Best Spicing Poems
Everybody’s noodle pudding’s
Baked a different way.
If you lined them up, you’d find
A real diverse display.
Mine, which is delicious,
Has two different kinds of fruit –
Orange slices from the can
And pineapple, to boot;
Sour cream, vanilla, butter,
Eggs and cottage cheese.
It disappears so fast, there’s not
A piece left I can freeze.
My friend makes hers with cream cheese,
Also pineapple and milk!
She bakes it half as long as mine
And says it’s smooth as silk.
Some recipes have raisins
And use cinnamon for spicing.
That combination, to my palate,
Isn’t that enticing.
In spite of the ingredients
That they’re concocted of,
All kugels* taste delectable
If they are made with love.
Yet every cook who makes one
Would be proud to take a test
Just to prove what she knows in her heart –
Her noodle pudding’s best!
*Yiddish for noodle puddings or other baked dishes
Miles of broken, sunbaked seashells,
resembling pieces of porcelain of lesser value,
lying across a populous beach subdued by misty blue,
as hungry sea-gulls pounce the fiddler's crabs..
The beach entertainer draws huge crowds;
singing funny songs and making comic skits
by spicing up his unique modus operandi,
and modestly mocking his modus vivendi...
He has never made lots of money,
but settles for dollar bills to earn their sympathy;
dressed in tight and colorful ministrel's attire,
he amuses the public with his monkey-shine...
And he pulls out his fiddler and the crowds go wild,
awakening, by its high-pitched sound, a dope fiend,
who has built a temporary shack threatened by the blowing sand;
He puts on his sunglasses and disappears in the groovy sunshine...
The beach entertainer follows him, leaving everyone behind
saying," Sorry, brother...I didn't mean to wake you up, the bum turns around taking off his lenses.
and exclaims, " Music doesn't fill an empty and aching belly...and cheer up a feeble mind! "
" Here's all I got...take it and get something to eat!" He says stretching his hands.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
An Autumn rain teases the roses
Splashes within cupped petals
Challenges the lone bumble bee
To pollinate the late bloomers
Chipmunks grapple with wet acorns
Leaf armadas ride the rapids
A lone goose questions its choice
Children know what the puddle’s for
October hides behind next Sunday
Readying its cornstalk mazes
Spicing up its pumpkin-ness
Adding its scents to Fall’s colors
Soup and scouse
Permeate a house
Odors causing wet teeth.
The ingredients in these mixtures are not all sweet.
Some are quite bitter, even sour, on their own.
They do however improve the mix to no end.
I've had added to scouse through several days
and what started as cabbage soup last Tuesday,
Well let's just say it tasted better Sunday afternoon.
Some meals, like say Fish'nChips have to be eaten then.
Others can be edited, several times in preparation
Totally changing original intent and sometimes thrown out.
Other recipes fall off the nib as fast as the pen flows
Needing only an okazyunal spicing or spell check.
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
Amaryllis splendid beauty, Christmas bells of pride thrill us
Birds of Paradise in flight making its opera debut in its crane plumage crown
Calla Lilly’s endless white elegance bouquet, a peek-a-boo lavender funnel play
Daffodils, shoo-in to scoop arm loads, out of the cold, into the morning sunlight spills
Ephemeral, short-lived and quickly fading beauties, trilliums, and harbinger of spring
Freesia innocence captures your heart trust with its fragrances and sword beauty
Gaura, a wand burst of delicate stars as bee-blossoms sing delightful springtime
Hyacinths, sincerity of fragrant with folded leaves a play bouquet of stars
Impatiens, touch-me-not to bloom anew Bizzy-Lizzy in all its playful trim
Jack-in-the-pulpit Arisaema triphyllum striped showy pining lover male-female as one
Kangaroo Paws their long beautiful stalks attract birds to perch and sip its nectar
Lily of the Valley flowers of spring sweetly scented miasmatic wedding bells
Marigolds brightly shine in bur-pee garden spicing up a dish fresh, and new
Nightshade, adorable soothing little green elfish hat and long flowing pink skirt
Orchids a touch of elegance in its uniquely posture, delicate in its buoyant poetry
Peonies, shades of red to white or yellow fragrant strong and hardy the Flower Fairy
Quinces magical splash of color with thorns heralds spring
Rue, sour herb of grace symbol of purity deterrent kitties and snakes
Sweet Peas reaching to the heavens embraced by the breeze, then flowers fade
Tansy yellow bitter buttons hang dry then boiled to clear amber-yellow dye
Uva-Ursi, grape of the bear blowing pink urn kisses into the air
Voodoo Lily, breathtaking with its height and beauty, not its foul odor attracting buzz
Windflower, star sprinkle flowers in your garden, but easies stomach and cough
Xeronema Callistemon sheer dazzling red toothbrush look perched on cliff top
Yellow Anemone, pure and fresh sleeps at night and wakes at a hint of sun
Zinnias sway with its parade of orange tutus charming wings flavor its beauty
4/26/2016
Garden Inspirations Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: BJ Legros Kelley
In this kingdom of fragmented gates,
I'm frustrated in being chained in a glass mansion.
