Long Braising Poems

Long Braising Poems. Below are the most popular long Braising by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Braising poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Tune In


Who says Love-braising is easy

Growth and affinity
crave

An elusive trigger
A split second of blast

Courage to proclaim.  Mindfully.  Courage to launch
Courage to ache

Courage to apologize.   Awakening.  Courage to accept and respect
A long walk to forgiveness

Without my consent
It hurts

Dismantling a dam Inside fatherhood
Ouch
It hurts
Surprise attack dismayed extrovert and introvert

Tune In, QQ
Again 

Tune In
Pace self-resilience
Allow vulnerability
But 
never mistreatment

Ouch
It hurts

Pause on the edge of open sea
Oh, my darling compassionate man
Painful at times, yet 
Surprisingly liberating

Wisdoms slay inner obstacles
Honor and duty endow survivorship
Clinging to cherish deep feelings
River of energy flowing unobstructed

June gloom
Astonishingly spoken
‘I love you’

Love-braising is an insight job
Tune In


Premium Member Playing With Fire

One impulsive Saturday morning in Autumn 
Quail eggs take all the blames
		Quail eggs from Laguna Farmer’s market

Unspeakable -  what to do with these weird eggs?   Later 
that night, FIRST 
home-made dinner 
was born.

…. recipes, Bill Briwa, olive oils, herbs, wines ……
        Raw Appreciation, Organic Acceptance

Flooding the kitchen space; his/her life space.
                                              sizzling
                                    boiling
                         roasting
                  braising 
        simmering
occasionally, a few drops of blood spiced up TLC

Grilling, oh yes, Hallelujah  Outdoor Grilling – His joy, his toy!!!

Playing with unregulated fire, 
               Men, Grill, Fire  -- Don’t ask.    

My contributions:  chopping, seasoning, stirring, dancing to 20’s music
			   back-scratching 

“need just a touch of pepper”, I expressed
                           “I shall send my mom to you”
“Hmmm, superb sea bass”, “too many savory flavors fighting each other”

My Sweetie chef laughing mercilessly, he declared
                 My girlfriend becomes a food critic.

Premium Member The blue oyster

It was just like before riding my bicycle along the beach my tire rolls right over a star fish braising bump and scratches on my knee the gulf was thirsty for human blood this year as the manatees floated belly up the pelicans shivered with empty beaks again the school of sharks gathered while the dolphins danced chattered sea urchin washed ashore I put salt water on my wounds feeling sad that the sea turtles rushed back to sea unaware of the mexican oil spill there home covered in black tar I walked my bike passed the book store just in time for bob crab shacks oyster bar funny the owner yelled come on in gal why you looking so blue in that moment the blue oyster became my signature name on the beach the sun shined the breeze blew softly over the nape of my back silence abode over the Caribbean Sea
Form: Lento

Premium Member Woman of God

braising thoughts arose as my lifeless 
body huddled in a fetal position i' d completed 
thirty hail mary's an yet my macerated flesh 
lay still as the sun began
to settle embedding itself almost oh how vain i was 
thinking merely of beauty 
my beauty taken in an instant on impact 
how selfish i was addressing the father how dare you 
why this isn't living an yet you promised
i shall die and live i doted on you believing every word 
like a faithful child twitching kicking the paramedics
oh what a bad patient scolding the rescue workers 
for saving my retched life
do they not see the father in view are they blinded 
by the light the sullen hue 
that consumed my being torn flesh from my face 
ah in my lowliness my wisdom edified 
as st anthony strolls by in a distant glare mending me 
this sereme endeavor captured 
my solace for peace although there was no peace 
in my living i'd wandered deeply from earthly realms 
a gentle peace in my dying bestowed me 
i glanced at the road that swallowed me whole
leaving no sign of life it was then st theresa whispered 
you are his child quickly i responded 
oh no ma'am i'm not with child thinking only of my figure 
she smiled a warm glow and whispered yet again
you are his child she gestured to another woman 
st cicelia quite childlike to my eyes 
she chanted you are woman you are child 
do you understand i responded amidst my sufferage
for the sake of his sorrowful passion  
i over stand his divine mercy

Premium Member Poetry has died

Poetry has died replaced 
with raining madness cunning 
thoughts battered heart 
bickering minds the absence 
of simplicity a calming time 
the laughter of Amos and Andy 
reading of Langston Hughes the 
braising nesting belligerent from
Ernest Hemingway mingling with
this fondness of Robert frost 
the bold sassiness of Maya Angelo 
mastering the crafty sinking mental 
turmoil of Virginia woolf needing to 
die to be heard cradled beneath 
painful sighs of Emily Dickenson 
brillantly craving morbid hints of a 
pastel death blooming tangible 
lessonscovenant only by dramatic 
hues canvases Jane Austin's youth
bestowing the missing pieces to 
caressing thought of the creative 
mind separating emotions embracing 
thee enchantment of the  galloping 
Greek muses within a moment of 
silence poetry is simply no more
Form: Naat


