Destroyer, discrepancies.
How to sort them out?
Dismantle, then fire post-freeze.
River, run rue rout.
Destrier, to break mid-stride.
Sacrifice a pawn.
Midnight train, buy ticket, ride.
That will mow the lawn.
Priceless? Quite a prize? Surmise.
In passing? En prise.
Ring? Alchemy. Arcane? Rise.
Stifled cries? No lies.
Falconer, thy widening gyre.
Second coming? Now.
Come and see? Fine funeral pyre.
Live wire, take a bow!
Broil and char? From near to far.
Muskellunge and gar.
Peacocks pretty, poison par.
Dream, seem. Lead. Red star.
Serenity? Stable, sage.
Madness, mycophage.
Roundabout, rill. Rusty cage.
Symptoms mad, thy age.
Ark electric, how you burn.
Tones, burst sonic flame.
Mind cartoons? Ashes in urn.
Same game? Claim the name.
Armies, mechanize and wail.
Never end, our tale.
Weak resistance stale, you fail.
Blaspheme, boil and bail.
Silver, sickles. Red regrets.
Automaton, glean:
He who risks it all once bets.
Wind and wintergreen...
From across the room
you were feeling me.
A doe eyed stranger
with sticky lip gloss.
That smirk? I meant it.
I know it smacked
blowing that kiss.
Are you enough?
Let’s find that out.
Can we touch,
stay discrete?
Read my mind.
Turned up
to broil
yet?
I don't want to fight
My voice is not being heard
I should disappear
Dun days? Clouds above in greys?
Sapphire? Purple haze?
Deterrence, dessicate, cays.
Buildings on the raze.
World around in twilight.
Months ahead a-grim.
Heart within me, burn with fight!
Crater, have thy rim...
Ocean, boil. Intestines, roil.
Ignite, O my soil.
Lightning, fry. My music, broil.
Serpents, time to coil.
Torment, grip each human life.
Quest, on edge of knife.
Fate and Fortune, seethe with strife.
Demon-sultan, fife.
Tyrant of tomorrow?
Of him I never heard.
Surcease sorrow, I borrow!
Tower dark, thy third.
Wind, tear down. Abhor, my crown.
Demolish the town!
Carnival chaos, thy clown.
Hope, see self as flown.
Flickering flame, explode. Death, come.
Doom, hover o'er all.
Chord suffering, play for some.
Family, how ye gall.
Terror, strike. O Panic, lurch.
Bake and flay, O life.
Silver were the trees of birch!
Wisdom, thou art rife!
It will be a cloudy semi cool day
No hot sun to broil you today
Holocaust Harris is the VP ‘s new name
She’s a Zionista, she ain’t ashamed
Love the alliteration of that name
Will she have blood on her hands,will she feel
shame?
I saw workmen carrying moving bins
The bins being empty-the day begins
I smelled from dirty garbage bags
These bags were hygienic and tied
I tasted my all dressed tuna sandwich
It makes my day
Looking at the blue steel bin filled to the brim
I think I feel ok today
Second thought I have a queasy stomach,ugh
I see paintings on the wall, big and small
I tasted my coffee.It was not to bad at all
Biden supports women rights today
Long ago he said the opposite I say
I want the book The Strategic Poet
Seeds do not always yield a crop
when from the sower’s hand they drop.
If on the walking path they drop,
the birds will come and eat them up.
When seeds drop on some rocky soil,
on which the sower failed to toil
the plants that grow up on such soil
sun’s searing heat will scorch and broil.
Seeds that fall on soil with weeds
will sprout and grow like all good seeds,
but lacking all the food they need
will sure grow up, but then recede.
The seeds planted in fertile soil,
on which the sower’s servants toiled,
will sprout and grow, then yield a crop
that far exceeds the seeds that dropped.
Ask God above, to tend your heart,
so that His words, life will impart,
making you wise and truly smart
then let His words your life course chart.
My shield
My shield was stripped asunder
In bloody strokes as I scream and thunder
For the world would now see
A naked-ness not wanted by me
How could I be so alone and bare
When the world just stands and stares
While I gather together what’s left
To salve my wounds and bind my breast
So what of a saviour in how I toil
Do I plead for forgiveness as I broil
Or will my foe be sated with my blood
As I stand naked bleeding in the mud.
© Paul Warren Poetry
5 pounds of ground pork shoulder
1/2 cup of ground pork shoulder skin
3/4 pounds of chicken livers cooked and chopped
1/4 cup of white whine
1 cup of pigfeet broth
3 cups of cooked rice
5 tablespoons of minced garlic
1/2 cup of minced onions
1/4 cup of celery finely chopped
1/2 cup of creamcheese
2 tablespoons of lemon zest
2 tablespoons of cayenne pepper
1 cup f red bell pepper chopped
1 seeded jalpeno pepper
1/4 chopped cilantro
2 tablespoons of salt
2 tablespoons of thyme
1&1/2 tablespoons of oregano
4 tablespoons of olive oil
sautee veggies set aside
mix with creamcheese and
and pigfeet broth and chicken livers
in mixing bowl mix
mix fat and pork
mix well and add all the seasonings
pinch a pattie and cook and taste
for adjustments.. mix with creamcheese mixture
using a grinder with sausage casing attachedment
create links
broil ,grill, boil or roast.
you can use
6 pounds of ground chicken
and
1 cup of shortening or butter
instead of pork.
just add 1/4 cup of feta cheese
and ( omit the wine)1/4 cup of lemon juice
with 3 tablespoons of extra dry gin
Their ships must ride
a rolling sky,
masts too high to sail into view.
