Best Snacking Poems
Each of us have two wolves living inside us
One wants to eat burritos
and watch horror movies.
The other wants to walk about
in its underpants all day
snacking on cheetos between long naps.
The wolf that thrives is the one
who lives on with diabetes while the other
dies of a heart attack.
Stepping past the crater towards your door,
I am reminded of warm days
surrendered in flowery abandon while
brushing against cool veins of
leafy promise, requiring only the slightest
compassion for the flow of life.
The scope of our crusade sings bitter,
like absinthe in a Fanta bottle;
tangs of anise and wormwood persist
within ether's truthful vision
resisting factory flavors in a curtain,
velvet reminders of flesh.
Lap your moistened shape. You dissolve,
my expectant sugar cube, no longer
made jagged by expectation or campaign
but fragile again, doughy in
blissful rapture upon my snacking,
curling up in a fetal calm
until we flow once more with the surge
propelling us entangled yet
unencumbered, finally breathing our
amniotic potential within this
spiritual umbilical making my stomach
spin within these tugs of finality,
despite my carpenter's heart yearning to
mend or create. Do arrogance and
industry compel mankind's devastation? Such
a question drifts unanswered as I
kiss your wrist before strapping on my boots
to hurl my blood into the fray.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Would like to come face to face with Gordon Ramsey.
Being on his reality cooking show quite suits my fancy.
Would like to create poetry soup worthy of his exaltation,
One that would make my soup a meaningful sensation.
What ingredients do I use,
Ones that would favor my persnickety muse?
The answer is simple you’ll quickly see.
Follow my advice, and the ‘bees knees’ you’re sure to be.
Start with a base of words so sweet,
Carefully chosen to make your poem complete.
Stir in a medley of metaphors,
While snacking on some petit fours.
Add a dash of delightful imagery
As you drink some wine from the local distillery.
Throw in a pinch of personification.
Stir and simmer and wait for aromatic conflation.
Spoon in syntactic seasoning for extra zing.
Remember to double check your apron string.
Toss in just the right amount of thyme.
Mince up some cadence and rhyme.
Throw in just a smidgen of wit.
Too much can be a distraction, I must admit.
Slowly sauté a couple of similes.
Doing so creates entrancing epiphanies.
‘Tis easy cooking up poetry—it’s like flicking your wrist.
Let the ingredients simmer while waiting to submit.
When it's time to serve,
Pour out your poetry soup with verve.
A steaming bowl, a feast for the mind.
You’ll nourish souls, one poem at a time.
Before sentence is passed, please hear my plea
I promise to be the man that I should be
Don't give me death. Please be kind
I have a family I don't want to leave behind.
I was unaware at the time
That what I did was a horrible crime
So now I feel like a louse
Please don't kick me out of the house.
I know what I do now is totally right
I am surrendering without a fight
And with head bowed I know it's time
For me to pay for my crime.
From now on I will go straight
When I start snacking very late
The last thing I do after finishing my drink
Is put the damn dishes in the sink.
I bent over to touch my toes
and the ground tore open like a backbone.
I tried to feed myself the sky;
to splice my tearducts into the universe
so that, when the pavement cried, it would mean something to me.
My fingernails punctured that slimy membrane
congealed with stars,
and I brought a slice of it to my lips,
hot and slippery like a jellyfish.
Peach juice, chalky-sweet, flowed,
fleshy particles snagged in my teeth,
and the colors erupted within my mouth.
Synthesia took over my lungs.
The hollows between my knuckles flooded with synovia
and all the ectoplasm threatened to separate from my cells
with a sound like thunder.
Diphthong tasted rusty like leukoplakia as it tiptoed across my tongue.
Tomorrow rose like the skeletons of trees,
groping for a feeling similar to catharsis
[catharsis tender as the broken wings of doves,
crunching underfoot like shattered glass.]
The clouds opened their thunderous maws
- teeth snicker-snacking, lamplight-eyes flaming the color of E#'s -
and consumed me.
I felt my skin turn to something other than skin:
thick and rough with scales,
my fingerprints melting into something waxen, smooth and opaque,
like pomegranate kisses on coffee mugs.
