Best Masticate Poems
I witness you fading away,
The winds blow frantically
They are against us, as all are
Little fire, rise in my cupped hands
Be it my life I shield from the elements so unfeeling?
Little fire, brighten as I feed you
This moisture receding from my pores must cease
Before I drown this diminishing beauty
I gasp,
Surprised at the howls and retorts of this icy tempest
Nature’s exhalations mean to end what must naturally end
My hands shake
Little fire—my life!
—I must keep you alive!
Grow against all odds
Against the screaming whirlpools of bluster
Against the torrential tears that mean to overcome you
Against the ashes that can only watch the desolation around you,
As you search for more fuel to masticate
My flesh is no treasure to me,
So lick me deep, my flame
Devour these hands that shield you
Rise hastily, as you burn
Ascending up my arms,
Lighting every goosebump, shriveling every hair
Rise till I am all aflame in this wilderness
Boil and evaporate every murderous tear—
The fluids of sorrow that so pulverize purpose
Eat through every sinew, and every tissue,
Every muscle and every bone that has grown
For this moment and this moment only
I give you every piece of me, little fire!
So that my spirit, finally free, shall rise to the heavens
Past the shrieking winds, preceding through the jeers of thunder
I give you my all, blessed fire!
So that these eyes may witness every storm die
And I may laugh at their futility!
Ocie the Ocelot liked words a lot!
As a tot, words like dot and trot hit the spot
Then, getting older, the folder on her shoulder grew bolder
What was once handy stopped ringing so dandy
Craving vocabulary candy to bandy
She sought what she ought, to form lukewarm to hot
Mooshu, the emu guru, knew what to do
To bring notice and gain focus
Journey there, to the oracle's lair
The fortress of Morris the Thesaurus Tortoise
When she approached his door, saying, "I want more!"
His smile creased - he replied, "Your covet's increased!"
She confessed her distress at being a pest
But he said, "My dear, you're not stubborn - you're tenacious!
You're not merely aware - you're perspicacious!"
It's not only knowledge; it's proficiency, cognition, discernment
For ideas, impressions, concepts, brainstorming segments
Be bold, audacious, intrepid, resolute, gallant
Credit your capacity, flair, savvy, talent
Evade the cliche, the commonplace, the trite
Clamp on, lacerate, masticate, bite!
Hours freed, for her need to succeed
Then, at the end, one final creed to heed-
Don't fall a slave to the misbehaving knave
Sometimes, the simpler speech is the one to save.
3/4/19
Poem of the Day 3/06/19
Masticator
To salty, crunchy foods I gravitate:
Popcorn, fries, potato chips and nachos
And on my plate some food to masticate:
Fried chicken, pizza, hamburgers and tacos!
A large hot soup can soothe my appetite,
But serve it, please, with crackers I can BITE!
Sarong Song/ Chocolate Lament
For breakfast I sat down with sweetened cocoa;
I snacked on Hershey kisses all day long.
Then chocolate cream éclairs I had with dinner.
I’m changing my bikini for sarong.
A Masticator’s Fate?
Behind my mother I am following.
The white hairs keep appearing; it’s with dread
I picture myself one day swallowing
My food with dentures stuck inside my head!
For the What is a Randomling? Poetry Contest
Three rhymed poems presented as a set on one theme
Worth A Shot
I didn’t want to alienate the capricious alien who ate
my malignant scapegoat Harry who refused to gravitate
outside to chew my weeds although he did then dissipate
the transitory nature of my fluctuating weight
and though he was perspicuous and often tried to bate
me into argumentative discussions (which I hate)
he sometimes tried to flatter me while I would masticate
the breakfast sausage bought by my inurbane sister Kate.
And now that I’ve used all ten words I think I’ll just tempt fate
and stop, because it’s dinnertime, and this is NOT first-rate!
August 31, 2016
Some folks like food that’s smooth to touch their lips;
which does not come in chunks or crunchy sticks.
They take their tea in leisurely small sips
or eat ice cream with lots of tiny licks.
