My wish would be to visit Italy,
where my grandparents were with family.
One came from Florence, one from Sicily,
before my Mom and I were born to be.
I'd love to find out how their lives began-
those years in Italy before their plan
to board the ship- a woman and a man-
embrace the USA, their future span.
From tales they told me, Italy was home
to lovely gardens, winding hills to roam,
and special wonders, such as that in Rome,
with the Basilica's expansive dome.
To feel the rhythm of the countryside
and taste delicious entrees, well supplied;
confirm the recipes I've used stateside-
and the traditions learned and passed with pride.
I have these visions that live in my mind.
Someday, I hope, the real scenes to find.
it not in the way you make a man
even the quality of living is unstable
new zealanders are flooding into thousand oaks like
similar valleys for the corruption entrees
soo many spill outs from the economic offerings
please bring the handsome warrior of sex with!
amazing
the spending habituals of teenage frolicking
60-80 and 90 year old rotted l death ven diagram
oasis retreat me never gossip gotherians
and the make a move already boys with holsters attache me now
Chaos reigns, oh, such a sight,
Kids are screaming, parents feuding fight.
Turkey is spoiled, oven's on strike,
Lightning struck, there's no light.
The Bliss is so forlorn
The Bliss is so forlorn
The dog pissed on the presents
One of many such awful events
The cat's stuck to the star
Its fur has begun to char
The night of hell is born
The night of hell is born
Tommy was chased, the table felled
All the food scattered expelled
The entrees landed in Granny's lap
Just when she was taking a nap.
Silent Night is torn to scorn!
Silent Night is torn to scorn!
Still the tree lights twinkle
A glitter of joy a sprinkle
Despite the wrinkle and crinkle,
I hear Kris Kringle's tinkle
Frantic Night, Chaotic Night!
Frantic Night, Chaotic Night!
Change
I used to be the mother
who entertained.
I used to be the mother
who made spring rolls
and stuffed clams
and fancy entrees
for parties
Once I worked all day,
cared for my children and
baked fancies to sell for
a little extra money
I made South African frikkadels
and tangerine dessert for
my daughter’s International Day
at school and, another time,
a Colonial dress with a bustle,
needed tomorrow!
Attended my sons’ band concerts
and football games.
Nights found me at League of
Women Voters or other meetings.
Now I rarely go out at night.
Sometimes I bake a coffee cake
for church coffee hour,
plain, nothing fancy.
I sit while I mix and stir and
use a walker to get around.
Today my children tell me to stay put
while they get my coffee
or find my book.
Now I am the child and they
the busy parents who care for
and worry about me.
Three dogs at the groomers, three hours till there done
go out to eat lunch, have Italian tasty and fun
Entrees served, cell phone rings
Kublai's eye bleeding, doggie bags they bring
Get Kublai to the vet, has pulps on his eyelid
surgery to remove them, clean teeth as he's out on meds
Back to the groomers Ghenghis barking up a storm
Sassy nervous growls as trimming her nails performed
Ghenghis happy to see me looks like a puppy all prim
Sassy frighten harder to get her in kennel second time
Home with those two back to the vet
Kublai ready to go home in my lap he sit
His eyelid fixed and had two teeth pulled
Kublai wearing a cone feeling like a fool
He got stuck under a end table wouldn't back up
the cone came off Kublai as Ghenghis sniffed his butt
Kublai in a deep sleep Sassy licks his eye
Ghenghis begging as I eat my Italian wanting a bite to try.
