Best Steamers Poems
Stilled again across the canals broadening
Girth;
Mesh cages of rock-filled Gabions
Reinforcing patches of exposed and arid earth,
Reflecting the glints that gleefully
Twist and dance in the hot glare of the sun...
Provoking images and stirring indefinable feelings
That begin to irrevocably up and run;
Pictures and voices crowding into my mind:
Immersing me in the flooding moments
To which i am briefly resigned.
Now momentarily staid by the shimmering
Instance
In which i find myself inextricably caught,
Perplexed by something rather intangible,
Seeming almost to tease and laugh
Whilst confounding upon my evasive and
Fleeting thoughts;
As glancing across at the opposite bank
Where drawn up a line of densely packed trees..
I swore...I heard the reel of a high squealing
Fiddle -
Playing ever so briefly alongside a tricky little
Breeze.
For stood there I, wondering,
On a grey painted swing-bridge:
Of brightly painted Steamers, dirty Trampers
And of double masted white canvassed Brigs.
Oh! The everlasting glory of a New World order
Redefined:
Entrusted to those instructed in her Majesties
Construction of sprawling Victorian sublimes!
The men who heroically dug, picked, blasted and
Strove:
To securely fasten an Iron cast girdle around
An ever diminishing blue globe.
Dreaming of long ago, dutiful, Golden-Age days
Rigorously pursued down, what are now,
Weed strewn, abandoned byways.
Faustian clothing and a Velveteens cap;
The thick buckled leather gaiters held about
By the strap.
Many the word spoken in a soft southern brogue:
All hail the glorious navigators -
The navvies of old!
Staunch and desperate men forced to resign
Their native Gaelic shores
And burden unto themselves with
Mattocks, shovels and garishly painted-up whores.
Under the high flaming beacons
And over the obscure little brow -
They carved out the new waterways
To float the laden down prow.
Yes! Men of the Emerald Isles
I salute you and your kinsfolk
From lands cast westwards afar:
The magnificent "Paddies" from the verdant island -
Of Erin-Go-Bragh!
The water lulls, soft, warm,
salt-sweet like dew on bronze skin.
In chains the boat at anchor rocks,
cradled in a summer sea.
Water accepts us, frail, human,
each rise of sultry sand beneath the waves
a blossom of delight. Suited to an
au natural moment; we wade.
Barely receiving permission to be
bare, our legs and arms wave and waver
beneath and through a languid sea.
Ten toes curl and prod seeking dinner.
The water in its abundance yields,
each mollusk's breath rises a stream of
silver bubbles exhaled marking their bed
leading the diners to their dinner fare.
First Publication at Eskimo Pie Summer 2013
Death By Murder:
Murky water left to drink
floating particles of death.
Erie presence leaves discontent.
As something wicked floats in it.
The bone chilling cold wind doth blow
off Lake Erie with flurry snow.
Late at night off cold dark shores
shadows of a floating barge.
Clouds of soot from steamers clogged
Pollutes the air with killer smog.
When something wicked this way flows
poverty on desperate corners pose.
Perverts prey on angry streets
Homeless children on which they creep.
Desperately at the mercy of,
as something wicked this way comes
Young ones get plucked,like sweet ripe plumbs
As something wicked this way comes
.
Contaminated, where no herbs could purge her
Strictly becomes death by murder.
Others with blood dripping from lips
Every scary thing flung and flipped
No caring soul feels to investigate
As vampires odors fumigate
There's no friend to even extend
a stick to beat the bush or defend
The evil deeds that ignorance brings
desecrates the graves of all good men
We make loud noises and pretend;
While something evil this way spins.
The screams are loud but know one heard her
Ignored are cries upon lake Erie's borders
Spores that spawn.. these deaths by murder.
Murky water left to drink
floating particles of death
Erie presence leaves discontent
As something wicked floats in it.
The bone chilling chilly wind doth blow
off Lake Erie with flurry snow.
Late at night off cold dark shores
Shadows of a floating barge
Clouds of soot from steamers clogged
Pollutes the air with killer smog
when something wicked this way blows.
