Best Takeout Poems
One shouldn’t be presumptuous, I know this all too well
But I’ve seen such fidelity and love as strong as hell
I’ve felt adoring eyes on me, her heart and mine are tied
Even when distracted I can feel her by my side
I’d never click my fingers like I’m beckoning a waiter
But if I did she’d be there ‘NOW’ and not sooner or later
I feel unworthy of the way she idolises me
I’m an ordinary fella, which I hope she’ll never see
Sometimes she is barred from places that we’d like to visit
But we’ll eat takeout in the park and it will be exquisite
She’s always there for me, forever at my beck and call
Yet all she ever asks of me… is that I throw her ball
Categories:
takeout, dog, love,
Form:
Rhyme
On an as is where is basis, we fell—
down the elevator shaft of the day,
into the buzz of a fluorescent hum, the smell
of reheated takeout in cracked Styrofoam trays.
The descent began when the train doors jammed,
and I was stuck staring at my own reflection—
the stale grime of the carriage, the paper ads,
my face mirrored against the strangers, expressionless.
I finally made it home, my shoes untied,
the hallway dim, someone’s dog barking through thin walls.
The key caught in the lock, metal snagged on silence—
inside, a burnt-out bulb flickered above the sink.
Bills were piled high, half-shoved in a drawer,
an eviction notice crumpled at the edges,
yesterday's dishes stacked like monuments of failure,
and in the fridge—two eggs, a leftover apology.
Then I saw it: a post-it, bright yellow,
crookedly taped above the empty fruit bowl.
A scribbled heart, in a child’s writing, "You're the best,"
the 's' in 'best' drawn backward, rushed—
a small love, pressed into a square of paper.
That night, I folded laundry in silence,
shirt by shirt, sock by unmatched sock,
finding something steady in the rhythm—
the sound of breathing is as good as sleep
when sleep is nowhere near.
I climbed into that feeling, inch by inch,
with each minute stretched, each dollar exchanged
for time, each deep breath drawn. The city
buzzed outside, the cars skating down wet streets,
but here, it was the small clicks of our life—
turning off the TV, the snap of clean sheets,
the drip of the bathroom faucet needing fixing.
I knew it was enough—this climb, this small scaffold
we built to hold us up.
Now I stand, the city alive beneath my window,
swapping scar tissue out for the heat of the moment,
for the feat of staying—my laughter penetrating
the cracks in the walls—a song that makes each broken
piece of the ascent worth saving.
Categories:
takeout, care, courage, devotion, hope,
Form:
Free verse
"Beyond lychgate lies future death" she says,
cucumbered eyes slid back under cauliflower sky,
brimming smithereens of harkening demons.
Been in saddle some time since torchlight began,
a child's silent castle ago. Chaos-times cut alleyways
through rose-lettered circles, reads trashy maid.
The journey fell sword north along shield path.
Peninsula late to temple-crawling fiend
and settle princess patter dust. Like trick glass
the moon palace emanates, a chain works
its crystal door. A shore of bane swims world-sick
with fire-wing ticks abreast, dragon-headed air:
happens to be, as the world burns...
Spring chickens looked at first
grasshopper leaves, blossoms.
Empty saddles of burnt Autumns
sit with moccasin thirst.
One ruby night ago, vampire night,
made movie set by tail light.
Wrench of fog came loose and fell.
Eye of moon too close, well...
Winged skeletal open sheet,
sanguine collar of his neat.
Began by serving up the meat.
Legs he tossed, and arms and feet.
A rise and shine ago, luster of sight,
out of scene the farmer goes.
Steel machine cranks horizon bright.
Scroll up the title i suppose.
Barn stall features dingy leather
where lasting gleam slips by candle.
Recall adventure, mural by weather.
Motion eye attached to handle.
Scoot across encrusted bucket,
folded over the eating depth.
Put filthy Kraken atop it,
swished around the damn mess.
Brave journal follows company
down the water-taped steps
to where there isn't any.
Sealed flame lights diver's quest.
A cave away, keys of hassle,
swim to shore with hopes unravel.
Brute force thunders far within.
Exact the sword to have them send.
Enter bar stool and order takeout.
Hostess charm enhanced the make out.
Her fuel adds flames to very fabric.
Her fists were fiery, action: magic.
Out of dust broom closet knelt good
ole nuke we ended up sneaking places:
peaceful village of the caring hood,
small reaches, to parking spaces.
Twisted hair in castle braids,
scoundrel bristles painting raids.
Countdown pistol official use,
punching bag for ogre face.
Categories:
takeout, adventure, fantasy, fate, hero,
Form:
Lyric
in most human endeavors
there are those items that just
don't quite fit in with the rest of the projects
from batteries to rubber bands
to unused takeout menus there is
only one place to find what you need
none other then the
family junk drawer
thats right folks !
the junk drawer
we really need to clean that
Out !
from mama to me now
I 've taken over the junk drawer
just call me a pack rat LOL
Categories:
takeout, family, funny, visionary, me,
Form:
Free verse
I go to a restaurant owned by Wang Chung.
His specialty dish is shrimp egg foo young.
The food is the best in town without a doubt.
