Best Saccharin Poems
And He
my dearest
maturest mate to date
has bitterly regressed
to a child irate
from man of logic
to impish state
a hexer vile
filled with hate
while I don't believe
I've changed a bit
he thinks me evil
my mother split
as saccharin
as the Harpie race
bewitching temptress
evil face
necessity
I do suppose
for his childish fit
to so dispose
Dug out of an old journal for John Lawless' Go Ahead I Dare Ya!!! Contest
Categories:
saccharin, anger, break up, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
Clumsily tripping, over our own feet
Sometimes, minds aren't meant to meet
perhaps we're off just a micro beat
thoughts obscured, behind glass covered in sleet
Sure there are those, who wish to exploit
but really in the end, what's the point?
We're all merely visitors, in this joint
Trying our best, with words to annoint
Cloisterd in shadows, wanting to be found
glimmers of earlier selves, clowning around
When others laugh, why do our fears compound?
Downturned mouths, strangled crying sounds
Embarrassing moments, last an eternity
Sometimes I'm my very worst enemy
Thinking hidden messages, are meant for me
Is that what poetry is meant to be?
I let essential words, roll off my lips
Credentials have no taste, when I take deep sips
Preferring a message, from a page that drips
My mind unfocused, takes many trips
I like the power, of words intrinsic
Flavors and texture, is what I like to lick
If it's too saccharin and sweet it makes me sick
My pleasure comes, from words hot and thick
So you see, I too like to word explore
Words found, behind a cryptic door
I start upright, end up on the floor
Keep on reading, until I can't absorb anymore!
Written at the request of James Horn.
Response to his "to Come Back Again" Poem.
Thanks James, our interaction led to a poem of the day!
Categories:
saccharin, angst, appreciation, poetry,
Form:
At the sound of the gong you appear
to seek some welcome refreshment,
dear guests to be greeted right here
with a cuppa is our sincere intent.
There's a flask of filter coffee
and a pot of tea, a fresh brew,
there are also other infusions.
Now what shall I pour out for you?
You may choose decaf coffee or tea,
perhaps camomile or peppermint,
maybe some barley cup – gluten free,
green tea with lemon, mango or mint,
or green tea with jasmine accents,
'revitalising lemon with ginger',
'pure fennel – all natural ingredients',
or 'wild apple cinnamon with ginger'.
Earl Grey comes in various styles,
vanilla chai or rose lemonade
and assorted red bush bags in piles.
It depends on how you'd like it made.
Then I should mention liquorice too.
You could sample 'blackberry and nettle',
or into the garden just for you
I could fetch lemon balm plus the kettle.
We've 'red berries infusion caffeine free',
hot chocolate, horlicks or ovaltine –
but these need more preparation than tea.
Oh, there's a lonesome bag lost in this tin.
To whatever I've brewed for you
I could add sugar or saccharin,
maybe milk (or soya in lieu),
then lift out the bag or leave it in.
Next time you come over to stay
your preference I'll try to remember
but I suspect there'll be some dismay
with yet more choice than November.
Now I have come to the washing up,
that Yorkshire tea is still in the pot;
filter coffee I've poured not a cup,
so into the sink I'll empty the lot.
Categories:
saccharin, chocolate, drink, humorous,
Form:
Quatrain
Days went off, moments gone, time to touch, feel and see,
Here in this misty fog meet me for a cup of tea,
Where would you mull? Your heart and soul are in possession of me,
You cannot recede, beat me for a cup of tea,
Oh, December you made me tired, sullen, and panicky,
But faded away in January as you met me for a cup of tea,
They said love is an illusion, blind and black sea,
You would know its worth, meet me for a cup of tea,
Who lives to wait and hate? who stays for the moment of glee?
I will for you, for a cup of tea,
Wounds and forlorn hopes made it grave yet we,
Can saturate these waves, meet me for a cup of tea,
You scowl at ebb and dusk, fainted love of me,
You would know the depth of love, meet me for a cup of tea,
Who knows freedom and what is to be free,
Who meets a dervish and me on a cup of tea,
You managed to escape and fled-where would you be?
