Best Spices Poems
Rumbles roar
Waterfall's bellows pitch
Misty spray sprinkles rocks quinces thirst
Soft moist moss
Springs forth upon hard rock
Constant moisture encourages growth
Yell water
Rush, reverberate
Crash, clamor upon solid firm stone
Fresh clean air
Scented with spring flowers
Crisp lavender spices' bouquet untouched
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Contest:Forms Of Crystalline
Theme: Waterfalls
Written by: Sara Kendrick
Today, October 31, 2014
All poems are unfinished
Only those in sonnet are finished
Completed, done, and terminated
A poem can still be edited
Revised, retouched and rewritten
A poem is a powerful tool or weapon
Leave alone my unfinished poems
These are my spices, my stars, my emblems
You don't understand their symbols
And the words used to fill up the bowls
You just have to read my poems ten times
To fully comprehend them. Ignore the rhymes
To pay more attention to the vernacular
They are not bizarre; they are just particular
They are not regular; they are unfinished
They are not strange, they are simple. Kabish!
Copyright © July 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
still stuck at the introductory,
I have been a silent observer.
well that is what I do mostly in my laboratory.
To begin,
My name is a tongue twister so don't worry,
I am from a country with a different ethnicity,
it is not just about spices and chillies,
a little more than curry leaves and corianders.
I can't say it better for my cheap vocabulary.
To you it must be still blurry.
Ahem! back to the point,
it is not just about rice and constipation.
we have a lot to worry,
like our uncles we never talk to,
try to engage us to girls we never knew,
in a function we didn't want to attend to,
to escape
claustrophobics have to hide in trunks,
acrophobics have to climb the towers
else
even genophobics have to marry,
so we have a lot of worries,
it is not just about peppers and curries.
Now! more about myself,
believe me I believed that,
retribution for my past I have been in,
trust me I have tried to
sought redemption in the loud cries of grief.
then I met this guy,
who lost his cat
said "why should it be?
while others write about
purity and divinity in love and roses,
sometimes we have to be silly and think of
the fragrance in a curry leaf and chilly.
to hell with the past, the present has to be recreational."
The inventor of the number system and chess;
the originator of algebra, trigonometry and calculus;
with the globe’s largest railway and postal network
and second to none in the height of a bridge.
We speak of the largest government of, for and from the people.
Beats Israel, Egypt, Mecca, Rome and Greece
in the number of religious visitors attracted to its shrines.
The circumference of its seasonal experience
is well partitioned into six segments.
It is the major contributor in giving the world some spicing,
its currency and sharing are very big antonyms
while Meghalaya is confirmed to be the globe’s tongue.
Even with these medals and accolades,
it still struggles to give women enough warmth and comfort
to be curried away in green cardamom dreams
is to float in the zest of orange spicy creams.
to fight against urges of curcuma yellow lust,
is to steady the ship and do what we must.
to bathe in the warmth of ginger drop puddles
is to swim for your life in in savory cuddles.
to blend myth in the caves of surprise
is to gather the taste that thrives in your eyes.
to climb into the mist of coriander green hills
is to sharpen the senses with pepper corn pills.
to stoke the hungry fire of a garlic grinning mouth
is to furnish the vestibule with cajun black south
to find your way home on a wintery dark day
is to remember the cinnamon that lit your way
Here at our Cafe'
We serve the best brains in the City
We only pick the freshest
The pink, the plump and pretty
We like our brains real lean
It's the healthy way to eat
So we trim off all the fat
And we cut-out all the meat
But Our recipe's a secret
You mustn't tell a soul
We use a lot of fruit
And of course veg-e-ta-bles
Then we, Chop, slice and puree
Filet, fry and boil
Dip, roll, then saute
Season, salt and oil
Cut, mince and marinate
Stuff, simmer, stew and baste
Freeze, and refrigerate
Then add more salt to taste
Bake, broil, and then roast
Steam, stir with ladle
Sear, brown, braze and toast
Then serve it to your table
Mothers are like spices
Some people can’t stand them!