I usually go there when I want some takeout.
Wang is just too generous with the gravy.
It’s the most I’ve ever seen, and I don’t mean maybe!
Well, he didn’t put the lid on tight enough.
I had an experience that was plenty rough.
The lid opened and gravy was all over my shirt.
How do I get the stain out? It’s tougher than dirt.
Wang Chung sent me to his cousin who owns a laundry.
Wang told me that he was the one to see.
“My cousin can get your shirt whiter than white.
The first time only, he gets things right.”
I left the shirt at the laundry and departed in a spurt.
However, the ticket remained in the pocket of the shirt.
The next day, Wang’s cousin said this to me:
“So solly cholly! No tickee, no washee!”
March 1, 2014
Categories:
takeout, business, cousin, culture,
Form:
Rhyme
POCKETS TURN INSIDE OUT.LINT BALLS
FALL RIGHT OUT...A NIGHT OUT WITH
YOU IS WITH COUPONS AT MICKEY D'S.
ASKING THE CLERK TO SUPER SIZE A
TAKEOUT MEAL.
CHEAP SKATE:THE FLOWERS I RECEIVE WERE
FROM THE CEMETERY DOWN THE STREET.IT
SLIP YOUR MIND TO TEAR AWAY THE NOTE
THAT SAID "FAREWELL CAROL" HOW DEAR
YOU STEAL FROM THE DEAD.
CHEAP SKATE: YOUR CELL PHONE IS PREPAID,
AND YOU HARDLY HAVE ANY MINUTES TO SPARE.
IT'S HELLO,GOODBYE,SEE YA SOON.
CHEAP SKATE: ALWAYS UP IN MY FACE. NEVER
WANTING TO GO HOME.WEARING OUT WELCOME HAS
TO END.
CHEAP SKATE:I'M AFRAID TO TAKE YOU AROUND MY
FAMILY. TO SAVE MYSELF FROM THE EMBARRASSMENT.
I'LL JUST MEET YOU AT THE MALL. SINCE YOU
HAVE LIMITED MINUTES ON YOUR PREPAID CELL PHONE.
CHEAP SKATE:I DON'T MIND PAYING SOMETIMES OR
EVEN GOING DUTCH....BUT YOU'RE TOO CHEAP FOR
ME. A MAN ALWAYS CRYING BROKE.PLESE! LEAVE
ME ALONE. I TRIED TO BE PLESANT. THIS PROJECT
IS TO BIG FOR ME.A MAN BEGGING FOR MONEY THIS
CAN NOT BE.....I HAVE TO FEED YOU WITH A LONG
HANDLE SPOON BECAUSE YOU'RE A CHEAP SKATE......
Categories:
takeout, girlfriend-boyfriend, life, people, satire
Form:
Free verse
This is New York!
creamy cheesecake,
chinese takeout,
dirty dawgs,
flaming steak strips,
street vendors galore.
This is New York!
hot, piping,
scorching, gooeyness,
thick, tangy,
sweet smoothness.
This is New York!
high style,
lit miles,
street style,
free style,
all the while.
This is New York!
crispy, crunchy,
sizzling, bubbling,
tasty, saucy spread
velvety goodness on powdery bread.
Categories:
takeout, food, imagination, on writing
Form:
Free verse
Neighbors
by Edmund Siejka
It was getting colder
Sun slowly
Easing
From the afternoon sky.
Taking off his glasses
He studied the front steps
How was he going to get a heavy dresser up there?
His wife asked, “Are, you sure you can do this?”
Turning, her eyes focused on the nearby homes
She thought she saw a curtain move.
“No one is coming out to give us a hand” she said
“We don’t have those kinds of neighbors,
We’ve got to do this ourselves before it gets dark
Tommy’s going to have to help.”
“But Tommy’s only thirteen.”
“He’s got to help. Anyway, he’s big for his age.”
Exhausted, they moved the dresser into the bedroom
Tired she said “I did as much as I could.”
“We’ve had a long day” he replied
“So, lets get takeout.”
Flashing a grin she answered, “Sounds good to me
Chinese or pizza?”
“How about Chinese?”
“Let me ask Tommy If he’s OK with Chinese.”
Calling from the other room
“Tommy wants pizza.”
“Christ everything’s for him.”
“Well, he did help.”
“When I was his age, I did what my parents said.”
Lowering her voice, she answered “Well, he’s your son too so why don’t you talk to him?”
Looking around the bedroom
She couldn’t help but notice,
“By the way there’s scratch marks all over the floor.”
Red faced he answered
“Listen, no more aggravation today. We’ll do something about it later. Pizza is fine with me.”
“OK, I’ll call and you pick up. Does that work?”
Leaning against the kitchen counter
Thoughts that were always near the surface
Bubbled upwards
Making her wonder
Why are husbands so fuggin’ stupid?
Categories:
takeout, life,
Form:
Narrative
Thank you for coming
And giving me your time,
You seemed to like the Chinese,
I know I liked mine.
You have been gone now
For many a year,
Life was good and life was bad, and
We’ve shed many a tear.
It’s late afternoon now, and I know you must,
Leave me alone again and you’ll be, too,
You take your doggie, I’ll keep mine,
We don’t live far, please come back, do.
