The merry widow’s marvelous mincemeat melody
Was gradually heard around three by the old oak tree
Honestly said Bert, the bumblebee, is this the Grand Prix?
Miraculously, there was a royal red revelry
A chickadee landed on the right knee of Diana Dee
Making her a friend in furious practicality
Old oak tree receded into the loving forest canopy
Forming a deliberate, desired universal solid symmetry
Would you like a chewy chickpea Lee asked widow and me.
I heard hyena-like laughter from Leroy, the red-butted monkey
Rolling them in warm tortillas is the chef’s secret recipe
Flamboyant frog huffed away, jingling her copper jewelry
The rest of us stared, which we do on Wednesdays, habitually
Being yourself and making no apology is the key said monkey
The faeries made themselves tinier, they were in fact now wee
Lovely monorhyme in progress, guessed my observant cousin Vee
I must agree said my boss, the pompous persnickety Mr. McGee
The rhymes are rather delightful, and frankly, there are plenty.
Categories:
chickpea, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Monorhyme
"recently scenes of early life have stolen into my mind, like breezes blown ..."
- Quote by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (from his writings)
When I was young and innocent,
I enjoyed life just as a child,
Had fun with friends magnificent!
Playing games out there in the wild,
Running around free, playing catch,
Chasing dragonflies, how we smiled!
Sharing jokes, we were quite a batch,
Climbing trees to pluck and eat fruits,
Not bothered about scrapes or scratch!
We had our own share of disputes,
Got o'er them just as children can,
Followed grand whimsical pursuits!
Sometimes we walked, sometimes we ran,
We thought our childhood life was cool,
Cycling around, we hatched such plans!
We gorged on 'chaat'* outside our school,
When I was young and innocent,
Trusted each other as a rule,
Had fun with friends magnificent!
*'chaat' is a sweet and sour, tangy Indian snack made up of raw vegetables, puffed rice, boiled chickpea, boiled potatoes, tamarind chutney, spices, etc.
10th October, 2022
For Constance La France's "Writing Challenge - Past Memories - "T" Forms" contest
Categories:
chickpea, childhood, friendship, fun,
Form: Terzanelle
your chickpea skin
my willing mouth
the mundane things
we talk about
your shadowed eyes
my bright despair
your barbered mane
my tussled hair
four confused hands
touch in the rain
Categories:
chickpea, christmas, fire,
Form: Carpe Diem
A treasure the size
of a chickpea, disfigured,
this soul I carry.
Categories:
chickpea, allegory, faith, imagination, love,
Form: Haiku
A bean curd & corn salad,
chickpea flour pancake
in tomato & cream sauce
a mango yogurt
dipping chocolate
and biscuit
Quick!
Categories:
chickpea, food
Form: Epulaeryu
Art and mind are once again
Silent then. a quiet name
Comes.
Cognomen...
Golden chickpea dance in fields
Knowing strokes of paint do yield
Genius genus genie genes in us.
Electric Text in the core of this
Write. Script.OS. Comitis....
Duenos lingua Cornelius.
Kernos Major. Mojo
and Candles.dear
;p
Categories:
chickpea, adventure, fantasy, imagination
Form: I do not know?
Because for one thing, he's from Brooklyn Heights,
and glares at strangers. A French guy (Parisian,
of course) once remarked to me, "You Americans
are nice to strangers--we are nice to people we know."
Well, Giamatti subscribes to that, and if anyone
claims soulful, however pragmatic, it's the French.
And, for another thing, he (Mr. G) appears chronically
stressed out. Sometimes not even Ma-ra-na-tha or
that old chestnut OM chanted while deep-breathing helps;
(though, clearly, no breath at all is a sure relaxant).
My man Giamatti is making a movie about souls.
He sees the souls of certain celebs as a chickpea,
an ear of roasted corn, a set of nice whitewall tires,
a doorknob, a crazy box of crabs, and best one
of all, a blood orange left on a window sill, dried out
and leathery. So, Mr. G, (Palpitation
of my Heart), What does the soul of a poet
look like? I imagine it as the invisible edge of
the iced-over pond we skate on.
Thank you, THE NEW YORKER
Categories:
chickpea, visionarynice, nice,
Form: Free verse
I am hungry, what will it be?
Ham, turkey or that nasty bologna?
I am hungry, chickpea mash?
Spam or that disgusting Hash?
I am hungry, mountain oysters anyone?
Fish eggs? Or sushi that is "not done?"
Such meager questions on what to eat.
There are people out there who are starving.
I feel ashamed and should do my part.
To give the shirt off my back would be a start.
Categories:
chickpea, caregiving, food, health, hope,
Form: Burlesque