I rarely ask for smoothies or for yogurt,
for puddings or for bland and jiggling jello.
I much prefer the entrees to dessert
and something hearty over something mellow.
To salty, crunchy foods I gravitate:
popcorn and potato chips and nachos,
and on my plate some food to masticate:
pasta, pizza, burgers, fries or tacos.
A large hot soup can soothe my appetite
if served with lots of crackers I can BITE!
For the the Screwed XII Poetry Contest of Rob Carmack
from 10/6/2013
Masticate this thought for me, reader.
Basic stories of characters with settings and plot.
Occasional works of obscure fiction written in flamboyant diction.
Maybe television shows or whatever media your mind chose.
Why does life and fiction have similarities?
We’ve apparently became parodies.
Archetypes, tropes and plot devices according to our script.
Except it seems the audience is all applause and standing ovation.
Supposedly great ratings or bestseller.
You haven’t heard our success? Well, you’re a bottom-dweller.
Oh! You suggest a rewrite? A script change?
You'll be written out that can be arranged.
As Jaque said,
“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”
However, a rewrite can add layers.
Yes, dear reader-
You can be the writer!
Evolve a scene to make it brighter!
Sadly, ideas and influence are the base of your personality.
Unjust is this reality but that’s the duality.
Determine which truth is yours to follow.
Even if it’s slightly hollow.
Plot holes will continue to exist, because we can’t resist the perfect screenplay.
The poet of this musing is in the same boat as you.
He didn’t produce this particular piece.
You pondered enough you can cease.
There will be no riddle to guess.
It’ll only become a mess, you’ll be stupefied by the stress.
I used him as a medium to establish a connection;
a ploy of deception call it misdirection.
I am Death!
I’ve been around for centuries,
I’ve guided many souls to the afterlife.
The past is behind…
The present is set…
The future is unclear…
The end is nigh…
Remember:
Your health will deplete or an event will happen down the line-
Never forget that your soul is always mine!
There’s a drumstick in the refrigerator and it’s calling out my name,
There’s some biscuits and gravy next to it and they are doing just the same.
How do they know me and what is it that they want me to do?
Do they really think that I can devour them any better than you?
Have my talents at culinary consumption reached such a peak,
That the food now requests some quality time nestled in my cheek?
With prestidigitation the food will disappear from my plate,
By slight of hand I’ll fill my mouth and then I’ll masticate.
I'm the best one to contact when there’s food around to swallow?
I don’t want to brag but I’ve never left the table feeling hollow.
Come to me you leftover foods allow me to fill your destiny,
For I alone can make you happy while you digest in me.
With a Heart soaked in Pain,
I bowed and removed my Hat,
Tears, tickling my cheek,
Like Matilda i have dragged my Pain here.
An Encomium i have come to pay,
The Pain i tried to Masticate,
Like a rock, It was not edible.
But to You, The Mountain Melter,
Its non-verbal expression is legible,
'cause as The Omnipotence,and Omniana,
You dont need an interpreter.
Higgedly-piggedly i appear before Thee,
To seek Thy Fountain of Gratification,
Pleading You unleash Thy Spigot of Purification,
To shelter me, away from my Pain,and Pains.
By Emjoe Centelima®
Do Not Play with Plaque
We prefer that you do not play with plaque,
Or much more decay soon may come back;
Even if your gums and skin are both porous,
Come to dentist office and join their chorus.
They there become monitor and regulator;
Did use both dental floss and a stimulator;
Breathing fresh air is the best substance;
Bad breath brings on much repugnance.
Before magnificent mornings pass us by,
Brush all beautiful teeth am sure to try;
Perfect example like to and always set;
Love at first sight when dentist we met.
Same to assistants and receptionist applied;
For all of their support have heavily relied;
So each morning mouth wakes up smiling,
And now my nice teeth am never defiling.
Do brush up and down and sideways to;
Between teeth floss through and through,
And then in the end you can hardly wait,
To use gum massager before we masticate.
