Best Mashing Poems
Just a brush of your hand
sends my pulse racing
a blush on my cheek
imagining where it could be tracing
Torture being so close
and not being able to kiss you
feelings of remorse
inviting a visitor or two
Wanting you so much
unable to hold you in my arms
avoiding the slightest touch
because I can't resist your charms
Bound to you, body, heart and soul
never knew such passion
my desire I'm trying to control
as the potatoes I'm mashing
Dinner is finally served
I'm going to be dessert
acting all shy and reserved
hard, when you want to flirt
Categories:
mashing, devotion, love, passion, romance,
Form:
Rhyme
As far away as I was you lead me back home
Teaching me how to pray even as I did roam
Never leaving my side always calling my name
Though I didn't abide and was filled with shame
But You Took that blame all of it You took away
Holy, Holy, Holy is Your Name teach us to Pray
Open up all of our eyes as it becoming so late
With the devils lies society can so easily equate
With all Your Light Shone everything far and near
It's just in there tone that for them I begin to fear
No one enters but through all Your Grace completed
Lord if they only knew next to the Father Your Seated
Lord if they only knew not just the mashing of teeth
Their sins coming due as they lay that funeral wreath
But of Your Love and Grace and Your abundant Mercy
They can't see it in this place, please Lord help them see
Categories:
mashing, jesus,
Form:
Rhyme
I cling to the tangibility of paper
its connection to earth,
the feel of the grain
on the skin.
Words do not exist
thanks to the mashing
of keys and buttons, but by providence
of the paper.
The forgotten paper
is still alive. Soft
and crumpled
yellowed with age.
Though forgotten
never erased. Never
extinguished.
I do not bleed red
cells but globules
of words, coagulated
phrases and lines.
The pen is a prosthesis,
supplementing blood
where soft flesh leaves prints-
other swirled lines an whirls.
The pencil
whispers
words,
lightly brushes her lips
against slate,
ever the timid lover.
Even when erased
the word is
forever imprinted, its curvatures
embedded in the soft
fiber of the page.
The screen
is an evil thing; coveting
its symbols and codes.
It hides
away your words,
entombs them
behind an electric moon.
When the screen dies
so do your musings.
Categories:
mashing, art,
Form:
Ode
Palliative Poetic Pain
Throwing and trashing
Flowing and flashing
Breaking and bashing
Screaming and smashing
Mixing and mashing
My love is lashing
Frustrated and fighting
Exploding and exciting
Sinning and sighing
Careless and crying
Deep full and defying
My death is dying
Sleepless and starving
Countless and charming
Damaged and daunting
Holy and haunting
Healing and harming
My heaven is hardening
Saddened and silent
Voiceless and violent
Quest full and quiet
Venomous and vibrant
Peaceful and private
A genuine gentle giant
Battled and burning
Tossing and turning
Nerves and numbing
Hiding and humbling
Tearful and tumbling
My world is crumbling
Evolved and enslaved
Saintly and saved
Bowing and behaved
Caring and caved
Wondrous and waved
Dramaturgically dazed.
A poet and artist's world before and after they begin their craft...or is it just me? lol...
02.13.2017
WHAT LIES BENEATH THE LIES ...Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
Categories:
mashing, anxiety, conflict, emotions, motivation,
Form:
Rhyme
Today I was cooking, cutting up tomatoes, my husband called me while mashing potatoes
"Hurry to the bedroom, they are playing a song, that has made me think of you all my life long"
Busy as I was, I was curious to see, what song made him think of me.
Down the hall, opening the door, my husband started dancing with me on the bedroom floor
The melody surrounded us like a cocoon, safe within his arms lost in the tune
"I have waited for you all my life" were the words of the song
We danced in that moment so long
A moment that brought tears to my eyes, My husband asked, "Why do you cry?"
"This moment, a gift you made mine, is a precious moment in time."
Back to the kitchen to do my chores, Treasuring a moment I will remember forever more.
Categories:
mashing, dance, joy, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Some ooglay dweeb-o-rama after school
went and caught me mashing with my boy toy
(a stella stud, I kid you not -mad cool!)
Geek said, “He’s half your age!” I said, “No DOY!”
Before that tard could gag me out the door,
I told him, “Hey, step off and bag your face.”
Then he spazzed out and said I was a whore.
For real?? I’d barely got to second base!
Suck! Geek finally booked it; then my stud
put on some jams and everything was SCWHEET!
We vegged out on the couch and shared a bud,
then later played New Wave, grooved to the beat.
