Best Sampled Poems
How
I loved
summer fairs -
the cool night wind
in my hair as I
twirled on the tilt-a-whirl
or climbing into sky. . . then
descending at lightening speed,
stomach leaping at the thrill of it;
I was buzzed, wishing it would never end.
My fifty-ninth birthday at the state fair,
I sampled again the drug I craved
when I bought two tickets for rides.
But my pleasure was short-lived.
By the second ride and
feeling nauseous, I
had to accept
I’d taken
my last
ride.
Written 2/25 For the Two Lenses Poetry Contest of Sara Kendrick
Categories:
sampled, age, fun, drug,
Form:
Etheree
*Been posting some heavy stuff lately. Time for a bit of levity.
"Hey babe, you're never gonna believe this. Crab fishing in Alaska has been cancelled for 2023."
"I don't understand, dear."
"Well, according to the paper, all the crabs have 'left the building.' It's crabs no mo."
"But where did they go?"
"Ahh, that's the mystery, indeed. Some are blaming sockeye salmon, whatever the flip that is. But I have my own theories."
"Sigh. here we go..."
"Yeah, I figure the little buggers finally figured out that not getting out of the way of the sweeping net is really sucky. Or maybe they all went on strike and decided that ending up on dinner plates was a crappy way to go. Then again, it's possible that alien visitors sampled the tasty crustaceans and transported the lot of them to their home world. Of course, the prevailing conspiracy theory has it that a certain former president with a craving for crab monopolized the fishing industry in Alaska and hoarded them all in ginormous freezers at his Florida resort. All I know is, I'm gonna miss our seafood Sundays. Shrimp and lobster just ain't the same without a complementary pound or two of crab legs. I really believe the end of the world is here."
"Poor, poor baby. By the way, seafood Sunday is on this weekend. I was able to snatch up a few dozen pounds before they all did the Elvis thing."
"Seriously? Kewl. Crab Armageddon will have to wait. Hey, have you noticed the price of beef lately? There goes my Saturday steaks on the grill. I've got some theories on the present crisis..."
"Yes, dear."
Categories:
sampled, humor,
Form:
Narrative
My three-year-old son stood next to me
as I watered our garden of flowers
The zinnias nodded their blossoms
As if grateful for garden hose showers
A firework array, was that garden display
Of pinks, yellows, orange,
Purple, red
When my son asked the cutest of
Questions to me
In the darlingest way ever said
As he eyed that large bumbling bee
That he found alarmingly too close to me
Not quite in fear, as its buzzing drew near
And it sampled of pollens so dear
But at his first sight of that yellow bright fuzz
And the loud droning volume of that giant bee's buzz
He just needed to know all was right
He asked
"Mommy? Do humming bee's bite?"
Categories:
sampled, child, garden,
Form:
Rhyme
Rio de Janeiro, a city by the shore:
Home to Ipanema, Carnival and dance folklore.
As a child, of you I read, from books that showed your Christ.
Arms outstretched, He guards your days and lights your sky by night.
And now I’ve stood beneath His feet and breathed the air you breathe.
I’ve viewed the famous Sugar Loaf, seen monkeys play in trees,
visited your fruit stands and drunk from a coconut shell.
I’ve searched for creatures hewn in stone that midnight vendors sell,
and on your soft and clinging sand, I thrust my toes deep in
and glistened under winter sun, brown sugar on my skin.
Along Copacabana, I jumped waves, enjoyed a beach
which, when they cross an avenue, all visitors can reach.
On weekends and on holidays, your several sea fronts teem
with hundreds, no with multitudes, of people who all seem
content to chat beneath umbrellas, lounging in the sun,
while on a road closed to all traffic, others like to run.
And on that winding promenade are folks, most clad in shorts,
thong-bikinied women, sundry shapes and shades all sorts!
Kids whiz by on roller blades; old or young may ride a bike.
Many simply merrily stroll, though dressed as for a hike.
And in your city’s whole, the countless cars and bodies stream;
pedestrians and door-less shops, props in your waking dream.
with taxis veering left and right and people catching buses;
Cacophony of life your subways and your streets encompass.
Children on their mother’s hands; boys in soccer shirts.
Men sip beers at sidewalk bars; girls scurry in their tight skirts.
Portuguese artisans laid the paths your people walk.
What tales immersed in history if cobblestones could talk!
More than a metropolis, you are yourself, unique!
And I have had the pleasure to have sampled your mystique.
For Bic Gi-Sa's Landscape and Towns Contest
Categories:
sampled, people,
Form:
Rhyme
Poor last cookie, alone on the plate
No one partook, no one ate
Not for lack of flavor, this I know
Having already sampled its sweet morsels
Only one, is it wrong to steal a bite
From someone who's tempered their appetite?
