I've oft been offered but not tempted by
large helpings of pie in the sky
from too many crooks
who indeed the broth did spoil
and so as not to be sullied
by such greasy oil
I stay out of their kitchen
not because I can't stand the heat
but what's on their menu
ain't my cup of meat
apple or cherry by the slice
with a tasty pastry crust
is not a must but very nice
my absolute fave fit for a King
with taters on top of thee I sing
made with lamb
not beef that's cottage
and personal wish
as the name does imply
is a dainty dish
of homemade shepherd's pie
There was a young man named Fred
(the tooth fairy lived in dread)
a wild flamboyant from afar
the spice island Zanzibar
a singer he'd been
and sang a good song
with four-octave range
in the band called Queen
tho' considered 'strange'
with plus four in the upper jaw
he had more teeth than most
once nicely depraved
now dead and gone
when he gave up the ghost
shuffled offstage his mortal coil
was no more than toast
finally went bust
of him it was said,
'Another one bites the crust!'
I sweep the kitchen again.
The crumbs are back.
I sweep the kitchen again.
At midnight, I hear indistinct noises.
That I only recognize as pizza crust sounds.
The crust sings a song.
Singing about how pepperoni is so overrated.
Crust is delicious! Delicious! Delicious!
I think it’s just the psychosis kicking in.
I don’t want him to win.
This crust made of hardened dough.
He survived the oven, that I know.
But being thrown away?
After being burnt all day?
No way!
I still hear crumbs.
I wasted another day.
Sweeping.
Maybe next time…
I'll eat the crust too.
Forget the mozzarella, or the cheddar.
I am something better!
I am more than the final bite.
I am the one that gives smiles of delight.
Eat me, or else I’ll disturb your sleep.
Around your house, I will creep.
Eat me, or else…
I sweep the kitchen one more time.
A part of the upper crust of society
I have never been
Methinks “down to earth” more accurately
Describes this old homosapien
No airs, no talking big, no flamboyant flair
Just little old simple me
Now that word “simple” can be misleading
I don't think I've ever been considered simple
In terms of brain power
But at the other end of the scale
Certainly never classified myself a genius either
Somewhere in the middle... an average joe
This is my comfort zone
In my teen years, I floundered around
Wondering what life had in store for me
Until I realized I had a flair for creativity
And in particular “graphic design”
I have never ever regretted my decision
To head off in that direction
In fact in my 80's I was still active
With a show of hands...
How many of you enjoyed the profession
To the degree that you never wanted to retire
Let's see, one, two, three... oh and another!
Where learned men converse
On college grounds traverse
Those lads debonair and debutantes fair
With diamonds in their purse
By limousine conveyed
Their education's paid
A most common tale of Harvard and Yale
Where seeds of affluence laid
When privileged young voyeurs
Become doctors and lawyers
From arrogant perch they snub and besmirch
Sneering at Tom Sawyers
Under thumb of those knaves
We become but their slaves
Placed in the dust by the cruel upper crust
With no names on our graves
Decades passed in memory's dust.
Too many betrayals between us.
For material things, she always lust.
She ate the bread, left me it's crust.
Let it go, forgive, I know I must but
in my mind I just can't trust.
She ate the bread, left me it's crust.
The upper crust
folks do not trust
they bite into the lower
Beer and pretzels just five bucks
chew on life much slower
like a chocolate crust pie
is the flat-topped ridge
of a nearby large mountain
Topping mountain pie
as far as the eye can see . . .
luscious raspberry pink sky
high white coalescing clouds
trim the twilight’s slice of sky . . .
dollops of whipped cream
Dec. 12,2022
For the Triple New Charlieku Poetry Contest of Charles Messina
7/5/7, 5/7/7, 7/7/5 (checked by Howmanysyllables.com)
you just can't resist freshly baked bread
at yeast I can't - crust me, I've tried!
it whispers - 'I know you loaf me
you know you knead me
you butter hurry up
crumb and get me!'
Let me tread the path of love
Where all the broken souls in rush
Things might get changed but that all is tough
When you meet the soul to keep you up
Heap of bodies, all in touch
That only person who bloom in fust
The only one who gives you wonders of joy
And keep you away from all the noy
I wandered through the streets of crust
The crust beneath the heart of zar
Surround is all the longest mur
But I succeed to go there first
All I found was the misconduct
The soul is hiding from years of trust
Yet it is finished but not at rush
The love was just a bunch of lust
thawing frozen snow
winter’s vaporization ~
robin fiesta
Lemon meringue pie makes me salivate from here to Alaska
I love her color, her texture, her sweet, her sugar, her sour.
Her flaky crust, her tart lemon, her well -formed meringue
My mouth is dripping saliva as loudly as a dog’s when I think of her.
Ever so tasty!
The subtle crust slowly encases around my beating heart
Where the layers of scars have formed a dance line
Stepping in time to the angel of deaths tambourine
Beckoning and persuading me to surrender my last breath
But that crust is now my fortress
My last line of defence
So the battle rages intense
As I make sense of my enemies senseless quest for my soul
It is my own destiny to control
Some might say I have hardness of heart
Yet their feet cant fill my shoes
Or bear the scars or constant bruise
Which has enabled my crust to blossom
Into the flower God created me to be.
My Crust his gift to me.
Must thrust myself through all the crust,
After I Do bust to dust things full of lust,
Which is necessary and definitely a must.
Jim Horn
Snowdrops like candy, melting on tongues
Chilly air dancing, filling our lungs
An eagle overhead, feathers bound tight
Gray skies of winter, transpose into night
Men struggle and strive in the dark to survive
Warm summer's memories more dead than alive
A crust of stale bread, an ounce of thin gruel
Stave off for a moment hunger's specter so cruel
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