Long Bisque Poems
Long Bisque Poems. Below are the most popular long Bisque by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bisque poems by poem length and keyword.
In Dreamland's dazzling domain, where fairytales unfurl, A youth yonder yearned, with heart that hoped to hurl, Himself into the hinterland, a hero's journey to embark, To chase the chimeras of change, to leave a lasting mark.
Beneath the benevolent beams of the bright, bisque moon, He bundled his belongings, set to leave quite soon, With a satchel of secrets, a sword sharp and keen, And a map of the mind, where wonders had been.
He whispered to the whimpering wind, a wish to wander well, To find the fragrant forests where the fabled creatures dwell, Where dragons draw their dreams in the dusk's deep purple hue, And fairies frolic freely, under skies forever blue.
Through the thicket of thorns, thistles, and thriving trees, He traveled, tireless and true, with the greatest of ease, For in Dreamland's embrace, each step felt like a song, A symphony of solace, where surely he belonged.
He met a maiden there, with eyes that echoed eternity, Her laughter like liquid light, a melody of the free, Together they twirled through time, two souls in sweet tandem, In forests where the foliage formed a verdant diadem.
The alliteration of adventure, an artful, alabaster thread, Wove through their waking moments, in the land where they tread, Each day dawned with discovery, each night nestled in stars, In Dreamland, where destinies danced, beneath celestial scars.
But as with all fairytales, a twist of fate did appear, A villain, vile and vicious, who sought to sow fear, Yet our hero, with hope as his hardy shield, Faced the fiend in a fray, refusing to yield.
With the maiden by his side, they fought the fearsome foe, Their love, a luminous lance, in the land where dreams grow, And as the dawn's early light began to creep, The darkness disintegrated, and from the shadows, they'd leap.
Victorious, they voyaged, back to the realm of the awake, With the wisdom of Dreamland, a treasure they'd take, For in the heart of the hero, a truth had been penned, That the fairytale's finest tales are the ones we befriend.
So let this lay linger, a lullaby for the lost, For even in reality, dreams are a price worth the cost, And to the young, the brave, who still dare to dream big, May you find your own fairytale, in the night's silver rig.
When I was young, I had these dolls, in various guise and shapes,
The first was been the simplest; in it no single garment
or any ornament embedded, but only made of clay and heights four inches,
“Imperfect doll!” I exclaimed and clothed the doll in scarlet dress.
The second doll was only made of scarves of woolen rags in many color set and
tone,
“Imperfect doll!” I exclaimed again, and dangled some trinkets on its neck.
My third doll was more ornate and made of wood, which was slightly rough,
But its face and clothes were not alike from me; but of Japanese in a kimono
with a sash of obi around its tiny waist and wooden sandals on its feet,
“Imperfect doll!” I said, and furnished it with gesso.
Then my fourth doll was made of ivory, and clothed in simple bulk skin,
“Imperfect doll!” I said, and adorned its clothes with lace.
And my last doll was made of bisque from Germany:
fair-haired and fair skinned, until I noticed, some hairpiece fell as I untangled,
“Imperfect doll!” I exclaimed, and put a bonnet on its head.
And then I grew and see much of the world; more than my dolls, more than
myself;
Like a woman I met, who’s very fond of costly suits and polish gems
only to make cover of her unwanted aspects,
“Pity!” I said, “she hides her imperfection!”
Then this bachelor who’s tired and aged, but still aspires for lofty aims,
“Alas!” I said “he’s blinded much of his imperfection!”
And to this lady I knew, who’s young and fair but lost a man she dear,
and grieves to him excessively, with no more time to stare and glad to other
things,
“Alas!” I said” she mourns too much her imperfection!”
And for poor man I knew, complaining day and night to his misfortune,
“Alas!” I said, “he hasn’t done a thing to his imperfection!”
And to this dying man of severe illness, reproachful to his fate,
“Poor man”, I said, “he ought to know that death is not an imperfection.”
And lastly, when I meet someone who grief or find no peace and happiness,
“Alas!” I’ll say, “you ought to see that life is made of many imperfections!”
