Best Uncooked Poems
To hunger for truth,
as lies feast on perception
sitting at the table with hope and desire
Where vanity is served in a cold glass of pride
until humility becomes drunk
and left to sleep undisturbed
To understand each portion served
is uncooked speculation,
that causes truth to become ill
as you cut away the difference
between right and wrong
To be obsessed by truth
is a thirst that can only be quenched
by its partaking and knowing its taste
the full body of its scent and flavor
It is not poured out of the bottle of maybe
that comes from the store of liars
that sell their wares of confusion
for their own purpose
If my obsession with truth
as I sit at this table is naive
let it be so
so that my soul may grow
from the nourishment of its purity
7/19/17
Categories:
uncooked, truth,
Form:
Free verse
Clear the track, here comes Jack
Or Johnny Canuck to some
To a bunch of friends on Poetry Soup
He's that Wacko Jacko bum!
He's Canadian eh! From way up north
From the land of ice and snow
He eats bowls of nails for breakfast
Wearing manly lumberjack clothes
“Good day eh! How's it goin' eh?”
Are two of his favourite greets
As he polishes off his morning brew
With a slab of uncooked meat
He's a tough old dude, that's for sure
With mush instead of brains
A grizzled good natured son of a gun
With love running through his veins
He'd give you the shirt right off his back
But it's too damn cold up here
For fear of freezing his nipples off
Instead he's just say, “Wanna beer?”
Clear the track, here comes Jack
Or Johnny Canuck to some
To a bunch of friends on Poetry Soup
He's that Wacko Jacko bum!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Categories:
uncooked, silly,
Form:
Quatrain
The eternal buzz of city anglers
brash, angry, hornets ever selling egos.
Shrieking anxiety laced, analog, syllables, idiotically.
Hoping against hope, urchins, desperations end,
strumming ancient chords in vain efforts,
praying evermore for ordained kindness's eye.
Telltale ubiquitous blighter's energetically begging on.
How on heaven's earth can anyone
begrudge absolution, hand out shackles instead.
The august city in full ultraviolet,
never ever satiated, each mouth open.
Raw as meat, uncooked, questionable, objectionable,
waiting on the angler's hook obediently.
Categories:
uncooked, introspection, life, city,
Form:
Free verse
My love for all on Poetry Soup
like a tasty broth group.
Cook and stir
* 2 pounds lean Lebanon ground
in Dutch oven over medium-high heat,
breaking the Lebanon meat up as it cooks,
until all is no longer pink and has
started to brown, about 10 minutes.
Stir in the
* 2 Canada onions, chopped
* 3 United Kingdom garlic cloves, chopped
and cook for another 1o minutes
Stir in
* 3 cups Africa water
* 2 (15 ounce) United States cans tomato sauce
* 2 (14.5 ounce) cans India diced tomatoes
* 3 tablespoons Isle Of Man soy sauce
* 2 tablespoons dried Italian herb seasoning
* 3 Philippines bay leaves
* 1 tablespoon seasoned Bangladesh salt, or to taste
and bring to a boil over medium heat.
Stir
* 2 cups uncooked elbow Australia macaroni,
cover, and simmer over low heat until the pasta is tender,
about 25 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Poets with golden ink and pens
that make us move forward as friends
with inspiration, kindness, and honesty,
encouragement and compliments.
A small act of caring, which has the potential
to turn a life around.
I thank each and everyone of you far and near.
3/14/2022
Categories:
uncooked, inspiration, thank you,
Form:
List
Poetry Knows
Where poet goes
when poet needs
A line of prose
Which word comes best
on top of rest
before its born
in womb of next
Where uncooked prose
in little groves
sits in wait
by little stoves
Poetry screams
in pains of birth
For now as words
it now has worth
it likes
it would
it rather be
before its time
not known to me
Where life songs sing in melody
and pollinate the what will be
Categories:
uncooked, allegory,
Form:
Prose
The eyes fit into little holes;
The nose, ears, mouth do, too.
Of course, you have some choices
But not more than just a few.
The parts are made of plastic
Though way back in my own youth,
The body was a real potato -
That's the doggone truth.
The toy came with accoutrements -
Each pointed, like a stud,
Which you stuck with wild abandon
Into any uncooked spud.
I told this to my grandkids' mom
Who, when her own mom spoke
Of using a potato, she
Assumed it was a joke.
But creativity was once
So simple, we've forgotten.
The only drawback was
Our masterpiece, at times, went rotten.
