Best Pureed Poems
soak up the side streets of Montmartre,
Paris, Pigalle on Boulevard de Clichy
class less art combusts then drips
- street beggars & tourists cant
writer Rubbish pastes lace traceries
ala mode decoupaging decay
his cut-paper layers grace anoint
no longer anonymous walls
stencilist C215’s “simply a cat”
defies sourpusses not to smile—see
heaven art yes art with style
the banality of poverty held at bay
pureed souffléd life wolfed-down
colors synced
spray-cannoned Lothario’s like David Walker
entrance Picasso’s on the brink,
Romani-hearted paint peddlers
of the Republique
- street beggars & tourists cant
Thom Thom’s décollage rip-cuts
the billboard scene titillates the unseen
—culture-lovers—can-canned Lautrec’s
bedded with Che Guevara politics
come tilt with the masse
come play your part
in Montmartre
near Pigalle on Boulevard de Clichy
where wicked pissers defy
cliché
First Published in Clockwise Cat January 2015
Categories:
pureed, art,
Form:
Free verse
Mistress of deception,
as in victual monogamy.
A deceit of one’s perception,
without an irksome homily.
Mushrooms drop into a pot,
with peppers, once pureed.
Zucchini dance as they are tossed
amidst confetti of celery seed.
Onions sing out with Garlic,
part of the tomato cabaret.
They drop, sway, and frolic,
below the leaves of dried up bay.
A precipitation of spices,
fine herbs and hot chilies.
If omitted a possible crisis,
like the heel of Achilles.
Then a most decisive stroke,
wheat pasta hits the stage.
With every furtive jab and poke…
Spaghetti is still the rage!
Categories:
pureed, family, food, imagination,
Form:
Ode
I was visited by brothers Zog and Ziggy
Who landed from planet Plumfiggy
They were attracted by my Christmas lights
Both joined in when we had snowball fights
Zog and Ziggy were young alien twins
both had lime green and purple tinged skins
On the top of their tiny marshmallow heads
they had dreadlocks which hung down like threads
Ziggy's eyes were of pure emerald green
and Zog’s eyes had a weird rainbow sheen
when we met I shook all their four arms
these odd hugs really enhanced their charms
Plumfiggians don’t sleep but chill out instead
at night time they would rest in my shed
I found them both hanging down from a rafter
this behaviour caused loud peals of laughter
Zog is quite plump, Ziggy's much thinner
I pureed them a Christmas dinner
They gave me a present of figgy joos
it tasted vile, a drink I'd never choose!
They found it cold so I'd made each a jumper
with four sleeves to knit my task was quite bumper
My guests stayed indoors until it was dark
Then we'd visit the children's play park
Ziggy loved playing on the big swings
In Plumfiggy they don’t have such things
Their planet is just twelve light years away
At Plumfiggy fest I'd be welcome to stay
208 words
Fantasy with fictional beings Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
12/01/20
Categories:
pureed, fantasy, fun,
Form:
Rhyme
Doris' procedure is today
Remember her
It is laparoscopic which is not as bad as open incision but still surgery
Followed by only clear liquids for a week
Then protein shakes
Then pureed baby food
Then food introduced slowly
She was really anxious yesterday..Concerned if she had made the right decision, etc.
Thanks
Sara
Categories:
pureed, daughter, health,
Form:
Free verse
being in this tin womb, dark and safe,
that's the thing; inside the dark corners
and air-lock doors, it's a floating life
toothpaste and pureed stew float by;
still, here's not to dwell on the minutiae
and other small things
and the silent solar-wind powers on,
while below, the earth, the sea, the clouds,
the blue and green, the tempered purple hues,
tinge brown
and if from the land you peer up here,
from where the earth is dying, you'll see
me sigh, through flocks of hope,
and notice that I'm crying
Categories:
pureed, death, environment, holocaust, home,
Form:
Free verse
DRAGON FRUIT SORBET
Moonflower, Queen of the Night
This sweet dragon fruit
Cancer fighting, wonder fruit
Fleshy, thousand seeds
Pureed and frozen
Rich sorbet
Sweet!