I will trace your phantoms when I sip, a sip of tea,
I deserve your saccharin smile and the last talk so we,
Renounce thinking over goodbye, meet me for a cup of tea,
(Reply)
And Shahid where did you go? Where can you go?
O Yaar, I am here with you, for you, for a cup of tea...
Written By
Muhammad Shahid Hussain Choudhry
Categories:
saccharin, absence, dedication, deep,
Form:
Ghazal
Her power, unrestrained, sweet as honeysuckle rose
Doth grant me, but a glimpse, of what I rave to find
I fall in misty meadow where the Bluebells brightly grow
Hot kisses stirring in the wind, cool my fevered mind
While I in yonder wait, for my love to take me home
Doth grant whom access Lord, the soul for him it pines
At the foothills of my love, each heaven star a-glow
Saccharin kisses in the blow, no longer in confines
He picks me up and raises me to cordial place, desire
I know him, he knoweth me, by lips of swell and fire!
Written in collaboration with Mystic Rose
I wish to express my appreciation to Rose
For her ideas, talent--and inspiration
Mel *** :)
Categories:
saccharin, love,
Form:
Sonnet
To Be Unrealized
by Odin Roark
By whose standards
you might ask.
The standard for the conscious,
the persons who regardless of career aspiration,
relationship passion,
past guilt baggage,
know that job,
partners,
acclaim,
power,
and celebrity,
are but controlling remnants
of an upbringing and the continued quest
of media brainwashing to score a rating coup d'état.
Void of true sentient identity,
immersed instead in the ubiquitous coating
of saccharin-infused cream on top delusions,
fantasies glamorize the duped,
the ignorant…
Believe it or not…
Mass populous wants more from life,
even though they continue to be self-exiled
in the “grovel syndrome” of survival.
Listen…
The cries of those who care,
Blast forth “Oh, for Christ sake, wake up!”
The answer?
Only a fool would offer a universal solution.
But…
Perhaps a nudge in the right direction
might be the revelatory awakening to thinking…
you know, that gift we are infused with,
the non-aggressive weapon seldom employed,
the empowerment to stop being controlled by others,
while you truly take the initiative to
set your own standards,
acquire your own answers,
exorcise some exhaustive introspection,
and a modicum of study into behavioral history.
Many would argue…
To be unrealized
is the individual’s own fault.
No one else’s.
Who of consciousness would disagree?
Categories:
saccharin, identity,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I did see the buoyant bubbles of bliss
fizzing out of my charming muse's smile.
A bubbly butterfly that she is,
was fluttering and whirling around me with verve.
She was so excited to explore the beauty of nature
and capture some thrilling moments as remembrance
for me to string those rosy memories
into pretty festoons of verses and rhymes.
But alas, she went and came back with an ashen face
and harsh rock-hard facts; when hit by those...
causes insufferable pain.
With angst, I deliver this grievous message
about the horrors of extinction inflicted upon Mother Earth
by the very superlative breed of hers with ravenous greed
they feed on everything to suffice their need to succeed.
An empire of dreams they want to build
on grave of ailing nature.
Enchanting hues of dawn and dusk are overshadowed
by hazy clouds of smoke that smothers each breath.
Economic growth thriving on combustion of fossil fuels.
Always caring to reap more than they sow,
countless trees are brutally chopped and their trace effaced
in the name of luxurious development.
Where once they stood with their crowns held high in the sky
and welcoming arms extended for shelter and shade
to so many birds and animals, are now replaced by
concrete towers and skyscrapers.
Bravo, such a triumph for axes, chainsaws and bulldozers!
Succulent fruits and vegetables sweetened with saccharin
and their skin rubbed with wax for sheen.
Plumper they are because of hormone injections.
Soil fertilized by corporate compost
and irrigated with water that is not crystal anymore.
