Best Milk(A) Poems


Mermaid's Milk: a Collaboration With the Still Dashing David Williams

The moss clung tightly; making it unbearable to breathe, 
and she sealed her lips tighter than a clam’s— not letting the pain take over

As the stars drift silently, like ships on a lost sea of darkness,
she whispers to Hope: 
“Swim free and look for the horizon, then come back to me...”

The night; collected on the leaves, 
       drops fell like Mermaid’s milk onto an already moist floor
Striking the shimmering tearful medium, 
         it gives birth to a shower of graceful pearls as the dawn awaits

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hear your voice drift upon a cool ocean breeze; 
              gilded words of adoration 
I glide towards it, praying that it guides me, 
          strengthens me, 
                nurtures me 
  like Mermaid’s milk

Touch as I might, my senses are in-different to please, my voice mute!
Be my Siren’s song and sing for me, serenade my senses back to life...

With an inquisitive tongue, I taste an almost scentless flower 
It is but a wisp, a whisper, a flick of a ray of sunshine, but it was There.

So much is lost. 
    The rivulets of time, hear me, see me, like a ghostly apparition...
Capture me in that moment by lovingly painting me. 
Sing me a song while you do, 
            and let the Mermaid’s milk flow again.




*****
Thank you David, for waiting ever so patiently for my long overdue part-- 
it was a very nice challenge for me to write this :) 
Thank you very much for the inspiring lines...
Categories: milk(a), hope, mystery, me, song,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Broken

his baby daughter
tossed aside like a rag doll
dad wanted a son

my mother told him
that I was ‘the next best thing’
at least she loved me!

always second best
but useful with garden chores
I can milk a goat!

unwanted... unloved
no father daughter closeness
I do not miss him

since he passed away
I have flourished with my words
but I’ll never grieve
Categories: milk(a), feelings, growing up, me,
Form: Senryu

Alien

ALIEN

Someone came to my room last night
An alien, I am sure, in frisson of delight
He crumbled on my dilly springbok breasts
And kissed my **** between love and rests
He was good at love, so how could I fight?

He was from a planetoid, a quicksilver lake
He stopped by my humble hut and saw me awake
He never thought of amber swan up for a take
He smiled like an early bird and put out the light
He was good at love, so how could I fight?

He had a wispy whisper to tell his tale
Which began in a Blanagram and ended in a whale
“My little Mary sunshine my hands go downhill
You are an earthling a cure for alien spill
You are a maritime dream of red sea squill”

I burst at the seams, a jiggery-pokery prank, a twist
Our love went on hand in hand and hand over fist
I sang a willow’s song “How a maid can milk a bull!”
I had no hammer, a chisel, a drake or a drool
But he was good at love, How could I resist?

Next day I bled and I was fresh as tart
I slept with an alien and took other's part
After all he was right, he lost his star chart.


© RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
27th October, 2014
Categories: milk(a), allegory, symbolism,
Form: Rhyme

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Migdal Eder

Muscles locked in agony
Every ligament burning 
Pain flooding nerve endings
Labor
Heavy panting of breath
Heart pumping trying to keep up

Behind the canopy of human perception 
Life and Death dance
  
On her knees pushing
Two women holding her
A third with hands out

Down, down . . . blood, sweat
Water – tears
A tearing and a swoosh
A boy, cover in blood
Cries into the wind
Life laughs with delight

Rachel in a panting whisper
Ben-Oni – his    n a  m   
                                      e
Dies

Death – laughs defiantly 
Echoes across this luscious valley 
Livestock pause from eating
Shepherds watch
Jacob climbs Migal Eder
Grief cries fill the valley

*** 1000 years later ******

A small wiry man from Moresheth
Deeply troubled 
Spoke about justice
The coming of doom
But also of hope

Micah climbs – Migal Eder
Watchtower of the flock
Cries --  “Daughter of Zion”
Listen . . . 
“Daughter of Jerusalem”
Hear my words

“Bethlehem Ephrathah
Small among the mighty clans of Judah
From within you
A ruler over Israel – a shepherd
From the beginning of days
Of ancient time
The restorer of Peace”

*****  700 years later ******

Too many people
No rooms
Tired, frustrated, worried
The pain  . . . 
Life and death begin to dance
She yells
J-O-S--E---P---H  !!!!!