Categories:
uncooked, nostalgia,
Form:
Rhyme
Dear Self,
I'm oh so sorry I let you down, so many uncountable times
Sorry I ignored your cries and pretended I didn't hear them, though they were all
what was ringing in my ears
I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you and thought I was Ok without you
Sorry I left you crying your heart out in the rain while I had such a good time
Left you shattered at home, sealed in a closet, ashamed of yourself
Hoping to come home and not find you
All I can do is stroke this gentle pen on this paper
Stroke down my feelings,
For you
My broken words are all I have to offer
The years floated by so quickly
Like an idiot I sat there and watched, afraid to blend in
Where were my motives, my burning passions, my hunger for life?
For all those I needed Hope, a candle put out by reality a long time ago
—or was it by me?
Sorry again, for being the weak link in such a strong chain
For being the letter left not mailed, the uncooked meal
The unpainted painting, the unaccomplished plan
The loser of the battle for survival
Sorry for being a wilted petal, a worn out tree in such a strong thunderstorm
called Life
Sorry for being so scared to move
So glued to my spot, afraid to budge, face the world
I'm now paying with my crimson regret, I assure you, if it makes you feel any better
Please forgive me, I beseech you
I know I cancelled reality long ago, to float my way through fantasy, wait for
dreams to come true by themselves
Watched my heart crumble in the wind and my hope fly away like ashes
I kept wishing beneath brilliant stars, kept blowing eyelashes and looking for four-
leafed clovers
It all went in vain, and left you there watching me, pitying me, crying for me
Please find it in your heart to forgive me, and I hope we can start all over again,
working together this time…
Sealed with a kiss of everlasting love,
Me
Categories:
uncooked, hope, inspirational, life, nostalgia,
Form:
Bio
Walking my tiger home, I now feel
happy to be alive.
Out in the sun, I’m a charmed one -
someone who learned to survive!
It wasn’t easy when I first found
myself near the jungle lost
after I’d landed on a white beach,
my ship having been storm-tossed.
I must have lain for nearly two days
unconscious on the sand,
then woke in tall grass and looked all around.
Who’d given the helping hand?
No one was there. How was it then
I’d gotten so far from shore?
As I sat thinking, there came toward me
four monkeys and then one more!
Poking at me, like humans they seemed,
chattering gaily away.
I rose to my feet. One jumped on my back.
A game he wanted to play!
Then out of nowhere, something appeared,
giving me quite a start.
A cat, but a giant, orange and with
black stripes. My pounding heart!
A tiger this was, and in his big teeth,
he held part of my clothes.
He looked at me with eyes strangely sweet
while to the spot I froze!
He crept up to me, and then what he did,
I never will forget.
He rubbed his large head right over mine.
as if he were my pet!
It took me some time, but then at last,
I came to understand.
I would be friends with many creatures
here in this jungle land.
Like Tarzan am I, talking with them,
And when I want to eat,
The monkeys bring fruits, since I can’t stomach
The tiger’s uncooked meat.
I sleep snuggled up by my sweetest friend,
and daily we walk about.
Holding his tail, I follow behind.
For me, that tiger looks out!
This jungle’s my home. And I confess
here’s the reality:
I am the pet, and it’s my tiger
actually walking ME!
July 23, 2016 for the "Walking My Tiger Home" contest of David Lindsay
Categories:
uncooked, animal,
Form:
Quatrain
New fashion Trend
There’s a new fashion trend that has my heart achin’
A scarf that looks like a raw slice of bacon
It’s made of silk crepe that looks crisp and all crinkly
Like some bacon uncooked before it’s all wrinkly
There’s a border that’s black like the bacon’s been smoked
And a lot of pale silk for the fat they evoked
And of course the top half is all pink and read
For that is the meat on which we’ve all fed
For just one-sixty Franks and a small shipping fee
You could buy this for Christmas and then give it to me
Then my inner GaGa would jump for sheer joy
No, I just changed my mind, I forgot I’m a boy!
Categories:
uncooked, art, holiday,
Form:
Rhyme
Hey, hey, I want to dance the *KARAGAM dance
*Hey, Sham, Manu, bring pitchers from archives
Fill the pitchers with water and uncooked rice
As rice symbolizes food that sustain our lives.
With twirls bodies move free with intricate steps
*Dhotis, jackets furl and the turbaned heads unfurl
Hands holding peacock feathers of rainbow colors
While small bells in their anklets and belts swirl.
The vocalists sing and the drum bits pick motion
And with that the vocalists start singing songs divine.
As the rhythm picks up, so does audience’s emotion
To invoke the Gangai Amman, the Goddess of rain.
================================
* A form of Indian Folk dance
** Indian names
*** Indian dress
March 15, 2014
Dr. Ram Mehta
Form: Free Verse
First Place Win
Contest: Impress Me with Small Poems V By Giorgio V.
Motif: Religious - A religious ceremony performed to invoke Goddess of Rain
Categories:
uncooked, religious,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
oh little lad
energetic and promising
hopeful and full of potential
do you stay all day long in the sea not to get hot
or eat uncooked meat just not to get burnt?
