Best Salt(A) Poems
A pinch of salt, a dab of pepper, a spinkle of Mrs.Dash
Lets mix it all together
Gifted hands starting at the age five
Helping grandma in the kitchen all the time
Choosing to say in the house to learn all the ingredients
Instead of going outside to play hide and seek
Grandma always told me my hands are special,
You wait, watch and see what I tell you
Gifted hands is for certain people only
The miracles that you will be able to do
Don't forget what grandma told you
6 bars of 10oz cracker barrel cheese, eggs, carnation milk,
seasonings, salt & pepper
When you put it all together, this makes macaroni & cheese
One of the gifted hand's favorite dishes
It will melt in your mouth like a piece of candy
Grandma always told me my hands were gifted
Now I cater for a variety of people
Gifted hands is one of my best qualities.
Nerrissa Jenkins
Contest-With these hands
12/17/13
Visual #2
Categories:
salt(a), birth, granddaughter, grandmother, together,
Form:
Free verse
Salt a mess of fresh blue crabs
Steamed in a beer broth,
with onions and Old Bay spice.
Mix vinegar with
Worcestershire sauce.
Pick, dip, eat.
Treat!
note: Have plenty of cold beer and paper towels on hand!
Inspired by Sara's Low country Boil contest
8/14/11
Categories:
salt(a), food,
Form:
Epulaeryu
How often have I asked myself this question
As I reflect upon my image in the mirror each fine morning
And wonder,
Who would want you, really want you
And wonder too if sanity might be an arrow in her quiver.
Or more likely, as seems certain, she is kin to Humpty Dumpty
A good egg perhaps but she’d have to be quite cracked
To ever be with me.
With two eggs you have an omelet,
Which is really not that filling
But with three eggs…….
Now you know why I’m alone.
Dreaming always dreaming
Our juices now are scrambled
If I could be a three egg omelet
I swear I’d never roam.
So pour me in some cream,
Sprinkle cheese to make me randy
And bacon bits to add some crunch
My God we’re cooking now,
Some golden onions fried just right
And peppers to add color,
A little salt, a little pepper
Things are really firming up…
Denver’s coming boys right now!
Yeee Haww Ladies!
Whew………..!
Do you-all take American Express!?
Brian Johnston
March 30. 2015
Categories:
salt(a), adventure, fantasy, funny,
Form:
Blank verse
Yellow chard stain index finger smears my logic puzzle,
Sour cream cilantro splatter quite the quaint “addition”
juicy brain pump lemon zest solution that I guzzle,
number crunching sea salt a spur to intuition
Roasted sweet potato has me snapping at the grid
toting up those lettuce layer 3 by 3 cells
carrot colour pencil point to “whisk” the sums I did
geometric square outside a salad bowl that gels
With mango stone eraser I can sculpt another route
Imagine all those French bean digits driving me insane
kidney bean ensemble sighs “give that row the boot.”
I sniff balsamic vinegar to make quick fixes plain
Sudoku trail incumbent has fresh basil hint in mind
while churning sumptuous avocado neuron cell alert
feasting off that figure fetish nutrient aligned
“You’ll crack this with some bamboo shoot” an Einstein voice might blurt
Basic rule of algorithm leads to Asian aniseed
Check online for symbolic totals, those grains that raise the stakes
rabbit food as tummy loaded “combo” itching to succeed
but one should pause awhile on computation,
for cayenne flavour breaks
Heuristically I dribble walnut fractions on a page
footnote to some taco leaf conundrum
Interlocking data cuts the mustard as we age
Another beetroot slice and cryptic teaser warding
off the boredom
NB I have an acquired expertise with regard to Sudoku
logic puzzles. But I also like to cook.
The nutrients sustain my Sudoku efforts.
Categories:
salt(a), creation, food, imagery, science,
Form:
Rhyme
Everyone harbors a tattered fleet of bygones in dock
Old scores and sores of direct hits we've sustained
In past long gone battles and tussles, well past o'clock
But held as bygone mementos, your slate unclean and stained.
Forgiveness should not forget, but should move on.
Let sleeping dogs lie, let bygones lie and be bygones.
What's done can't be undone, let it be dusted and gone.
