Best Poach Poems
“This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.”
Rumi
Poetry,
sometimes you can be cruel,
manipulating me to express thoughts
which I've secretly suppressed.
You poach pieces of my soul,
massacring my masculinity,
revealing my vulnerabilities -
you make me look like a fool.
Have you become the definition of my silence?
Poetry,
your introduction intoxicated my muse,
bursting drunken lyrics through my veins,
confusing my grammatical accuracy,
acting like an angry alpha autocrat artist,
assassinating my adverse alternative alliterations.
My vocabulary is helpless against your stubbornness.
Poetry,
Sometimes I hate you,
when you are erratic and brutal,
bleeding unfairly against my will,
causing pain through vicious verses,
but, sometimes I love you,
when you bring soothing serenity,
flowing sweetly from my calming quill.
Poetry,
You are a restless rebellious catharsis.
I don't know if you are a blessing or a curse.
My life is repression on repeat,
I'm somewhat an expert,
yet you create a pathway to open doors,
creating a balance in an unstable world.
Poetry,
I remember when I forgot you.
In your unwritten absence,
my heart resembled a blank canvas,
but then you returned like a snowstorm in June,
reminding me of Rumi's beloved spirit.
Now you consume my mind,
my speech and my tone -
overtaking a tongue's desires to remain mute.
Poetry,
I never cared for rhymes,
until you found me at a time of soul searching,
blooming evergreen words to leave a legacy behind.
I was lost without you.
Look around,embrace life,smile,
Even if it's only once in a while,
Gods' world,acres of entertainment,
Learn to laugh,enjoy your environment,
Umbrellas out,the birds are soaring,
Two parrots pecking,so adoring,
The king of water,angry river roaring,
Water racing each other,raindrops pouring,
Snake shaking his rattler,rumba girls luring,
Woodpecker sharing knock,knock jokes,ohh so boring,
Visa-card in his poach,kangaroo touring,
Owl seeking more wisdom,bird brain storing,
More hay over here,horses neighing,
Green,green pastures,the donkeys are braying,
Twenty four-sevens,happy hens are laying,
Do you catch the drift,of what I'm saying,
Now open your eyes,see what I'm talking about,
Hope it put a smile on your face,
Or pulled a laugh from your mouth....
Fish madam?
Price Edwards a Welsh man taught me how to poach eggs fish and rabbits
The recipe for poached eggs is universal
Poached perch is.....Take fillets and cheeks saute in butter with a dash of mead
Poached trout........Wrap in aluminum foil with herbs.. throw in small fire
Poached rabbit.....Debone saute in olive oiland butter...add mushrooms and leek
Poached venison I’ve never tried
I wanna spread you thin,
creamy, on a bagel
toasted
fresh
hot
savor each bite
lick you off -
my fingers
the corner of my mouth…
I’ll leave a bit to make you laugh.
Save it for later
I’ll say it’s a snack
if I get hungry before I get back
I wanna sauté you in garlic
…with peppers - hot
salt..
cheese..
the flavor in oil
infuse with your leaves
over a salad.. inside a soup
tomatoes
red onions
brown rice.. a scoop
not to dilute
or over power
the taste of your skin
lightly
dusted in flour
sizzle and pop
drizzle a dop
I’d make you a doughnut
if I were a cop
or better yet
I think an éclair
cream in the middle
squeeze you right there
in a coffee cup
some on my chin
lick it off
…and squeeze you again
I wanna bake you in broth
400 degrees
wine
sauce
caper goat cheese
stuff you with seafood
potatoes
brie
serve you with scallops
fresh from the sea.
reduce you to thickened,
sauce made with cream
jiggle your gravy
poach you and steam
fry you in butter
sugar your spleen!
I’m stuffed...your love
feast for a king
Toast and jam
Sausage, ham
Cap mushrooms
Red legumes
Tomatoes
Potatoes
Eggs to try
Poach or fry
Breakfast tea
All for me
Tummy full
Last mouthful
Happy tum
Yum, yum, yum!
Day dismal
Pink bismol
Injeck evey POD a dad pluckin' bird
Wid a quote a chow-chow seasonne
Led id sid in dem fridge
(Fo tree whole day, sha!)
You god dad fry-pot on da poach?
FAAR id up an po in dad stuff
Heed dis ere PEA-nut orle bout tree fitty
(Taak almos a dhaam hour!)
Led dad big-boy fraa til it GOL-brown
(Don WOORY, it gid all da way done!)