A feeling ignited deep in my structure;
cedillas blossoming like lilies from my lips,
fragmented sentences stretching taut as guitar strings
between my thumb and forefingers.
A flutter gentle and demonic as Calcifer erupted from my system
- splattering hot and frothing into my hand -
and fluid rushed in.
I dared to taste oblivion,
and the sky swallowed me.
My lungs failed to be lungs.
They flooded with caustic matter,
and I coughed up reflections sharp as fiberglass;
fighting with organs phthisical and sore.
I struggled to find a way to describe it:
the feeling of consuming something greater than yourself,
of opening your eyes and tasting the sound of rain.
It was like swimming,
but inside out.
I bent over to touch my toes,
and my spine tore open;
the loose laces unraveling, veterbrae poking out
like the tines of forks.
I tried to contort myself into the beginning,
but I only found where I end.
adventurous days
running through wildflower fields
carefree memories
of playing with my siblings
birthday parties and skating
first day of grade school
a bit shy to make new friends
riding a school bus
Sesame Street with Big Bird
snacking on cookies and milk
waiting for Santa
holidays and Christmas trees
loving family
lots of giggles and laughter
old photographs in scrapbooks
August 13, 2022
Childhood Nostalgia Contest
Sponsored by JCB Brul
DEATH OF A MOSQUITO
Kind of a party, a get-together for friends,
Free wheeling, snacking here and there -
You know how it goes.
Warm afternoon - moist - ideal weather:
Some of the guys had already dropped in,
More had said they were coming
Just before the rain;
There was a real buzz in the air
In the crowded kitchen.
She was a pretty woman, gentle-faced, quiet.
I had been after her all afternoon -
A touch on her arm, a nibble of her neck -
Seems I went too far - you know.
A rolled-up newspaper appeared in her hand.
It came down on my head.
The whack of the smack
Was the last thing I heard.
..................................................
I
long for
the days of
my teenage years.
Me, Debbie, Nancy,
and my best friend Shellie
and those slumber parties when
we did everything BUT slumber!
Laughing, snacking, playing our records,
and talking - always talking about guys!
We were not wild girls who drank or did pot,
and I don't recall who thought of it,
but one night, very late, we staggered -
arm in arm - down streets, loudly
pretending to be drunk
while slurring our speech
and guffawing!
Four friends JUST
HIGH on
YOUTH!
Feb. 7, 2017 for Frank Herrera's LETTING YOUR HAIR DOWN Contest
This combination makes one hell of a snack.
For cheese, you need cheddar and Monterey jack.
There are other combinations many people know.
Spice it up will a little chopped jalapeno.
To provide some very appetizing scenes,
bring out some chili that has no beans.
For salsa, use mild, medium, or hot.
Are more people coming over? You will need a lot!
However, you will not have a complete combination.
Toasted tortilla chips provide the basic foundation.
Invite all your friends to dig right in.
You have some tasty nachos. Let the snacking begin.
Thursday morning
So much follow-up;
Check To-Do list
~~~~~~~~~
Airport drive 7:15am
Terminal 2 Departure;
Brunei trip for one
~~~~~~~~~
Morning psalm
Prayers for peace;
Come Holy Ghost
~~~~~~~~~
Old car resting
New car on-the-road;
Workshop service job
~~~~~~~~~
Waiting time
Hours and minutes;
Poetry on the wing
~~~~~~~~~
Tea and pastry
Morning communion;
Snacking on verses
~~~~~~~~~
Thoughts juggling
All things possible;
Poems oozing out
~~~~~~~~~
Swirling sounds
Order in chaos;
Food centre devotional
~~~~~~~~~
Waiting rituals
Time to kill time;
What a waste?
~~~~~~~~~
Roadside vendor
Newspapers proliferate;
Random customers
~~~~~~~~~
Snack in hand
Tea and iPad screen;
Sanguine persuasion
~~~~~~~~~
I sit here
Alone with odd feel;
Strangers for company
~~~~~~~~~
Curious old ladies
Stare at me writing;
Sneaky intruders
~~~~~~~~~
Humid heat stalks
Overhead fans pour;
Hot air and sweat
~~~~~~~~~
And when I look
Do you see me?
