Best Tasters Poems
Mawmaw's icebox fruitcake sliced
Expose those colorful candied fruits
coarsely diced and smell so very nice
Sweetened condensed milk doesn't dilute
Chopped pecans and raisins~tasters recruit
How about you?
Recipe:
I box Graham Crackers crushed
Add three cups chopped dried candied fruits(different colors)
Add 3/4 cup raisins
Add 1 1/2 cups of chopped nuts your choice
One cup of miniture Marshallows
1 can of sweetened condensed milk poured over all
Stir until all is moist..If not quite enough add either
Marachino Cherry liquid or sweet milk
It needs to be a little sticky
Keep the Graham Cracker box and cut the top wide part on three sides
to make a flap, line the box with wax paper
Press the mixture into the box and seal up with cling wrap
Keep refrigerated until ready to serve..
This is a very good fruit cake, moist and very rich
A very small slice is all needed with some milk or coffee
When
The Gift That I Give You
** True love is the gift of freedom to live,
it’s never possessive or oppressive. **
My gift to you is a bottomless jar
That I'll top up every day with love hearts
Hearts made from sugar candy just for you
Each one comes with a tweet, loving and sweet.
There’s assortment of colour and flavour
Put one to your lips, feel the sherbet fizz
All yours, Kiss me, Date me, Love me, The one
These are a few tasters, others to come.
Poetic lines from your own troubadour
For your eyes only, read the words slowly
Treasure each message that kisses your heart
I'll love you till the day we're torn apart.
Though we pass from here to eternity
I pray that our last days are faraway
When we're in heaven eventually
Our love will shine brightly eternally.
27th June 2021
** Quote poets own. **
Lily, jasmine and roses
Tulips, carnations and daffodils
He adores and chooses
Cosmos, zinnia and daisies
His hands paintbrush of nature
His eyes tasters of beauty
He turns seeds in flower
His caring hands have power
Flowers are his babies
He nurtures and nurses
Liatris, orchids and quinces
Just like Prince and Princes
Springs come to treat him
The clouds stay to greet him
The breeze blows to meet him
None other to compete him
Sight of a withering larkspur
Anguish cuts him deeper
Seeing a lisianthus blowing
A profound delight bestowing
He places the Divine paintings
In splendid frame of garden
To meet the earth’s yearnings
His prolific hands are chosen
A Celestial color sprayer
The job he does is a prayer
Quatrains
The couple were upset at divorce court,
Chock Full of Nuts or Tasters Choice,
wife started to bawl,
this was the last straw,
fighting over coffee grounds for divorce.
12-17-16
Villanelle : Bequeath not an image which is not wholly your own
Bequeath not an image which is not wholly your own
No not all the tasters of Isphaha can patch it back whole
Living did you your true voice with packs of lies loan
Poetasters all to echolalia Babel be haunted gone
Where words will sour and curdle in a soup bowl
Bequeath not an image which isn’t wholly your own
No patchy poet’s torn image can verily be sewn
Whose poems cannot own up to an innate soul
Living did you your true voice with packs of lies loan
Who says poets are not to the calling be yet re-born
Which mewling mumbler hacked his way to the goal
Bequeath not an image which isn’t wholly your own
The easiest persona is still the begetter of the poem
Words strung in any old order fit well into any old hole
Living did you your true voice with packs of lies loan
No treasure equal to a people’s spirit anyone disown
The fearless voices of a people’s pain the world console
Bequeath not an image which is not wholly your own
Living did you your true voice with packs of lies loan
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
~Always around my grandma New,
a pleasure to be with her never blue.
Always was something new to do,
you see her name was Martha New.
~My granny lived up to her special name,
ordinary gal with no special fame.
In pranks played I was framed,
excitement around her never waned.
~Her special fried chicken,
was awesome finger licking,
caused Sanders to became sicken,
and franchise to become stricken!
~Her pies quite profound,
Chocolate turnovers renown,
many tasters came unwound,
on no faces were ever a frown.
~She was my beloved granny,
often times whipped my fanny.
Also her wisdom was uncanny,
at the swimming hole ’Big Piney’
~She called me M, not Moe,
and let her wisdom show.
“Don’t get into the water M,
until you have learn to swim!”
For and in honor of Carol Brown
And Contest: Memories of Grandpa
or Grandma or both
in mind's field thought's seed
words sprout there from
knowledge's manure
trunk's concept's sum
subject's tree
branches are its lines
whole beauty's the wisdom
leaves design with aligns
poet's a gardener
poetry's a fruit
readers are tasters
lovers always give salute
Note: Inspired from Jan Allison
THE PROMISE...
