Long Concoctions Poems
Long Concoctions Poems. Below are the most popular long Concoctions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Concoctions poems by poem length and keyword.
219.
My 35th Leaf
Got thee from water
Sitting position
According to host
It's a herbal plant
But don't know this one!
From a rich maiden
In town she's famous
Ex-SB Member
A lady so fair
She's Joy Paredes
Fifth day of August
Year Twenty Thirteen
It is a Monday
Local holiday
It's our Town Fiesta
One of concoctions
Of rare drink to me
With other sliced fruits
First time to take it
Said it's fat water
Fiesta remembrance
Another rare chance
Still with Joy, Shamie,
Arnold & Almars
Was nice being there!
-08/05/2013
(Dumarao)
*My Toladas Collection
Crafty Christine has a magical way with a sewing machine
She is also great with crafts, she may be the queen
She puts things together in a fun, fine way.
Recipients of her gifts say “hip hip hooray!”
She can take old denim and make aprons that glow.
With hems of silver, they put on a fine show.
Her quilts are amazing, better than any we’ve seen.
Crafty Christine is the queen, yes, she is the queen!
Her concoctions and designs are legends around here.
We stand back, amazed, said her neighbors dear.
She can take a backyard and turn it into a park fit for a queen.
We are all impressed by our clever, crafty Christine.
I’m feral like a fox
misplaced in the
maroon mists
of wilderness,
only found in
woeful woodland.
My skin is blanketed
in crimson balmy
hyacinth feathers
from a
forsaken rainforest.
Misguided on
delusional paths,
where spring-tides
mirror liquified colors
of warm diamond tears
I’ve suppressed
behind ice blue sighs.
And I’ve seen
splintered petals
beneath thick-leaved
jewel orchids,
that surrendered
to greying leaves
on tainted twigs
and broken branches.
I’ve walked through
fields of thorns
where the
musky scent
of roses remained
a poison to
my aching soul.
So, why does it
feel like I’m chained
from vines of changes,
that suffocate
the sun within me,
crucifying the fragility
of premature
begonia beginnings?
Am I to follow
the darkness,
to cast away the evil,
constantly pushing me
into a cave of
cacophonous silence?
As I see beyond
the gossamer veil,
hiding sharpened talons
of treacherous eagles-
flying amongst
vicious vampires;
emerald foes
masked as friends,
feeding my conscience
with cruel concoctions,
oblivious to the truth,
that I am a bark believer
of marigold miracles.
So let the
steel black breeze
and the
faceless ghosts
of fleeting time,
witness how I
rise against
wicked wolves
lurking behind
stars within
a chiffon laced
canopy of nightfalls.
For, I am more
than the empty labels
you’ve placed,
like the shame,
I’ve buried beneath
lyrical lies drizzling
from vanilla skies.
I've slurped chili from border-to-border and betwixt the roilin' seas,
In fancy five-star establishments and greasy spoon eateries.
I've sampled some that has caused anxious gastrointestinal uproar,
But I'm a glutton for the stuff and always go back for more!
I'll eat chili with or without beans, it really matters not,
Jes' so there's plenty in the pot and it's rather spicy hot!
I'll even deign to open a can of concentrate in an emergency,
But I much prefer a great chef's favourite and secret recipe!
Many are the chili cook-offs I've sauntered my way through,
Tastin' gawd-awful concoctions, my face turnin' a reddish hue!
Those guys toss things in the pot about which I wouldn't care to know.
Their recipes are closely-held secrets and there ain't no quid pro quo!
Now, usually I can tolerate chili from any hot and spicy batch,
But, boys, I'm here to tell you that today I finally met my match.
Satan himself must have brewed that beastly olio!
I gasped, shed copious tears and my ears assumed a ruddy glow!
I'm told its a social blunder to crumble crackers in your soups,
But what care I? I ain't concerned about jumpin' through no social hoops!
Some of the glares I get from folks are embarrassin'ly chilly!
So what! Me worry? I relish crumbled crackers in my chili!
Granite-hearted politicians
tossing our lives and minds
onto election year bonfires.
Flicking tongues- fanning blazes
veiling their throbbing lies
building dead-end mazes.
"Fixing" problems of their own making...
slinging toxins without solutions
Masking our voices with concoctions.
Forcing us to breathe in beltway pollution...
We the citizens, turned into treadmill jesters.
Juggling dirty masks and happy pills.
One swamp is drained while the other one fills...
Maggots writhing over star-spangled meat.
Do we untether the talon of revolution
This is no time for silence and timidity.
Maybe it's a time for some reflection and prayer.
To turn yet another rosy cheek...
Where are the Gandhis in our time of need.
Where is the blossom of Jerusalem to cool burning seed?
When will we get to see our brave and selfless King?
To lift us high up from this pit of self-pity and greed.
Steer us gently onto the straight and narrow path.
Back into the golden-hearted dream...at last.
Always the plastic containers,
leftovers maturing like potted gardens
stacked in gelid wastes
where pigs are plumped with peppers,
goat spooned into onions and cabbage.
The polar remains of once tropical meals
transformed into undocumented river craft.
A curried hash so ad hoc that it could be
the flotsam of a slaughtering hurricane.