Transparent feel
~~~~~~~~~
Hot tea scenario
No additives;
Swirling brown brew
~~~~~~~~~
Noisy surroundings
Fish market ambience;
Order in chaos
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
28 April 2015
Singapore
In the kitchen, baking with mummy
Christmas goodies that so yummy
To wrap up for the tummy
For the snacking with my chummy
Later on we will party
Then eat the snacks that are so hardy
So I must be ready and not tardy
Or I may be outside in the yardie
Sixty-four Forevermore
By Franklin Price
6/4/2018
Sixty-four forevermore
This month it has been fifty-four
In cap and gown walked down the aisle
The memories still make me smile
Many together all the years
From one through twelve from milk to beers
Sometimes bad but mostly good
Day to day lived as we should
No air condition in the school
To skip a day was sometimes cool
The beach was calling out our name
To not be caught part of the game
On week-end nights a drive-in show
To watch or not you never know
With luck a date to share the scene
Sometimes distracted from the screen
We also met at the tastee-freeze
Or the A&W to shoot the breeze
To see each other and be seen
The dining drive-in had no screen
Spoke to each other face to face
While snacking at a drive-in place
No cell phones then to help our fate
We did not text to find a date
Those were the days at least I think
To friends from then I raise my drink
I toast you all to end this rhyme
Those days I think a better time
Somewhere out there
The world is all in slumber
Prayers have been said
Tears have been shed
Where people care waiting for a miracle
Sitting in the window seat
Cozy and warm by the fireplace
I listening to the soft crackling sound
Of golden amber fire
Waiting and looking out the window at the falling snow
Impatiently watching the cloud migrate slowly across the sky
A hidden moon back-lit a large cloud, fringing it with silver
Thrill waiting so long as patience can endure, a lifetime it seems
A soft whine and nudge with a cold wet nose to my face
Startling me to wake with a fright
With the hair on the back of my neck standing upright
As I tremble and brace myself with unutterable shock
Curiosity impelled me to move forward
Drawing nearer made me gasped
With trembles and thrills
Gazing upon shadows movement and the sounds of crunching
Near the fireplace in a high wing-back chair
Sat Old Saint Nicholas holding a cup of hot cocoa
Snacking on the cookies I had left
Listening to the music play “Jolly Old St. Nicholas”
12/7/2015
TREMBLES AND THRILLS - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Olive Eloisa Guillermo
I envy the self of me I will never have.
My lip quivers and I stroke my stubble
I this self walking down the street
well dressed, brooding with business and focus.
He's walks tall with a forward step.
He's creatively honest about everything,
confident that mystery doesn't lie,
it just won't answer all of their questions.
Gray his favorite color, wearing hats of style,
a glass-half-full smile his only value,
to say, to really say, "I'm one of you.
I am and always will be one of you."
Heading towards work thinking of family,
whispering himself dialogues he will have
with his husband and children;
his eyes snacking on the light of the morning.
He dreams of what he knows he will give his children.
His cheeks rise subtly higher and he breathes,
wishing he could know his children even better,
than there would be more of himself to give them.
Never angry with his husband, he plans tender
nudges of love to prod his heart the courage
to simply ask his sweetheart to compromise with grace;
this flavor of love to creatively develop in his lover.
His lover, HIS LOVER, full of spit and vinegar,
stubbornly convinced all his ways provide success.
I this self agree except when sensing the alienation
that this lover has brought to his most treasured.
He fixes his hat, smiles larger and looks up for a view,
"Where is my brightest view of the morning?
Where are the sights of my lover in these mountains?
I shall call him when I get to work of colors I see.
An tell him nothing is more beautiful than thee.
Inspired by Brad Pitt ;)
(no really...it really is)
I'm the best snacker there ever
was
My hands fit chip bags like my
hands fit my gloves
I've got Chex Mix, Cheese-It's,
Pork-Rinds, Cheetos
Pretzels, Gardettos, dip and
Doritos
I shovel it in morning, noon,
and night
I don't stop to breath, oh what
a sight
If you need snacking done,
remember what they say
Go grab that girl who can really
pack it away!