Best Wedges Poems
luscious fruit of the tropics
sphere-shaped, tapered, oval-faced
beneath the sun dripping yellow;
tangy as cocktail's zest for happy hour- kisses
on lips that crave for its moist
sweet marrow... peeled
from its curved bodice; sucked
juice trickles from its base--
adding lime, mint to freshen stem glasses
that dangle and anchor the nape
for a voluptuous treat of mild
passion's heat: sliced, striped , tasted
by love's scent—the pulp bits ooze—like
varnished ochre mixed with light rhum
and wine filling hungry vessels
of tongues: the melting husk
cooled by ice as wedges circle around
to whip a luscious Mango Sangria drink!
A fruit like this entices my own
Summer delight, succulent as earth's nectar,
relishing every drool of a caressed,
early night's amber sensation.
For Alcohol Contest: Sponsor Thvia Shetley
Submitted 19/18/2107
Categories:
wedges, fruit,
Form:
Light Verse
A lonely figure twirls itself, concealed
by blades of wheat as clouds float through the sky.
The form, a boy, looks up from golden field
and sees the clouds as wedges of cream pie.
He hides despair as if it were that wart
beneath his sleeve. A no-fuss, lonesome lad,
he thinks of things most wonderful to thwart
forlornness. . . He rehearses being glad.
Skipping to the thicket, near a brier,
he spies some lovely flowers; standing there
he uses the demeanor of his sire,
pretends to hold a Bible, thumps the air. . .
and preaching to forget-me-nots, the boy
imagines what might be. . . imagines joy.
For Chris' Anything goes!
Categories:
wedges, sad,
Form:
Sonnet
Flailin’, flailin’, flailin’;
There goes my ball sailin’
Into a trap, the water or the woods.
Flailin’, flailin’, flailin’;
You can hear me wailin’,
“Why won’t that damn ball go where it should?
Drives go right. Putts go wrong.
I shank my wedges or ‘skull’em’ long.
My golf game’s just no damn good.
I’m swingin’ too hard & lookin’ up;
As if I’ll actually see it go in the cup….
As if it ever really would.
My alignment’s too far left or right.
My ball can find the only tree or trap in sight,
Even if the shot starts out lookin’ good.
These days, I carry some special tools:
A handheld weed eater with extra spools
And a pruning saw, in case I’m in the woods.
I’ve even tried to ‘buy’ a better game.
No matter. My scores were just as lame.
Those new clubs didn’t do what they should.
Bogies & doubles...even triples... are common scores.
I very rarely get pars any more.
Believe me, I’d change it if I could.
My buddies said it must be me,
A teaching pro I should go see.
They said he’d fix my game…..if anybody could.
The pro said, “Hit some balls while I watch you.
Just set up and hit’em like you normally do.
We’ll see if I can do your game any good.”
After the first bucket of balls I hit,
He calmly said, “Take two weeks off…then quit.
Take my advice. You really should.”
Now, what really has me vexed,
I’m wondering what I’ll try next.
That pro’s advice was no damn good.
So, I struggle along with my flailin’ game;
But, strangely enough, have fun just the same,
Finding hope in rare shots that are actually good.
Categories:
wedges, addiction, angst, conflict, confusion,
Form:
Rhyme
To Eat A Peach
Spring is here.
The delicate tree blossoms replace
the delicate white lights of Winter.
From the petals fruit will grow.
Pears, plums, apricots, cherries,
nectarines...
Peaches.
I set the unripe soft rose and yellow
orb on the windowsill.
Two days later I tenderly lift it
and gently squeeze its warmth before
I wash it.
Biting into it...
the sweet liquid is Ambrosia.
The juice runs down my chin onto
my tee.
I greedily suck the peach’s flesh dry.
I daydream as I munch.
Peach cobbler, peach pie with a lattice crust,
peach shortcake, peach muffins,
stewed peaches, peach tea bread,
slices on your cereal, slices in a bowl with cream.
OR...only for dessert?
How would a
chicken breast soaked in a peach marinade taste?
My taste buds begin chattering.
Summer’s here!
corn on the cob, okra, tomatoes:
small ones that pop in your mouth
and big beefy wedges that
garnish crisp celery slices, carrot medallions,
tender Bibb lettuce, sliced mushrooms, cucumbers,
asparagus, broccoli, Vidalia onions, cauliflower...