Oooh-wee! Dem smell ghoood!
Whad you gon use a KNIFE fo?
Id fall rhaad apard in dem finger...
(Khepp yo fithy HAN off mha tuckey!!)
***If you've never had fried turkey, you don't know what you're missing...
Elegant in burnt orange afterglow,
sparkling starlight opens the show.
Neighbors and strangers appear all aroun’,
porch lights and car lights enlighten the town.
They arrive afoot and atop handlebars.
Tots wave from strollers like famed movie stars.
Mothers bellowing orders to stay in sight,
transgressors will rue being naughty tonight.
Flickering lights and untied laces
nudge fidgety feet through their paces.
Masquerade masks make eager accomplices’
too impish eyes and mischievous faces.
Scowling Jack-O-Lanterns carved in creepy effigies
prove impotent charms to appease candied fantasies.
Festooned arches adorned in orange and black,
ornate ornaments to win the neighborhood plaque.
Into the gauntlet of terror they swarm;
dressed to play in pillaging uniform.
Tree and flower tremble and quiver;
Bumped and trampled in their fervor.
Werewolves wailing through grimacing grins
herald a night of howling hymns.
Ghostly spirits from the bowels of earth,
hang from gallows, grinning in ghoulish mirth.
Silken chains embracing all who stray,
beckons the widow to her frightened prey.
Garnished by cackling cries of certain demise,
steaming cauldrons poach their pitiful prize.
Spades of woe shadow souls who rashly ignore,
ominous omens attached to windows and doors.
Like tocks from a clock they continue to arrive,
will the morrow find anyone left still alive?
Hostiles charitably looting town,
sacks of booty slowing them down.
Toting bags of looted plunder,
looming hordes scatter asunder.
Pass me by, to my neighbor grace his stage,
assuage with him your gluttonous rage.
Rapacious hands swaying in ritual dance,
exuberance untethered in blitzing advance.
Eyeing my castle the rioting rabble rush in,
guarded only by growlin’ dog an’ smilin’ pumpkin.
Upon my stoop they brazenly climb,
my breath on hold, I hear the chime.
My time I fear is near at hand,
my blood or treasure they demand.
Hunkered down and hidden from sight,
no mercy presented for my plight.
With sweaty palms and pounding heart,
please Lord I pray, make them depart.
For a shot of strong “Spirits” I silently scream,
‘cause I forgot the candy on this Halloween!
Meeni slept in bed with a big brown cockroach
“It’s an adulatory, ", I went to broach
She growled like panther
"I love Mr. Gunther”
"Dad,go and bum around Miss Apricot Poach”
I'm like a SEAL team commando
After several cups of espresso
I like to dive bomb
With great aplomb
A gyrfalcon? I think so
To poach me is illegal
My name evokes the regal
I reach astonishing speed
When I'm ready to feed
You can call me a golden eagle
It is Labor Day
I am paid not work
but what am I to do
the festive trimmings are not attached
so the perk is an useless quirk and
my boring schedule quickly fills in the gaps
as usual, my alarm sounds at 6am
the coffee maker perks at 6:15am
my rested body flings away the covers
I watch the Today show while shaving
fetch the newspaper, quickly scan the headlines
wait, I have more time my curiosity to prime
but the dog is on his normal morning schedule
so I speed to the door, his bladder to mollify
no fancy holiday breakfast awaits in the kitchen
so, on cue, I grab an egg, poach it, down some juice
my family sleeps on through the holiday mirage
my engine is in overdrive, but where to go
no parades, pageants append this vapid day
but there is no reason to stay at home either
no arriving relatives to amend the boredom
still, I have one day's free pay to spend
maybe, I'll take the car to the wash
nah, that is a weekend ritual
perhaps, I will canvas Pro Bass Shop
nah, the drive is longer than my work commute
OK, I will stay at home and be a utilitarian
I can finish trimming the bedroom shutters
but wait, I am out of that flossy white paint
and didn't my wife need the car for her
annual holiday shopping spree
I could re-mow the lawn to give it
a manicured look, but nah
to labor on Labor day is too oxymoronic
so I curl up in front of the TV
finish watching the Today show
contented with the lofty notion that
I am being paid to while away the day
If a grill you approach or you roast or you bake
Or you boil or you poach, you have made a mistake.
If you steam or flambe or you stew or saute,
I suggest when you're cooking you chose the wrong way.
If desiring a meal with its taste maximized,
Then one method's ideal: It is best if it's fried.
Fry in oil or choose fat or use butter or lard.