For others they’re an acquired taste
While for most... one’s never enough.
cinnamon spices
holiday to the nostrils
fresh baked cookies please
**Christmas cookies, sugar, ginger snaps, oatmel and my favorite peanut butter!!
Holiday haiku for Deborah
Applesauce Cake
Once again autumn’s jubilee of gold and umber leaves
Drifts on a lazy Sunday morning rain
Past kitchen windows
Where scents of coffee and frying bacon
Walk hand in hand
Then race each other up the stairs
To look for dreamers missed by the dawn
While aunts and uncles,
Cousins, sisters, brothers,
Fathers, mothers
Squeeze side by side into the breakfast nook,
Touched by the shadow of Annette’s camellia tree
Leaves tousled by the hand of autumn,
To breakfast over fall chrysanthemums
When Grammie clears her throat,
Midst suspended coffee cups,
Declaring:
“This year I don’t think I’ll bake applesauce cake
For Thanksgiving.”
Gentle rains thunder in the silence
Before stunned voices jump to life again
Envisioning a holiday without
Her crunchy pickles,
New made jellies,
Opened for the harvest festival,
Completed by the allspiced cake
Studded with plump summer raisins
And toasted nuts;
“All right.” she smiling says,
Looking deep into her coffee cup,
A gypsy searching for the future,
“If you really want applesauce cake….”
One voice resounds:
“We really want applesauce cake!”
Outside the passing wind
Pats down the season’s
Ruffled hair
While serenity settles back
Into her place at breakfast
Once again.
I would give you my advices
If they weren't overpowered with spices
And things. Believe me, I hold
No control over these bold
Statements I make, nor the clever
Phrases and quips. I have never
Told a story of my own imagination—
No, 'tis the work of some abomination
Running amok in our sad homes.
They carry foreign, mysterious tomes
Filled with ghastly images and
Recipes for the witches' gnarly hands:
Indeed, a witch would benefit from
These outlandish ingredients, some
So abhorrent I dare not say their
Names aloud. But alas, they are,
At the same time, wonderful items—
Spices and things—bizarre and exciting:
They provide a necessary embellishment
To the newly made unintelligent—
We call them newborns, for they eat all,
So why not tell a story for them all,
About dragons and knights and the blood
Of the hopelessly valiant in the mud
Where their decaying corpses lie.
Spices and things—to show the fly
That is shooed away by the fairy
So that she may revive him and be merry.
And all the world's a miser, but who
Must know? We promise you will never know.
Drink this, or eat that—it is delicious.
None of it at all is remotely malicious.
It is soul-cleansing and stomach-filling,
Bad only for the vision you're killing,
For who must know? It is not needed.
Take root in the head I have seeded,
O Truth, so flexible, so malleable,
But not in the least detrimental.
Truth likes spices and things, she does.
Boys and girls, you and I, she loves,
She feeds us, clothes us, kills us
On the day we are called, the Day of Lust,
When we fight for our afterlives,
Be it Heaven, or Hell. It is a beehive
Of swirling angels and demons
That vie for our trust—daughters and sons,
The parents care not, for Truth doe say,
With much spices and things, that away,
Up high or far below, both are right,
Because both are eternal; both are a light.
You said - Have just put two on here. I have a backlog. Will be back on here later. Hope you are ok. X Any language including alien and northwestern star?
