Best Spoiling Poems
One ice cream sundae
Swirled with whipped cream and a cherry on the top
Sitting temptingly in a tall glass
But you were out of reach
I could see you through the window of the restaurant
Melting away in front of my eyes
Like your life was ebbing away from you
With creamy liquid tears running down the side of the glass
Over time the cherry sank deeper into the velvety fluid
Until it disappeared into the thick goo
It’s blushing red cheek barely visible at the bottom of the goblet ...
ONE fire alarm spoiling one perfect moment
This is a true story – it happened on 5th September!
One contest – Sponsor Rob Carmack
07~09~15
Categories:
spoiling, food, longing,
Form:
Free verse
Campfire And Tall Tails
Friends and sons come walking into the campsite all dress in camo
from their long day’s hunt. Around the crackling campfire, they all gather
and sat to warm their much-needed cold wet bodies. Keeping warm
with a bottle of Jack Daniels or Black Velvet, and a can of Mountain Dew
being passed around.
Adding more wood to the campfire so it would last through the night.
The sons poke sticks into the embers and watching the flame spark, pop,
and dance in their sight, while others roast marshmallows
at the end of their sticks.
The men are fixing their evening meal for all to feast on.
They all gather around the campfire and sit, teasing and telling stories
of their day’s adventure out in the woods, of a long, exhausting hike
around the mountain with a vision of elk with a large crown of horns.
The stories are told big and small, of the one they saw and had in their cross- hairs, but a calf with its mother who walked in front spoiling their shot. Or a bee that stung their hand when they were ready to pull the trigger.
When they‘re all done, they crawl into their sleeping bags so, they can do it all over again the next day, watching the campfire, teasing and telling their stories.
10/29/2014
Categories:
spoiling, father, friend, friendship, nature,
Form:
Light Verse
On a beautiful picnic was I
with a wonderful gorgeous new guy
till breaking the mood
and spoiling our food
came a ravenous huge ugly fly.
We got up and walked to the pier
Then what of all things did appear
round our heads as we kissed?
That dang fly that sure missed
our presence and did persevere!
It kept buzzing and buzzing. Oh my!
Just couldn’t stand by and be shy.
So I thrust out my hand
with a slam that was grand.
Squashed fly tossed to river – BYE BYE.
Written Feb. 26, 2017
for Shadow Hamilton's The Unwanted Guest Poetry Contest
Categories:
spoiling, insect,
Form:
Limerick
It’s Jubilee tea at my auntie’s care home
Aunt Phyllis’s hair could do with a comb
But she doesn’t mind and puts on her hat
The queen won’t be there’s no need to flap
The table is laden with all sorts of food
Ada burps loudly she’s so blinking rude
The cucumber sandwich crusts are cut off
My hair won’t stay curly I hear Mable scoff!
Gerald’s secreted cream scones on his lap
I’d not touch them now he’s a dirty old chap
There’s a heated debate is it scone or scon
I do not comment as they have all gone!
Old Edgar demands jelly and ice cream
It’s not on the menu he begins to scream
So he gets everyone to bang their tea cups
They’re acting like kids and not like grown ups
Along comes the matron she says ‘Dearie me,
You are spoiling our Platinum jubilee tea’
Edgar gives her some lip - he’s adept at verbals
He shout’s ‘Matron you just remind me of Goebbels’
Matron is livid, she turns puce in the face
Edgar’s sent to his room, as he’s in disgrace
He is reprimanded for causing such a scene
At the jubilee party for our wonderful Queen.
06/02/22
Categories:
spoiling, celebration, england, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
vivacious roses pose
in air
oxygen free from the stem
arising like balloons
resurrection of rosies
blushing brides at peak
before their spoiling
before their mistreat
their passionate gowns sweet
wormy stems
await greening apples
Eden’s eschew
the ladies wave bye-bye
preferring the troposphere
fear of flying
ain’t there
angels, palms up,
invite their climb
up golden stairs
heaven is a lighthouse
waves crash on dry and crusty land
petals fall like rain
dowry to the grooms
wives look nothing like the brides
kites tied to home soil
desperate for heaven
a few grooms
smooth
the bed
water the roots
the rose thrives
2/24/2021
*Salvidor Dali’s Bleeding Roses
Categories:
spoiling, marriage,
Form:
Ekphrasis
I’m from the piano in my living room,
from the music and melody.