When I was young, I had these dolls, in various guise and shapes,
The first was been the simplest; in it no single garment
or any ornament embedded, but only made of clay and heights four inches,
“Imperfect doll!” I exclaimed and clothed the doll in scarlet dress.
The second doll was only made of scarves of woolen rags in many color set and
tone,
“Imperfect doll!” I exclaimed again, and dangled some trinkets on its neck.
My third doll was more ornate and made of wood, which was slightly rough,
But its face and clothes were not alike from me; but of Japanese in a kimono
with a sash of obi around its tiny waist and wooden sandals on its feet,
“Imperfect doll!” I said, and furnished it with gesso.
Then my fourth doll was made of ivory, and clothed in simple bulk skin,
“Imperfect doll!” I said, and adorned its clothes with lace.
And my last doll was made of bisque from Germany:
fair-haired and fair skinned, until I noticed, some hairpiece fell as I untangled,
“Imperfect doll!” I exclaimed, and put a bonnet on its head.
And then I grew and see much of the world; more than my dolls, more than
myself;
Like a woman I met, who’s very fond of costly suits and polish gems
only to make cover of her unwanted aspects,
“Pity!” I said, “she hides her imperfection!”
Then this bachelor who’s tired and aged, but still aspires for lofty aims,
“Alas!” I said “he’s blinded much of his imperfection!”
And to this lady I knew, who’s young and fair but lost a man she dear,
and grieves to him excessively, with no more time to stare and glad to other
things,
“Alas!” I said” she mourns too much her imperfection!”
And for poor man I knew, complaining day and night to his misfortune,
“Alas!” I said, “he hasn’t done a thing to his imperfection!”
And to this dying man of severe illness, reproachful to his fate,
“Poor man”, I said, “he ought to know that death is not an imperfection.”
And lastly, when I meet someone who grief or find no peace and happiness,
“Alas!” I’ll say, “you ought to see that life is made of many imperfections!”
Flaming steaks and ice cold drinks
you thought good food had become extinct
until you ate here and gave us a nod and a wink.
Appetizers galore with soft stringy cheese sticks, artichoke hearts deep fried
with a taste of parmesan cheese and a dip to please.
bacon wrapped shrimp you might want to frame, seared sea scallops that
make you want to gallop, stuff mushrooms that'll make you croon, escargot
and baked claims as you eat them you'll definitely leave a stain
Ice burg lettuce or romaine with fresh dressing all homemade.
Lobster bisque soup with a deep rich taste if you don't like
seafood try Tomato bisque instead, French onion soup either a bowel
or cup just don't be a glut.
Your auntre is about to start your just warming up
hot garlic bread with a wonderful spread, Chris's secret recipe if he
told you how he made it you'd be dead.
Succulent steaks porterhouse, ribeye, serlion, T-bone and of course filet
add garlic or lemon butter to dip, 'hooray!'
Chicken flew by giving you legs and wings deep fried
want a little less oil try the fresh grilled chicken
fit for a royal.
Hamburger, cheeseburger just choose your cheese and of course
add bacon please. Want an egg on top sunny side up
when you squeeze the bun it will definitely erupt.
The beef is so fresh the cows stopped mooing when
it hit the grill with no sign of stress.
Vegetable melody or a little broccoli please.
The potato why so many things I can do
baked, French fried, homefried or even mashed
some round or shaped like a torpedo.
Baked fish Talapia, Flounder or even Sea Bass
'Oh' so fresh. We have an aquarium in the back,
just teasing we use a pole and bait at our near by lake.
End the evening as you sit back with a luscious sweet dessert
but please don't drool bibs are provided if needed
or even a paper sack on your way out.
Just remember as my Daddy always said,
'You all come back now you hear, friends are like family
and we hold you all dear!'
Coming Soon: The new "Fire and Ice Grill and Pub"
T Reams
My grandfather on my father’s side, was a pecker-toothed sidle who raped his
daughter when she was just ten. He threw down vodka from an eternal well and took my father out to buy prostitutes when he was just fifteen... It was here that my father first learned the true value of a woman. Mercifully, a permanent steel brace got loose at the Pennsylvania steel mill where he worked and crushed Grandfather into a pool of blood and urine.