Bury your bygones deep, so your future is not cluttered with cons.
People you know and meet will tattle and tell on friends
Gossip truths and whoppers about what they have done wrong
But how does that help to make up, move on with amends
When the legacy of the past lingers, but should be long gone.
Like cartoon balloons, or stickies, bygones not gone
Pop up with messages, above friends, about who did what to whom.
Clean the slate, clean the desks, restart with blank icon
Having processed and churned over a past, rendered in salt, a plume.
Resolve to build resilience to cope with what's past
Expand your social engagement, divorce your bygones to past mast nailed
Set bygones adrift to be dashed in storms offshore, your harbor clean at last
To welcome fresh blow-ins with 'let's make up' blazoned on sail.
Categories:
salt(a), friendship, memory,
Form:
Rhyme
Reflection, a road leading to the moon.
The night rippled, waves crashing;
Ambiance so serene, nothing disturbed;
A mirror. A pure beauty, flawless stars
upon water spoke ever so honeyed to
the night. A calming of the storm.
Smell of salt, a cleansing of the air;
purifying ocean. Footprints tracked
the shoreline; disappearing but unforgotten.
The consciousness of love. I saw her at the
end of that road, her smile in the sky; a
crescent moon. I dove in unaware; sinking.
Anchored in love, drifting passion.
Categories:
salt(a), love,
Form:
Free verse
Miranda has the right to write in silence--
Anything you say, she will use against you
because you're moving your jaw.
Come knock on the door of my friend
Tom Sawyer. Especially if you cannot
afford a real lawyer.
He'll be standing in the darkness
reading the writing on the studio wall...
I was trapped inside a rusty clock,
now I'm running out of time.
I'm gonna buy a tall, tall drink
and rub the rim with lime.
A pinch of salt, a pinch of skin,
just one more step and you'll be in.
These bottomless disturbances
quell my quivering quill,
I'm running out of time,
I've no time to kill.
Where voracious flowers whirl
with the movement of the moon,
and the lyrics won't be written
if I cannot find the tune.
In a dreamer's deeper darkness
remembering the womb's trembling throng,
keeps me merely existing
to write your favorite song.
A piano intoxication is like
being chased by bees.
How would you like to
go swimming in the keys?
Illumination's clear,
music is distressed.
It's time for me to go,
please don't be depressed.
Categories:
salt(a), confusion,
Form:
Rhyme
As a plain and passionate pen, I ponder
How would some wealthy words just wander
Out of this world of wisdom and wonder?
And we don’t care to search for them in yonder
Let’s lend our love to those who are lost
We don’t need much, we need to be just
All we need is to bear the courtesy cost
Of knowing and asking after the lost
It’s a pity! Poetrysoup is a colorful city,
I guess we have the hottest hospitality,
Yet I don’t know if we have the tenacity
To cater for those who zoom out of this city
I wonder why some hot meats halt
And we don’t care to ask… what
Could have happened? We’re all at fault;
This pot of soup needs more sincere salt.
Categories:
salt(a), dedication, lost love, lovecare,
Form:
Verse
Tonight sleeping thoughts awake a giant God
my dream moulded outside this world
I kiss you breathless sighs of mystery
in a thousand blinks a picture silhouette
Every second heartbeat skips with wonder
Straight to the soul echo bounces of chambers walls
Under a flower candlelight exploring magic
silver lining shadows with the stars shine unique
Dancing our love becomes the banquet
conquers all tunes as sweetly a songbird sings
Written in the sands salt a treasure
Of our time together sweeping pulsebeats
Who will stand before us as I kneel To honour
Because as one I will catch you and save your grace
Categories:
salt(a), angel, beautiful, beauty, blessing,
Form:
Couplet
Of fathoms far below the surface of time
Crystalline white on the surf you roll ‘n slide
Enduring realms, onyx-deep, where pressures climb,
a glittering dust astride current ‘n tide
Navy lolls where you’re the star in sapphire’s prime
Close to shallows, on aquamarine you glide
Resplendent diamond sparkling on sunny seas
Your quartzy pinks salt a Himalayan breeze!
