smell.
The boy looked around at all the female foul,
Perhaps a mutant hen had delivered this egg,
Although it wasn't gold, perhaps the egg could wow,
Some wealthy hobbyist who would for the egg beg.
The peculiar egg was polk-a-dotted with greenish spots,
And reeked like a port-a-lu,
But for some reason that the boy knew not,
He decided to make it into a stew.
For the egg was massive, maybe one foot tall,
And in width the same as its height,
It looked like a putrid soccer ball,
Played with maybe by witches in the night.
So the boy grabbed from a cupboard a large pot,
And lit a flame beneath the oven's coils,
And poured in some water when he thought,
"Should this egg be poached or hard boiled?"
He decided instead to make an egg-drop soup,
With this heinous egg that was sitting in heated water,
For the boy was tired of farming and wanted this goop,
To prove that magic was real as it was in Harry Potter.
He stirred the rotten concoction with a branch,
Of hazel for added dramatic effect,
Added some salt and vinegar from inside the raised-ranch,
Where his family had been obliviosely kept.
The vinegar dissolved the flourescent shell,
Whose hues of purple and green had swirled,
Into a mauve-colored vomit solvent from hell,
And steamed an odor which made his hair curl.
Giggling to himself, he ignored the stench,
As he fancied himself a warlock,
And once it was done he pulled up a bench,
To sit as he added in some chicken stock.
After a few tireless minutes the boy decided it was done,
So he grabbed a bowl and a silver spoon,
Ladled some up and ate it with a cheeseburger bun,
Which he dipped into the disgusting soup.
The boy soon realized that the egg was not magic,
As his breath stopped and skin turned red,
For the goopy soup he had made led to the tragic,
End of this boy who dropped immediately dead.
Had he realized that magic was the power to make plants grow,
And the strength to care for your cows and chickens,
He certainly would have seen the egg and known,
That whatever ate it would surely be sickened.
Categories:
ladled, appreciation, farm, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Sun Noodles Lake Two- Haiku
lake, water falls, shaped
noodles spilled, boiled up flavor
sun ladled two scoops
Categories:
ladled, change, creation, food, image,
Form:
Haiku
Are you the one that blocked the sun?
That fired the bullet from the gun
That laughed aloud at what you’d done
To this fair land that cash built
That sat on high upon your throne
Surveying what you bought and owned
Unhearing of the anguished moans
Of this fair land that cash built
Was it you that sowed the seed
Nurtured it with savage greed
Watched it grow to barb clad weed
In this fair land that cash built
Did you set the tiger free
To spread disease and malady
Then killed it with unbridled glee
In this fair land that cash built
Did you cast your mantle dark
Extinguish love and caring heart
And dance upon the final spark
Of this fair land that cash built
You put Cuchulain’s name to shame
Sold you’re soul for foolish gain
On you’re children ladled pain
In this fair land that cash built
Categories:
ladled, political
Form:
Lyric
Moonstruck
Many moons and seasons ago my five children
inquired where I was heading to on my journey
I replied ‘to the moon’ and to how to get there
‘with a ladder’ to astonished faithful suspense
Turned downsize up and ascending again and
once more over and above I should get there
so I took them along flights of innocent fancy and
smiled when they suggested a ladder from heaven
Then darkness descended in lunar concealment
little did I know do I know now for certain how
the fairy tell princess came to savour the pathway
Time place and place-time ventured departed
into vortexes of void switched on in the clouds
Somehow and only the Universe holds answers
my soulmate and lover emerged into the rays
‘I would fetch you the moon on a spoon if I could’
and she ladled lunar surprise to my orb of the night
Soul minds physical spirits union beginnings sprung
into the fore pushing and pulling mounting the stage
Spoons fetched celebrations of life passion wilderness
oceans overflowed wetlands of love and a lighthouse’s
coloured glass windows went embracing the rungs
Since those moons struck together just the sky was the
limit still plenty of riptides spring floods torrents abound
and whirlpools droughts desertification flickering lights
breathing shadows unfolding distant horizons untold but
The pushing and pulling oases spinning spoons
mooning spoons spooned mooned up together
lick orbital salts crack creviced valleys of life while
the moon struck home onto love and compassion
Many moons and seasons ago my children knew
of my journey much better than I and raised in
their question the meaning of life at the crossroad
and it does not matter how they knew that ladders can fly
17th July 2016
Written many moons again by the Universe and still writing all over, above and beyond...