2
ginger mustard and spices
A mild aromatic genetic fruit scone was passing through the timed abysses pausing carefully at many tunnels and admiring the many printed displays shown through shoe strings then illuminated on the caverns scapes. It is never pay day that makes a petal happy. Thorny twisting takers trapping taunting tears tenaciously. And the ten foot viper wears a crown then wanders off into the forest with a very big staff, a silver lined cloak and a gem of minds. When alighted a fragmented train do mind the gaps for gaps are giraffes and giraffes are neither gaffs nor girths. Fragmented mind in a twist and shout at a disco van never really reach a ball rotating many lights. But a light containing the orbicular essence of a cyber shield can be a complete new person each day. Many a hill equal many a ray. But no tray. No ashtray either. Slam damm dunk. In an oversized trunk causing chaos at a highway. Whereupon a large pruning Pythagorean pyramid dances from the sky shouting "hello" but no one answered because they were very busy dashing off to sit in front of an organised box of nonsense serving dishes to their imagination thus rendering subconscious a reduced field. A sought after path is one that travels and traverses a high sky at noon or a dusk bowl at the sunset pinnacle. And just to add that a single sequin can actually jump across a gap measuring three hundred and fifty three thousand nautical miles. And so the dish cloth laughed reading his book. Bored of not cleaning. Hahaha the palomino is coming to town with the legs of a tyrannosaurus rex. Hahaha a beetle wobbles onto a jellybean and spins. Is that sponsored? Hahaha an ornate garlic sauce moving in a dress. A tissue paper working in a field. Xxxxx carbohydrate clapping xxxxx scientologists zzzzz. At 10000% of a sudden supernatural supermarket sway. X
L ive, laugh and love are fragrant spices of life
I n times of desperation, refreshing to the soul
V eils and smoke screens placed around each bend
E every illusion designed precisely to deceive
L et The Holy Spirit be your guide, rely not on what you see
A nd let it lead you safely through the maze
U nder currents may disengage firm footings self-assured
G ather up faith, hope, charity and love, adorn them as your shield
H old on tenaciously in the storms, for more precious than gold, you are
L eave burdens you cannot carry; let them fall where 'er they may
O ften times they tend to overwhelm, stirring up mental storms
V izualize the heart of innocents, see how no care nor worries it bears
E ach day, resolve to take the time to live, love and laugh
Autumn spices, real pumpkin delight
All harmony of the season in the light
Leaves fall, those of many colors
I love the cool air, the brook waters
Time seems to stop when I’m here
In the space of Autumn and its sphere
There isn’t the heat, that which I hate
No snowflakes just yet, they’ll be late
But the life of the Fall lives fresh
The air crisp, and the cobbler delish
Softly the precious eyes of Fall
Delight me in every beck and call
I’m truthfully grateful that it’s here
Now I can enjoy the precious night air
Russell Sivey
Written: March 22, 2025, for contest sponsored by Craig Cornish
***********************
In the heart of my kitchen spices exude their aromatic allure
a harmonic blend of flavors coddiwomples mute grief. . .
cimmerian saudade in emeritus pickles, a nostalgic taste
longing for a whiff of jasmine s p e c k s. . .
the acridity of blue cheese, the poignancy of bygone days. . .
lavender aromas snip from vessels of proclivity
hidden under an ominous cloud of r e m o r s e
on par with brimstone-soaked steam,
harmony strives to alleviate concealed pain
pleading palms to purge passed-over prose
as seclusion seeps still as a slow-spreading sickness…
Scathed by sadness solitude simmers silently,
In this mixture, marvelous magic manifests for mending
spicy ambrosial nuances partake in a gracious w a l t z
pain intermingling with delight
a buffet embellished with dishes of acrid herbs,
the core character intertwines with previous fails
textures and fragrances intertwine
to create a tapestry rich in pain and d e l i g h t,
harmonizing sadness and joy in life's tangled web.
oh wondrous pepper!
born in Kerala, South India &
said to be “the king of spices”---
that which goes with practically any food,
that which does all that it can to bring excitement to the tongue---
spawned from the piper nigrum whose
berries once picked, then dried,
become implements of savory goodness,
brought on by the explosive oils inside whose
wild nature bears for us
everything from
anti-oxidants to
antiseptics &
what a debt we owe to you,
for you have made many otherwise horrible tasting foods
tolerable,
you have been that last ingredient to change up things &
add a dash of interest into
an otherwise routine
cuisine---
we sit at your feet,
great peppercorn, ground to perfection &
ready to
eat.