Categories:
pureed, food,
Form:
Epulaeryu
Little Red Dump Truck
by Odin Roark
How squeaky the wheels
The hand propelled truck
Of my youth
Through bush and flower cover
I pushed my dreams
Shovel scooped some earth
Loaded up the bed
Pushed to the berry patch
Dumped
Watered
Watched air bubbles
As my load seeped into more earth
Becoming oneness again
How precious
Those squeaks
Now but echoed memories
As I suck pureed peaches
Through a straw
And await the next hour
To smile
To crawl among the bushes again
To play in just a bit more earth
Before my nap
Categories:
pureed, age,
Form:
Free verse
Into my head stink in mythic one hissing
of running are ratters, as I hated by
up nearly level of piled woodsheds rottenly sites
at weediest the backyard’s place,
of my neighbor’s unit close edged up wards
side by sides, feet away from my place . . .
Once lucky I bound at woodsy near duty
she a terrier if the ratters in her site been gone
over willowy apart, as roofless patio
the backyard's sensory stain at royalists’ land . . .
Upper away of gallant converted living by
out of mind, she the pureed-bandit around
bazaars think backfill thy new world
in menses aid raised velvety clubs by wards.
Miserly her space and empty from kindliness
consorted in byte ratters her terraces
downfalls by sight, in careens simply mode empty
my home unfair or caustics up a side,
at silly carrion backyards as waste as hissing
up I needing help from as careless chick!
Categories:
pureed, confusion
Form:
Narrative
spoke kin like
a true non establishmentarian.
Wily wordsmith wields wisdom and wit
renders requiem welcoming thee to visit,
no matter foisting poetic riffraff (mine)
necessitates applying figurative tourniquet
to staunch potential
life threatening hemorrhage
oozing out fifty shades of
your gray cerebral moon unit,
thus best be extremely cautious
heed warning to preserve
self interest and quit
while ahead, i.e. stop reading
and surreptitiously exit,
now lest noggin contents
rendered into pureed blivit
causing irrevocable damage,
now just for fun grab
amusement park ride ticket,
and picture yourself
in a boat on a river
squarely bobbing along...
barely staying afloat
courtesy soaked sponge square pants
within skeletal ricket
tee skiff analogous to
time warped white picket
fence forever lost and seasick
out of desperation imploring malefic
powers that be while moored thick
within (think) Scylla and Charybdis
not caring a lick
despite super tramping cheap trick
worse fate than death,
where metaphorical flick
finds one human flotsam and jetsam (ye)
violently sucked into realm wick
head witch, which
in toto along metaphorical yellow brick
road nsync cues soundcloud
faintly reminiscent of Herman's hermit
mid nineteen sixties approximate
time Beatles made mop top headlines
both bands selling
one after another smash hit,
where half crazed lasses frenziedly
screamed and threw maniacal fit
activating advent of groupies
they made nun sense sickle habit
to shadow many rock and roll band
initially majority identifying as Brit
nowadays global musical hodgepodge
synthesized linkedin with fitbit.
Categories:
pureed, appreciation, atheist, celebration, confidence,
Form:
Rhyme
2 cups of browned ground beef ( or 2 cups of lump crabmeat)
(or 2 cups of shrimp pureed)
1 cup of green onion
4 tablespoons of crushed garlic
1/2 cup of lime juice
1 tablespoon of horseradish ( no horseradish if using crabmeat)
1/4 cup of fresh chopped cilantro
3 tablespoons of cayenne pepper
3/4 cups of sun dried tomatoes
3/4 cups of sautéed green bell peppers
2 egg yolks
(in a food processer: blend until beef is chopped into a smooth paste)
add .......................................................