In the distance
A tower
Fire
“Hang on Mary”
Almost there

Panting prayer- Y a h w e h!!! 
Father of this great hurt!
P – L – E – A – S – E 
Release your son – NOW!!

Down
Upon her knees 
A depression of earth
A pair of hands
Pushing with all her might
Gritted teeth, white lips pressed wide

A tearing of maidenhood
A breaching of flesh – blood burst forth
Within the blood – an infant
Relief

Cool air – Life dances upon the breeze
Death shaken, slinks away
Breast, milk, a swaddling
A mother’s love
Under Migal Eder
Watchtower of the Flock
Resting in a manger

Across the valley
A bright light
Music – “Glory to God in the highest . . .”
A new shepherd
A paschal lamb
J E S U S



Live and Love Generously


David Meade
12/19/2016
Categories: milk(a), blessing, child, dance, love,
Form: Free verse

Cookies and Milk

“Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o’clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap.” Barbara Jordan
There’s not a single problem in the world that couldn’t be solved by sharing a cookie, a smile, and a hug. Imagine if before discussing nuclear arms or trade negotiations, our world leaders simply sat down, shared a glass of milk, a few cookies, and a quick nap. Maybe they would all dream of world peace.

No child was ever
Born with hatred and mistrust
We have taught them well
Categories: milk(a), poetry,
Form: Haibun

He Was a Farmer

He Was A Farmer
He was a farmer for most of his life.
A friend to all that came along.
Would help anyone with a dollar or more.
A jack of all trades and a master of none <He once said.
Loved life his family and his farm.
He is now gone to plow the fields in heaven . 
Maybe milk a cow before Sunday church.
Then to a good place to eat. Missing Mary's cooking.
He'll be missed by all that called him Farmer Monroe.
R.I.P. Monroe 5/15/17
Categories: milk(a), death, lost,
Form: Free verse


Milkshake Man

I am an extraordinary dairy man,
I really give that milk a shake,
I whir it on my mixer,
I think you should partake.

I have such scrumptious flavours,
I'll put a dob of ice-cream in,
Your taste buds will go ballistic,
Just as soon as you begin.

There you go, drink it up,
Well, what did you think of that?
I think it tastes so very nice,
But, will it make me fat?


-more poems like this can can be found at:

kidscomedypoetry.com.au
Categories: milk(a), children, funny,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member So So the Clown - the Quatrain Style

~So -  So The Clown ~ 
( Unmetered Quatrain)


So - So the Clown 
He's a very happy fellow 
He never wears a frown 
But he doesn't like to milk a cow.

He likes to play upside-down, 
With his very cute puppy, chowchow, 
And in every event, he gets a crown, 
And he doesn't know why  and how. 

So - So the Clown, 
Likes to wears stilts  to grow, 
And then he's so funny he takes a vow, 
And thumps! He falls,  all the way facedown.

Everybody loves So -  So the Clown, 
And he knows of his job, all the knows and how,
That's why, all they call him  So - So the Clown, 
But he doesn't care,  about that somehow.


Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2005


October.02.2016
Categories: milk(a), character, fantasy, children, ,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Only Brother

He was the eldest,
tall, handsome, all knowing 
(by his own assessment).

He could roll a ‘guide and wheel’
all the way to school
without a stop. That wheel
kept rolling as if by magic.

He could shimmy up a tree
in search of wild grapes.

He could swim in deep water,
catch snakes for pets.

He could hunt squirrels with Dad,
shoot a 22 rifle.

He could milk a cow,
hitch a horse to the wagon.

He could zing you, square on,
with a dry corn cob.

He could run barefoot 
through woods, creeks, fields,
and over dirt roads.

But he missed the rafter,
fell through to the floor below,
knocked himself out cold,
chasing his cat through the attic.
© Cona Adams  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: milk(a), brother, childhood, funny,
Form: Free verse

The Dress

Slinky green silk cut dangerously high. 
Skin pale as milk; a glimpse of white thigh.
Swinging and clinging to hips that sway,
Thin fabric skimming; legs on display.