I’m from the old, shabby couches,
(Placed proportionally,
opposite side from the TV)
I’m from the mirror,
the clear reflection
whose face I remember
staring at in the morning.
I’m from the mud under the cemented ground in the yard,
(Brown, lumpy
filled with the elements of Earth)
I am from the fruits grown in my garden,
delicious when freshly picked.
I’m from the swing set,
run-down and tattered,
yet bringing back sweet
and wistful memories of the past.
I’m from the neighborhood mailbox,
beaten down and ragged.
I’m from the local Starbucks,
freshly brewed coffee.
From the dental clinic my father
worked hard to build.
I’m from my Uncle Benajir’s love,
an unconditional and spoiling love.
I’m from Aunt Helena’s
big mouthed personality,
causing trouble and anger amongst many.
I’m from the love and support from my cousins,
Rahat and Tasfia,
whose love has affected me greatly
throughout my life.
I’m from the judgmentals
and the backdated,
from the close minded and ignorant.
I’m from the Islam is the one true religion
and a Quran I have learned to read
throughout my childhood.
I’m from the Dates eaten
during Ramadan.
I’m from the fuchkas
brought from Artesia,
the Indian market of California.
I’m from the biryanis,
the cultural grain
of my ethnic group,
made especially for get-togethers.
In my closet are family albums,
filled with old pictures,
an array of familiar and unfamiliar faces
bringing about stories from the past.
I am from those memories --
stories about my long distant cousins
to my maternal grandparents --
I am from those memories.
Categories:
spoiling, childhood, family,
Form:
Narrative
she tricked him,
she baited her,
her soft steps,
leaving no trail,
when she ran off,
the only thing they saw,
was her,
fuzzy bunny tail,
her intentions were hidden,
a clever disguise,
masked beneath,
her evil human eyes,
she was determined,
to take them all,
the big ones,
but especially the small,
after all, who could argue,
when the bunny wiggled her nose,
a carrot for them,
hidden beneath her clothes,
mesmerized and unaware,
sisters and brothers,
she didn't care,
all caught in her bunny lair,
her cute disguise,
surrounded her designs,
spoiling them,
she hid maggots and flies,
hopping away,
claiming no such tale,
the bunny thinks,
she covered her trail,
but children grow up,
no longer believing,
in fairy tales so ugly,
or a sister so deceiving.
(Vickie Thayer Poetess 2018)
Categories:
spoiling, abuse, child, evil, memory,
Form:
Rhyme
Remember remember Mum when we were small.
Holding hands as we learnt to walk,
Teaching us how to talk.
On the swing you'd push us high
Till our feet could touch the sky.
A magic rub when we had a pain,
Kiss it better once again.
Snuggling up on your lap,
Poems and stories before a nap.
Do you remember Mum?
Remember remember Mum when we were small.
Taking us to the pantomime,
Sailing on the Serpentine,
Museum visits and palace too,
Madame Tussauds and the zoo.
Candyfloss at the fair,
Dirty knees and messy hair.
Days out full of fun,
Holidays in the sun.
Do you remember Mum?
Remember remember Mum our teenage years.
Thinking that we knew it all
When life for us was just a ball.
Young love and first dates,
Staying up way too late.
School exams and learning to drive,
You praying we'd stay alive.
We probably caused you many tears
When life was all about our peers.
Do you remember Mum?
Remember remember Mum when we left home.
Bridal gowns on wedding day
When Dad gave us both away.
Two young women we'd become
But never stopped needing help from our Mum.
Grandchildren, pink and blue,
As one by one your family grew.
Granny time was time for treats,
Spoiling them with too many sweets.
Do you remember Mum?
Remember remember Mum for it is true.
We thank you for all that you still do.
We hope you have a wonderful day,
Celebrating your eightieth birthday,
Enjoying this little afternoon tea,
With special friends and your family.
So raise a glass and give a cheer
Because you've notched up another year,
And we hope there's many more to come
Because we really love you Mum.
I wrote this to read at an afternoon tea party for my Mum yesterday from my sister and I. Unfortunately Mum is losing her memory, so I'm hoping this will help her to recall.
Categories:
spoiling, age, birthday, daughter, happy
Form:
Free verse
Writing my first Sonnet was like a pregnancy.
I knew I wanted to give birth to one
and took on the parental responsibility
knowing it wouldn't... or shouldn't take nine months.