Could I conceive of anyone so flip
As to decline the temptation of chocolate chip?
Must I do a stranger a favor
And step aside so they may savor
The succulence of the final taste
Or grab it now, in greed and haste?
The debate is settled by my mother's standards
Whose inner voice insists I show good manners.
Categories:
sampled, funny, giggle, silly,
Form:
Light Verse
My husband bought a little treat,
A favorite thing I love to eat.
We rarely see this anywhere
So take advantage when it’s there.
I never ate this in my youth
For what’s inside, to tell the truth,
Is something that did not compute –
It seemed more veggie than a fruit.
I’m talkin’ rhubarb, as in pie,
With strawberries to satisfy
My taste buds, waiting to explode;
Of course, this will be a la mode.
If you have never sampled this,
You’ve missing out on certain bliss
But if my tastes you do refute,
We’ll have a rhubarb (a dispute)!
Categories:
sampled, food,
Form:
Rhyme
Would you mind if I kissed you
I mean really kissed you
I mean kissed you where it matters
In your heart, spirit, and soul
The parts of you that you hide
that you keep secret
would you let me inside
and discover what you hide
don't be ashame
we all have some kind of pain
would you mind if I touched you
I mean really touched you
can I caress you up and down
and make your body
mingle and tingle
would you mind if I invaded your dreams
and take captive of your every thought
of course your thoughts of me I would see
I'd change all of your thoughts to positive
all your hopes and dreams would come true
Especially the ones about me and you
would you mind if I sampled your flavor
chocolate my favorite
I can't get enough of it
which should I choose
nuts or whip creme
you know what I mean
would you mind
I don't want to waste your time
I just want to blow your mind
Categories:
sampled, happiness, love, passion, me,
Form:
solitary bees -
freedom sampled, but never
a taste of honey
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
5 - 7 - 5 syllable count
https://www.howmanysyllables.com/
Birds or Bees Haiku Contest
Hosted by Tania Kitchin
© 20th June 2019
Categories:
sampled, insect, solitude,
Form:
Haiku
Picture on the Parlor Wall 9-27-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sampler on the Parlor Wall
Shadows born from dawdling light
Stretch across a firelit room set with porcelain cups,
From tea parties long ago and faraway,
With an invitation to sample sweets and savories
Like the sampler on the parlor wall.
Beneath neat rows of alphabets stories gather,
Verses stitched with silk and dreams
And numbers that taught a woman’s craft –
A child’s wishes fly with birds and lady bugs –
Wishes to convince a suitor at the door of her wifely worth
In tidy stitches foreshadowing an orderly life.
A young lady-girl in pantaloons and blue sashes
Weaves circles of symphonic dots in French wheels
While lazy daisy chains meander on her linen fields -
Magic flares in her zigzag lines, her wishes on wooly stars.
No signature remains from her little hand -
Her hearth, her home, her heart –
Only a legacy of butterflies and roses sampled on a parlor wall
And a tiny scarlet dot of imperfection like a signature remains
Embroidered into a sampler embracing each dawn and dusk.
Categories:
sampled, life,
Form:
Free verse
I planned to visit some good friends in the US of A
They said come at Thanksgiving it’s our special day
I arrived with presents but they said there’s no need -
it’s your presence we want, sit down with us to feed
The huge table was laden with dishes galore
I sampled new foods, potato rice I just adore!
I tucked into the turkey my plate was piled sky high
but I had to save room for some sweet pumpkin pie
Old Joe played the piano; he had such a fine voice
I joined in with the songs I did not have a choice!
We talked late into the night, catching up with the past
And we all got rather merry but we had such a blast
Many years have passed; my friends are no longer here
But I’ve such special memories of this wonderful year
Thanksgiving Memory Poetry Contest
Fictional poem for Contest Sponsored By Regina Riddle
10/27/19
Categories:
sampled, america, friendship, thanksgiving day,
Form:
Couplet
'Tis well-known that any pasta concoction will always me appease,
But I reckon my all-time favorite is plain old macaroni and cheese!
Ah! That simple but hardy fare sets my old taste buds a-twitchin',
When my spouse announces, "Honey, supper's ready!" from the kitchen!
As far as I know Mr. Kraft invented this delectable mixture,
That has over the years become a staple American fixture.
'Tis easy to prepare - on the box is the simple instruction,
And you won't clutter up the kitchen making a big production!
I've sampled exotic pasta dishes in romantic Roma and old Napoli,
Such as fusilli bucati, vermicelli, lasagne, fettuccine and ravioli.
