Not over-delicately
but matter-of-factly –
because he’d appreciate knowing
And so, he wondered
when he had become
an ‘anachronism’
And what else, of course
he hadn't known
In Cambodia some diners eat a delicacy that does not entice me.
What could that be? Yes, I have to tell you, for why keep it to myself?
Here, sweetie, try some fried tarantula; do you want two or three?
Um…no thanks, please put it back, way up high on the top shelf.
Porky Pig once stopped by my butcher shoppe
Pig was not looking for any old slop
He searched high and low
Meat tasted like crow
'Please, Elmer, one pound of strings from your mop’
I am reporting from Normandy,
where a cheese war has started
between two hospitality business tycoons,
for acquiring the ownership of a shipload
of Brie and Comembert soft and creamy cheese,
heavily consumed popularly in their two outlets,
Wine and Cheese Tavern and Charcuterue Shack.
As the cheese ship arrived,
the owners of these dining holes tried
to negotiate the price with the Captain, but failed,
for both the parties offered increasing competitive bids.
So, the indecisive Captain suggested
they fight out the possession issue
in the cheese war, going on now for two months,
and seems not to end, for no one is winning.
The eventual owner might be getting
a shipload of rotten French delicacy.
Delicacy Delight was the most deliberately dainty diligent pig
She was fresh as a grass sprout, and could do a bit of a jig
The other pigs in Iowa were used to her, so they ignored her tutu.
But I was the new goat in the pen, so I watched her. Now wouldn’t you?
Mr. Camel is fascinated by his friend Dilbert Dung Beetle’s diet.
He thinks eating up excrement, feces and manure is a riot.
It is tasty! Delicious! You should try a salty elephant pie!
Dilbert Dung Beetle says. You would love it if you gave it a try!
Mr. Camel watches Dilbert dig in, gulping down gobs of the stuff.
He thinks it must have a weird smell, but Dilbert can’t get enough.
You might sample a tiny bit Dilbert says, it is delicious you see!
Mr. Camel shakes his head and says “Sorry, it does not appeal to me.”
As the golden sun rays
Seeped into my room
From the cherry sky
In a spell of crimson reverie
I saw…
On the table a bed of
Resplendent rose
In the bowl of boiled eggs
Scintillating strawberries
In the glass of milk
Winsome wine
All I consumed
With dreamy delight.
As I went out
I saw…
Leaning on the wall stood
My old bicycle
With watermelon wheels
I took a fantasy ride through
The hot summer wind
Parching me to the core
As the wheels turned
The sweet juice sprinkled
And I drank the pink delicacy
At the journey’s edge of fancy.
______________
June 29, 2022
Contest : A Watermelon Fantasy Ride To
Feed My Imagination
Sponsored by : Mystic Rose Rose
The world has its own wonders,
The stars up there twinkle,
The sun shines bright,
The moon in the night sky glows,
Like the bloom in the flowers in a row.
All is beautiful, everything fits best,
But the sound of you pierces through my chest.
I wonder how it remains unnoticed,
The music of the little things,
The beauty of its existence,
How pretty it sounds,
Your voices' delicacy.
Like a thin string it seems,
But emboldened enough to fulfill all its dreams.
Not much to say but lot to hear,
The soft music you utter,
It brightens the day mesmerises the heart,
The waves collide and create a new spark.
I am here all alone,
Waiting for that music to come home,
To fill me with joy and dance with me,
The music in your voice is nothing short of melody.
Longing for delicacy
Is no fault
We all like delicious and tasty food
Delicacy is also a style of life
An art of life
A variety of life
It's speciality and essence
Increase appetite and pleasure
A relaxation of life
But please don't forget
The secret danger of sugar,salt and oil in seasoning
Salt is mixed with sugar
Sugar replaces Ajinomotor in use
Oil is used abundantly in frying
An extra will be harmful to sickly people
Your taste buds are not sensitive or wiser enough
For man's tricks
Are they
Today’s poem is a juicy pork chop
The next one that skates by is a foppish cod fish
Each delicacy and dessert separate in their own way
Living their own truths.
Yesterday’s poems were chocked with
Faeries and dainty crisp white daisies
I have less control of this than of myself
They prance to their own harps
All I know is if I do not capture it
When it flits by in its gliding pretty pattern
it has no motivation to return.
I have yet to retrieve a wild missive
Which I neglected to pay attention to yesterday
If flies in our sleep is meat
Ketchup-ing all we can eat,
But I’m warning you, you have to be fast.
Grab a plate quickly, when the die is cast.
If you want nutrition to fully last,
You can season it with brown sage and rice.
Cook it in the oven and bake it twice.
You have a delicate stomach? That is sweet.
Delicacy is dark anthropoid meat.
Consuming Insects is a real blast.
If you eat it slow, it will surely last.
Sprinkle on the top some tiny fried rice.
Delicately salted, it tastes really nice
Let’s have spiders, flies, and roaches at any price.
~
I see the sunrise and it is delicious,
an early morning delicacy served
at the horizons edge
tempting to my palate,
comfort food
in citrus colors
Cereal is merely sugar
and coffee can be bitter at times,
toast is just toast
therefore I choose to consume
the sunrise this morning
because its beauty tastes like you
~
Your skin turns as lush as the gleam
Of frosty vanilla bean ice cream,
While I make your blushing cheeks redden,
Each as though pieces of a peeled watermelon.
With airy tread your footfall makes no sound
though crackling leaves bestrew the frozen ground,
the lightness of your voice floats on the breeze,
its delicacy sets my soul at ease.
A white-flecked silence hovers o’er the croft
as echoes perish, snowfall settles soft.
Weightless and peripheral you flitter,
‘twixt flakes, and the robin’s cheerful twitter.
The treasures of the world are ours to hold,
to cherish and to share as they unfold.
You pass, as gentle as a soft spring rain,
and I enjoy your beauty once again!
With airy tread your footfall makes no sound
though crackling leaves bestrew the frozen ground,
the lightness of your voice floats on the breeze,
its delicacy sets my soul at ease.
A white-flecked silence hovers o’er the croft
as echoes perish, snowfall settles soft.
Weightless and peripheral you flitter,
‘twixt flakes, and the robin’s cheerful twitter.
The treasures of the world are ours to hold,
to cherish and to share as they unfold.
You pass, as gentle as a soft spring rain,
and I enjoy your beauty once again!
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