Troubling the Soul

Troubling the soul
When all things seem to be untold, left to one day unfold.
To visit and no one is there. No one seems to care. What has become of you?
 What has become of me? Troubling souls innermost parts, battling two halves, of an equation. Half man, half amazing, braising are these thoughts of unyielding might.
Blurred sight, nothing seems to be right.
 Slight touch of rough withholdings, days end with a scolding.
Holding on to you, but realizing you can’t be kept.
For every step taken forward, there is an equal amount of steps that are backwards.
Troubling the soul
When the one that consumes your thoughts fought so hard to maintain that inner vibe.
Now launches an attack as your soul dies.
This twist, that turns should you be concerned at how it felt, the day when all was dealt
That final blow
To let go, to see it all crumble right before the ending. Blending all that once was you.
What do you do? When your hands are tied and your heart has flown away?
What is left to say? No more I love you, just days of as we lay continues to play, in the background.
You have been played the fool. Left in a pool of your own drool, suspended animation faced with annihilation, retaliation ending with meditation, the calm after the storm.
Troubling the soul

Premium Member The Horseman

This is for you big guy 
somewhere way up 
in that beautiful sky  
sweet oleanders danced 
the universe collided 
sweeping you throughout 
this grand galaxy soaring 
the wide open granduer
finding me writing 
my muse wandering 
the shooting stars 
igniting the brilliant 
illuminating hues 
twinkling beacon lights 
creating a canvas of prose
between the meeting of the 
minds why we meet again 
Harry the Horseman gazing 
into the Rodanthe watching 
the braising stallions sabals 
galloping covering the seaside 
fond memories arouse 
rest well my dear friend 
until we meet again

Premium Member The Lantern at USF Neurology traumatic brain injury and me

Divided under the cities 
streams mapping decisive 
endings while toiling about 
the beginning boldness 
reaching for braising 
characters galloping 
amidst a certain angst 
we’ve devoured nothingness 
and opened the sky 
with truth thrashing 
tempers meaningful tools 
craving an emptiness 
above the continuous 
Bayshore a quiet offering 
pelicans landings sinking 
yet surrounding the 
jaded light house that 
withered to soon exposing 
only the dim lantern leaning 
to one side still brightening 
the rippling waves 

Written by Yolanda Nicholsen 
April 7th 2014 

getting injections 
for traumatic brain injury
Form: Masnavi

Confit?

Affirmation of there desire
to be together
where what moment 
causes others to demysterfy
such togetherness
evidence of a wedding plan
a detailed relationship
us together
through everything
nevermind the weather
catch a glance and mingle

the orange groves of Naples
where the warmth of
a wintery sky
might inspire other
to love and chore
to Love.

Olive oil fused with orange oil
and Garlic oil

A brine for a duck cooked in duck fat
4 jalapeno peppers unseeded diced
cumin
paprika
5 tablespoons of minced ginger
2 cups of brown sugar
1/4 cup salt
1 garlic bulb halved 
cumin
paprika
milk
wine 
bourbon
onions
chopped fennal bulb
marinafe all night
pan fry duck in duck fat
until golden brown
remove grease from duck, in aa bowl add
2 sticks of butter
1/2 cup of truffle oil

in a bowl season flour
with bread crumbs
cayenne pepper salt
paprika
garlic powder
onion powder
ginger powder
1/3 cup of parmesan cheese
dip duck in butter mix
dust the dusk in flour mix
add to baking pan
and bake duck braising with duck fat and butter and oil
crisp potato's in the fat


they meat glued some duck breast and slow cooked the meat
and sliced it on a pro slicer to they stuffed zucchini
with ham swiss cheese and thinly shaved duck breast.
Form: Bio

Premium Member The Emptied Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen

My mind hungered the untimeliness 
of shattered existence above all grave 
battered thoughts sullen whispers quiet 
hushes I employed to write to empty 

oneself into an invisible crowded realm 
ecstasy of the soul craving my hearts 
glow the brilliant hue that send signals 
down my spine as if I'd swallowed the sun 

capturing necessity illuminating fields 
of joy my bones cringed beneath my flesh 
holding my pen I'd write of sadness madness 
courage and mirth a rapture awaiting newness 

fanatically so the meeting of the minds shall 
gather in spite my absence an yet I invited 
myself deep inside criticism once again
vaguely I'd remember a time of calm 

creating prose and song shaking off
writers block like a bad poisoning 
chiseling away at a masterpiece hidden
within the braising wall I'd cleverly built

around myself protecting my craft my work
exposing my scars revealing emptiness
very closely dancing with insanity uncertainty
merely unfolding leaf's binderies of truth of love

Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen

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