They were scrumptious but if ever my palate you want to tease,
I'd prefer a hefty helping of plain old macaroni and cheese!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 7 in Linda's "Pasta Paradise" Contest - August 2010
Categories:
sampled, foodold, old,
Form:
Rhyme
IF’s and Buts
I started this poem way back in September
Dog-eared my journal so I could remember
I didn’t have much, just one line in rough-cut
And it all started out with “if” and “but”
If “ifs” and “buts” were candy and nuts
I’d be in a diabetic trance
For “ifs” and “buts” have driven me nuts
At each and every chance
If only I were richer
If only I was smarter
If only better looking
If only a self starter
But gambling is a habit of mine
But school was a waste of time
But I got a Mohawk when high
But I am too lazy to try
Yes, if “ifs” and “buts” were candy and nuts
I’ve sampled more than my share
No one’s fault but my own
Now just leave me alone
For if truth’s told, I really don’t care
Mdailey 3/8/12
Categories:
sampled, introspection, on writing and
Form:
Rhyme
We faced each other in a circle as
we sat on chairs inside her classroom; then
she had us close our eyes. Perhaps we used
some blindfolds. I’ve forgotten details, for
it happened in my high school years ago.
Our sense of sight was gone. She walked around
the circle, giving each of us a taste
of something we would savor in our mouths.
Then each of us would guess what it had been.
We must have sampled spicy, sour and sweet!
I can’t recall the foods we tasted or
how many times we guessed them right or wrong.
She also had us use just sense of smell,
and later, she played sounds for us, and we
made guesses as to what it was we’d heard.
This happened in the first week of the class.
It stands out sharpest in my memory,
but I recall we’d share our written work
inside a circle. This I loved so well
because we heard each other clearly then.
I can’t recall the name of her who taught
Creative Writing. She was young and sweet
and knew the trick of using every sense
to help us be in tune with what we felt.
And that’s why we used blindfolds that first day!
Those words like “imagery” I’d only read
about in English class would come alive
because this woman knew the secret of
good teaching was to let her students learn
from real experience, not just from books.
I don’t recall the many things we did,
but all the fruit I bore from what she taught
is with me still; the stories that I wrote
and little poems saved since eleventh grade.
I kept no work from any other class!
I never guessed those many years ago
would find me on a thing called Internet
or that I’d end up writing mostly poems
when little stories used to be my “thing!”
Real writing days came once my kids were raised.
But always I’ll recall that precious class,
The funnest and the most inspiring one.
Perhaps a bit of what I am today -
A teacher and a writer - I owe to
The miss who taught Creative Writing Class.
Brenda Chiri-Carroll's "Who Has Inspired You the Most In Your Life" Contest
(I have learned this teacher's name since I wrote his back in 2011. She is Ms. Deborah Rozeboom)
Categories:
sampled, high school, me, writing,
Form:
Blank verse
I've slurped chili from border-to-border and betwixt the roilin' seas,
In fancy five-star establishments and greasy spoon eateries.
I've sampled some that has caused anxious gastrointestinal uproar,
But I'm a glutton for the stuff and always go back for more!
I'll eat chili with or without beans, it really matters not,
Jes' so there's plenty in the pot and it's rather spicy hot!
I'll even deign to open a can of concentrate in an emergency,
But I much prefer a great chef's favourite and secret recipe!
Many are the chili cook-offs I've sauntered my way through,
Tastin' gawd-awful concoctions, my face turnin' a reddish hue!
Those guys toss things in the pot about which I wouldn't care to know.
Their recipes are closely-held secrets and there ain't no quid pro quo!
Now, usually I can tolerate chili from any hot and spicy batch,
But, boys, I'm here to tell you that today I finally met my match.
Satan himself must have brewed that beastly olio!
I gasped, shed copious tears and my ears assumed a ruddy glow!
I'm told its a social blunder to crumble crackers in your soups,
But what care I? I ain't concerned about jumpin' through no social hoops!
Some of the glares I get from folks are embarrassin'ly chilly!
So what! Me worry? I relish crumbled crackers in my chili!
Categories:
sampled, care, food, funny, social,
Form:
Rhyme
I sampled my first one in Israel
And instantly fell for the taste,
Devouring one then another,
While adding some heft to my waist.
That happened way back in my 20’s,
When quite a bit more did I weigh,
So though I’m not quite as indulgent,
I still love to eat them today.
Sliced up and tossed into a salad
Or mashed up for dipping some chips,
They’re healthy and filling and yummy;
Just one won’t add much to your hips.
But eaten with some moderation,
They’ll add to a meal some pizzazz.
Your taste buds will groove with sensation,
Each bite smooth and silky like jazz.
Categories:
sampled, food,
Form:
Rhyme