Perverts creep on angry streets
Children homeless are their prey
desperately at the mercy of
She gets plucked like a sweet ripe plumb
as something wicked this way comes.
There were no herbs, left to purge her
This was strictly death by murder
Blood dripping from their lips/
Every scary thing they fling as;
Vampires odors fumigates,
the evil deeds, their gluttony brings.
They've Desecrated the graves of men;
Though we stand by, we cannot extend,
at least a stick to beat the bush;
Or make loud noises and pretend;
While something evil this way spins.
© Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2014
Inspired by Ray Bradbury
reposted 2017
Ah, the great American food mind!
Nobody else could ever make such a find...
The American "Red Hot", or HotDog..
A national tradition...
Superb in every edition....
But my son and I,
When to the movies we went,
Had a hotdog, and money was well spent...
Why can't we make Hot Dogs like these?
If they asked, to find out,
I'd fall on my knees...
Tried every brand...but just
not quite right...
So I stewed it over, and went
on my way...
Until one fateful day...
I came across kitchen appliances
on sale...
I don't need none...wait! Did I
forget the bun?....
And somehow I found special
hot dog makers...
I'd seen them many times before,
But never in an appliance store...
Roasters, steamers, spits and lots more...
I ain't got no clue,
What most are for....
Then I remembered the movie show,
And suddenly, Eureka!, I did know!
They had those odd machines,
Automatically turning hot dogs,
on little rollers...I said, wow!
Gotta get one of them!!
Found them on line,
And I espied their great cost...
$500 bucks minimum,
of course...
What the hell, ya only live once...
So I ordered one up....
While I sipped on my cup....
It soon came,
and Amazing it was!!
Much better than I'd hoped...
but yet, still just a little something off...
I thought to myself, I gotta figure this out...
Went to the store,
Plastic pulled out...
23 types of mustard, relish and such,
Three different buns,
different in shape, size,
and touch....
And now, every brand of hot dog in the store...
Had to be twenty or more!...
It took me some time,
But when I was done,
I knew he right mustard,
I knew the right bun!...
The band came over to play that night...
I served everyone hotdogs,
It was so out of sight!!
Well it took lots'a time,
and money too...
But soon enough,
Everyone knew....
You needed Hebrew National Franks,
Though their cost was so dear...
But after these investments,
I had little to fear...
So from then on,
it was Coney Island in Queens..
I was the hot dog king...
Nothing else meant a thing!!
So if you need a real tasty dog,
Come see me here,
Where I'm high on the hog,...
And for a mere five bucks,
you can have a dog...
And say "Oh Shucks!"
Steamers
Streamers the term that they give to a bird
The story of which you might never have heard
In the Mojave Desert, there’s a large solar plant
Three hundred thousand mirrors fixed to the sun’s slant
They magnify rays to produce lots of steam
To heat lots of houses – it’s environmentally clean
Federal wildlife officials say that the bright light
Attracts all the bugs so nearby birds all take flight
Perhaps at the rate of each minute or two
A bug-chasing bird through the light simply flew
They were instantly fried, vanished in plumes of smoke
From the heat of the rays in an instant heat stroke
No trace of the bird, no trace of the bug
When asked how to stop it, officials just shrug
They just count the birds, put the count in a book
Know to heat just one house, just how many it took
They don’t share this knowledge, they fear if they should
A bird-loving lawyer would sue them for good
If you live near this desert and you heat with steam
Your energy source comes complete with a scream!
The path progresses in a linear manner
like a fallen tree trunk
branching occasionally.
Perpendicular cousins gauntlet
the peripheral borders.
Winter’s extreme nudity
revealing an earthly crust,
a spine of granite;
a body desiccated of life’s fluids.
Yet, the sparse, angular, forms
retain their own beauty,
dance in the shifting light.
Upon the path man progresses,
upright as the gauntlet of guardian trees;
perpendicular as they;
arms branch, fingers twig,
calling down the gifts of Heaven.
Summoning.