Mouths do exceed each standard and form;
Dentist said set and established a new norm;
On our teeth, actions control ware and tare;
Shiny and still look gorgeous everywhere.
James Thesarious Hilarious
Retired Veteran and Poet
https://www.poetrysoup.com/member_area/edit_my_poem.aspx?PoemID=710531
This year I asked Santa for a Harley
and a flagon of wine made of barley.
Then I asked God alone
for an angel of my own,
only not one of His, one of Charlie’s!
`~~~
The hot girl next door at her window stands
and through it I gaze her soft buxom glands.
When the moment I seize
it’s at times such as these
I’m so glad I’m not Edward Scissorhands!
~~~
My ma said something I couldn’t ignore
at dinner time and my jaw hit the floor.
Okay, but I think you’ll find
any more and I’ll go blind,
“No, I said you need to masticate more!”
Written: January 2018
yummy chewy
yucky gooey
Hide it hoard it
We all adore it
suck it slurp it
guzzle it burp it
Soft or crunchy
Choose your munchy
Bite it lick it
In your mouth is where ya stick it
In the morning dew
redolent sounds
of summer surround me
In pendant blue
I flaunt my splendour
eagerness cresting
my desires peaking
He wonders around
charming the milieu
dressed in stripes and
an invincible air
Dashingly he comes to me
whispering sweet nothings
his music sonicates me
Enchanted I allow
his mandibles to
masticate me
I could feel his warmth
rubbing rhythmically
all along my lobes
Then
he titillates open
my softness
and sucks up the succus
as I let him
relish my goodness
we enthuse in this moment
Of pure bliss
until he
seeds me
Feeling sated
I radiate in the risen sun
And let him flutter away
to his flourishing fantasies
One fly flew down the Interstate
Longing to rest and meditate
Near a waterfall
Where hummingbirds call
That place where dreams anticipate.
So many sites to fascinate
His mind began to marinate.
In a field serene,
There was a latrine.
One site he could appreciate.
Mushrooms, he thought, would germinate.
He soared and did not hesitate.
Gossip he heard folks tell.
Embraced the stinking smell,
Some tasty tales to masticate…
Who did what and when they did it!
Who loves whom and why they hid it!
Written on the wall
Words in every stall
Diabolical rumors flit!
That fly flew down the Interstate.
No longer could he meditate
Near a waterfall
Where hummingbirds call
Always worried about man’s fate.
© January 30, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
I start out with no ideas at all. Then I begin to free type.
I type words that rhyme – bubble, double, trouble, he, me, knee.
The trick is to keep adding words even if they make no sense.
Then I envision Trixie, my muse. She is dancing, prancing, and lancing.
Lancing a banana, lancing a bell, lancing her way to the bowels of hell.
She is a minx who is always doing something to me – cutting off my head,
forcing me to walk the plank, rolling me into wet sticky syrup.
I imagine my head sticking out its tongue at her, and being kicked.
If the “what if Trixie ……..” stops working, I get out a book about animals.
Or a book about trees, stars, ESP, planets, dinosaurs, pirates, or something else.
It matters not what the book is about, only that it is interesting to me.
I choose words I like and I type them up – meiosis, mytosis, planetary, astral.
If nothing pops up, I put a dictionary or a Thesaurus on my lap.
I begin thumbing through it, choosing the most tantalizing words.
Pantywaist, masticate, which leads me to plasticate, bastifate, chastilate,
I love making up my own words the very most actually.
Sometimes I am rhyming, other times I just throw down a scenario
That did not actually happen but almost happened.
Because reality is fun, but “creality” is better.
The trick is to type and keep typing, not stopping. Edit later.
I had never met a happier ice cream banana split.
She sang to me songs that would make you twirl a bit.
Love songs and ditties that spilled over her glass bowl.
She was an ice cream with feelings, a banana split with a soul.
I hate to devour you, I told her as I tried to masticate.
That is fine! She told me, my strawberry syrup is great!
She sang all the way down my esophagus and truly tickled me.
I love being a part of you, she sang out. I kind of miss her glee.