The world is trying to change me,
forsaking my 'chess of life' into ruins.
I yearn to soar like an unconfined eagle,
but my talons are like frozen footsteps on glaciers.
My heart used to illuminate like the northern lights,
like a perfect portrait of a poetic sunset.
Now the unkind mind of humankind attempts to mould me,
tormenting the claws of my tiger spirit.
Upon a path of nomadic illusions,
spiritual delusions, struggle to salvage sunrise,
when the horizons are a blanket of black.
Crooning clouds resemble melancholic tones,
when twilight bleeds in burgundy blood clots.
I see seas of sorrow with an unstoppable ending,
when Satan's sighs summon a history of hurt.
His garnet eyes feel like thorns in peacock feathers,
silencing sentiments into a voiceless cocoon,
spiralling spicing moments into solitude, so I summon
my Goddess of Thunder.
The enigmatic voice of my queen of the night,
resonates in calming flawless frequencies.
Like art from abstracts of an architect,
we bathe in my pool of sentimental stars,
delicately dressed in dancing dandelions.
Each petal sparkling in a lake of rose quartz,
under a moon affair of astral rain-dreams.
If truth had a colour it would be her chocolate eyes.
Her celestial nature tells me heaven can wait.
No longer is my concrete onyx heart on fire,
as it glows like a trillion golden dragonflies.
Within the boxed confines
of ancient wood and plaster
waking, sleeping, dreaming in solitude
Only the cats soft purr
and frisky nature seeks to scatter the
dust bunnies which hide at sunrise.
Within the box of mind
or the box of heart
daily I peer outside of myself
through a pixeled frame of light.
The ingredients of my day
the passion of my night
all congeal in a broth like fractal art
spicing the tendrils of thought.
The mind mixes and blends friends
a genetic sea of salt and water minds
bubbles and boils and become.
~Without this soup you see
there could never be a universal we.
I would remain an eye without thee.
tangy scent of spring
sprays potion on blooms of dark woods ~
spicing dayglow's breeze
Luscious Love
Sweet serene surrender, your love a heaven splendor
In all that is tender, I’ll be the receiver, you the sender
Your love hath no bounds, with sensuous savory sounds
Your cherished heart compounds, within my soul surrounds
In delicious dreams compelling, my desire is over swelling
In our yeasty youthful yelling, seductive screams are selling
Our flesh adoringly afire, ascending aromas of lust perspire
For our liquid love does inspire, sultry satin and lace for hire
Bewitching and enticing, you are my cake with illicit icing
I hunger for you’re spicing, nectar for the gods are sacrificing
Sexual streams our appetite branded baring a bosom bite
Euphoric ecstasy in moonlight, in sweet surrender of night.
Sept.23.2017
The Poet's Fire
Sponsored by/Gregory R Barden
Advance and dance towards destiny
Galumph
Defy the lie and cry of scrutiny
Triumph
Over hurdles seen and unseen
Drive and dive to arrive
At the intersection where a queen
Awaits your appearance as you strive
To breach odds stacked against success
Meant to land in caloused hands
That have toiled and moiled to access
The priceless dream magic wands
Dangle to whet your appetite
To fight on
As your sacred satellite
Orbits in the vicinity of the zone
Where proximal development weighs your mettle
Questioning
Whether rejection and dejection can unsettle
Positioning and repositioning
Couched in sound marshalling of interpersonal skills
To peel
Layers of humbug from stills
To feel
Love concealed beneath an iceberg
That threatens to undermine your schooner
As you voyage towards Johannesburg
In tandem with Charlie Pride, the crooner
Spicing up your voyage with bliss ballads
That wash away
Distractions and subtractions from salads
That hold sway
When you pursue the path your heart
Declares full of promises
Meant to signal your restart
Of negotiations to soothe pieces
From your life’s jigsaw puzzle
Whacked out of shape
By a Kalashnikov muzzle
Whose lion-like nape
Reminds you to turn right
At the crossroads
Where might and fright
Debate whether Heaven and Hell roads
Intersect inside the crystal ball of love gone mad
Despite head shrinkers’ efforts
To decipher why glad guys go sad
When love distorts
Good intentions into daggers
That hurt with curt behavior
Turning smiling faces into feeble figures
Pleading to kneel and confess love ain’t no savior.
Yesterday's loud welcome
Dance of the night.