Every drop is infused with wasted toxic chemicals
and surges the stench of disposed garbage
that begets monstrous diseases.
Even the depths of the oceans are not safe
as marine creatures are dying and lying on the shoreline.
Cheers to the sewage that adds to the quality of water!
A paradise that provided us life is pleading for mercy,
to be saved from the hellfire that we are stoking.
Do we really wish to be the curse for such a blessing?
Date: 06/28/2017
Categories:
saccharin, nature,
Form:
Free verse
After dark, the prosaic comes alive
morphed by a klieg lit stage—
at once, both peaceful and kinetic.
A neon world of predator and prey,
through my viewfinder
garish greens and vivid reds
play with the afterglow of twilight sky.
I try to capture saccharin sweetness
and the promise of forbidden fruit.
I thrill when a percussive din
shatters the vesper stillness.
I’ve learned this murky realm
of mixed lighting and chiaroscuro charm
is best rendered without filters
and the patience of a saint.
For twenty years I’ve meandered through great cities
camera in tow, prowling the grittiest parts of town.
Working quickly to record a vanishing scene
and to keep out of harm’s way,
after dark, it’s scary and electric.
Categories:
saccharin, life, urban
Form:
Free verse
Tufts of ghostly cotton candy,
Backlit by lavender sage,
Caught in rocky nooks and
crannies,
Sky islands of stage.
Sugar whipped and frothy,
Clouds of pink and blue,
Melting in the moisture,
Disappearing with the dew.
Sticky light, fluffy grains,
Momentary treat,
Saccharin violet bliss,
Diabetic feat.
Rock candy gossamer, air-
whipped, spun,
Majesty's paper cone,
Rainbow sprinkles of
precipitation,
Air and water and stone.
Xylose billows, sucrose puffs,
Mouthwatering bits of sky,
Trapped by sierras, amethyst,
Until they melt, die.
Categories:
saccharin, storm
Form:
ABC
Life like from a fish bowl, really!
Way ... encapsulated like above and behind, you know?
All those like gilded dado's of peachy-pink, gnarly puff, sweet aye?
All those awesome totally rad houses of
flannel-gray San Fran's Victorian Ladies, classic!
Life all sweet and wrapped in the ledges and overhangs, really!
Portcullis like totally frail, precious, half formed, clueless babes.
Really, half the town is like crazed!
Full of what-evers and dandy duds like newborns
each Lilliputian pop-up a sweet meat, smoked
stoked and toked inside their saccharin selves.
Life's a gay and grodie array of colorful buggers.
A,gag me with a spoon, side show of hard candy colored covers.
Really, like jujubes shaken from raspberry doors...
So take a chill pill, a coffee toffee, a licorice bit, a vanilla sucker
and get your most excellent self
with your killer looks and like surprisingly soft center
to sweet Ole San Francisco's scene.
*internal line rhyme [not end rhyme ;)]
** 1980's Cal i forn i a English
Contest: Talk Like That
Sponsor:Craig Cornish
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Categories:
saccharin, funny, history, satire, sweet,
Form:
Verse
She pretends to care
Written emotion lies to all
The core of her is rancid
Her center made of fantasy
She tries to impress all
With saccharin sickly prose
The woman turns a blind eye
Her true intentions revealed
Categories:
saccharin, people,
Form:
Free verse
In the afterglow I ponder
My travels through heavens door
His heart endowed romantic
Body chiseled of gods like Thor.