You remit heavily on the escape route
while avoiding paying your dues
keeping tabs with valuable consistency
keeps you totally amused.
Oh my boy! Responsibilities?
Just no where near your views.
The pathway to wealth,
you love, but the journey you accuse.
Discovering a new engagement
you'll still avoid, using your bank of news.
Why does fate or God's will
signify your life's fuse?
Remember that the mercy of luck
is only a temporary messeuse.
In the world of fairy tales
you'll inevitably be excused
you want to continue this
until all your options are used?
Then be ready!
You, misfortune will abuse.
Categories:
uncooked, character, desire, self, senses,
Form:
Rhyme
I prayed to God hoping he’d send me a distraction.
Then I just stood around, and well, nothin’ happened.
So I said, “This just proves you don’t really exist,
and it leaves no excuse not to take the initiative.”
So I wrote you a postcard postmarked from Hell,
and I assume you received it, but it’s hard to tell.
Cuz I checked days off of calendars, hours off clocks,
and never found a response in my post office box.
And it’s hard to forget all the sweet things you told me
before you washed your hands like I was uncooked poultry.
I know I should be over it; I thought I was stronger.
I’ve said, “Time heals everything,” but I don’t any longer.
I’ve always had the good fortune of attracting lovers,
but I have two categories, and you’re not like the others.
You’re the secret I keep, and it keeps me humble,
and when I try to sleep, it awakes like a jungle.
And it terrifies me cuz I know I won’t get out alive;
but that a’int the scary part, it’s the waitin’ to die.
And there are unflattering descriptions to define such a scenario;
I discuss it with the sad singer I’ve trapped in my stereo.
We conclude to write it down and examine it on paper
with a grain of optimism that it’ll all make sense later.
Categories:
uncooked, introspection, me, me,
Form:
Rhyme
haha...yes no laughing matter mate..."
Chicken Karma" by Peter Duggan
the fowl strikes back ,
a chook attack,
the humans slack,
might get their come uppance,
alack...
and come a crupper,
askance....
love it mate.....
Don
Reply....As ye sow, you get corny,
and reap uncooked forlorn prawnys ....
ones deed comes up to speed ,
car on the racing track,
comes around yes indeed,
next time it gives you a smack,
karma on the racetrack steed,
a hurting memory Jack
.... Don
Categories:
uncooked, adventure,
Form:
Ballad
Vividly, you can see that you're perfection is only natural.
Averting commercial tides, while you continue
Licking the uncooked cupcake batter off the spoon.
Excellence on its own merit, without any reused romantic tricks,
Noticing the lonely,
Tend to eat chocolate by the pounds while
Inside, their hearts swarm with bitterness
Nonetheless, all wise women should know,
Eating all your feelings never fills the emptiness
Such atrocities have "hopeless romantic" and
Danger written all over them, hence they must stop.
Applaud your independence and simply love
You.
Categories:
uncooked, holiday, inspirational, love,
Form:
Free verse
LAURELS TO GREEN.
Mum has prepared an avacado jam,
green tints in chroma highlight the campus,
a stoll dyed in artichoke green is on my shoulder,
gala time with friends in green,we hang around in green,
Myrtle plants rejoice..Yeah! festive time,St Patricks Day,
Spring ,my guest has arrived,
glad tidings it has brought,lets rejuvenate,
start afresh,green a prime shade,
from which loveliness springs,
buoyancy seeps in and offers us wings,
dense green is the lung of our land,
purifies air,facilitates growth,
replenishes,calms mind,body and soul,
Green is a community that feeds,
flies,birds,animals,humans....
Lets not be greedy,cherish its right hand
and chop off the left,
let us get eco friendly like green,
Mother Nature deserves the attention,
care,and respect,lets not wound
the amour propre of Green.
LATEST
Lets celebrate St Patricks day,green is everywhere,
Green tints,myrtle plants are in company there,
All roam around in green in the campus,
Fresh artichoke shaded scarf waves like that of a cactus,
Glad tidings have come,lets have fun,
Spring chirps with loveliness and spins,
Its buoyancy enables us to go ahead,
Air is more pure, calms mind instead,
Thick green soothens our lungs,
Replenishes mind,body,soul and comes,
The community of green provides,
Food to birds,animals,humans tied,
Eco friendly green needs care in return,
Forever green should have its sojourn,
We shouldnt be mean in needs,
Preserve in its wholeness with seeds,
Don't give a scar to lovely green,
Its beauty to us is evergreen.
CONTEST:Least viewed.
SPONSOR:Marugo Mo.
27/10/2016.
P.S. Artichoke is raw uncooked green pulp.
Contest:Get your green on.
Sponsor:Poet Destroyer A.
19 March 2016.
Categories:
uncooked, beauty, bird, color, earth,
Form:
Rictameter