My father was a dried seed rattling in an empty gourd… he had grown up
hardened with leather-stiff roots exposed too long in the sun. My mother knew
that he wanted to rape me, so I kept guard with knives and ran away whenever I could. I went to bed fantasizing how to sneak into his bedroom and kill him with
the kitchen carving knife.
My older brother hadn’t adjusted well to the chaos either, so he put all his expectations and dreams into a matchbook and burned down three houses in the neighborhood. He secretly, robbed his friends of their valuable coin collections. He grew weary and confessed and was taken to a local Mental Hospital for evaluation. At fourteen, I needed a good stiff drink! I was transferred to two different foster care homes and grew up like a weed.
My mother Dolly was an auburn haired porcelain bisque, matt finished doll from a
discriminating collections of dolls... her father's dolls. She was not a witty woman
but silent, afraid and alone. She gave birth to three children who grew up like
wild dogs while Dolly made Betty Crocker weekends and otherwise TV dinners
until she grew tired... very tired.
One day the brothers were playing with Dolly tossing her back and forth…
like a ball, one to another... until we dropped her. Fragile, she shattered into pieces
on the gray cement patio. My father came out determined to put the pieces back
together but clumsily, he repeatedly stepped on Dolly crushing the refined
fragments into powdered dust.
Early morning in the Pottery Room,
I gather my tools, bits and pieces of
heating coil, broken and brittle.
The kiln still warm from last firing,
but empty now,
I walk in, turning on the switch that
heats the coils as I pass through the arch.
Where are the bad spots?
I await the coils to turn red.
I see a gap, find a piece of broken coil
and push it into the gap with a wood
handled screwdriver.
Another and another
each chunk repairing a break, melding the
coils together, for now.
The kiln is getting hot.
Each break is fixed.
I back out and turn off the unit.
Next firing should be better, all
elements working.
I can focus now on my Raku ware.
Three small vases fired to bisque.
I have marked them with glaze.
One shows signs of having gotten
salt from another's glaze.
At the outside kiln, red hot,
I lower the pots carefully not to
touch one another, setting them gently on the pegs.
This firing is not long.
Once hot, the glaze shining, smooth, I lift them
and drop them carefully into the trash can
filled with dried leaves.
Ignited, the leaves smoke and smolder.
I'll leave them there until the fire goes out.
Once they have cooled,
I can wipe and polish their surface.
Amazed at the red and violet
colors that come out against the matt white smoke,
and the black shiny spots from the salt.
No artist can duplicate these creations,
like archological finds 10's of thousands of years old.
I see the Zen potter
making a pot for Tea Ceremony.
I hear the Zendo chime,
smell the smoke from his firing.
As doves rise with the smoke,
we melt together, bonded by tradition and
ritual, as we polish our pieces like a tile.
learning how to dehydrate food was easy
but it was so hard to convince them
to get over the need for meat.
learning dehydration was easy: expensive but easy.I couldn't forget I called my Lover, she liked doing thing with me so I found it easiest to try recipes where she would taste and motive me to improve my performances. I made up terms as I would go along.One day she made the statement that She could coach a team of men to support her marrying me: due to my lack of concern for her needs as I had fallen in love with my new dehydration machine. She said that she was tired of employing the people of Newfoundland and Labrador to voice her concerns.I didn't get the joke.
I began a cycle of thought believing I could invent a new type of seasoning or at least create a new way to uses buddhas hands,chilis ,garlic, lemon grass,milk, sour cream,potatoes, chives onions and shucked clams, and fish as base for a broth bisque. I then added the gelatiny fat from pig feet stock.I was look ing for a full bodied taste. Something I could feed a soccer team on a cool spring morning, and by lunchtime they'd beg me for more.She inspired me this with her lewd joke: and I felt ashamed until one day, I had made a croutons from 3 loaves of day old bread: The garlicy buttered bread sprinkled with dried parmesan cheese complimented the soup so well that I called people over to taste it. People loved the smokey baconish-garlicy, suttle fishy taste of the creamy bisque were the tender potatoes and onions a combined to create a smooth soothing satisfying herb topped delicacy that wasn't kruel to the palette: but more fullor to tickle the need for more.