There'd been no morning sickness nausea
but there were times when I wanted to change my mind.
"Too bad, kiddo," I thought. "You gotta see this through.
because you can't put Humpty Dumpty back inside his egg
once the shell has cracked and broken."
Determined not to have yet another unfinished poem
take up space in a notebook, I persevered
spoiling myself with ice cream, chocolate fudge slivers,
a few cherries, and a liberal squirt of caramel sauce.
I indulged myself with a reward after the first verse.
I've never liked dill pickles, so when I couldn't find
the right rhyming word for verse two, I didn't eat those.
Pregnancy or not, I wasn't going to suffer puckered lips
because my muse refused to be pregnant with me.
She'd have made a useless midwife anyway.
Said she'd be back when she got a birth announcement.
I suffered alone and pushed this baby out
with the same force a laborious woman uses to birth a child.
No epidural in the spine, although I did partake
in a bottle of wine during the entire nascence process.
"LOOK," I screamed. "After fourteen hours of labor
it's an eight-pound boy."
Actually, it was more like eight hours of labor
to deliver a fourteen-line Sonnet, and lots of anxiety.
I took comfort knowing this baby wouldn't need breast feeding.
Now that it's here, it will be reread a time or ten...
a line edited here or a tweak somewhere.
It will be mollycoddled, burped, and pampered
but not with the naked butt baby kind.
I'll sing it to sleep when I'm the one needing a lullaby,
and I'll be glad it doesn't cry for a two am bottle.
I won't worry about it getting sick or growing up too quickly
because ten years from now it'll still be my baby.
Birthing a child is difficult work but we both survived the labor.
and my firstborn is not crumpled in a basket, lying on the floor.
Categories:
spoiling, birth, humorous, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
I read it so, the Bread of Life
without discourse, without contrive
did lighten, nourish, so arrive
that building up, to merit, live ~
That in my lines
I found your strife
did so surround with beauties hive
that honey of discourse revive!
This leavening of love's requiet,
that injured particle, that pride,
that unaccomplished effort's stride
that unforgiven song's abide!
That haste, that entry unrelied
were all a Godly plan, not tried,
that love unsettled so applied,
unmixed, unsettled faith ~ no bride!
Is love, thus meddled with denied,
pourous regrets hidden and shied,
how puffed up, spoiling shape's decried
this fatness trail, unholy mile!
Be waiting, like a homeless child
so love relinquished dies servile ~
to thee I give, last frenzied mile,
wherein thee walk, wherein thee . . . . smile!
Categories:
spoiling, friendship, love, time, love,
Form:
Monorhyme
Mid-day darkness crept across the browning meadow
Autumn sought a place to practice her ritual perfidy,
Menacing as an evil spirit she hovered like a shadow
Transformed the green, plucked blooms ruthlessly.
Strewing the lush foliage laid barren along the path
As though a windstorm had tossed it with no regard
Spoiling the last of summer’s blooms in the aftermath,
Leaving the landscape ‘til spring battered and scarred.
I scanned the field from the fencerow by the avenue
Which separates the sanctuary from my backyard,
Already dreaming of a time when all will begin anew
But first I know the place will see winter cold and hard.
Nature’s way, of course, I’ve witnessed many seasons
Times to blossom in profusion; other times to perish,
Cycles of seasonal changes, who can know the reasons.
Written September 3, 2022
Categories:
spoiling, change, nature, seasons,
Form:
Rhyme
Having been on my own
for the past ten years
I suppose I am set in my ways
If I’ve no planned routine
at the start of each day
I just come and I go as I may
Awaking each morn just before dawn
I can go where my mood may take me
Disliking routine I meander free
to come and to go as I please
For now there is no one here except me
with my very own idiosyncrasies
Generally I enjoy my own company
Though from time to time
seeing friends and family
is such an enjoyable treat for me
But to have someone
permanently under my roof
It would drive me insane
send my soul in a whirl
as slowly my mind
and my body unfurl
At this juncture in life
I want peace and tranquillity
No hassle
No stress
No irritability
So when I have guests
I pull out all my best
Spoiling them rotten
as we laugh and we jest
But as the days pass
and our moods start to show
It is time to bid farewell
It is time for them to go
Or frustrations
raise their ugly head
and we may say things
we should not have said
So as the old adage suggests
Familiarity can breed contempt
and living too long
with family and friends
is how a good relationship
may come to an end…
Written 14th September 2019
Contest Strand Select U
Sponsor Brian Strand
3rd Place
Categories:
spoiling, family, friendship, solitude, space,
Form:
Rhyme
"Betrayed by Love's Lie"
in quiet solitude reflection stirs
as soiled thoughts invade inner core of mind
a gentle heart, swallowed in grave, inters
beyond the golden twilight, peace to find.
