crinkly cowboy custodian
of the bitterroot ,
his blimpish blotchy crispiness
transponder to nerveroot
this nefarious neurosurgeon forgotten
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 13–19, 2026)
Aromatic crispy duck,
Tangy hoi sin sauce.
Stacks of Chinese pancake wraps,
Spring onions mixed,
With cucumber sticks.
Fingers licked
Quick.
10 / 11 / 2025.
crispy salad greens
topped with fresh red tomatoes
a colorful feast
slivers of carrots
taste buds are quick to waken
whispers of blue cheese
add some radishes
and strips of shaved honey ham
a marvelous lunch
Written By: D. Collins 2/1/25
Like thick sliced bacon straight from the air fryer.
Today my daughter is Queen of her empire.
Her subjects will do whatever she wants done.
And on her birthday served with total Cart Blanche.
Like the crispy, fried bacon left on our tongue.
She's a woman that stands second to none.
Yeah, a father is biased when it comes to his.
But, today is the day she was born to live.
The crispy crusty bread
Was as lonely as it gets
As handsome as he was
He had no bride to wed
The crispy crusty bread
He tries all that he can
But to woo a bride he can't
Except the rickety stickety jam
The crispy crusty bread
At last, at noon he said
By this time tomorrow
Bride or death, I'll have instead
The crispy crusty bread
At last,wooed a lass called butter
They had a wedding on the stars
And lived happily ever after
Oh where oh where,
Are the Tortoise and Hare?
They're not over here,
And they're not over there.
One of them was fast,
The other was slow.
You'd spy one another,
Wherever you'd go.
Walking in the woods,
Following their tracks.
Catching one with a snare.
Flipping others on their backs.
They used to hide,
Under Weeping Willows.
Now all you see,
Are dead Armadillos.
I used to dodge them,
On long country roads.
Along with a Possum,
And a couple of Toads.
Oh where oh where,
Are the Tortoise and Hare?
Could we point the finger,
At the rising hot air?
clear blue skies above
purple crispy clover bed
a brown leaf pops by
Oh to crispy skinned Cossages
those tasty morsels of the mind
may imagining their delicate flavours
help your busy days unwind
do they taste like asparagus
or is it peach
do they smell like running socks
or is it leech
To crispy skinned Cossages
those rocket ships of the mind
that can fly you away to near or far
wherever you’re so inclined
you could go to the circus
or just down the road
visit the rings of Saturn
or dine with a toad
Say thanks to crispy skinned Cossages
those gallant saviours of the mind
freeing you from mundane thoughts
where your life is entwined
do you cure cancer
or were you first to the Pole
a boisterous blustering braggart
or a quiet listening soul
Crispy Fritters
bakers do it in the oven
only when the heats up
and only then,
do they loving
dough boy expands
his business
pushing it's limits
arriving on time
more dough is rolled
on sheets of white
the heat rises
crispy fritters moaning
time marches on
in heated battle
from top
to bottom
the oven opens
some steam releases
exudes a golden glow
crispy fritters purring
a box of sweets
his treat
together,
... baker's labor of love
connie pachecho
3/15/17
Crispy leaves of Autumn
as autumn sheathes in
red and gold of senescence
leaves do the talking...
Written Sept 15th, 2016
For contest "leaves talking" by John Lawless
The new pedagogy, such sweet success!
Brittle crispy teacup children abound.
Wan eyes fused to the screen, don’t look around.
Take me to my safe space, just too much stress.
Who will fix what’s broken? They don’t know how.
Fighting for their freedom? Don’t understand.
It's someone else’s job to repair this land.
Polished Brooks Brothers tyrant, take a bow.
Education, once to build citizens
Infiltrated with fell priorities
Cultivation of hamstrung denizens
Multiple choice equals minimum voice
Limiting possible realities
Eyelids fused, mind confused, they lose, rejoice!
abba cddc efe gfg= semi-italian sonnet
3/2/16
CRISPY CRITTERS
Their whiskers singed,
the dogs unhinged,
the horses flee,
and goats run free.
The deer stag leap,
from flames that keep,
and creatures scream,
as their flesh steam.
Their eyes do melt,
with sore and welt,
all lost their home,
and forced to roam.
They seek their owners,
by now, all loaners,
more lost than found,
for miles around.
Their lungs breath smoke,
inhaled, they choke,
no water, food, or cozy bed,
no rest for limbs, or weary head.
Their paws are raw,
by natures's law,
that flames take down,
all life, Earthbound.
We stir the ash to find the gem,
and search to find each one of them,
to catch and find, to love and hold,
our frightened, furry, lost and bold.
Broken things, and broken hearts,
the village shifts to make new starts,
and yet their souls' are pained and sore,
for kitty, puppy, colt, and more.
By, Edlynn Nau
© Sept. 17, 2015
[In memorial of all creatures deceased, or yet to be saved, from the Valley Fire, CA]
Crispy leaves
Trees shed reds, browns and golden -
Coloured layers of a cake.
Written December 1st, 2014
For One broken Monoku contest by Rick Parise
Awarded 1st place
My mood seems of late like
swirling leaves on the ground,
caught up in occasional updraft,
if only for a few feet,
then fall back to ground.
Leaves are expressionless,
hiding their true feelings and thoughts,
swirling wherever gusts take them,
and crunch under foot.
Rice crispes on a stick Yum !
carmels condense milk
melt over very low heat
grab marshmellows now
add toothpicks and dip
roll crispes
on !
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