Chef 's Winter dishes are simply delicious, not too much oil or cream.
Rich or plain, taste tested to perfection, tiny portions sometimes steamed
He starts the day with freshly squeezed orange juice,coffee and toast.
And embarks on a fitness journey along the seaside in Adelaide.
Today he is going to create a seafood bisque inspired by his walk.
This morning whilst walking along the beach he noticed the outgoing
Tide and outlet left a long groove with definite honeycombe indentations
snaking parallel to the shore for a distance near a giant swirly starfish.
From an aerial perspective it looked like a Christo dragon , hardened ripples
representing the scales and the sometimes swirling patterns here and there
where the giant Sea-dragon moved, slithered or shifted about in the sand .
The Sea-Dragon must have laid there for some time before he disappeared
as his scales were deeply impressed and clearly embossed in the firm sand.
A clear body of water flowed in the center of this outlet echoing the scales
shimmering and gleaming with sunlight smoothly on the groove's surface.
Upon seeing this ,Chef etched it in his memory and began to mentally gather
ingredients for his creation.How could he give his bisque the dragon flavour?
Grilling the whiting, prawns and scallops with butter laced with honey , chilli,
cardamon + crushed nuts , garlic, a dash of brandy.......
then adding chicken stock , lime , thyme ,cracked pepper , rock sea salt and
finally pureeing the lot with a splash of coconut milk.
Even the invitation
Is worth more than
Gold.....
The Bainez National Open Invitational
Battle Royale
20 men from Wrestling Organizations Around
WORLD
Fully Independent Wrestling Presents
The Boss Galas of Galas
"Crown and Glory"
Sponsored by Cold One Beer Company
Moonshere Entertainment Sponsored
MainEvents
Five Champions Will Wrest for the
Independent Worlds Title
Elimination Style
The winner to Unify title with
Crown
BattleRoyale winner will wear the Bainez
National Worlds Title
Which will be
Unified in the MainEvent
SupperClub Style Award Ceremony the night before
The Ole CordWood Areana SupperClub
Were the Each combatant will cash in there
Invitation which will sold for charity
Songs by The Rubato Orchestra
Eat dance and enjoy.
Tickets on sale at Admittance Place!
I've got a dish of killifish
I wish to eat that silly fish
Baked, or fried in peanut oil
Roasted, dried, or let to boil.
Make me a star-gazy pie
Take me to the Catfish Fry
Lead me to the China Sea
Feed me hermit crabs and brie.
Help me out with rainbow trout
Salt and thyme and wedge of lime
Filet of sole, or snapper red,
Served up whole, or just the head.
Meals of eels caught on reels
You're the star with caviar
Butter clams served with yams
Can't say no to salmon roe.
Tuna eyes baked in pies
Oh so daring pickled herring
In the lurch for snails and perch
Ring the bells for cockle shells.
Canned sardines on toast with greens
Sturgeon, sprat, and stuff like that
Grouper, pike, that's what I like
Smelt and bream that make me dream.
Cajun shrimp for my new pimp
Lutefisk and lobster bisque
Flying squid and yellowfin
Silver carp and capelin.
Give to me a plate of oyster
Eat them raw, that way they're moister
Tilapia and tiger prawn
Eat them 'til my hunger's gone.
Hake or krill would be a thrill
Bass and shad will make me glad
Tasty crappie makes happy
Give a nod to Greenland cod
Oo! I'd like a northern pike
Barramundi served on Sunday
Grouper, alligator gar,
Halibut or no cigar.
Amberjack atop hardtack
Pan-fried kipper for the skipper
Mackerel, tasty as hell,
Lox and mullet down the gullet.
Kokanee or marlin blue
Arowana, bowfin too
Bring to me your soups and stews
Sing for me the dogfish blues.