Flavoursome Poems

Onion

For if my heart
Were such as this
With taste and tears
On every kiss

It could explain
Each reason why
The love lorne layers
Do testify

To pungent faith
Flavoursome hope
Formed in the dark 
With potent scope

To underpin
The panoply
Of every tasty
Recipe

I Refuse to Teach Macbeth When It's Forty Degrees Outside

King Duncan wouldn't allow it
Chin sweat and air conditioning 
Sending me into a linguistic shaming spiral

Flavoursome mints and sparkling water
Won't fix this wet nightmare
Telling the steps to SHUT UP

Sock sniffer
Chemical bomb leather shoes
Armpits oceaning

Give me Nigeria 
Or the jungle
Where the birds don't sing

My wife has been reading The Return of the Native for ten years
But does owning an AK-47 count as knowledge?

To the bat cave

Ohh dear grandma!

Ohh dear Grandma! 
I love your 'papadum'
I miss the time when you offered me to come
With you at the porch
When the sun had scorched
To help you to knead, roll and flip
The papadum which had a habit to slip
From those tiny little hands of mine
And so you told me to arrange them in a line
Ohh dear Grandma! I miss that time.... 
That time when..
When you sometimes got busy
I used to take a bite
Of that flavoursome dough in a way very quiet
Although it was not at all right
But I loved doing that when you were out of sight
Any other papadum couldn't compete the one which had ur hand's taste
Because on the theme of love and care it was based! 
Maybe I'm missing getting admonished by you
Because I'm fed up being praised
Your words which were impeccably true
Are what always comes in my mind 
when I miss the way how I was raised! 
when I miss how I was always saved
from the rage of my Dad by you
your words which mentioned that "He loves me as if without me his sky isn't blue"
Yeah! Those words were impeccably true! 
Ohh dear Grandma! Lot's of love to uhh!

I Try To Resist

Forever
   
                   Feasting  famished,

           Flapjacks, frankfurter's, fajitas

       Flavoursome  food,  favourite  feast.

          Foreboding, forbidden, feeding

                   Fruitless,  fearful

                             Fat!



2/5/2021

You Taste Like

You taste like honey coated love
And I am sweet on you,
And your heavenly musk
You taste like the most flavoursome
Citric tangy fruit,
Your the sweetest taste, ain’t that the truth
You remind me of the fresh morning dew,
You are the kind of taste I’d always choose
You taste so wholesome, no wonder I love you,
You are my health food
I don’t want to be rude,
But angel, believe me,
I’d eat you, in an instant,
And I do not have a clue
What side could accompany,
Such a perfect taste as you it’s true
But you’re a beauty to digest,
Believe me when I say you’re the best,
Try to not get angry,
Try not to get vexed,
I am complimenting you
In everything you do,
You taste to me, simply way too good
Succulent and tasty,
You are the food of the God’s to sate me
You are the perfect taste in the creating,
And let me tell you this my girl I am not overstating,
what is true.

Stg

I have a friend who I visit regularly,
He calls me Smith the Grocer, STG for short,
And when I text him, I sign off with STG,
Sometimes I add other abbreviations for him to guess,
A bit of harmless fun between friends. 

Little did I know that a mix up with a text accidentally sent to my daughter,
Would lead to STG being interpreted to mean Sausage Tasted Good.

It came about in this way,
My daughter and her partner brought us over some flavoursome sausages,
So, it was not surprising that the next day when my daughter,
Got a three-letter text STG,
It was not unreasonable for her to conclude STG to mean
Sausage Tasted Good ,
And for me to get a text back that she was glad I liked The Sausage.

Needless, to say I did not attempt to correct the impression,
As, if I had thought about it, 
I might well have sent that or a similar text on purpose,
And the sausages did taste good.

A case I think for a white lie, not doing any harm.

Praise To the Forager

The moveable feast
Free food for the  forager
Weeds for the foolish

Nettles that sting you
are nettles that can  feed you
Praise the forest fare

Flowers to fauna
mother nature’s larders full
of flavoursome treats

Free to the finder
fare fit for a king or queen
three cheers for free food.