2 cups of cream cheese
1/3 cup of buttermilk cultures
1 cup of parmesan cheese
1 cup of small-diced (seeded, peeled) cucumber
1/3 feta cheese
mix together and make a creamy smooth paste
using a butter rich pie crust, make turnovers and bake until golden brown
dip for turnovers
1 cup of sour cream
1/4 cup of chopped dill
1/4 sassy ( a reduction of 1/3 cup of lime juice and 3 tablespoons of vodka. Cooked until about reduced to 1/4 cup)
2 tablespoons of onion powder
2 tablespoon of sesame seed oil
2 tablespoons of fish stock
2 tablespoons of browned crushed garlic( or caramelized garlic)
***(dehydrated garlic flakes soaked in the fish stock can be used as a substitute)***
pork tunovers
3 cups of shredded pork
( sautéed pork shredded in a food processer)
2 cups of cream cheese
1 cup of sautéed green onion and 1 cup of diced apples..at the end of sauté, add 2 tablespoons of ,olive oil 2 T of apple cider and 2 T of vodka, reduce until mixed with the olive oil you sautéed with..
mix with 5 tablespoons of crushed red peppers
1/4 cup of honey
1 cup of cucumber
1 cup of diced mushrooms (raw)
1/3 cup of bacon bits
1/4 cup of candied ginger roots sliced
4 T of chopped garlic
make turnovers.....
use same dipping sauce as above and enjoy!
serve with...
1/2 gallon of white grape juice
1 bottle of pink champagne
1 pint of conace
4 cups of orange juice
Categories:
pureed, beautiful, celebration, creation, new
Form:
Ballad
Sylvan surroundings of a Sanatorium
With cold wind biting the boulevard...
In pallid rays of winter sun, I recuperated.
"Hey, I am your new nurse"...
A light blue scarf came in a tint of white.
Wow!, Wasn't she my Carolina?..
Lost ten years ago in the valley of time and distance..
I knew the honey-sweet voice.
But she never knew I loved her so much.
She chafed my feet in her anodyne touch.
Memories warmed my cold winter night.
'You'll have a hot cup of cider, alright?..
Red apples bubbled in simmering condiments.
Cinnamon, nutmegs and Cloves.
As I sipped Cider with Carolina, my sugar level arose.
A red fire was burning the frost of winter.
A crisp tangy smell of my pureed semi-tart love.
The maple syrup with a sugary crust...
My sweetheart says," Show me where it hurts".
Dated 25th November, 2018
Submitted to the Cool Writes and Imagination Contest
Placed 10th
Sponsor Kim Rodrigues
Also placed First in Brian Strand ' s contest
Categories:
pureed, autumn, cute love, fire,
Form:
Free verse
One day Homer Hawk was sitting on a gnarled fence post. He was hungry. He
was tired of the usual fare, mashed rabbit, pureed gopher and scrambled
armadillo. He wanted something of substance, something fresh. Maybe he was
stewing too much but he was craving something different. A fricassee might just
be the answer to his problem. He was beginning to get desperate. He flapped
his wings, gave a squawk and took to the air.
As he circled he kept a close eye out for his supper. Behind Farmer Brown's
house he saw Sammy Squirrel. Sammy saw him and quickly dove under a rock
and pulled his tail in after him. Lucky for Sammy, Homer was not in the mood for
squirrel.
He flew on and saw Perry Prairie Dog hopping up and down on his mound and
suddenly he disappeared down his hole. Steven Skunk wobbled out from under
the mulberry tree and flipped his tail up in the air as a warning to Homer. Steven
had no worry because Homer certainly wasn't desperate enough to attack him.
Marty Mouse scurried across the driveway and under the barn door. No fear
Marty, Homer was hungrier than one little bitty mouse. No, not even Slinky snake
needed to worry. Homer wanted something different. But what? He flew on and
on.
"What is wrong with me?" he asked. "Why does it seem so hard to find
something to eat tonight?" And on he flew.
He saw an elk here and a deer there. He even saw a newly squashed bunny on
the road and still he flew on. "Will I ever find my supper?" he squawked.