Been said and is always true;
the truth knocked down
and crushed to the ground
will always rise again and again:
so must we---now.
No longer in these times that try
our souls, can we be
like hewed portions of humanity
laying along a mildewy path of progress.
Get up Brotha! Get up Sistha!
It's today---not tomorrow
that awaits our rising...
We are but mere tasters of the milk and honey;
let us not forget the pursuit of the source.
It's not for us to yet seat ourselves at the banquet table;
but to labor on---struggling and preparing the feast table
for generations who are yet to come to fullness of the promise:
The moving cloud---having moved---continues beyond
the mountain top---to hover above the fertile valley below;
and we are destined to receive that which He's promised to bestow.
... Flan
Elegant custard dessert
Yummy, delicious
Dreamy creamy drizzled glaze
Smoothly, caramel
Mouth-waters to taste
Tasters race!
Oooh!
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 28, 2010
With Careful Spoons
Your perfume essence speaks of lazy afternoons under sage trees.
You kissed my bent neck with a pointed snake of sweet saliva eyes.
Now we are twisting inside my slow tilted bedroom with creep shoes.
Your gray short skirt shows slender legs flashing firm nylon divots.
Panties white and tight beckon my touch amidst the soft furniture.
Lips gesticulating now with puckered tentacles made of sugared spit.
Taloned fingers with pink polished probings find the noble charge.
Music-playing minestrone tasters come to dance with careful spoons.
Why have you lead me into this frothing dream web of lilac spume?
We kiss now with mind-rushing lip lashings glued to the secret night.
We delve now with our bending statuary into the new morning light.
Bitter to the tongue; like overbrewed coffee or ninety percent dark chocolate,
a heavy lump down my throat, I crave for sweet water.
Not too hard to describe, but not too easy to understand.
Like blood, just not sweet. The metallic taste everyone knows, but no one can bear.
An addiction, an overdose,
never tiring, always novel to the tasters.
It burns, it hurts,
the pain doesn’t die.
Like drinking alchohol,
but deadlier and raw.
I don’t want it,
I need it.
I don’t need it,
but I crave it.
Don’t give it to me,
It’s foul,
Give it to me,
I might not live anymore.
Poison for some,
Elixir for some.
Sinful for some,
Paradise for the rest.
I will be a princess when I grow up. The five year old announces.
Others are going to be Batman and The Incredible Hulk so this makes sense.
One boy will be a peacock
He announces proudly with confidence
No one laughs or questions these pronouncements
Especially not Sam who will be a fire truck.
I nod my head and smile
Accepting all answers
Glad they are participating
Chuck A. will be a ballerina
He passes the talking stick to Amy, the pretty girl next to him
Amy will also be a ballerina and a cookie taster
There are three more cookie tasters in a row after Amy.
I will be The Kansas City Chiefs Tony says.
Someone laughs.
I remind the children to be respectful and kind.
The laughter stops instantly.
Kindergarten. All possibilities accepted.
Imaginations alive and well. I love sitting among these
Darlings who will be less accepting and less kind next year.
A child drops the talking stick. Everyone scrambles to help him retrieve it.
Kindergarten. A magic slice of time with magical beings.
rich
cherry
flaky crusts
fiery ovens
birds await stuffing
potato salad bowls
delicious aromas drift
captivating waiting tasters
forgotten tree lights sparkle nearby
ignored~ the feeding frenzy begins.
SYMPOSIA
Organizing three days' symposia,
focusing Tea-Manufacturing Trade.
Tea considered as a drink of first grade
to be served in the cafeteria.
First day scheduled for the Tea-Traders
Tea-Manufacturers booked for next day.
On third day Research Scholars will display.
Every day to enjoy by Tea-Tasters.
To you ‘Taste Tea’ invitation to send.
Green Tea, Milk Tea, Raw Tea or Lemon Tea
Black Tea, Ginger Tea you will sip in spree.
Every day you will be present, my friend.
08/28/18
'SYMPOSIA' contest by Julia Ward
The Birds And The Bees
Honey tasters and givers
Immaculate creatures that natures delivered
Beautiful colours these gifted with wings
Insects so small, some with a sting
Ringed or hooped to their body shaped
Dancing on the breeze, hovering above buttercups
Singing and humming their chorister songs
Above and surround are these gems on the breeze
Nocturnal are some to our eyesight they please
Dawn till dusk they patrol through their trees
They have been here for many a year
Hopefully they'll stay and no longer fear
Ever hopeful that man in his decency will adhere
Buddies we can become and grow into tomorrow
Eternally natures beings who will no longer sorrow
Everlasting memories for generations to follow
Someday to new worlds on the spaceship Apollo