They appear, board the land,
they buccaneer.
The clamoring mob
fall upon a scuttling prey
pluck the weakest
into hungry holds.
An eye-aye cocked and ready,
they raid and maraud
as only
treasure seekers can.
The gulls are here
and for a while
sea and land broil.
the air erupting
with mutinous calls.
Now rest your weary eyes,
For the long day is through.
You sought a golden prize,
Under skies of azure blue.
The pebbles in the sand,
Were the riches to seek.
Born of this fertile land,
Panned from a crystal creek.
Many months you did toil,
By the sweat of your back.
While your skin would broil,
And your joints would crack.
Brought wealth beyond your dreams,
Able to write a hefty check.
And even sadly as it seems,
Placed a weight around your neck.
Atop your ivory tower,
With your ego overblown.
Chose to leverage your power,
Which left you all alone.
The eulogy of your time,
What a predictable shame.
Your funeral so sublime,
But not a soul ever came.
So shaking and wan we are
In frighten peace to pant
We breathe short-wind broil
Our nature have been polluted
Our food have been poisoned
Our blood have been daub to erect our soul
Aah! Gentiles have over taken our land
Tread on our blossom appetite
The hostiles bruise our flowers with harm hooves
Heal! Our land
Our nature have been dominated by lavas
Shedding red like meteors of trouble heaven
Sending many to a room of a person
Our acting the genesis of the hazards
Those arms moulded in naturefrom mother's womb
To chase these pagans from our holy land
From our ancestors of centuries castles
Heal! Our land
The boot is on the other foots
Who will lead us to get the bum's rush?
They are coupling in secrete
Who will stop the butchery display?
The beasts are shattering our efforts
They are breaking our lives for their taste
Uneven and unwelcome news from the sphere of the nation
All theme of our arts is hopeless
We share red and sad our daily
Heal! Our land
A blot on our landscape are increasing
WHAT ABOUT WOLFS
shel silverstein: a bit childish, his giving tree my kids remember, though its parts were dismembered as it gave to the bitter end of life.
ogden nash: well, he gives us moo and milk, until the utter end, short and brief. reminds us of the soup’s - wolf.
wendy cope: born in kent in the london broil (ahem…borough) of bexley. things are going clunk and your face has too much gunk, a hoarder with thirty years of junk and especially she doth remind us don’t answer email when you're drunk.
william james collins: a hoot, billy! only child, born in manhattan, dear old dad worked on wall street. a poet laureate’s big recital on two poems about what dogs think (probably) - what about wolfs?
gershon wolf: he’s flower power-ful in his jest. for example - hippies pulled the triggers and out came flowers. though other comedic poets might create a chuckle, gershon always makes us smile.
7/21/2022
The bistred day has fallen still,
A darkened mead hangs overhead;
The hush within the evening chill
Chants now the yore is gone to bed.
A gently breeze steals from the west,
Cool along the shadowed lanes;
The sunburned broil, now at rest,
Its warmth has gone, though still remains.
The cool night air stands all alone
Anon the past is gone to sleep;
Daytime secrets tossed and blown,
The faithful night for ere to keep.
Secrets that the breeze fears speak,
Winnowing in the night-time swell;
Brushing eastward 'gainst your cheek...
The whispered wind mayn't kiss-n'-tell.
Evensong is served this eve
All around the moonlit shrine;
Absolution cedes when you believe,
The cool night air is sweet as wine.
Drink your fill in solemn thought,
Let your mind escape within;
Cleanse your conscience, ever fraught,
Save your soul! ~ confess your sin!
Here beneath a cloudless sky
You're not alone ~ you seldom are;
Within the dim nocturnals fly
As someone watches from afar.
So, meditate, your faith elate,
Ruminate, and yet beware;
Intoxicate your mindless state,
Drinking in the cool night air.
rub my butt with spices
baste my breasts with olive oil
slather my wings and things with sauce
butter my thighs, slow broil
ah, the savory delights of a summer BBQ!
Cooking is a science and an art
That allows you to have these two in one
That when done just right is so smart
It also can be so very fun
You don't need tubes or brushes
A pan or dish will do just fine
You can serve a meal with fine touches
Like a glass of your favorite wine
Let's bake or broil but do not burn
A dash of this and a pinch of that
Get creative it's how you learn
Just make sure it's lean not fat
New recipes you try now and then
Some will be your own creation
If it's chicken, then use a hen
When glazed it is a fascination
Now for dessert what shall we do
Perhaps you'll make something great
I recommend souffle for you
Don't let it fall for heaven's sake
You'll have the neighbors over soon
To show off your skills oh so true
The date will be sometime in June
For them you'll make something brand new
For The " A Merger with Food Poetry Contest"
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