Ladles Poems | Examples

Ode to Soupers Blitz

Soupers as lovers unite, with spoons and bowls held high,
All soups from broths to chunky chowders, they'll try.
Making steamy affairs in poems that burn and delight,
To fill the world with soup, that's their plight!

With spoons like scepters, ladles toppled full for the fight,
They struggle as wordsmiths with all their might!
Adding chillies, spices and herbs, to en-flame the brew,
They take aim with stakes to drive into apathy's stew.

So here’s to all soupers, lovers of muse, noble and true,
As they dish up their broths, lost souls, to bring to,
With their bouillon and bisque, mulligatawny and minestrone.
Let's say bon aperitif to them all, with a hoot, yippee and whoopee!

Alphabet Poetry Soup, Part XI

Angelic
Bardic
Composers
Dole
Everlasting
Fabled
Garnishments.
Heathenistic
Improvisors
Jostle
Kitchen
Ladles.
Metrical Composers
Nourish
Otherworldly
Poetizers'
Quirky
Rumbling
Stomachs.
Tenacious
Umbelliferous
Versifiers
Whisking
Xysters
Yolk fully
and
Zestfully.

Lullaby

Goodnight and good sleep little one
Off to bed, no tears to cry
Dream your dreams until dawn sun
This is an attempt at lullaby
My best I swear I'll try

I believe they start with falling cradles
Or mockingbirds that cannot sing
No guitars or drums so playing ladles
No diamonds, so brass will be your ring
How many sweet dreams could these bring....

So as you are hurtling down from high
Or trying to ignore an off key bird
Banging pots with utensils, not sure why
A looking glass has helped I've heard
But that also seems absurd

Lullabies seem sad and sometimes tragic
An Odd combination to allow
Maybe there should be more magic
So if you fall from a breaking bough
I promise I'll always catch you somehow

March 14, 2023
L words poetry contest
Sponsor: Constance La France

Ladles

Ladles,
Not serving
Bellies on festivals

Ladles,
Not giving festivals!

Where Does Poetry Begin

Poetry often starts outside
of one's self – on a distant hill or near
greenhouse shelf; our-cultivations
as the consideration of a grafted rose
goes; the meandering, dripping of a stream
or nose; submerging of our toes in 
chilling clarity – we see to the bottom,
sometimes fooled by depth – 

or that of a winged flight, wingtips tossing
sparks of light, dipping and scooping
winged ladles of air, unseen but yet
we see them there, pouring out there, 
back into our fanciful sky, our fanciful
eye -- in a heart's invested sigh -- up
high in the atmosphere, sighted unseen
spirit -- looking and listening for the echo
of angels -- turning us more inward, where
deeper observation and motion begins, 
the pen is lifted, and the paper stained 
finally, fondly into lyrical submission –

Who Will Pick

on me today
is fear gentle
none should be alone
but we feel that way anyway
every break another part of me
i talked to sad
in the shade
killed him softly
with these words
nothing past the skin
ladles and mild some
the unbegun

O Victim of Stagnant Times

(Revised and changed) 

O victim of time's rage,
Of today's ill times and age,
Victim of nurtured false image!

O ye much-eulogized Goddess,
Deemed powerful and loving no less,
Few care if ye do or not bless.

If ladles and the like ye wield,
Home-making thrusted as your field,
Ye know, as field it fails to yield.

What power can wield your pots and pans?
Still, ye wield ah what techno yen!
In varied fields ye vie with ken.

And yet, nor are ye much empowered,
Nor yet with due fair respect heard,
Society hast your equity soured.

With a million things to meddle,
Tireless upon a sad saddle,
With what vigour ye still juggle.

O ye Home-maker so handsome,
Look at still your hubby’s ho-hum:
He says: she!  She just stays at home! 
________________________________
This ode addresses the plight of women at large as so-called home-makers. The last line highlights this. A man, when asked as to what his wife was doing, says, 'she just stays at home! Alas, times change and still stay stagnant!

Ode | 19.12.2019 |

Twinkle Fairy

A sparkler with long little lashes,
this soaring star
...this twinkle twinkle little star.*

She ladles gravy
at the mini soup kitchen,
her teeny tiny wings clapping.

This fairy, a card shark,
deals out ham, turkey and tofu,
and sloshes cranberry out of a tin can.

At twilight she sings and fairy dust flies.
The cornucopia of November sneezes goodbye.

10/21/2019
November Twinkle Fairy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger

*Twinkle Twinkle Little Star originally a poem written by Jane Taylor

On the Front

Shuddering sounds echoed over the battle front
Smoke rose from the cannon’s barrage of fire
Distal vision blunted from the bursting bombs
Cries of pain drowned out from the wounded brave.

Photos of loved ones pulled out to view and hope
Weaken arms beckoning for rescue
Relentless efforts taken scrimmaging to a safe haven
Visions of the survival emerge in the silhouette dusk.