My dude is wicked, and the zeek was right:
I’m sure not young, but OH, how young the night!
** I have composed a list of definitions for all the
80's slang words and phrases. Just click on "About this Poem"
Written by Andrea Dietrich
For craig cornish's "Talk That Way" Poetry Contest
(My decade of course is the 80's)
Categories:
mashing, funny, me,
Form:
Sonnet
If for one week each man could be mother,
then men might think as mothers think.
Could you stand the life
Say of being your own wife?
Dirty dishes do not belong in the sink.
For one week, all men should run the home;
trade places with the cook for a real trip.
Think of planning every meal,
mashing potatoes with no peel.
Did you fix the faucet that’s started to drip?
You’d change the beds and clean the clothes,
of rust, blood, and ink there’d be no trace.
Be a mind reader at times
solving children’s crimes,
you’d show your children God and his grace.
Part magician, part clown, part traffic cop,
you’d give birth, nurse all who need care.
Respond to each cry,
answer every “why?”,
know how to get bubble gum out of hair.
Of the women I’ve known who’ve been mothers
by men they can’t be supplanted.
Trade-offs are fun to ponder
and can make us wonder
why on earth men take mothers for granted.
Categories:
mashing, mother,
Form:
Limerick
;;;;;;;;.............;;;;;;;;
so many frigid clouds
so many dangling drooping dippers
on this icy, icy night of paper, powder and pearl…
she gushes out from the night blanket,
cats and tigers in flight, trees mashing ivory
feathers with silver stones.
her lukewarm eyes sink with velvet birds
sketching her photographs tissue crepe,
ocean crème and maiden white,
nesting on hemisphere’s balding coves
the sky-lamps trip on her thermal feet
naked… i mean, like breasts of newborn doves
on the nest’s chilled waiting room...
and just past midnight
at the basement of stillness, nothingness,
her translucent air swerves in transit
between visions of secluded saints and sinners
weeping then laughing at the bite of polar time.
this moon lady of frost
embraces lantern clouds waning,
heralding her sacred infant-like incantation
seemingly detached from earth mother’s limbs
on this icy, icy night of paper, powder and pearl…
she is cold changing to warm,
breathless along an arctic season longing
for her new moonchild to bear the fruits
of plump colors soon to be.
........................................
(( here's to: Chris D. Aechtner's " Free Verse for Winter"))
Categories:
mashing, seasons, spacenight, night,
Form:
Free verse
Stop
Sign
Red light Green light
Stop running by the pool
Stop annoying your siblings
Stop picking your nose
Stop Drop and Roll
Stop talking in class
Stop making out behind the gym
Stop mashing your zits
Stop going so fast
Stop staying out so late
Stop!
there's a cop
Stop underage drinking
Stop having sex
Stop wasting time
Stop lying in bed all day
Stop calling in sick
Stop what you're doing
and listen for just a minute
More like an hour!
Stop being a smart ass
Stop being a free loader
This has got to stop!
Stop being mainstream
Stop shaving
Stop by and see me sometime
Stop ignoring me
Stop lying
Stop cheating
Are they ever going to stop?
Somebody...Please make them stop!
Stop blaming yourself
Stop dating
Stop daydreaming
Stop and smell the roses
Stop being irresponsible
Stop smoking
Stop fighting
Stop hunger
Stop Drop and Roll
Stop repeating yourself
Stop human trafficing
Stop human trafficing
Stop looking the other way
Stop the world from spinning
out of control
How do I make it stop?
Stop this madness!
Categories:
mashing, anxiety, culture,
Form:
Free verse
Ode To A Mammogram
Checking the calendar for appointments to be made
I come across a giant circle that I placed there yearly
take another day off work and dress for the parade
I’ve lost a list of many friends who I loved so dearly
a simple test they could have had to keep them all well
a large machine, a simple shot, the picture reads so clearly
The murmur of the lowering platform with silent ringing bells
a gentle tug, a shiftless stance, a long, long, holding breath
I wait while pictures are reviewed, some to dense to tell.
Another form, another mashing, another brush with death
why worry about what we don’t know, it just leads to strife
Shocking news, another mass, but we can get that depth
Somewhere someone has lost a mother, a sister, a wife
All women should take the time to save their own life.
Not in Ode format, so I put it in as free verse.