His piercing eyes composed by angels
Granted powers to enchant my soul
His arms like gladiators retired from the fight
Commissioned to tantalize my mould
His hands radiate waves of current
High voltage pulsating my nerves
His kisses navigating saccharin navel
Dedicated to my pleasure unreserved
His manhood crafted like barbarian knight
His implement in ecstasies embrace
Enslaved to his prowess when flesh unites
This memory forever engraved
Chill of ice on skin set fire
Unsighted by soft silk fold
Peaking all untamed desire
While under his full control
Here drawing back the drapes of passion
Eclipsed as a work of art
To experience even a percentage of this ration
Was the purpose of desire from the start
Categories:
saccharin, body, desire,
Form:
Quatrain
Steal away the idol children
Work ‘em to death,
give them no pay
Carry their cries
on a plaintive wind
Pilfer their graven image mind
Then fill it with empty thoughts
of caste assimilation
Melting pot of Ag forged oars
had a fiery green blade muzzle shade
A laden, dragging metal sound made
on Independence Day shores
Bow wishful plow sweat parade
floated a Con-stitution charade
Sleight-of-hand stump rest speaking
Skin unlock plan
was auction heresy pulpit preaching
An Elmer Gantry shout
to the easy-picking pocket prey
Allow the stolen children
to veto believe
they can vote
the forced submission pain away
Give that captive audience
some fetter sugar cain —
Plantation toil saccharin
Bedtime stories of runaway glory,
sweet liberty lullabies
Cotton candy dreamland revision
of Emancipated lies
Printed mint tales of a mythical Abolition
be pigeon drop Prop-G:
Penny dreadful bales
of sharecropper Jim Crow caw con-dition
Sell them crass coined kleptocracy
Tell ‘em their slave residency
was merely indentured democracy
Pyramid-scheme toga villains
rob brazenly
Neo-pirate flags waving freely in the breeze
Steal away the vexed children,
who lazily
worshiped so gluttonously with pagan ease
Have the hex wards of the city-state
deliver hard labor unpaid ~ Such an unfruitful taste
Then tear tax their unproductive ways
Pickpocket tier demands
is how every kleptocracy is raised
Grifter chain-of-command
is Babel Tower iron tether praised
*Prop-G is my Ebonics shorthand for Propaganda
— Romantic Warrior
Categories:
saccharin, perspective, symbolism, truth, word
Form:
Alliteration
These tyrants of men with fat belly eyes Infect our dreams.
Soulless sorcerers of threadbare promises.
Who masterfully manipulated the hopes
Of a disappointed people,
And we the demented fools believed,
Believed with all our hearts,
That they can turn our dusty tracks into roads.
Of shiny gold.
And soon beneath a cool winter's sky
A flock of black coated demigods will land and will grow fat and hungry,
as they try to swallow the world,
Their hidden hatred, faces within faces.
And we the blinkered fools cursed with forgetfulness,
Who are deaf to things we should know,
Lap their words up like sugary cream.
They'll make us giants again,
And we the superior idiots can sit and watch our enemies burn,
And only the treacherous will mourn,
We'll cheer and sing and guzzle gallons of freedom beer,
Nobody cares if the world is illusion, a facade for the gullible
And soon they'll be no truth but post truth,
Delivered by nasty little spirit men,
Who will cleanse the soul of history.
To make us believe that ignorance
And brutality diluted in a bath of bitter words,
Can restore the improbable dream of
A suburban utopia
We the trudging mass will accept,
As we always accept such things,
Warmed by a PR smile and saccharin sweetness of snake oil charm ,
And they will reduce us to dollar counters
Counting greasy money into greasy tills
And the fat will get fatter hiding their delight,
Behind sneering eyes,
And the only rest for a working man will be
The graveyard's soil
After a lifetime of Infinite toil,
Their victory is assured.
Categories:
saccharin, anti bullying, destiny, political,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Life from a fish bowl
encapsulated ..above and
behind the gilded dado's of peachy pink
and flannel-gray of San Fran's
Victorian Ladies
Life wrapped with the ledges and overhangs
and portcullis , frail, precious, half formed,
half crazed, oft newly born
each Lilliputian presence a sweet meat
inside their saccharin selves.
Life dawns, as a colorful array
of hard candy colored covers
shake forth from raspberry doors...
coffee toffee
liquorice bits
vanilla suckers
all with their surprisingly soft centers
to sweeten San Francisco's scene.
Categories:
saccharin, art,
Form:
Free verse