Watermelon, blueberries, cantaloupe,
strawberries, honeydews, raspberries...
Juicy hot dogs, spicy barbecue, thick charbroiled hamburgers,
hot German potato salad, 3-bean salad, macaroni salad,
potato chips and French onion soup dip,
soft pretzels dipped in brown mustard, popcorn...
chocolate chip cookies, Snickerdoodles,
strawberry shortcake,
chocolate cake with red, white and blue frosting for the 4th,
apple pie
— softball, Mom, doggies —
I awake with a start. There is drool
on my pillow.
Another day begins but it’s really
not another day.
It’s the same day I’ve been living
since 1 May 2017 ~
The day I let the dentist pull
out the last 5 teeth I had
in my lower jaw.
And as I come to consciousness
my tongue pushes
against and spills out over the
the soft toothless tissue that burns constantly
and is covered in a thick gooey saliva ~ place a
teaspoon of Elmer's
glue in your mouth ~ if
you care to have a taste
of my reality.
Summer’s here.
Clear your palate.
Clean your plate.
Barbara Dickenson
1 May 2018
- [ ]
Categories:
wedges, anniversary, body, change, courage,
Form:
Bio
There was a new potato that had just been harvest born
On opening his eyes a rooster crowed its horn.
He had grown rather quickly and grown rather strong
But that's when his feelings started to feel wrong.
Mr Potato had noticed he was feeling very sad
Sometimes it felt like, he was going slowly mad.
He was feeling confused and didn't understand why
Deep down he felt rotten, he just wanted to cry.
He discovered a big chip on his little shoulder
That grew too heavy to carry as he got older.
Then there was the urge to pound and to mash
That got quiet messy but made a tasty hash.
He gave a brill roasting when he felt mad
That was either good or extremely bad.
On the days he was fine he felt chirpy and crisp
Those were the days he fancied going for a dip.
When it was too hot he felt rather boiled
And when it was cooler he liked to feel the cold.
His skin went more brown when he got baked
His spud-kini gave him wedges - for goodness sake!
Mother Nature felt sorrow for this confused spud
So she sent a gentle breeze that felt like a hug.
It was important he knew, he is valued so much
He smiled and listened when he felt her soft touch.
"These feelings that you feel are normal you see,
For you are a potato these feelings come naturally.
Your loved by so many and desired too
Your the stable in diets and great in a stew".
"Your the star at every vegan, society social bash
In soups an as a bread, your the main in creamy mash.
Your the star on the topping of a shepherds pie
Your famous world over, a very popular guy."
"You feed so many people, the rich and the poor
Your popular and wanted, it's you they adore.
You come from a large family of sisters and brothers
You have royal connections you will discover."
"The farmers will feed you and keep you warm
Your important to millions you have texture and great form.
King Edward and Charlotte, Maris Piper, Desiree
These are just a few from your large family tree."
He felt happy to know that he had a purpose
And easy to grow and there was even some surplus.
Feeding so many, especially the poor
He was now ready, to go through the kitchen door.
08.09.23
Categories:
wedges, feelings, food,
Form:
Rhyme
My Fetish. I adore you.
Wedges. Pumps.
Stilettoes. Brown.
Baby Blue. Black.
Red. Pink are all so
beautiful. You make me
feel like a lady. Nikes.
Timberlands. A pair of
killer boots. Match with a
fedora or a fresh to death
leather coat. Uggs, Steven
DSW, oh my how I am grateful
for you. Loafers. Buckles. Straps.
Peek a boo toes. Strapbacks. ON SALE.
Played dress up with my mom's and the
love affair began. Leopard. Bows. Fashion.
Class. With leggings. Jeans. Skirts. Suits.
Bikini underwear with a special Boo. Bags
the same color, high heels assists with what
some say is my sex appeal. Pretty details draw
attention from all ages and genders. A little girl's
obssession grown into a woman. Closet packed sparkling
eyes, legs dancing, carrying me into the next life lesson.
I give you tribute and pay homage to you. I love you shoes.