(9/9/2022)
Categories:
salt(a), nature,
Form:
Ottava rima
Winter never looked cloudy and gloomy
when I recalled spring meadows
as green as mom's happy eyes;
days could have no sun in gelid January,
nights could have no gleaming stars,
and yet her smiles imparted many joys!
Isn't life without a mother: a moonless sky,
an ocean without salt, a land without trees?
Always exult, honor and love her, lucky one:
would the lonely orphans shed tons of tears,
and seek comfort when all ignore their cry?
I was the luckiest boy, never feeling alone!
Copyright ( c ) 2015 by Andrew Crisci
Categories:
salt(a), absence, happiness, love, mother,
Form:
Rhyme
Mashed potatoes are a drug
each bite tastes better than than the first
ladled in hot pork gravy
puddled in the middle of the dollop
and dripping slowly down the sides
soft and warm they slide down my throat
a little salt a little pepper
every bite I feel the pleasure
everything is simple when I eat mashed potatoes
I am in the NOW when I eat them...
I'm nurtured by the texture and the creamy warmth and flavor
of that fat spud who I think loves me as much as I love it.
Food is love and "love is a drug"
I heard that love is a drug in a song by the New York Dolls.
Categories:
salt(a), food, mother, natural disasters,
Form:
ABC
I am the real sea
A tumultuous sea
One wave hits another
And that’s me
Waves sliding, edge
Of all the earth
Edge of my childhood
Look upon my birth
Whirlpools spinning bide
In my heart and my mind
Icebergs are
My gentlest thoughts
Whitecaps are
The spraying wind that blows
Through my thoughts
Icebergs are, just are
In me, and hold the secrets
Of my birth, times not even I
Remember, gone the times
Of sweet November
I once rested in my mother
I once talked to her
All night
She sang to me each November
Always sang, her words still ring
God rest her soul
She had to go
Now she walks amongst the Angels
Watching watching what’s below
As a child I knew no other
As a man I miss her so
There she was in sweet November
There she was beside my bed
She sang to me songs so tender
God rest her soul I’m here below
And I miss her so
Once she spoke in fiergy tongues
As she cared for her little ones
Brought me into this harsh life
A little water she poured into me
Now I am a sea
She brought me life,
She slakes my thirst, still
I stand within her saltly sea
One day I will too be freed
She made me too a sea
Mixed her salt into me
Left me on this rock
To preach and write and teach
Until I drop
She left me on this rock
To preach until I drop
She made me too a see
She’s so much a part of me
As I am of her
How she worked to make of me
A mixing, churning, life full sea
In the boundaries of my flesh
In my mind are many thoughts
Intertwined in me
Her words are like the brutal winds
That slows into the gentlest sky
And calm the raging storm of me
She made of me a sea
In my mind are many thoughts
To many for my words to tell
In my heart is so much love
It’s gone to sleep and lives above
I will not approach the deep blue sea
Will not walk up to its shores
I will hear her voice no more
Until I go I’ll say no more
Of the words she dreamed and gave to me
I will no more think of her words
Or study her philosophy
No longer will I stand and mourn
Upon the sands and footprints shown
She made of me a sea
Now I am the likeness of her love
I am a deep blue sea now too
Within the salt a move and breathe
She made of me a sea
And now I am he
Donald Standeford
Categories:
salt(a), allegory, angel, baptism, courage,
Form:
Free verse
A seafromt full of salt;a lost girl,
The wind puts space between us,
Big dirty of a tide,a flood tide
Sly as a gull`s dive...
Shout Shakespeare at the dark,
Blow ye winds blow..
You are the face inside the storm,
The inner eye, the stolen word.
Categories:
salt(a), storm,
Form:
Free verse
Misfortunes mushrooming
from malevolent glares
are beliefs,
as common water hyacinth.
Eying me
drooping in dejection,
grandma takes a nip of salt,
a red chili
and some mustard,
locks her palm,
rotates her fist over my pate thrice,
then throws the ingredients of charm
into the embers in our hearth.
I refresh, fooling myself.
A scarecrow
hanging
in front of
building construction
is another Patriot system
against eye-missiles.
Defense is diverse.
Evil eyes thrive
from rhizomes of envy.
They have been
on the earth
since the inception of thought.
First published in The Literary Hatchet
Categories:
salt(a), inspirational,
Form:
Free verse