Best Marinating Poems
I whisked the heavens for a soothing sign
Swirled moonlight of Luna’s crescent smile
Searching for redemption's last sinew
That a wounded love faithfully clings to
I asked the stars for strength of sterling sight
To illuminate the missteps of a fractured mind
Trapped in a glass garden of Eden’s broken heart
Fragrant pieces of her sorrow carved into mine
I tasted the poison of regurgitated resolve
Memories marinating on the tip of my teething tongue
But forgiveness does not dangle on unspoken words
Which need not be poetic, but merely heard
Categories:
marinating, forgiveness, introspection, love,
Form:
Narrative
Cycling through time;
this wrack of flesh fleets on.
Spinning indifferently on a compressed
ball of mud.
Pulsing and thumping against
the deafening destiny of becoming
a part of what it was spat unto.
Sipping the blood of my father,
seeking understanding.
The wine of revelation is an
acquired taste and so I tend
to use it for marinating my
battered will.
I pray alongside songs of my peers,
and hope I can stand the flames
I am sure to meet;
This world is full of fire,
and I am it’s smoke
accumulating under blankets
held by my ancestors.
I am their story.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved
Categories:
marinating, america, drink, fire, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
During the Second World War, people were panicking everywhere in the world. And of all continents, Asia was one of the most devastated in the history of wars.
So many people in Asia were victims of slavery. Most of them are women. They were victims of molestation and rape. The worst of all, slitting them in their necks or being stabbed so deep between their breasts after being disrespected.
The story of the loaf of bread started not in China or anywhere else in the North, but in the Far East -- the place called "Pearl Of The Orient." Pearl of the East, as it is sometimes called, is situated north of Borneo and south of Japan, east by the Pacific ocean and west by the China sea. The map itself shows a shape of a human form.
Many people who have lived in the Pearl country had a hard time during the Second War. One loaf of bread is equivalent to one family's meal of six, or even ten. The scarcity of bread during those times is not caused by the insufficiency of flour or yeast. Salt, as an ingredient, is not supposed to be the problem too. Only that salt was used for other purposes.
One loaf of bread is the prize of winning the lives of one whole family in hunger and danger. In different ordeals that almost all captured families were going through back then, if you don't have a loaf of bread then you have to earn it. Otherwise, every single member of the family dies. Many times a loaf of bread is placed on top of the head of the man of the family for shooting. And sometimes a loaf of bread is used for marinating human flesh. If you don't know the exact number of slices in the loaf of bread that you are holding, your life is in danger too.
The loaf of bread is the story of a country's downfall for defending its land from invaders. The loaf of bread is not just food, but life for a loaf of freedom and justice.
Categories:
marinating, freedom, life, pride, prison,
Form:
Prose
KP: With embellishment aborted,
sidewalk and street talk wail from paper.
Tears vividly seen because cursive one's don't wipe away.
An intrinsic institution allergic to plagiarized allegiance,
we're born and bred to bleed blue from womb, and the wound.
Traits of our soul incarcerated in a pen case
presenting selfies that speak volume without an impediment.
Lingual masseuses with mischief marinating, depending on
which taste of epic we prefer.
We write to pulverize color barriers because underneath the shell
tethered laughter is majority. Lumen repair technicians
dimming differences, a cultural mend from cultured men
adjoined through their pen.
Siamese artistes with an umbilical transporting manna from our
third eye to feed the famine.
Brother of mine, break bread with your pen
RL: I too do not wish to embellish
So I place my ear upon the sidewalk of discovery
For I wish to hear the colour of your steps
Our souls are meant to breathe upon paper
The fibres of the papyrus bleed into our convoluted minds
as we give of our panicked moments
Ours is a calmed darkness
A mimicking hope
Yesterday flows over tomorrowed possibilities
as we attempt to rewrite answers to those questions never asked
Differences float above our commonality
So we choose to dive below the surface
For beneath our papered skin resides the hearts of free men
Paper converted by pen becomes flesh
The bond of brotherhood
Tethered between minds
Transported beyond societies perceived differences
For we choose to anoint our spirits in blue ink!
Thanks Keith for joining me in this creative adventure.
It is a pleasure to write with such a talented writer.
Written by: Keith Papyrus & Richard Lamoureux
September 25, 2015
Categories:
marinating, emotions, friendship, thanksgiving,
Form:
Free verse
my body and soul
marinating in your love
a dinner for two
Categories:
marinating, devotion, love,
Form:
Haiku
An imported imperfection of his delayed conclusion of opinions leaves me restless.