Deciding he needed some professional help, he flew to the giant Oak Tree
where Oscar Owl lived. Oscar was just waking from his nap as Homer landed
on the limb close by.
Categories:
pureed, adventure, food, funny, tree,
Form:
Prose Poetry
You can't pizazz good poetry
It's more of a creepy, crawly thing.
How do you like my alliteration?
Stop snorting, good golly
(prescribing popcorn pureed in petulance)
okay, at least I tried... truly ;)
ps, am not into popularity.
just jivin.
don't dawdle
or drivel or drink much or dribble or
worry
stream of consciousness....
Ms. Mills taught me that
seems surreptitious to stop suddenly.
So I shall.
Categories:
pureed, on writing and words
Form:
Alliteration
3 cups of pureed shrimp
3 cups of grounded white fish
1/2 cup of lemon juice
3 cups of bread crumbs
1 tablespoon of mace
3 tablespoons of cayenne pepper
2 tablespoons of garlic powder
1/2 cup of parmesan cheese (dried grated)
2 cups of heavy cream
in a food processor, mix fish and shrimp
add seasonings, add bread crumbs
mix smooth.
add heavy cream, mix until rich and creamy, add bread
crumbs to even out the consistency.
in a non stick muffin pan, scoop fish and shrimp mixture in
bake in a in a square baking pan filled with hot water.
bake until golden brown.
fuse together
1/4 cup of olive oil 1/4 cup of lemon juice
5 tablespoons of chives, adding more oil if consistency is incorrect
in a large oven ready pot with a lid
add 4 cups of beef broth
2 cups of chopped broccoli
3 cups of chopped cabbage
1 cups of chopped fresh kale
2 cups of chopped fresh cauliflower
2 cups of minced onion
1/4 cup of crushed garlic
2 cups of minced potatoes
1 cup of minced carrots
2 cups of diced fresh tomatoes
1 cup of minced green bell pepper
1/4 cup of chopped celery
4 tablespoons of soy sauce
2 cup of minced smoked hock meat (cooked)
5 tablespoons of red pepper flakes
cook until the potatoes are tender and you can smell the hock meat blended with the veggies!
Categories:
pureed, celebrity, fish, food,
Form:
Ballade
nor any greed
from one suppurating marriage
this guy wants to be freed
with no malice this cheap tricking
super tramping wordsmith
of inxs ac of dc charged cheap tricks
sans done dirty deed.
This impersonator qua sometime bard of yore
admits to his apology
if ye get taken totally abominable
like bar rammy aback
to proposition ye with carnal desires in store
and ideally match deeds ease with these words
towards such strong desire to adore
forsooth that naked realm
to allow the noggin to bore
together in close syncopation like couplet core
and would now gently encourage
his newfound muse
to let me dip me quill in
iambic pentameter du jour
a wordsmith who shies away
drinking pot or smoking booze.
Now with a zing
i step into the digital xing
via summit da fall low wing
written jest to byte tongue in cheek
yet unsure if zee phone here will ring
or an unexpected gold plated invitation
after the yodeling ding
in an effort to hear that pleasant
yet discordant musical ka -- ching
for cherished pennies,
nickels, dimes, nickle back
et cetera from heaven to bring.
Twiddling me fir and twenty black bird
shaped like a green thumb
as me schmart simian Semitic ****
gets comfortably numb
after quaffing
humongous amount of rum
while downing oral rob hurts
sesame street pudding
made of pureed plum
unlike jack in the corner
my luck mooch oh more glum
and despite facial stubble here
and there a stale crumb
this har dabbler in words haint no bum
only a hard knock er skool alum.
from thee one and only almighty
alfred e. neuman king crusty crab crumb son Rodg
er alias scott matthews - whose words
intended as playful persiflage
if curious to learn more about me
emanating from cranial lodge
unless no auto mat tick interest arises -
whence this reply u can dodge.
Categories:
pureed, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme