Best Onion Poems
Out shopping met an old friend from school
he turns to me serious looking
what are you at these days
Well says I
working for a China man
picking up crumbs
for disabled birds
Those with broken wings
who are unable to fly smiling
to warmer sunnier climates
Whoa he sounded shocked
he said what a job
What's the money like
he asked laughing out loud
I said less than peanuts
out all weathers
Barely feed a mouse
God I am glad he said
that I have bumped into you
saying you have just really cheered me up
What a man really needed
Peanuts I replied
He began laughing
saying that I was a character
really brightened up his dull day
leaving all I heard was him laughing
Oh, pungent onion, large, sweet and fried
in golden rings, diced, sauteed for
casseroles or grilled with meats;
tossed raw into my greens!
I love you so, that
when I slice your
skin, I’m the
one that
weeps!
Meaning, ever bending, never ending-ly open to changing it's mind and opinions,
by moving around words and pulling and pushing in different directions,
until everything changes, rearranges pages in history
just for the mystery to begin again
with new songs, new players and these layers and layers
of summits and new beginnings.
Of openings back to where we came in.
New meanings are foaming and forming
within the fatted belly of doing and screwing until done.
Come watch a new one get sprung.
A new shape to take place of the old, behold
and believe in your prayers.
They keep coming these layers and layers
and faces of women and men.
Turn around just to begin again.
Onion tears I heard mother say
As she used her apron to wipe them away
But she was in the process of kneading bread
I knew those tears were genuine instead
She never wanted us to see her cry
Alas, her tender heart would often sigh
Tears cleanse the soul of deepest pain
Clear the path for smile to follow the rain
The puppet pranced
The strings frayed
A jackass brayed
As poppin’ hoppys
Sat and rose
In ballet dance
Of well browned nose
Applause and “clapture”
of Stockholm rapture
A mocking strut
Of failing stature
Overseers jaundiced eyes
Pundits seeking pulitz prize
Dissect the metaphoric frog
Wash it down with pints of grog
Amidst the spin of liars din
They shout pick me let’s ride again
Update quickly twitter feeds
Sating lustful twitter needs
Condense a two hour monologue
Into a twenty-five word blog
Check the facts, don’t be a chump
It’s just another “word soup” dump
John G. Lawless
©2/8/2023
Layers of an onion I gave to you
Like a circle, unbroken
Like the brightness of the moon
The warmth of the sun
I am your constant
At the heart of the onion
Is my heart - I give to you
More than an onion (a circle)
Wrapped in thin brown paper
I am potent with love
Fierce in my devotion
A kiss from an onion
(My lips to your lips) stained
With my faithfulness,
My commitment,
You possess me
I am sweetly poisoned by you
There is no cure - I don't need one
You are my constant
you'll cry me an onion
i didn't mean to upset you so ~
multiple layers shed endless tears
AP: 2nd place 2025
My favorite dining place in town is a place called La Baguette.
'Tis a quaint French café and I haven't found its equal yet.
They serve the most scrumptious French onion soup west of Gay Paree,
And it is slurped by discriminating snobs as well as we bourgeoisie!
They serve other grub such as baguettes and burgundy beef stews,
Escargot, pate, salad maison and an assortment of cheese fondues.
And Monday through Friday they ladle bowls of soup du jour,
But each and every day they serve French onion soup for sure!
Eating French onion soup is a challenge and requires a bit of skill,
Especially, dealing with the stringy cheese in that delectable swill.
The glob of provolone clings like a boa constrictor to my spoon,
And dangles from my noble chin making me look somewhat like a goon!
De mal en pis (just when my dilemma has gone from bad to worse),
Faire bonne mine (to put a good face on matters) I tend to curse.
To save face, next time I'll ask the waiter, "S'il vous plait (if you please),
I'll have a bowl of your French onion soup sans that stringy cheese!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt,USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Got me a burger with raw onion piled high
A super-sized soda and a sack of french fries
Stomach starts to chirp
So let out a burp
An odor starts to linger like I was bout to die
There is a truth in you my friend
both heady and unique
that makes my sense of smell
take flight,
and drives my curiosity.
I carve away voraciously,
cut deep and cut again
til glossy bulb is
ringed layers
of dazzling luminosity.
Sweet orbed bands,
I plate them out,
in artful presentation
gleaming rings I praise, admire
the aim of my pomposity
I peel, and peel,and peel again
core’s perfect pearl revealed
And I in awe,
Relish, delight
devour you aromally
>I once had an onion
And he was very bad
Kept kicking all the apples
Made them very mad
He once stole a monkey
Then sold it to a stoat
He borrowed someone's hamster
And threw it in a moat
Climbing up a ladder
One day in sunny June
He found a baby rattlesnake
Singing a happy tune
Wrapping it up in a bag
He took it far away
And where they were for a week or two
I really couldn't say
He collected tiny unicorns
And threw them through a hoop
I did get fed up that day
So I made him into soup<
PETUNIA IN AN ONION PATCH
You’re always talking incessantly about beauty
Or whinging about life’s sadness and duty!
Just cant stand you people called poets
I’d sooner listen to my horse chomping oats
And your so-called rhyme schemes are a joke
As if the writer was just out of coke -
A bit like Coleridge writing Kubla Khan -
Now there was a high-flying man!
Your poems oughta stay on the off-ramp wall
And never grace the written page at all
But now and again a real versifier comes along
Not simply capable of penning words for a song;
She has wisdom and laughter in each line
And the taste of her rhyme is fine wine,
One moment raising my spirit in cheers
Then swaying my soul, and pouring out tears.
Her subtle profusion of tenderness coy
And her child-like wild soul’s unending joy,
Are my inspiration to go on and write
Another admiring poetic effort tonight.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written for and entered in
Vienna Bombardieri’s Contest Let me have it then kiss my petunia
In prepping for a funeral
The family gathered in the hall
They sat there all mourning
Even though it was nightfall
He had eaten lots of vegetables
Yet, he passed on in his suite
Must have still had too much sugar
And not enough heart beets
A farmer by trade, he grew
Not just beets but onions too
When he passed, they cut his crops
And cried all the way through
They made his favorite cheese as well
A batch to honor him that day
His athlete niece, age nineteen, fell
Now there’s pro teen in the whey
Onions served at the will reading
One son got more than his share
“Yes, I see”, said the executor
I can smell it in the heir
“Woof” exclaimed his trusty dog
“This situation is certainly tough.
Although I’m sad about my human
These jokes were pretty ruff…..”
wild onion savory, as she breaks up
lumps in the brown, cold, soil
tall and fleshy with bladed leaves
spiked up toward the sky and flowers
of pink or white or yellow. Her delicacy
is raw and you don’t have to care for
her since her harsh voice is roasted at
the core, but she invades your heart as
she spoils. Dishonored, you await her
death and rake through the foliage. Now
upended she passes through a sieve and
ends up in a trash can weighed in a barrel.
There is nothing to do but let her live
in the wild where she was meant.
once it so happened
potato was going to wed
with a lady's finger
invited band and singer
sweet potato came early
he was excited madly
then came the brinjal green
wrapped in the cloth with sheen
chief guests were cauliflowers
who came to blessed the lovers
party was orgainsed by ground
then came tomato red and round
everyone was enjoying tea
then their came a group of pea
they began playing all around
then came the ugly bitter
ground
carrot and radish came late
as they had to wash the plate
music was high and kinky
shocking entered zuchini
then came their enemy
with a union
at last made the blast
the wily onion