Shining gold hair, swept up in soft waves.
Florid yet fair: bare shoulders, smooth planes.
Sending bold glances, sneaking smug smiles,
Dangling chances with feminine wiles.
 
I must confess, without guilt or regret,
I wore this dress just to make you sweat.
I must confess, this is all a ruse -
I wore this dress just to torture you.
Categories: milk(a), goodbye,
Form: Rhyme

Waiting At the Grocery Store

Waiting at the Grocery Store

Looking around, my fingers fidgeting a multicolored scarf,
Searching through pockets for a letter that needs to be read, 
a phone call message I need to hear, but there are none. 
And I am going over the list one more time,
Standing semi-still under artificial lights, 
Balancing on alternate limbs
For a carton of skim milk, a loaf of French bread, coffee grounds, cream.
With the arm of a dangling child, a mother rushes by
Pushing cold rubber wheels across the linoleum.
The frantic woman at the register cries about her coupon.
Preparing for a battle, she shakes her head
And waves the war flag,
Fifty-five cents off a box of Lucky Charms.
She spits discontent at a tiny, gray haired cashier.
“Expired?” 
In the distance a child is being abused.
There will be no gum, no M&Ms, no sugar-silence.
The man behind me chimes, “Man, these lines. Never seen such lines.”
And he lies about a place where there are no lines.
He looks in my eyes, tries.
I barely nod, no need for provoking conversation. 
Like the man at the bar who mistook, “Hello” for “Let’s go ****.”
The back of my head still throbs.
And I hate them all.

And I shift away, burning in my skin under the artificial lights,
Waiting for waiting.
Categories: milk(a), anger, introspection, life, lonely,
Form: Free verse

Cookies and Milk

I wanted some cookies and milk
So much.
I never crave this.
I never crave cookies.
I never crave milk and cookies and such.
It may not seem vital to people and persons who aren't in my head right now, right here.
But I wanted cookies and I couldn't have them.
It's not that I need or deserve them at all.
It's just that I saw it. The package of cookies.
I poured out the milk, a glass larger sized
Then opened the pack of cookies and lies.
One was remaining. 
Just one.
Just one?...
I'm saddened the cookies are done.
They're done.
I wanted some cookies and milk so much.
So much. So much. So much
Categories: milk(a), conflict, cry, how i
Form: Rhyme

Almost

Almost

I will this bleakness sorrow's brow to fold,
I cannot carry numbers forth this day
Or any other
or too sumit more than this remorseful word: Almost,
A term that sums the sun’s decay, the stars in disarray;
No more to me, they say, than syntax is rendered mute 
Under this cover of the night. 
The source of all this finery, this canopy display, such
Reverberations flow, such confusion in the know, we
Bite our lips and stare at stones that float above our heads;
We clench our throats and dodge a bullet to find comfort
In a can of milk, a woman’s smile,
We dart the planes of circumstance, we walk a crooked mile,
In wonder of the doing,
In all, our nature’s ruined – by mocking every best intention.
All our aching, all our sounds to fill the void.
I shout: Almost!
It echoes far from skies above,
In hope and bail fulls above;
I sense it in the air,
Thick it falls from mourning,
Love—grasp all you seek and share it –
It is almost everywhere.
© Joe Dinki  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: milk(a), faith, father, forgiveness,
Form: Ballade

Ida

(Dedicated to Ida Greene who died July 5, 2008.)

Ida was her name and she was my mom's former stepmother.
For eighteen months she helped take care of Mom, her sister and her brothers.
She taught my mom how to milk a cow.
I hate to say that she is dead now.
She's being buried today and her family is feeling remorse.
She kept my Granddad's last name after they got a divorce.
She passed away yesterday at the age of ninety-five.
She was a kind and good person while she was alive.
Categories: milk(a), death
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Mixed Drink

Blackstrap molasses I drink every day.
I've learned it holds anemia at bay.
One tablespoon quick stirred up
with almond milk (a scant cup)
makes my red blood cells cheer. Hip hip hooray!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nancy Jones
October 30, 2011
for Francine Roberts' Pick a Beverage, any Beverage contest
Categories: milk(a), food, health,
Form: Limerick
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