Cellulose Poems | Examples

Seaweed, My Favourite Acquired Taste

Seaweed, another nutritious meal,
With an acquired taste in a meal,
I desire for my breakfast,
What is the purpose,
Is it the cellulose,
That is so delicate to be pulled by the force,
Enhanced by the source,
Here, I found the origin,
I wish it would taste addictive like margarine,
Or tangerine,
In the summer, 
I blenched it with salt and water,
It could not get any better,
What is more settler,
I grab a bowl,
The essence is rich,
Yet, I extract it for more,
I don't want to get the tongue sore,
I let the broth do more,
It is an enjoyable meal,
I set it on the chill,
I wait until till,
What does it call then,
I could have it by ten,
How much I appreciate it, till then.

October Couplets

Winter migrants arrive with welcome calls
 the Indian Summer falters,and falls
 
Sycamore seeds twirl and twist
Onto a fairy-ring fungus tryst

Stink horn capped with slime,
As carrion beetles pass the time.

 
Yellowed leaves drift and decompose
into next year's cellulose.

Moral Coins

If there were 
only MORAL coins 
and no MINT coins
people's would have 
conducted sans sins

Sin smeared 
Moral coins 
would be akin to 
Self Demonetised 
Unfit coins for trade
good for scrap grade 

Pristine Moral coins 
would be like medals 
glorifying character
Premium coins 
best for any trade 

It's time to have
NOBEL PRIZE
for High Morale 
rewarding uprightness in 
socio-political category 

It's time, schools have
Honesty, Integrity
as mandatory subject 
laying gen-next's cornerstone 
of character super structure 

Immorality, Corruption is blooming
having 12.months spring season  
Corroding roots of Values 
How long tree will hold terrain? 
With no oxygen, no fruits 
how long Society will sustain? 

Nursing Roots, 
Nursing Morality
ought to be top priority 
Else corruption white ants 
feeding on cellulose of greed 
will disorient stability, safety
and hollow out society timber 

MORAL coins or 
MINT coins? 
Value based society or
Anarchy based society?
Time to mint Chances 
Time to make Choices
_____________________________
© Dr Hitendra Mehta, India

I Am Not a Turd

Often referred to as the woody core, hemp hurd is the soft inner core of the hemp plant stem. It is highly absorbent and rich in cellulose and great thermal and acoustic properties. The hurd can be used in two different forms:

unsettling words from you I've heard 
I understand your following the herd 
separate the flax from the hurd 
and you got me, I'm not a turd 

so pleae don't call me names just because I don't share your point of view
I BE   I                YOU     BE     YOU

October

Dogwood,jasmine,marram grass
In flower ,as pressure fills the barometer glass;
Evening primrose in scented bloom
Fill Autumn with  pungent perfume.

Sycamore seeds twirl and twist
Onto a fairy-ring fungus tryst;
Stink horn capped with slime,
As carrion beetles pass the time.

Bramblings feast on bountiful mast ,
As the Autumnal harvest dwindles fast;
Yellowed leaves drift and decompose
Into next year's cellulose.

Winter migrants with welcome calls
As the Indian Summer falters,and falls;
Nature's tempo tarries,then slows
As all creation begins to doze.
&fog forms ,at the close of day.

Be My Vali

By Parizo Van Thulare 

The rock of my soul 
The flower with a scent that makes me whole 
Always down with your pose 
Always glowing my cellulose
You come flying when I'm holding a pole
You are always comforting when I'm swimming in the darkest whole 

Sweet as jelly beans
Your words are full of tweaks 
You always fill my night with Dreams 
You taught that life is all about breaking Streaks 

Life is  sweet 
Oceans breeze 
Birds  tweet
But you for keep

My loverr ,My cure
With you i feel new 
Your love is true 
The kinds of you are few 

Be my vali you loviey 
Be my vali so we swim together 
Deep into the cores of life 
Let me take you to cloudnine 
Now and until the end of time

No Prisoners

terrible vacancies
reside in our body cellulose
millions of foot paces
resettle at the starting post

the soul under cool linens
dissolves in it's own acids
awaken white worlds
from their shadowy coma
the 1939-1945 war never ends
and takes no prisoners

I Am So Sweet

How can I live without sugar, fructose, glucose,
I love cookies, candies, pies, and pastries and cake;
oh that sweet, sweet lactose, dextrose and cellulose,
grandma's cherry jam and her cupcakes and cheesecake.

I love cookies, candies, pies, and pastries and cake,
that lovely white crystalline substance I love;
grandma's cherry jam and her cupcakes and cheesecake,
I am so sweet, my love calls me his sugar dove.

That lovely white crystalline substance I love,
I start with candy - coated honey cereal;
I am so sweet, my love calls me his sugar dove,
in the afternoon, coca cola ethereal.