promises vowed sway broken at dark seams
betrayed by lovely lies spoken sincere
a trusting naive soul lost lovers' dreams
extinguished passion flaunting hurtful leer.
tears tumbled as deceitful romance lied
swore to emotion's eyes were free to wed
a dagger thrust impaled life as flame died
spoiling sweet taste of destroyed marriage bed.
bitter essence lingers to haunt, to pry,
a callous charmer who betrayed with lie.
*Sonnet from P.S. Forms of Poetry.
*For Craig's Beautiful Lies Contest.
*Dec. 8, 2012.
Categories:
spoiling, death,
Form:
Sonnet
A neighbor owned a lovely fence garden
In the garden was an exquisite ivy vine
It was a place of comfort and pleasure
It was an arena of solace and leisure
One day a little fox delved under the fence
It went under the vine and sips it
A few days later the vine withered
And there was a huge vine and a little wizard
It was not a big one, but a little
A little fox ravaged a huge vine
It did great catastrophic when the vines are tender
Yet, the young man did nothing to guard its natural splendor
There are no giants in our land
But there are little devils
A devil-like clever little foxes
A seemingly insignificant little foxes
These little foxes are spoiling the vine
A little sleep! A little slumber!
Laziness spoils the vine of success beyond doubt
Get up! Chase the little fox of laziness out!
Pride spoils the vine of progress
Get up! Chase the little fox of pride out!
A little anger! A little destruction!
Get up! Chase the little fox of anger from your reputation
Bitterness spoils the vine of receptivity
Get up! Chase the little fox of bitterness out!
A little wrath! A little strive!
Get up! Chase the little foxes that do harm to your Christian life!
Chase out the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vines (Song of Solomon 2:15)
Categories:
spoiling, bible, character, symbolism, wisdom,
Form:
Quatrain
HARMONY 69
The night of twelfth December `69
knotted together an icy storm wind
that whipped False bay`s waves
to white -frilled blankets.
Thunderclaps against primal rocks
resonated through a ghettoe of glowing tents
on a dark, rough ,bushy patch .
Rising plaintively above the din
of drums and flapping canvas,
creole strains solicited the capricious gods
for a clement Cape .
Love songs , sweet like wine
would even tittilated mermaid`s melons,
stranding them breathless, with tails scaled.
In my sixteenth tempestuous year,
I was sickened and sullied, spoiling for a fight
with that ever- prying, ever-lying police-state
denying us
dividing us
deriding us
ripping us
whipping us
in an all-pervasive racist propaganda storm
Harmony,was forced ethnic relocation right there
in a stamp-size sea-resort next to a stinking dump.
Our yearly anticipated salty baptism,
fouled for a full ten years,
dunked in fascist soil
of a false bay with a real bite….
rubbing coarse salt in our opened wounds
Rubbing it in the flayed
William, my sire, of the black turf belly
Rubbing it in the lashed
Maxie , my ma , of white-on-black graft
Rubbing it in the spurred
Dot Adams, my oracle , of the pearled-truth tongue
imprisoned to a silent ninety-day solitary confinement. .
Yes, a full two hundred scar-studded waxes
avidly saluting the wretched who rose in revolution
drowning exploiters in the oppressed`s precious blood
Algeria whilst raped,unveiling herself,
firing fear into bared French fascism
exploding the myth of a benevolent colonialism.
“Lumumba will guide the Kongo to freedom”
grandpa agitated hopefully as revolutionary Patrice,
our dark prince of peace
died on the bloodied butts
of neo-colonial carbines.
My seven-year heart burst
in anger and pain.
A companiable heart`s balance
tilted with unease at justice , unhinged.
the periodic uprisings of people in far-flung regions
against the arrogance of anglo-saxon imperialism
salted my youth with the tears of broken children,
their blood ever spattering my angry brow.
Categories:
spoiling, history, inspirational, love,
Form:
Epic