Categories:
wedges, introspection, passion, social, tribute,
Form:
Shape
Welcome to our world, when you step through the door,
Welcome to a world of loosing weight, more and more,
A plan of healthy eating, for you can hardly call it a diet,
From morning till night you munch, it certainly keeps you quiet,
Once you get the hang of it, its as easy as A,B,C,
The lbs dropping off for all to see,
All you have to do is count points,
Now so much less weight, to strain your joints,
Carrot cakes, and muffins, cherry bakewells and ice cream,
The weight watchers plan, is certainly a dream,
Curries and Lasagne, Potato wedges, fish pie,
All waiting, just for you to try,
Chocolate bars that when you eat, don’t scream more,
All of this when you walk through the door,
SO WHY DON’T YOU, do as I have done,
Join the class and have some fun,
At the moment, I have lost almost a stone,
So I am going to treat myself to an ice cream cone,
Only 4lbs to go, then I will have lost 10% of my body weight,
This plan really is a piece of cake,
So welcome to our world, just step in,
If you to, would like to be slim.
Pat Dring
Categories:
wedges, adventure, happiness, imagination, inspirational,
Form:
Rhyme
Hair Fixed
Dressed Up
Heels - Wedges
Nail Tech
Long and keen
Now, I am hitting the streets.
Driving in a new vehicle
Cadillac is me.
American made American breed
Booty-delicious on the scene.
A smile on my face
Laughter heard
This is because I stopped the world.
Conversation
Exchanging of words
Standing tall
Feeling myself
A woman’s world
Yet, loving man’s intervention.
Altercations will manifest.
Just an implant to the intelligence
An argument that informs the intellect.
What an influence I have!
Empowerment for the inner essence
Is never ignored yet a mind-set.
A picture I have formed.
An image of being forever young.
Energy caprices.
Wiles and whims unfatigued.
A path defined by
Mich - Me…
_________________________________________________________|
Written March 26, 2016!
Categories:
wedges, beautiful, beauty, character, hello,
Form:
Rhyme
The bed feels so much purrfect on the morning warm.
Comfort holds like sleepy pillowed arms
If I could just say "Presto" and return
I'd rise to walk a beach in rising sun
Dressed in might as well be naked shirt and jeans
The ice of ocean water on my feet
As long legged pipers run ahead
and wind gusts slice through wetted skin
Presto
And the sheets are still as warm
The pillow shape still fits my head
I stand leg braced across the bow rail
To watch a bluefish futile jump to get away
To land and bounce behind my feet
A TV Cajun cook stopped catch release plans long ago
There's three filetted and chopped in egg wet sauce
Two buckets neath the grill
To soon be dropped into the dry
and then saute as boat approaches shore
To join with friends at mooring dock
Supplying toasted goodness and hot coffee
Buttered marmaladed croissant wedges
Taste so fine
Presto
and these sheets are just devine
Categories:
wedges, hope
Form:
Blank verse
Gods Garden
Believe it true! Seven days they say,
Seven days to create the worlds and heavens this way
The big bang men choose to retort,
Prayer no! It’s as the bible was taught.
Whatever it be, be it consciously
Could conceive a being such as thee,
Lover, destroyer, gatherer, so clever
Bright as the sun, light as a feather.
Thrown together as a pot
Wheeled direction chosen lot,
The hand of god continuously,
Melding god’s garden eternally.
God’s garden, lament evolving light
Created birth oh planetary sight,
Nature with its smiling face
Enriches life with shining grace.
Tormented, hammering wedges, incorporated plight,
Rising divergence Darwin did spy
The glory of evolution, enriching sky,
Gods gem a planet dying, the hand of man!
Searching on survival plan.
The next Blue Marble in Gods garden we seek
Evolution condemned humans so weak,
Entombed to our evolutionary spot
Destined to die on lighted day,
When natures shimmer pulses our way.
Destroyed with a glimmer, lighted reflection
Souls will cry a message in space,
A blip in time a lighted trace. The space of light in history missed
By beings across Gods planted abyss.