I start with candy-coated honey cereal,
never, ever, no "SUGAR" -  that illegal drug;
in the afternoon, coca cola ethereal,
yes, I should change my name to Sugar Lady Bug.

Never, ever, no "SUGAR"-  that illegal drug,
oh that sweet, sweet lactose, dextrose and cellulose;
yes, I should change my name to Sugar Lady Bug,
how can I live without sugar, fructose, glucose!

__________________________
February 17, 2017

Poetry/Pantoum/I Am So Sweet
Copyright Protected, ID 17- 876-918-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

Epilogue Devouring

If you were a letter
That is improbable!
I'd eat you
Though I do not digest cellulose whatsoever

The Big Question For Those of Little Faith

Energy is neither created, nor destroyed
but does transform
witness the log burning in the fireplace
cellulose and lignin combining with oxygen
yielding heat, water and CO2
and with you sitting so close beside me
another transformation's coming on.

Yet cracks appear as we age,
time and entropy take their toll,
and these days we go to more funerals
than weddings and christenings.
We've made arrangements to smooth
our affairs for those who remain and
laid up good whiskey and cognac
for our last remembrance.
I've chosen green burial 
in a 500 year forest;
you cremation, 
with your ashes
pressed into 
a forever
diamond.

While we know our genes
carry on in our children
and our atoms will still cycle,
but there remains the question
of how the bit that makes us 
us will merge with the cosmos.

Supermarket Celebration

Supermarket celebration
shoppers are cytoplasm searching
for cellulose, muscle, photosynthesis.

Oils, petrochemical and vegetable
love: faith and trust
for instance, the Food and Drug Administration.

In America, the custom is
to avoid meeting the other shoppers' eyes. We graze
like cows or wander as zombies to the oldies played over the aisles.

I've always liked it here.
Cornucopia, yes. Also
a place to be alone and depressed, or cool off.

Water and bone
and the known ingredients. Neurons
for remembering, calculating, touching stuff.

I have a favorite bagger
who has the smile of a lover,
wouldn't rather be elsewhere.

Like glamour stars in bikinis
(but unlike tomatoes and bananas)
cashiers and clerks are admired from afar.

Joe says What's not to like? Ice cream, yogurt,
profit, tofu.
To eat your fill is a blasphemy against God.

Hunger 4

Hunger 4

So much food such little time
With so much on my mind
As I consumed the New York Times today
While others read it
My stomach grabbed me by the throat
Made me feel its pain
It screamed; “Feed me real food.” “I’ll kill you on the spot you idiot!” 
Rejecting lobsters, steaks and other pictures on the pages
The news informs me, implores me to eat on
Out of newspapers that I found
Though the images were colorful and pretty
The ink did not go down so well
Cellulose taste really grainy
I couldn’t fool or trick my self
Consuming nonfood stuff is, well, a little crazy
Eating buttons, coins and dirty bugs 
Is not exactly healthy, delicious or nutritious 
My stomach is not too fond of me these days
Perhaps it’s something that I said or ate or read 
Hunger is the only one true constant
It’s hard to keep it down

Bath Time

Bath Time

Every evening
around about five
I pinch my cellulose
to make sure I’m alive.

Long-ago-child 
last rings in my tub
now soaps up her own kids,
rub a dub dub.

Towels at attention,
the bathroom is dry
if I need a re-run
my daughter’s near-by.

©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
November 24, 2012

My Soul I Thought This Day

My soul, I thought this day
That no one shall build an earthly station,
     But he that means to win but attention.
     And lose his place in heavenly equation,
Or can be, that he has lost his soul since creation
          And given all things to decay.

          For Man is being of purpose,
And more:  he is an image, spirit, body and soul bellicose;
     A beast, when without spirit calaboose:
     Reason and speech are meant to close.
Hyenas may thank us, if they had human cellulose,
          They lack the godly spirit to be comose.

Lost Poems

Like castles build in sand
The wave of time has left me nothing
Of letter or rhyme, I made
Since my hands stammered my heart
In broken spectra of words.
My childhood is lost, and manhood's bud
Like ash in the forest fire
Is blown away. Clean swept is the night.

Pages of time, all gone
Day's memories, loves, hopes and pain
Nights I love the best
And metaphors of clouds becoming rain
Weeks stored in words
Sentences etched with months and life
Is chewed up with paper
The rats left nothing but pictures in urine.

Poverty had no safer place
For piles and piles of cellulose and thought
But where cockroaches eface
Soft monuments to breed an illiterate brood.
They made of confetti sheets
Beds, crawling with lines of poetry. So prove
Nothing is immortal here
For every written word candles to an end.

Lost poems like melted ice
Pages of my life, evaporated in moist dawn
Things I confided to words
The beauty of the mist swallowed by the sun
I am still an obscurity here
Literacy preserves nothing except in stone
Pale words and blemished page
Poems lost, vanished presence and history.

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