Wooden ammo crates brought to the front line
The wounded carried back by stretcher bearers
Water ladles dunked in pots to quench the parched
Trenches laden with shells and bloodstained garments.

Facing perils of war, the chosen brave remain in battle
Fighting   to protect their loves ones on the home front
Waging in conflict generates a heavy toll
Weighted by the loss of life and healing of those left behind

A Letter B Could Be a Bee

The timeless quantity of a pinnacle is palatable only to a plunging pliable posted picture. But posted pictures are neither explosive nor even emerging emery boards for boards are created to alight in chaos currents and who could ever really rely on a double decker train that is reliant upon trainers upon tracks in a momentum swerve. All must now nosedive into a pancake pile and take a kilo of ham, an array of lemons, and a mere teaspoon of sugar. Carry the ladle wisely at this time for ladles.are leaping limpets. And leaping limpets lining linkerage lean. Playful promises promised playing pudding puffed pine. No ha. Xxxxx complications xxxxx z at xerox point two on a mild bridge. X

In 1745

In 1745, the apothecary

Time stands still, peering at the past

The chemists lived making potions

Between dust and rats

Gadgets like compasses hung

Amidst glass vials and bronze knobs

Keys to hidden compartments

Silver ladles and candelabras

Joseph Black isolates CO2

An odd phenomena of “fixed air.”

The healers of the early ages

The fearful labelled witches

And, often then burned

Fhrifhfkdhfk

A caption is not a utensil. And highly recommended is the hiding away of the ladles at this time of the year. Frankly it is most often spoken of but never delivered. Delivery deliberations deemed done. And no wise word from a misted curtain of dust. It is rather preferable to be a fun fool in a tin with several characters than a jacknife in a crown. Savour not the savage. And a fattened form of a static void. Goodnight and goodbye to the morning and greetings. *** radishes ravish radiance. Xxxx centralisation oh wait till the riders arrive in much painted earthenware. Beads bring bracelets. And talk not of a bucket of concrete. Talk instead of little sandcastles prettily waving to the seahorses. Then the tide collects for to decorate is often to deassemble. And a coveted crab can often be discovered in a broccoli brooch. But never a brioche. So portray a pocket of pins as a great idea. Especially when ice skating. Snow snoring and wind up there in an arch breathing. Frantic fruits flying. And of course the singular most importance of one single marble stain. Xxxxx pestiferous pesticides.xxxxx pathological phone xxxxx climatologist Z

Totalitarian

A physical fort is a contact entity but a branch brain can bake many layers of bread thoughts. Thus reducing the need for manufacturing. When a pretty pickle faced person sings to birdsong it is said that it is wise to hold a broom in a semi circular formation. Hence a saying could be a long term statement. A crow nods in agreement. And nineteen silver fish prance on the waters. Cinematography of an otter world then. Good. Portly pork playing platinum puck. Fantastic news for bees. It is often said that lifting a tiny calf is to bring great fortune and blessings upon villagers. In a collaborative collection one should never eat coleslaw from a ladle as ladles are accustomed to soup. Soil is not an advertisement for diving into the ground. And imprisonment of a billion is merely to ensure the playgrounds of slugs and frogs last to span time. *** having fun are we? Hahahaha £% and often a mystic ¥ so call to a pointed ceiling then. *** ham and egg dance with the plate xxxx totalitarian *** z. Cvbf. X

Waterfalls

Headwaters,
Of the world’s flowing souls,
Cresting to flight and misting rainbows.

Everyone.
Searching for another.
To endure sacrifices behold,

Cascading
Heart’s ladles dip into
Basins of memories in plunge pools.

Waterfalls,
From the rapids of youth,
To the flat waters of golden years


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Contest: Some Form of Crystalline
Form: Verse : Parallelogram de Crystalline
11.02.14
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Received an NA in the above contest.

Entered in Edward Ebbs's contest: Only for those NA's on 01.23.16
The contest calls for an explanation of what the poem means to the author:

This poem is a summary of life.  
Headwaters=birth,
Cresting=growing up, 
misting=your effect on others and the world, 
'searching for another'=could be spouse, money, God, or just yourself, etc,        
Sacrifices=what you traded for what you wanted, 
cascading=life, time goes by so fast

Once you reach old age, hopefully your waters are calm (flat), and not still turbulent or made turbulent due to regret from choices and the trades you made in youth.

Fire In the Sky

Darkness carves night from day's glare with a half moon
smile under star-studded eyes. Faces glow as silver spoon
ladles the rapture of Venus. Fly Golden flames! Shower
the horizon before stars fall, languishing too soon.

Behold, the glory! Applaud the gallant trail of pewter
in wide-eyed dreams. Dancing in shadows, the suitor
from silver screen projects shooting stars. Piercing
hearts of lovers, metal shines, a welcomed intruder.

Brand each beating heart with the reigning night! Fuse
with the goddess of love before stars fade from sight. Cruise
on blazing chariot through evanescence of passion's mist,
and memories of spirit sky shall set fire to our muse.

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