The path girdles the Earth.
Within the trunk of man
arteries branch, capillaries twig;
and bones boulder spines.
The fluids of life flow in jewel tones,
dancing in the shifting light.
The Earth progresses, orbiting,
girdling the sun as the Moon girdles it.
Golden steamers of gas reach from the sun
upward and outward on the path
occasionally branching.
ON TENDING THE GREAT ANCESTRAL FIRES
Here lies the residue
Of an old fire
Long gone
Dry—Ashes
Left to the whelms
Of raindrops to dampen
Into a useless mush—
Or for the wind to blow
Aimlessly to nowhere;
Wet and immobile
Or blowing dry in the wind,
Useless are cold ashes.
Here, scattered among the warm ashes,
Lay hot remnants of a once great fire
Gone untended—abandoned as.
Often, tenders of great fires are released
From their duties by the thirst of death;
Others are just scared away.
Be whichever it may, great fires
Cocoon themselves in charcoal hued embers.
Charcoal hued embers—steamers of raindrops
And lovers of re-birthing winds of ignition.
Come chilled children;
Movements are like unsettled ashes
Of social interchange; revolution,
Like volcanic embers of transformation.
Come cocooned children;
Let us gather and stoke volcanic embers
That we may metamorphose in the presence
Of the Great Fire spirit of our ancestors—
Least we devolve into the staled mush of ashes.
This is autumn; a time for fairs,
Where local farmers show off produce, from that land of theirs.
Livestock is also another big hit;
And some folks are enjoying the horse-drawing pit.
But in many states, as any midwesterner knows,
Many gather to watch the tractor shows.
Cases, Masseys, and Internationals can be found;
And you may see a Rumley,or perhaps a John Deere around.
Classic tractors of days gone by.
Stirring memories ,and bringing tears of longing to many eyes.
But for tractor buffs, the highlight of the day,
Is watching the old steamers put on display.
Sometimes a saw-rig, or thresher is at the fair.
Perhaps an old haybaler may even be there.
The machine is parked, and then a tractor brought in,
Having an etra drum on the side, which can be made to spin,
By engaging a clutch, and drawing the engine's power.
Both connected by a long leather belt, they go hour after hour.
As long as there is still work to be done,
A belt driven machine can be continually run.
They never get tired, since all the power they've felt,
Comes from the engine at the end of that belt!
We humans also need an external source of "drive".
Because in our own strength we could never survive!
Just like a machine, we sit unused, in the field,
Til we're belted to a tractor, and the horsepwer it yields.
God has more power than we'll ever need.
We have to have Him working through us, if we are to succeed.
And He's willing to belt-up with us for any task.
He's merely waiting for us humbly to ask.
Charlie Pelota HSLP
Jupiter Joy Juice/ A day in the life of the twilight zone
Pulling off of the main road, the two ladies were interested in the odd looking space craft thingy atop a small structure. A sign reading “Jupiter Joy Juice” hung from the nose down to a small coin operated dispenser. Upon depositing the quarter required, frustration set in as the cup dropped and nothing happened. Beth, not to be taken for her money, walked around to the back of the dispenser, and found there, a set of stairs. Thinking they led to an office, she walked up them, where, sure enough there was a door.
It was unlocked. Being less curious, Marge stayed by the dispenser. As Beth stepped into the room she was perplexed as she squeezed around the circular disk partition partially blocking the way, just inside the door. A very low hum was making the room vibrate slightly. Seemingly empty, she turned to leave but now the disk was blocking the door. It was rotating. She noticed it was inching toward, forcing her to move further into the room. So odd, but it appeared to be attached to the long shaft down the middle of the room. The shaft was definitely turning and seemed to be speeding up.
Looking forward, she was terrified to see another such disk directly in front of her. Whatever this contraption was, it was forcing her to keep moving forward. Just as she reached what had to be the far side of the room, the floor suddenly fell out from under her as a trap door sprang open. The noise of apparatus was hidden by the hurdy gurdy music now coming from outside. The noise also hid her scream as she was processed by an array of knives, rollers, clamps, and steamers. She was reduced to three gallons of bright red liquid in a vat.