Linda-Marie's dot pens
Celebrate the happy woman
and the love lair
Spicing the world.
But not just happy woman
The ribful happy man too
Whose rib gladened
And brought her forth
To rule and relish
Since Edem times.
Happy woman, happy woman
Happy as vessel of honour
By whom we all came here
Happier for spicing the man
And blosoming the world
All by his precious glue.
The one sitted high above
Gave to us the grove
Long. Short
White. Black
Red. Yellow. Purple
Purpose dovetailed by Him.
Short arm. Longer arm
Crouching in firmness
Bending over, long siding
Caging things, climbing or falling
In proper cool or hot always
Whether in extreme urgency or not.
With only shadows on the walls
Tellling their presence at times
And muted belches or gaspings
Melting at diverse points
To start all over if there is iron
Here in Africa, we know it well.
No template of half measures
Works here in the savannahs
Come away then to Africa
Where nature binds and bids
Come and have your fill
The happy woman is an African
As I lay on my words
I ponder…
My words! My words!
My sweet pillow of comfort
A cushion of lyrics
Showcasing my thoughts
My secrets
My pain
My words speak tales
My experiences…they spice my words
Like meat in a pot, I cook my words
Spicing them up with the right experiences
My experiences…Your experiences
I add emotions to the art of writing
I bleed strong emotions that overwhelm you
Careless words that carry meaning
Caressing your smooth mind like silk
Truth…the incense my words produce
I sometimes camouflage it with jumbled patterns
I leave a footprint in the hearts of my readers
I scratch their curious minds
Leaving my autograph inscribed in the soft depths of their minds
My words are real to me
I taste them before I spit them out
I chew them before the ink flows out
Lies taste better…but lie…I’ll rather not
The truth so bitter…yet I’ll rather delight in its beauty and be satisfied
Peel the scales off the statue of truth
Leave it naked for all to see
Our hearts crave wisdom
But our flesh would rather rejoice in folly
Speak more words to me
Ye tree of truth!
Entice my pen and cause it to bleed
I rejoice in the flow of truth
Nourish my senses and be my muse
I have nothing to speak but words
Words of truth
Words by me
My words! My words!
By Sylvia Chika
[email protected]
http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/
http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/
https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog
Twitter:@sylviaoz
© SylviaChika 2015
----paranoid, pornographic, psychotic, pontific, politically aware, rapping, rhyming, right here, right now in River city, rock and roll up the Yazoo, sad, sadistic, sarcastic, sassy, satanic, schizoid, shitting, silly, sexy, smarmy, smelly, smooth, snarky, snarling, stupid, stinking, sweet as honey, sweat inducing, symphonic, Trump can’t handle this coffee, vengeful, Wagnerian, wicked, with nutmeg and cinnamon swirls, with a hint of stevia, with a hint of vanilla, with a hint of rum, with a hint of whisky, with a hint of cherry, with a hint of fruit overtones, with a hint of drugs spicing up the coffee, spendific, speeding, splendid, superior accept no substitutes, survived the Vietnam war, the Iraq war, the Afghan war, the first and Second Korean war, World War 11, the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on black people, the sexual revolution, Soulful as a summer’s night in MOTOWN- James Brown approved, TOP approved, Berkeley approved, the coffee that Jimmy Hendrix drank before he died, the coffee that Elvis drank on his last breakfast, the coffee that Barry White crooned as he drank his cup of coffee – and the coffee that made the white boy play stand up and play that funky music, the coffee that made Jonny B Goode play his guitar, and made Jonny bet the devil his soul after he drank his morning cup of righteous coffee and the coffee that make the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll, the coffee your mother warned you against drinking, the coffee that Napoleon drank when he became the Emperor of all Europe, the Coffee that Beethoven drank when he wrote the Ninth symphony, the coffee that Mozart drank as he wrote his last symphony, the coffee that Lincoln drank before he was killed, the Hemingway drank before he killed himself, the coffee that started the 60’s, and ended the 20th century, the coffee that Lenin drank as he plotted revolution, the coffee that Hitler and Stalin drank with FDR as they divided up the world after World War 11,
I sat at the bar sipping my lemon and lime
He came over pint in hand and sat on the stool next to mine.
“Haven’t seen you in here before”
I didn’t answer because something in my bag had just become very interesting.
He said, “You have lovely hair.”
I didn’t answer because my phone needed checking.
He said, “You have heard all this before haven’t you?”
I said, “Is that it! You’ve got me to get all dressed up and come to this bar and pretend I don’t know you and That’s IT!
He said, “Well I heard you on the phone telling your best mate that things need spicing up. So I thought this might help?”
“I was talking about the Thai Curry.”
We went back home, had the curry and went to bed.