Zipper bags squelch under my groping hand;
stomach turning, carefully wrapped debris
speak to my fingertips
more clearly than any danger sign could.
Dinners and snacks survive
as half-eaten life-forms
buried behind a white doored crypt.
Some, a few only
may be resurrected, only to be boiled
into innominate concoctions
by a cook who once loved them
far too much.
Hot humid heatwave
Discomfort percolates long;
Sudden drenching rain
~~~~~~~~~
Sexy curvy strides
Vibrant elegance catwalks;
Hungry eyes focus
~~~~~~~~~
Two stray cats fighting
Furious body language here;
Small tigers draw blood
~~~~~~~~~
Ancient atmosphere
Old tea house in the city;
Strange calligraphy
~~~~~~~~~
Bus-stop commotion
Two drunken men in a brawl;
Tipsy foreign tongues
~~~~~~~~~
Temple bells sounding
Distant chanting rituals heard;
Prayer for our times
~~~~~~~~~
Late night wordplay moves
Missing lines stray on the verge;
Nothing much to say
~~~~~~~~~
Abrupt morning rain
Disrupts our simple routine;
Extra sleepy dreams
~~~~~~~~~
Here journeys begin
Trace cryptic constellations;
Dream upon a dream
~~~~~~~~~
Joy and peace appeal
Insidious intent conspires;
Clash of conflicts hurl
~~~~~~~~~
Little red-dot nation
Multi-lingual harmony;
Hypertensive calm
~~~~~~~~~
Beware of conflicts
Sensitive notions preside;
Keep the status quo
~~~~~~~~~
The Singapore wave
Echoes of the Kallang roar;
SEA Games here in June
~~~~~~~~~
Pretty play on stilts
Comely countenance lights May;
Orchard Road hazard
~~~~~~~~~
Listen to dawn light
Hurl dazzling colours that play;
Blurry eyes awake
~~~~~~~~~
Moment of madness
Reason clowning with passion;
Edgy concoctions
~~~~~~~~~
Being one with you
So many years of pure joy;
Love writes fond passage
~~~~~~~~~
May masquerades well
Contradicts odd intentions;
Old memories curl
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
12 May 2015
Singapore
killer (suicide) wrought living corpse
fruition, while she whipped various
nutritious concoctions in blender
to ensure minimal essentials to, I
readily admit) famished body in con
junction with applying vital supple
mints into bony gluteus maximus,
thru fuel injection which submissiveness
to acquiesce, and bare buttocks did
absolutely nothing to squelch death wish.
I inexorably overcame eating disorder
deadly hunger strike essentially constituted
declaration of independent control
despite horrendous craving for food
jabbed innards like a pike bifurcated
psychic division loosed, ousted, and
routed coeval grim reaper grippe
permanent goal lyeth drink seize abated
gnome hatter reminiscence blissful child
hood over flooded self made dike
revised engendering propensity
to catapult into abysmal emotional hole
before invention of Facebook, I
mentally clicked Like sparring sword
fight mailer daemons mortally wounded
slain, viz healthy development stole.
Imprimatur indelibly etched decades
after bout with passive exit from life
crimps psycho/social skills plus
stunted physical growth butcher knife
cuts affected mental health with panic
attacks and anxiety though existence
considerably less riddled debilitating
symptoms (such as vertigo, racing heart,
profuse sweating, nausea, irritable bowels)
courtesy prescription medications.
Please pardon mine assertion
I dared to surmise
familiarity with me,
an avid reader and prolific writer
(mainly to appease personal pleasure)
thus upon embarking upon
reaching out, your curiosity piqued.
Daily onslaught from schoolyard
punkish bullies ace
thus, storybooks provided
haven to experience liberation
cowardice, fearfulness, insecurity
low opinion regarding base
sic selfhood writ large upon,
this then diminutive carapace,
I firmly believe stunted growth
with me hallowed face
non-verbal passive behavior
ideal fodder did grace
for carnivorous, ferocious,
incredulous, and malicious preface
to young adulthood oppressing
quiet soul as if race
sing existence qua
Wounded Knee leg uss see
(possibly trace sub bull
during fertilization,
conception, and accruing
gestation within, what
would become a ways
trill womb did) fetal wretch.
Mailer daemons choked bravery
absent courage did endear
grievous inner mission
self-starvation parents did fear,
(which evolved via gradations)
omitting first one repast to share
then two, and finally declining
sustenance into a lad opting to die
butta as a licensed practical nurse
(LPN) this then puny guy
became top priority,
and my mother resorted
to whipping high
lee nutritious concoctions
in tandem with
giving me iron injections
Lee considered himself the most famous chili maker in the west
Added tobacco, Heinz 57, cinnamon, gave it a big taste test
We had heard about his concoctions, and could not wait.
The first bite was terrible, second bitter, the third one a bad fate.
What about this stew had given him a glowing review?
We could not keep our faces straight; this stuff was a big boo-hoo.
Lee waited expectantly, but none of us play poker.
His terrific chili had been replaced by his wife’s, she was a horrible joker.
When we got the straight stuff, it was worth the wait.
Lee was a fabulous chili maker; his concoction was quite great.
Why did you do that? We asked her, for the why we could not guess.
I was a bit jealous, said his evil wife, Miss Jess.