P- Poetry Soup is like a buffet sideboard
O - Offering tasty treats, nostalgic and informative
E - Experiencing entrees from around the world while
T - Tweaking our own creative fare and making
R - Remarks for the patrons of our choosing
Y - You can’t beat PS for a challenging cuisine
S - Spend some time here every day
O - Opportunities to make friends abound
U - Underscoring a grand purpose from the start to
P - Provide an encouraging venue for poets
August 15, 2022
Sponsor Beata Agustin
Contest Name POETRY SOUP BEYOND ITS NAME
I used to be teen suicide, less full of myself
to wonder a future unknown borrowing a want
of perfection in strength of movement, a posture of
glazed movement, gymnastic skills of love, purposeful of
thought tone---surprised I excelled in most, tried in
some and failed in those anonymous a few--my lone
physicality set the stage for a mistress lover of handstand
entrees in, on above all objects where I could pose upside
down and see the reverse of an earthly life based on age
appropriate conventions of and age remembered life to
recourse a yonder youth in all its wonderment, fallibility
of domestico-initiation and socio-training to be up/down
cool/nerdy pain/pleasured and thus True/False primed and
Squared by ritual sacrifices of an impermanent unsolved self--
where do you really begin, endure? and end with the means
to justify your end as to the forever prone promises tendered
in creating a dulled existence for a what purpose?
Charity begins within your Heart of Hearts all leading to a
proportioned infinity of reality living and lights of Love.
When Little Miss Muffet
first visited buffets,
she’d choose simple entrees,
cottage cheese
Until one day in line
a grand gourmand spied her.
He advised some cider
and egg foo young.
Now I'm the frightened one;
ev'ry night of the week
new gourmet food they seek.
They're off the grid.
Heard they ran away to
far-off Cambodia
where fried tarantula
are tasty treats.
Homeless Feral Cats,
Wandering around cities,
Know no love or compassion,
From human beings.
Dumpsters become their food bowls;
Car engines, often warm beds.
Occasional mouse
Or squirrel may make a meal;
Then again it may elude.
The dumpsters have more
Tasty entrees to savor;
Like eggs, beef, steak or chicken.
Wandering hoboes,
Are Feral Cats as sometimes
They’ll even hop a train car.
Daylight slants on a promenade
in multi-layered glimmering;
I navigate your way
while walking with the breeze
to nibble loving desires,
like the pile of white china
illuminating a sidewalk café.
The flicker in those earl-grey eyes
mirrors a glassy daylight,
becoming restless and doubtful
I whisper a steamy phrase
to reach out for your feelings,
a communion of visions
to dip into your thoughts.
Can't find you among entrees
of speech. Morning drains a held cup;
for now, as seats are taken,
I you let you read my musings.
Café Musings/ 2--1--14
Gabby Sabre
Some folks like food that’s smooth to touch their lips;
which does not come in chunks or crunchy sticks.
They take their tea in leisurely small sips
or eat ice cream with lots of tiny licks.
I rarely ask for smoothies or for yogurt,
for puddings or for bland and jiggling jello.
I much prefer the entrees to dessert
and something hearty over something mellow.
To salty, crunchy foods I gravitate:
popcorn and potato chips and nachos,
and on my plate some food to masticate:
pasta, pizza, burgers, fries or tacos.
A large hot soup can soothe my appetite
if served with lots of crackers I can BITE!
For the the Screwed XII Poetry Contest of Rob Carmack
from 10/6/2013
I have all the Entrees for My Contest "Personify A Tear" A few have already been
Eliminated not following The Theme. Thank-YOU, Thank-YOU so many Magnificent
POEMS It will take me awile to finish Judging If YOU did not put YOUR Name on YOUR
POEM YOU will have time to do so; No name , No Placement With LOVE ALWAYS,
YOUR Liege FOREVER...HG
A nearby restaurant appears to be great.
For dinner, there is usually a long wait.
So many customers think the food is fabulous.
Are there this many people gullible and oblivious?
A truck arrives during early business days.
It leaves a big delivery of frozen entrees.
A culinary delight drawing a patron’s raves,
is actually coming out of microwaves.
That is the truth about what the people extol.
It is all done because of quality control.
There was a chef named Luke,
All of his entrees were nuked.
In every dinner he planned,
All of his food was canned,
And most of his patrons puked.
Now many patrons inquired,
Why this chef was never fired,
But his boss was anemic,
and very bulimic,
Which is why Luke was hired.
This Diner's reputation lags,
But the owner always brags,
That his dining auditorium,
is a modern vomitorium
With no need for doggie bags.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.