As Marge noticed ice in her cup, a delightfully red colored drink began filling it. She was glad Beth had found the problem. She called her. “Beth, come on dear, we really have to get going.” No answer followed, so she strolled back toward the stairs with her delicious drink. “Beth? Beth! calling again. What is going on?” she thought, heading up the stairs to take a look.
A young couple was pulling into the driveway, just as she went through the door.
June 11, cgh
2 cups of sautéed butternut squash
1 cup of pecans ( sautéed in butter and brown sugar 3 tablespoons each)
1 cup of raisins
3/4 cups of honey
2/3 cups of amaretto
2 cups of shredded sautéed cabbage
1 cup of sautéed onions
7 crushed garlic cloves (sautéed)
1/4 cup of candied ginger (minced)
2 cups of vanilla ice-cream
1/3 cup of white sauce
3 cups of ground pork (cooked)
1 & 1/2 cups of diced apples
mix together and make turnovers with favorite pie dough. or using eggroll wrappers
steam and to make sticky steamers
sauce
---------
1/4 cup of sesame seed oil
1/4 cup of soy sauce
1/4 cup of brown sugar
2 T ground ginger
3 T red pepper flakes
2 T fish stock
2 T lime juice
I've had love affairs throughout my years
so many I can't count beyond the parting tears.
Not many in my youthful primal fears
but as I grew they did rise amidst my heart's cheers.
Not just chemistry or physical infatuation
they drifted in my dreams without hesitation;
each set my body afire in self cremation.
Double 007, my James Bond dreamers
drew out my breath in blinding steamers
where I hardly paused for slow heart beaters.
In reality, I blush, the truth be said
only one lover was ever taken to my bed
and in the arms of the intense embrace
I won the love afffair's best race.
Should now I catch the mirrors reflection
the face I see upon inspection
is yours standing next to me
the continued love affair at seventy three.
F=G m1. M2/d2
Molten saltine solution
Manmade magma
Pow'ring turbines
Larder lake
Ontario song
Sings brilliantly
through the night
Then shall
Those sweet tastes
Make mornings
Extra special
She steamed
Maine steamers
Manors some
Caul them
And sauced them in
Wine
Heavy cream
Olive oil
Chives
And garlic
An evening were
A xylophone called
To a band of
Percussion, horns
Ten string a flute
One basset guitar
And a tenor guitar
We danced
On a tounge and
Grooved floor
And fell exhausted
In love.
From Vespasian licinius'
Myth of Music
Sensual sounds
F=G m1. M2/d2
Molten saltine solution
Manmade magma
Pow'ring turbines
Larder lake
Ontario song
Sings brilliantly
through the night
Then shall
Those sweet tastes
Make mornings
Extra special
She steamed
Maine steamers
Manors some
Caul them
And sauced them in
Wine
Heavy cream
Olive oil
Chives
And garlic
An evening were
A xylophone called
To a band of
Percussion, horns
Ten string a flute
One basset guitar
And a tenor guitar
We danced
On a tounge and
Grooved floor
And fell exhausted
In love.
From Vespasian licinius'
Myth of Music
Sensual sounds
Cocuswood
Manila and Cockles
oh the steamers oh the steamers
Ensis and Razors
Carpet shell clams and Ynghylch
Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch
A cold Read and Cattle call
The grounds have Karsted and
surface waters have polluted our aquifers
one said that mussels had attached to the
pipes in his handdugged well
Gaius Suetonius Paulinus,
the speak your name
in Rome
To mock the lovers'
of clams
Oysters: Oysters,
The Worlds my Oyster
mountains and mountains
we shuck
The Squawking shuckers
Bhah and grunt
grinding the day away
seagulls eager for lunch
swarm the skies and the ground
Song By
Sexiigalahgogo DeWhoreofbeddamn
'A two Flute Minimum" written by
"That Ole Gal" from Big-City Music
"What ya'll know out there in the Kuntry?"