Categories:
ladled, love, universe,
Form:
Free verse
Faraway Footsteps
How present
This past
Called memory
Hollow sole dragging
Hobnail boots
Caked with crud
Mud
And oil
Atop the landing
"Drop them greasy clothes"
Came the sometimes loving voice
The sometimes malevolent voice
But always his wife's warning
My mother's caring way
So many years past
When linoleum's impoverished sound
Is so remembered
Stepping from stove to table
Her laboring hands
Hefting the pressure cooker
Laden with steam softened cracked wheat
Barely eatable
That day's nourishment
Weighing upon
Forever toiling legs
Cushioned by sheepskin slippers
Whispering their shuffled prayer
I care
Generously ladled
Chew-your-brain-loose grains
Fit for health
Unfit for a kid
Layered my stomach
Fortified my heart
Prepped me abler
To gather reverie
So dear
Then
There was the sound
So ethereal
Heavenly I was told
Of bare feet
Curling the once-a-day-vacuumed
Pride and joy carpet of sage green wool
Replacing recently vanquished
Throw rug jigsaw mess
My early youth played upon
Our palace place
The living room
Scrunching pleasures
Toes lapping up that carpet
Dad's feet
Awful specimens
Calloused of years hard labor
Mother's feet
Preserved with nightly hot water soaks
Epson salts
When we could afford it
Worthy of pedicure
Never afforded
Me
Always wore my socks
Heavy wool
Darned when worn spots
Yelled loud enough
Mixed colors
When necessary
Yet always comfy
Homey
Loving covers
For footsteps
Unaware of the journey ahead
When steps would have to become strides
Leaps
Bounds
And eventually
Idleness
So present
These footfalls of then
Becoming echoes
Foreshadowing paces to come
When a once stubborn child
Needed to listen carefully
Or miss the lessons
Still offered today
From faraway footsteps
Passing near by
Categories:
ladled, growing up,
Form:
Prose Poetry
the headiness of now
swirl of keystroke and ideal
new pages
new thoughts
flying on ether
buoyed by excited neutrons
flared by the plasma
of a thousand faceless pens
type it
spill it
splash it on out with a careless eye
falling slow on burning diodes
bundled up
like a mind's autumn harvest
fed to a soul's hearth
dripping with embers
spilt out sooted and crisp
acrid, yet sweetly
an incensical fog
ladled out
from that conjuring elsewhere
sharp as raw silage
sweet as the dew
gathered
gather it
grasp it and renew
bottled summer still shining
uncorked and flown true
so shed the word wonder
baring all the mind's eye
as rapt galleries wait breathless
for every poet's emotional try
rhyme it
(or not)
choose time honored formats
(or not)
but truth be it told
rhyme scheme and meter
can be both lover and shackle
but in matters of the prose
dip your heart
deep into that rarefied font
and evaporate
into
honeyed fog banks
of verse...
Categories:
ladled, inspiration,
Form:
Free verse
Christ the center of our Christian joy inspire
Holy understanding of glory from dust to man
Reconsecrate us to your will while dust desire
Immortal tangibilities the finite can understand
Savior what can transcend this purpose willing
Tender expressions of self to give? What peace
Mortal hearts feel in yielding to love's desiring?
Anxious at the table the breast of Eucharist feast
Sleep and dreams delay, to share thy company.
Lord of all goodness in flesh possess they ecstasy
Omnipotent beyond our faults, let tongues unswaddled
Virtue taste, and hands caress gospel's grace ladled
Eternally in the passion of hearts full with thy glory
Categories:
ladled, devotion, faith, inspirational, love
Form:
Acrostic
The Soup Kitchen
She made soup that kept the whole town warm
One by one they’d line up and request their usual
The soup experience was mid-way
Between pleasure and torture
As the limits of the taste-buds and the palates,
Unaccustomed to the spices of the Islands
Were put to the test
She ladled out the hot stuff, laid it on thick
And, as if not to be outdone
The compliments were equally effusive
The red-faced customers, perspiration
Dripping from their faces, ever ebullient
Would soon be on their way, leaving generous tips
She would continue to stir the big black pot
Adding ingredients, stoking the fire
Never taking her eyes off the bubbling, hot soup
Nursing it, churning it, tending to it like a child
Staring into it as if the answers to life’s questions
Lay therein, like the soup was to her
What tea leaves are to a soothsayer
She may not have had the answers to life’s questions
But many a truth was poured out to her in the ‘heat of the soup’ (kitchen)
The kitchen was a ‘safe house’ where people could leave their secrets
(People dropped their secrets like they were hot)
Little did they know that keeping their secrets was an impossibility
It was mid-way between pleasure and torture
As, unlike her big black pot, she was unable to hold
Steady.
She would eventually fall over and the secrets
Would pour out, scalding the entire town
Categories:
ladled, poetry, senses,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Last Laugh
© Ben Burton
Petrified slaves
Worshiping stars
Nobles and knaves
Uncaged in the dark
Gallantly fought
Gamely defended
Quietly wrought
Uproaringly rendered
Hearken to clues
Enriddled in rhyme
Ladled from pews
Instinctively mimed
Fault the accursed
Who spun the foul thread
When empty the purse
Faith's soothsayers fled
Displaying naught
But vanities vows
Savoring thoughts
Of eternal nows
Proclaim not the name
Blaspheming of God
Nothing has changed
Save the fields that are trod
Henceforth to spill
An acre of seed
Girding a will
That nothing impedes
For silence or din
Within lion's lair
No tool born of tin
Could stave life's despair
Words to the wise
The signs yet profess
The worst of all times
Is as good as it gets
Toast to the sun
The one that is true
Birthing the Nun
And dictator, too
Beliefs in disguise
Lies polished with skill
The innocents' eyes
Embrace daffodils
A senseless refrain
To sort wheat from chaff
While omniscient brain
Has the last laugh
Vying to rock
The cradle to sleep
While some in his flock
Keep shearing the sheep
From fishes with lungs
In steady degree
Bi-pedals have sprung
The last tragedy
Categories:
ladled, creation, daffodils,
Form:
Rhyme