Categories:
wedges, god, planet,
Form:
Light Verse
No store bought jump starts
Cool creamy dough kneaded by hand
Baked until golden then cooled so slightly
Carefully sliced and slathered in butter
Because margarine would never do
Sun ripened berries diced and stemmed
Tossed gently with sugar forming the glaze
Fresh heavy cream beaten in a chilled bowl
Using a wire whisk until stiff peaks stand
Placing the layers one on top of the next
Then garnish with diamond wedges of fruit
Categories:
wedges, food
Form:
Free verse
There's a calmness to the air of the trailer park
As the dumpster in the back slides to the right
Underneath is where our Super Hero has his lair
And where adventure starts out every night
For years now it's been the same old routine
Belches as he wobbles to his feet
Throws the remote down on the beer stained couch
Scratches his rear at the same time picking his teeth
Yes, the night belongs to Beer Belly Batman
Who spends his time fighting petty crime
From spitting on the sidewalkers to mouth full of food talkers
Putting them back in their place and back in line
Sure he used to be a top notch crime fighter
Evil forces he always did foil
But after years and years of beating crime up
The beating on him has taken its toll
If the neighbors music is to loud feel free to call him
Nothing he likes better than knocking heads of unruly kids
Hey Punk!Pull Your Pants Up! Is his favorite motto...
Giving Super Hero Wedges like nobody's biz
I don't know about you but this much is true
I always feel a little more safe and sound
And sleep that much better at night
Knowing there's a White Trash Super Hero around
Categories:
wedges, funny, humor,
Form:
Free verse
Snapping beans, the summer pastime
Filling Mason jars
With cornfield or half runners
Filling a crock with layers
Of beans and corn, canning salt
For pickled beans and corn
That would make my mouth water
Peeling ripe red tomatoes
That I called maters
Cutting them in wedges
Placing them in Mason jars
Adding a touch of salt
Sealing the lids and cooking
In a liquid water bath
For enough time to be sure
Those maters were preserved
For the winter weather
Chili, soup or spaghetti
Dicing cucumbers
Mixing them with vinegar
And all the spices, garlic
Everything that makes the best
Pickles ever tasted
They seem such a blessing
When the snowflakes hover
Near the windows, dusting
The entire mountain
With reflections of the season
As the harvest hands over its treasures
Beans, corn, maters and so much more
The wise worker from the fields
Leaves the front porch each day
With scrapes of bean strings, peelings
And excess husks so the pigs
Will be as blessed as the rest of us
Granny showed me how to can
She gave me her instructions
With a hug and a grin
Hoping to remind me to always
Blend a bit of love
Into everything I preserved
From garden to porch
From porch to jar
From jar to dish
Where the love is mixed in
So that everyone who samples
A dish from my kitchen
Knows that I have given
My very best intentions!
Categories:
wedges, appreciation, blessing, garden,
Form:
Free verse
Ever gone to throw an axe?
You’ll love it if you try.
Grip the handle and relax,
Standing firm into your tracks,
Release and let it fly.
Over end, the axe will spin,
And through the air will whisk.
To the target, caged within,
Close to center, you will win,
Like darts with more the risk.
In the target, there are rings,
That circle round the eye.
Each a different point it brings,
When towards the board the axe it zings,
And wedges in the ply.
In the corner, there’s a spot,
Which comes with much acclaim.
Blue, the color of the dot.
If you have a killer shot,
Can help you clinch the game.
When you come, make sure to pack,
No shoes your feet expose.
If the board, it gives a smack,
And the axe comes bouncing back,
Will help to save your toes.
Grab a beer, this social game,
Is just as good as any.
It may even help your aim,
But too much is sure to maim,
So please don’t have too many.
Categories:
wedges, anger, humor, humorous, silly,
Form:
Rhyme
( Inspired by AND to be sang to the tune of
" Favourite Things " from The Sound Of Music. )
Dew drops that sparkle
On cobwebs in hedges.
Pizza and sweetcorn
And lightly spiced wedges.
Giggling children
Shouting " Higher! " On swings.
These are just some of
My favourite things.
Peacock's spread tails,
Purples, blues and greens.
Transitioning stage sets
To enrich each play's scenes.
Harmonious beauty
When a choir sings.
These are just some of
My favourite things.
Dogs, Swans and Seals,
I love big, round, brown, eyes.
Admiring the array
Of colours in skies.
Funny old memories
And the joy that they bring.
These are just some of
My favourite things...
When the darkness
Overwhelms me,
I can make it light!
I simply remember
How favourite things
Can help me to feel
Alright!
Categories:
wedges, fun, happiness, joy,
Form:
Lyric