If children just knew what a little visit means,
They would come often and not be shy,
But they like to be in their own carved out nests,
And as far as that goes, so do I.
So take the rest of the Chinese takeout,
And think of me when you chow down,
Remember it’s from Mom with love,
And don’t forget to come back around
Categories:
takeout, age, love, relationship,
Form:
Rhyme
She waits, a grounded eagle, eating takeout, passing time,
And stares, a crippled hunter, chasing salmon of the mind.
She courts a passing breeze; hopeless passion
stirs her wings,
But she must sit, a grounded eagle, dreaming dreams
of bygone things.
Note: Sitka was a bald eagle I once had the privilege to know.
She broke one of her wings flying into a power line and was
grounded for the rest of her life.
Categories:
takeout, animal, bird, longing, nature,
Form:
Free verse
We have reached the base of the Idol
where the iron is now mixed with clay
a kingdom broken and fractured
its lack of strength in full display
There can never be any cohesion
of elements weak and debased
governments and religions so splintered
where virtue and truth is erased
Oh senate of Rome you still rule here
and golden coins her decisions make
the amalgamations of your religions
continue the confusion you create
Your churches fictions were born in Persia
and your idols birth from Egypt took root
from Greece and Rome your philosophy
and senators who lie for money your offshoot
The former fools of the court now staged
the drunken revelry of Greece and Rome
highly paid keep your citizens engaged
is the takeout they dine on at home
History now accurately documents your error
the scribes no longer paid to hide your sin
but every truth has been now recorded
into the book of time not held by men
Men live as though
no record to their life exists
that every reflection of our minds and thought
and of our bodies
not in time encased
They seem as quickly to forget
the place where all exist
in where ever is the book
of time and space consist
Our inheritance millennia's of lies
the table of the world of thought
it has twisted the aim of the target
until our own destruction will have it brought
Tis the net and web that seeks to catch us
the bait is saturated with wine and song
a cup full drunk with its inebriation
until you cannot see what's right from wrong
Every conception in time has given birth
to the ideology that has taken root in man
it has grown into the tree that has not worth
and its branches to be burned and condemned
Men lavish praise on their idols
for the trophies and the titles to win
but if it is self service that you are seeking
the table that's spread will in death end
sources , Daniel
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Categories:
takeout, dedication, devotion, faith, history,
Form:
Free verse
middle aged and middle class
driving way too fast
on country lanes
drop the kid at school
group yoga then the pool
prosecco and wealth envy over lunch
on to a manicure and then hair
(you won’t believe who I saw there)
send conspiratorial text or two; update facebook
get some vino, and the kid - shoot back home
knock back another glass of wine;
have a gossip on the phone
revving engine on the driveway: dinner’s bell
pour a cobra; grab a takeout menu
domestic bliss? suburban hell?
Categories:
takeout, allusion, analogy, car, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
We collect unresolved arguments,
like spare buttons in a jar—
each one waiting for its moment
that never arrives.
Yesterday's dishes grow cultures
in the sink while we pretend
not to notice, like the way we ignore
how your toothbrush stays dry for days.
Remember how we'd marathon films all night?
Now the TV stays dark and cold;
our watchlist growing longer and longer—
a queue of stories we'll never finish.
The grocery list on the fridge
yellows at its edges:
takeout numbers and Netflix passwords,
four years of shared logins we'll have to untangle.
Our lease renewal sits unopened—
a time bomb on the counter—
while we both scroll apartments
in separate browser windows.
We've mastered the art
of "maybe next year" and "we'll see,"
both too kind or too coward
to say what our silence already knows.
-
Categories:
takeout, heartbreak,
Form:
Free verse
beware the enemy who can
fart your national anthem
it was a mob scene at the microphone
kill him kill him they laughed
nobody wanted to miss the show
a perfect blend of pandemonium and bliss
sound bites took their ears off
but how else can one enter the future
with enough for gas money
a basket of Chinese takeout and a cigar for the road
I wasn't free as a kid either
trying to live happy with an unhappy soul
we're going to be a brave scout
aren't we little boy
the place was crawling with dilettantes
NazI pederasts and machine politicians
parents now hunkered down and on the run
from the children bounty hunters
this is the era of retribution
officer Claudia held her gun on him
I need as a minimum a fat 8 inches
can we do business she murmured
OK I'll take achoo as meaning yes
wishing only to stay true to my vow
keep a poker face no matter what
certainly I know right from wrong officer
having tested them both thoroughly
under laboratory conditions of course
on the normal frequencies
it seemed to do the trick
it's a trick of light because light is proof
all is rumored is a good disclaimer
another night of sinister symbols
broadcast across my eyes
in a Japanese bukkake tourist accident
I'd like to make a withdrawal
from my camera account now
when the steam pipes blow
and the manhole covers blow
so life is an insane riddle then
so if right and left marry
will the kids have two heads
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Categories:
takeout, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
once a young man from brooklyn
wanted to try home cookn
for his oven it died
from some rice that he fried
now he's takeout a'look'n.
Categories:
takeout, best friend, cheer up,
Form:
Limerick