Best Red As A Beet Poems
If one is hungry
And bored
Of watching over Mecca,
What better place
To steal an apple
Than from another country’s orchards,
With fighter jets
Twanged in the sky
Like flying bottle openers,
Diving down
And peeling back a tin can roof
Of a school bus
Loaded with 40 children,
Whose shoulders are all
Strapped
With blue and red back packs
That look like little lunch boxes,
One of them
Surely containing
The sweet temptation
Of the perfect apple.
Mistaken identity, can happen.
So, a few bombs,
True,
Have to remove
The dozens of windows
And deposit
The million shards like razors
To flay the skin of the girls and boys
And, in an attempt to remain civilized
About this,
First cook
With fire and oil
The cheekbones from the skulls
Of the five year olds
Who are still alive,
And it’s important to keep fresh
The liver, tongues and hearts
Shish-kebobbed
With splintered ribs, white as serpents,
And finally, then
There it is,
The well done slab of lamb’s meat
Still clung, red as a beet,
Limbs and noses,
To be stripped
From that one buried back pack
And within it, zipped,
The fine taste of a ripe apple
Polished by mom
As a snack that was packed,
That day,
For school.
Soda, ice cream, chips and pizza
I love the way they taste
But every time I bring some home
They end up going to waist
My wife screams are you eating again
You’d better heed my warning
I said, no, I’ve only eaten once
But I started early this morning
There’s something wrong with you
The way you eat your meals with such haste
I guess I’m in a hurry to get rid of the food
Because I know it’s going to waist
Don’t sit there eating everything in sight
And smiling trying to act so coy
You’re the only person I know gets a greeting card
From the Pillsbury dough boy
Sorry if my eating habits seem to make you cry
I’ll slow down and only over eat on days that end in Y.
Not funny, not funny she said
Her face as red as a beet
When I asked her to check if my socks matched
Because I couldn’t see my feet
Another day in Paradise
To the dinner table I raced
I guess that all that food she made
Will soon be going to waist.
I put sunscreen on arms, legs and face,
Walked the beach at a leisurely pace –
But the tops of my feet
Are now red as a beet
For I didn’t wear shoes in that place!
A Vacation at the Beach
By Elton Camp
Roscoe looked forward to his vacation all year
“I hate the city and want to get away from here.”
The mountains were where he usually went,
But this time, it was at the beach it was spent
Roscoe spent all day on the sand enjoying the sun
But later on that night, he wasn’t having much fun
His skin felt sensitive and began to radiate heat
And by the next morning, it turned as red as a beet
Because of his lack of good sense, Roscoe did earn
Face, back, trunk, arms legs painful first degree burn
Outer layer of his skin peeled off. He looked a fright
Never again a vacation spent on beach did him delight
WHAT?
Thanksgiving’s on the way
This had crossed my mind
But what?
While shopping the mall yesterday I came on this display –
Who could miss it? –
Shelves and shelves full of teddy bears nutcrackers
dolls delicate ornaments and then!
this big open square rimmed with the most perfect
synthetic trees one might imagine – silver trees green
trees blue trees even a red tree
all decorated magnificently
In the middle exactly in the middle of the square – a stage
an empty throne and this short white slat-fence
enclosing the whole
I shook my head
What happened to Thanksgiving?
Who the hell is thinking about Thanksgiving?
certainly not the merchants!
Well I wandered down the aisle toward the food court
and guess what?
I come across a pen with a real live turkey strutting around
Seems I was wrong about the merchants
So? To top it off – in the food court at one of the tables
there sits a man in suspenders white tee shirt red
trousers red coat draped across the back of the chair a
phony white beard red cap lying on the table
He is one ugly bony faced misshapen human being
Santa’s on lunch break gravy and partly chewed food
spilled down his chin bald head red as a beet
I can’t help staring at him totally freaked
He looks my way smiles
“Gobble gobble” says St. Nick
Suck off
Ted’s teaching grandma to suck eggs
“Don’t patronise me lad,” she begs
"It’s a job I can do
SO much better than you
Just scarper on your asses legs!"
Gran whispers words I won’t repeat
Ted’s blushes as red as a beet
She is so worldly wise
And it is no surprise
This jackass won’t usurp her seat!
Hey, killer, you've slain a cow
It's been swiftly slaughtered, cooked, and now
You stick your knife's blade deep into that hunk of meat
Bloody juice rushes forth, so thick it coagulates, red as a beet
How much more of this gore can you possibly take?
No wonder they say: Sell the sizzle, not the steak!