I know I may not be the prettiest, I know my body may not be the fittest.
However, my heart remains the same, his love pumps blood into my veins.
As I start losing mental ability to my brain bleeding heavy quantities, my heart start hemorrhaging.
Blood vessels begin tearing up from my emotions, my eyes swelling.
His words burn like melting plastic, nonmetallic his compassion is synthetic, as lovers turn platonic.
It is hard to comprehend his love presence, when there are no immediate surroundings of his love emotions.
His actions are making me feel less of a woman, and very unwanted.
His presentation makes me hesitant, from the way his love is presented.
He is evil and ever so gentle, but he says he loves me.
He does not understand what his action does to my inner emotions.
Wretched in sadness marked by misery, embedded in love poverty he does not care how this affects me.
This is his way he shows his love for me.
Marinating in promises I get his love like an allowance.
He says that one day I will be his wife, so I stay in hopes of his change.
Again, he tells me he trying so who am I to complain.
A mistress of his love I became, I will not be ashamed for his love I pertain.
His love I can relate to, his pain I persecute and oppress as he overall abuse.
Pharmaceutical kind of love overdosing as a drug, I am his side effect I learned to suppress hold my emotions back. Like if, his words caress.
As I stroke his ego, I become humble. My pain is a ritual I know the procedure.
Mistress of his love I remain even longer, and I linger.
Categories:
marinating, boyfriend, devotion, girlfriend, life,
Form:
Light Verse
Oh Ferguson.
Simply kindling for a bonfire
blackened white smoke
hate marinating into flame
hope dining on what remains
what happened to your soul
what happened to your soul
hope dining on what remains
hate marinating into flame
blackened white smoke
kindling for a bonfire
Oh Ferguson.
Categories:
marinating, community, conflict, confusion,
Form:
Free verse
I think they would agree
No shown sympathy
Destruction slips through bloody teeth
Holes where hearts are supposed to be
And I need to breath
But the hand is on my throat
Musical reservations of my real anger
Keep sanity’s cries heard
In hot ears
Control is lost
Black blood boils
In veins
With every intention of emptying for this cause
My skull is leaking
Vapors of vicious retaliation
Marinating a training brain
Watering red eyes
Seeing similar atrocities
Don’t you believe
That even without a tail
A bee could sting
Even with out teeth
A dog would bite
3rd party chaos
Cowards cause
Will be stopped
By a body tired
A soul shaken
This occurrence
Is your last attack on happiness
Bury your lies
Hide yourself
I’m not stable anymore
Categories:
marinating, angst
Form:
Free verse
As he walked,
Breathed,
Talked,
Sneezed,
The root of all evil was indeed marinating deep within him,
A natural seasoning,
A cue for treason,
Short side of critical reasoning,
His attire was outfitted for any season,
His shoes covered many miles,
He supressed plenty smiles,
The eradication of the same breath he enjoys
dazzles his need to cause
pain and suffering.
He likes to be the Big Bad Wolf,
Follows his prey and performs a Houdini act,
Dangerous is an understatement,
Violence and cruelty is the aftermath,
He doesn’t know any better,
Desensitization at its finest,
He takes pride in adding the minus,
He takes pride in fulfilling his addiction to adding the minus.
Categories:
marinating, dark, life, pain, violence,
Form:
Free verse
Egypt is where she was once a tormented slave,
Many nights she was beaten into a cold grave,
She would lay for hours in the abyss,
Where she bled from her heart down to her wrist,
Tragically she’d question if there was more to life than this,
And if it was all over would she even be missed,
Then, One night after sobbing, with tears of her own blood,
While marinating her body in murky, soiled mud,
A delicate hand shielded with light,
Reached down and grabbed her with exceptional might,
A force that was brilliant dazzled this young girl,
As she opened her eyes she witnessed an incredible swirl,
That suddenly spiraled up into the gloomy night sky,
Leaving her questioning if what she saw was a lie,
She looked down at her wounds they were suddenly healed,
Then, found herself kneeling in a flourishing field,
"Plucked out of jail,"
She vibrantly hailed,
“Miracles are real
Love is all I can feel.”