Categories:
mashing, women,
Form:
Free verse
"My Life Remains"
by: Eric L. Boddie
One week ago I looked death in the face without fear
Since Jesus Is In my heart, I am still here
Riding along with my uncle, a friend pulled into our path
And he hesitated rather than mashing the gas
There was nothing we could do, Unc tried his best to miss
And as he veered slightly to the left, there were four Lives that can now reminisce
Of an event that could have torn two families apart
But God Was With us from the very start
No broken bones, but the doctors say I may have a pinched nerve
Because the strength in my right arm seems to have forgotten how to serve
And that is the write arm and writing is about all I can now do
This is something I would wish for no one to go through
But s*** happens, and that is all I can say
And before it happens to you, make sure you Know How To Pray
Categories:
mashing, blessing, car, death, encouraging,
Form:
Rhyme
What would it be like…
If there were no Thanksgiving this year?
What? No turkey with trimmings?
No hams?
No pumpkin pies?
No favorite dish of yams?
No family gathering?
No grown up children with kids of their own?
What if everyone just stayed home?
No kids would be running
Or shouting with joy
No toddlers crying
All grabbing one toy
No special smells that fill the air
No decorations on table or stair
No mashing of potatoes, real butter and milk
No cornucopia, made with ribbons and silk
No memories shared of loved ones now gone
No football game yells; no favorite song
Look outside. Something is missing out there
No extra cars parked; No feelings of care
Most of all no family arranging; no timer set
No ready smiles. No chairs to get
The “dreaded” annual photo is not to be
The happiest part of that day for me.
No capturing of faces we love so dear
No thought that someone may not be here next year
It’s okay. I’m still grateful in every way
To me it’s still a special day
Don’t need a pilgrim’s hat on my head
Don’t need a turkey or homemade bread
I cherish the years that I have had
One dark holiday won’t make me sad
(Sniff, sniff….)
Categories:
mashing, emotions, november, thanksgiving,
Form:
Light Verse
In Time with Autumn
—————————————-
Autumn rushed ahead
without me,
Leaving me to chase
After its perfect
violet skylight.
My running feet crack
The silence of
the earlier dusk, with
My mashing of
the dry death
Of the discarded
Brown and golden leaves
Covering the ground
I course,
Trying to catch up.
It seems
Time has become
A fleeing antelope, so
Much faster than my sprinting…
And my aging has left me
With neither the wisdom
Nor any proverbs
To reconcile my long decades
With these quickening years,
This skirting of seasons
And their shortened breath…
I remain a turn and a length behind
In this — my present calendar’s —
Unreasonable race
In sight of autumn’s
beautiful sunset.
The rush, beyond me,
Calls for a delighting stroll,
As my soul whispers,
“This human measure
Of time forgets:
Every second may be ever-lasting.”
————————————————-
(c) sally young Eslinger art & poem 10/31/21
Thanks be to God
Categories:
mashing, age, christian, how i
Form:
Free verse
Part Two
When we were young you used to have a wit rarely challenged and a strength of passion no one questioned
Now you stress about the little things and you're seeming very anxious
You had beauty early on in our lifes before this happened
I ask myself what exactly was it that I imagined the future would be for us when age would play its catch up with the kids who gambled adolescence just to laze about mashing it up cos having fun was the attraction of another day in paradise of amorous desire for the girls who used to tantalize
And when the time came for us to grow up it was a sacrifice of adulthood because we stood alone and watched the parasites using advertisements to glamorize sex lies and war crimes like perfect master minds the whole time the selfish few trying to ruin all the manuscripts of knowledge that the elders knew with a grand design of reproduced illusions that they're selling you and we became a nation of depression drip fed the truth
So I can see why you're finding life so hard to do cos adulting is difficult and nothing's going right for you
Especially when ahead and then you start to lose and all you want to do is go back to relive your youth
Categories:
mashing, character, hip hop, rap,
Form:
Rhyme
In what way shall I improvise myself?
Shall I memorize the first way I felt?
And my origin from West Africa
Through the European landing in hell?
Jelly with a honeysuckle belly
Make it catch like rhythm that unfolds
Unremembering the hell til it tells me
Live like I act like a story untold.
Ragtime Naptown bands in syncopation
Dixieland Creole bred pause for the cause
Sax make it take it banjo behave it
Clarinet trombone tuba and guitar
String bass and pluck mashing in your face
Swing like I tap dance on boogie shaped clouds
Ella King Vaughn touch it fast then it shake
Mean as a blues song on turn it up now.
Then I gain recognition streams freed me
On to an atonal sound without bop
And I'm not in any definite key
Remembering not remember locks.
Categories:
mashing, memory,
Form:
Free verse