All when hot become grease for your recipe card.
First with cracker or bread crumbs the pieces you coat.
Then in fryer you plunge them and watch as they float.
See them crackle and spit till a rich, golden brown.
Then remove them and drain and voraciously down.
Whether dinner or lunch, it gives flavor its punch.
On a crispy piece munch while you savor its crunch.
With delectable, succulent meat that's inside,
Either treat your own palate or serve it with pride.
The aroma will linger and please or repel,
But with dishes delicious as chef you'll excel.
If you'd epicure be or would chase away blues,
Then from menus an item that's fried you should choose.
It will shorten your lifespan, nutritionists say.
But if true, it's a price I've decided to pay.
More than length, it is quality living I prize;
So I'm makin' some bacon with fritters and fries.
Words are beads O poet, in your rosary, for counting tears
Who else can but you to make strings of clouddrops of tears?
Promises are fulfilled, days departed, my eyes dried like parchment
Caravans move on, the desert road, who will wipe a bird’s tears?
Let me go back to my island O lord, to live with my people, with peace
Who wants dark days dropping like evils on the lake of tears?
Friends are funny until their claws scratch the widows of my love
Have you got friends those have not loosened your teeth or made you shed tears?
Moon is like a golden dish full of egg poach, fried fish, succulent meat and pulao
Beggars say its god’s wish; they have to keep their hunger aflame; does a fakir shed tears?
Merchants do business and cross thousands of miles to sell their wares
Only God knows how many shadows wait for their return and shed unaccountable tears.
Loving you lady, is more than divine
You light up my life in a radiant shine
You gracefully go in the gold of the day
To follow the flow of a bold river way
Your lips are the dells of the wells that I drink
The pink in the blues of the bells in my sink
The sweet summer smells in the fragrance of rose
That rise in the swells of the scents in my nose
Your eyes are the orbs of my heavenly sight
They sparkle and shine with a reckless delight
They chill me and fill me with starlight above
They will me to see by the light of your love
The pleasure of you is a treasure sublime
A song that is new in a poetry rhyme
The measure of you is the change that I see
A will to be true to the man that is me
A radiant glow is a powerful sight
A star-spangled show in a shower of light
A rocket's red glare in a rosy display
The proof that I care in a crimson bouquet
The heaven above is a gingerbread treat
A leaven of love in a house we can eat
A devil's delight in the bite of a bake
A prayer in the fight for an angel food cake
The woman you are is a glory complete
A paradise won by the way you compete
A soldier of love on a mission to poach
The heart of a man who is hard to approach
Dearly, my lady, my darling, my wife
I gave you my love for a beautiful life
Your gift is my part and my power to sing
The song of my heart for the flower of Spring.
It’s all about resignation,
but turned into complication,
YOU ordered assassination,
and brought forth my fascination.
Self-execution- not my style,
before the pain I lost my smile.
Can’t explain this raw affliction,
so unreal, it seems like fiction,
tried to stop your crucifixion,
guess I LOST all my conviction.
Self-execution- enticing,
after the slash kept on slicing.
Triggered by your innate reproach,
it was all about your approach,
YOUR decision to steal by poach,
with strict impingement and encroach.
Self-execution- eats me whole,
filling your soul with hearts you stole.
Remorse can cause internal blame,
without you my life’s not the same,
your mania I just couldn’t tame,
through all your fortune and your fame.
Self-execution- just your style,
before your death I lost my SMILE.
Form: LaCharta Poem
Rhyme Scheme: AAAABB CCCCDD EEEEFF GGGGHH
Eight Syllables in each line
October 17, 2016
Urban legend now bared to the bone
Yet its trademark can no larger store clone
No glossy signs, spacious lots fealty to hone
But in colloquial parlance a tradition has grown
Larger Discount stores with dignity stand alone
Corner grocery, its squalid tenement doth bemoan
Manicured plots, concentric lots posh boutiques tone
Corner mart encased in fragile clapboards; skyscrapers of stone
Dilapidated phone booth anchors the curbstone
Squeaky door, bristling bell on entry doth groan
Large retailers, in furnished bakeries bake cakes, fancy scones
Mom and Pop, in one-stove kitchens; yeast rolls, cornbread pone
Serious browsers in large retailers with oversize carts spendthrift prone
At corner store, single-minded shoppers poach sustenance, then are gone
Large franchise with hefty profits and in fertile market sown
Corner grocer in depressed neighborhood; indebted to Savings & Loan