By: Sabina Nicole
Categories:
marinating, happiness, hope, imagination, inspirational,
Form:
Epic
Oh, my precious press, you are my
praise-worthy kitchen helper.
You take a clove of fresh garlic, bland,
and soon it becomes a brilliant burst in
minced, crushed, or creamy paste.
My gentle press, you transform
the wild garlic and tame it in a most
determined and delightful way.
You impart fine perfumery in the air.
You make a delicious marinade possible.
Your actions provide a tantalizing tongue treat
as a succulent addition to marinating
lean red or white meat, or veggies.
Oh, were it not for you, dear press,
my life would be a thankless kitchen
chore, well-intended, but poorly executed.
I applaud your bold audacity!
Categories:
marinating, appreciation, feelings, food, imagery,
Form:
Ode
Our poetry...
A thousand times been read
Syllables contort tumbling
Under covers
Free verse unfettered
Beneath hot breath
Brail symbolic softens
As soon as alabaster wets
Lips’ reciting merely, what is
Or should be heartfelt said
Our poetry...
Sapidus is to taste
Licking walls
As licorice moisten
Is the dark, chocolate
Bar shadows cast
Through blinds
And legs of sunrise slats
Or perhaps, metaphor
Marinating passion’s hands
Our poetry...
Evermore in verse
Italic are the directions
Of sentimental waves
Strewn linen’s cryptic
Unmetered cursive
And letter lorn lavender
Stylish fashioned lace
Hence forth on and on
Withdrawn from structure punctuates
Our poetry...
Stanza’s line by line alive
Moves the throb muscle and tis’ heart
Further as the ballerina saut-de-chat
Etching out pass sweet
Tip brushed Dominican eyes
The mind is running after what
Shall merely be defined…as
Poetry reiteratively serendipitous
Clever as a serpentine
Categories:
marinating, beauty, emotions, fantasy, feelings,
Form:
Romanticism
Rendered your elixir within flowing fire
turned my head till flames got higher
'neath vapors' influence lustfully burning,
imbibed upon insatiable blushed lips
feverish craving ignited darkly melting hours
intoxicated of ravenously absorbed flamings
zealous ardor pulsing beyond desires,
hungry to the bone poured of unrelenting fervor
skin soaked in mania's intensified voracity,
unrestrained cries out resonating wanton tongues
dizzying gypsy soul dripping sinfully impassioned
liquid quenching glow farther impulsive madness,
scent of mounting sensitivity's rush marinating
'neath rhythmical torrid undulations gushing
through every explosively satiated vessel,
breathlessness melded 'tween kindled ascendancy
exploiting drunkenness of volatile ardent spirits
“Drink wine. This is life eternal. This is all that youth will give you. It is the season for wine, roses and drunken friends. Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.”
Omar Khayyám
Categories:
marinating, drink, fire, hyperbole, muse,
Form:
Prose Poetry
implicated for a crime he did not commit
fighting an endless and hopeless battle
unsure of who conspired aganist him
guilty of being black
innocent soul forced to be corrupt
mind racing and searching for relief
heartbeat slowing down
raped and tortued by inmates and guards
forced into a world where hell is home
wanting nothing but a fair trial
tears turn to rage while days turn to years
no visits no commissary thrown into confinement
four grey walls no bed naked and alone
marinating in feces while surviving on dirty urine
fed humility on a tray of spit and sperm
why does the system fail us
so many innocent lives wasting away
living and lost on the green mile
once an everyday working man
now becomes a man's woman
violated in mid-evil ways
betrayed by his flesh and blood
wanting to end it all now
just to be free once again
living inside his world of what if's
escape is through his prayers
life leaves him to die a slow death
alone and afraid of what lurks outside
having to swallow more than his pride
looking forward to that fateful day
when the needle filled with hate
will slowly enter his veins
and take him away
Categories:
marinating, depression, loss, sadworld,
Form:
Free verse
Dave Grigger is marinating in the tub.
Stopped by the Dollar-General and
got some bubble-bath. Feels like a
a jacuzzi at a midget night club filled
with gassy-ass dwarfs.
Reach for the cigs - wait -
dab hands on towel to dry.
Cool.
Now reach for the cigs, draw
one, like a blunted dagger
of delectable carcinogens.
Got no matches.
The head of a German Shepherd emerged
from the bubble bath.
My work was not finished, damn.
Gotta picket a few more abortion clinics.
Categories:
marinating, analogy,
Form:
Free verse