Vanilla

Somebody said an odd thing today, 
Something I think’s a bit strange,
About how blah and lame we seem around here, 
How things have never seen change,

They said we’re vanilla, as though that is bad, 
As though that is some kind of fault,
They implied that vanilla is a boring old flavour, 
Not as good as chocolate or malt,

But I love vanilla on all that I drink, 
I love vanilla, on a whim, anywhere,
I think vanilla is a most flavoursome drink, 
Adding a fluff of flavour and flair,

As a matter of fact I think it rocks on, 
I think it’s the flavour of choice,
So when people say we’re vanilla as hell,
I stand up and begin to rejoice.

Feeling Frantic Fraternization

Bean bags. Vacuum cleaners. And dustbins. Lining up. Waiting. Waiting for the cloths. The cloths are counting dust particles. That will take a very long time indeed. And yellow striped lights are not tigers. They are a glow of stained paint. So count the wiggles of several fat black creatures and sigh at least ninety times. Wow. Pin pinnings pricking party paint. Pleasurably. Flavoursome culinary creation of new episodes of a different list. Hahahaha travel training trap. Hahahaha horsey face lake. Xxxxx fraternization z p y q

Cooking

A beef stew is neither a mildew or an orange orbital hue. It is a flavoursome culinary creation. And when particles skip. Dust off the spoon and dance crab like to tunes emerging from the bubbling pot. It is ripe a seed and radiantly flowing. Oh yes. The liquid. Swirling swimmingly seemingly seeping. Great. Good. Now wash your hands and hair follicles. And change the washing cycle to nine spin. Oh how heavenly. Wow. Potent potential pot potatoes. Piglets. Hahahaha and the singing spoon. Xxxx reciprocal recipes. Traditionalists z

The Peril

It darts past then briefly hovers
picking up the scent of rotted fruit
following it to until it came to the source
where it feasts until bloated.

Back on the hunt it swoops
and dives like a bomb,
flashing its yellow and black body
a warning to all to keep away.

Uninvited it hones in
and joins the bar-be-que,
as people scatter from its path
some flapping their hands at it.

Buzzing angrily, it returns
sourcing out the sweetness
of ripened tomatoes and
flavoursome BBQ sauce.

It darts in and out
grabbing a bite or two
then to everyone's relief
it leaves for pastures greener.

Wedding Hallucinations

I see sparkles
I hear wedding bells
Bright sunny day
People make way


I stand in the middle 
As I see him
Looking at me, dazzled
His eyes talk to mine
Causing my eyes to shine


His dark hair neatened
With his dark tuxedo straightened
Handsome is less to say
As my eyes hold his


I swift the floor in his arms
My eyes filled with delight
I see him stare at me
What an enchanted sight 


As we stop and gaze at each one's eyes
He pulls me tighter
Aiming me to front his face
I close my sight to feel his flavoursome lips


I hear round of applause
Open my eyes
I see Dad waking me from across.

Social Peacock

SOCIAL PEACOCK 

Playing the audience
The peacock struts 
How daintily and deftly
He swans around weaving intrigue
Flattering all
The kiss of a hand or an awaiting cheek
Done to perfection
Him who knows the value of each person to him
Knows how to please
The machinations of a society full of gossip
And intrigue are his tools of trade
Used to solicit maximum gain
The wise are careful
The not yet burnt 
Flock to his ever awaiting arms
His guile 
His flavoursome words 
His hollow airs of concern
Are the skin deep glosses
That his fickle crowd adores

For Those Left Behind

(1946)

Walking in Sailor Fields amongst the nettles
picking blackberries, the brambles 
cut deep savage the mind.
Yet the bowl to be filled the jam
to be boiled the bread of hope
to be flavoursome, while the innocence
of it all enhanced by the beauty of the place. 
The Village shimmers in idyllic peace,
while each evening from the east the veil of night
chases the setting sun, bequeaths it’s
heavenly sequin blanket soon to lovingly
cloak God’s very own.
Life had not changed all that much
in the place, except the men had returned
leaving their memories over yonder,
while some stayed away their bones to lie
within ‘Alien Soil’ 
Alas the hurt does not diminish,
for those left behind walking in Sailor Fields
amongst the nettles picking blackberries!

© Harry J Horsman  2011

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