Long Dining Poems
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My old lady dropped a needle
From the cloth she was sewing
A fart of zaracatan or tailor's fart buzzed
That, in the silence of the afternoon
Made me flee quickly from the sewing room.
The news from an old radio, Iberia brand
That my old man listened to very attentively
Made me stop in the dining room
Because it announced that because of fashion
Because of use and with dead dictator teachers
They want to implant sacred fascism
As if this were something new
Because since time immemorial
It appears in congresses and senates
And in all the processions of the temples.
-Old man, I said to him. The feast of sacred fascism
And sacred communism
Is the feast of the innocent peoples murdered.
All their governments
Are governments that allow crimes and deaths
Chairs allow.
He reprimanded me saying:
-Don't talk nonsense, scoundrel.
The universal history of human understanding
It proves it well:
That the unbelievers, morons and deluded
Dictators and serial killers
Have great appreciation.
I left home. And, in the street I stumbled
With a man who, by his appearance
Seemed to be taken from a winter's tale
Perhaps from the G. Adolfo Bécquer’s “Miserere”
Who, when spitting towards the sky
Almost the spit fell on my head
From this idiot.
He spoke to me, and said to me asking:
-What do you think about the fact that from America
We get a sacred fascist Donkey
Whoreman and multimillionaire?
I answered him sarcastically:
-It's not a donkey, it's an old bulldog
A waterman who takes fountain pens
And colored and black pencils
Who has made a cologne
With the smell of donkey sperm
That if you put it in your hair
Will give you the glow, fire, flame
Of his carrot head.
-Apparently, he answered me
They have made it to their taste and whim
A vihuela or guitar
Supposed machine for making money
For the use of criminals
Well, he wants to imitate the Argentine lighter
Who, with his chainsaw
Wants to saw the hole that fits
Between the legs of men
Especially women
Who follow him and adore him.
Eyelash soup
Get it while you can
It tickles all the way down
It makes you want to move and shout
When you eat two bowls
You get a wild urge to clean
Everything you have never cleaned before
You will move your oven out
Because that is what eyelash soup does for you
Hello, sir, how many bowls do you want?
Get it while it’s hot
It is not every day we make it
Difficult to get eyelashes you know
Eyelash soup
Get it while you can
For your mother and your wife?
What about you, sir?
What about a bowl for you?
Okay, sir, but let me tell you,
It puts a zing in your step that
was never there before.
Six bowls? Sure!
To go or will you be dining in?
What is brewing in kitchen? Flavour of Cooking? ....mmm.. it smittens.
Meals are memories......stories to be listened...
Those sound of aroma...were noisy....but they glistened...
Kneading of dough....bangles tinkling....banging of plates...cups clanking...
Perhaps it's the tap.....somewhere water is bouncing...
The brownies are baking....off goes the timer.....the oven is beeping.
Pop goes the toaster......mixer is grinding.
cooker is whistling....something smelling?....it's the milk spilling.....
smoke is pluming...steamer is boiling....
the hot pan sizzling.....it's oil and water wrangling....
the pancakes flipping....beaten batter thumping....
cream is whipping....veggies are chopping.... onion garlic sauting...
The 'orchestra' of kitchen......taste buds are singing..
The gallery of dining.... or a table of painting? ....
So audible....So visible...."Homemade Love" is cooking...
The recipe? my words are writing!!
Upper-class clowns, socialists whining from their crystal palaces.
Fine dining ... greasy-lipped pimps.
Lecturing the working man on global warming,
Who just topped off their private ride
with ozone-poking jet fuel piss-
Upper class clowns and socialists, always cawing about American gluttony.
The redistribution of wealth.
While wearing dead pelts around swollen necks and double chins.
Blood diamonds dangling from pampered pinkies.
Weeping crocodile tears about the evils of the Second Amendment.
While behind ((((gated communities)))))
their private security dogs armed to the teeth-
Upper class clowns and socialists.
Burning books, babbling about lack of freedom.
While strolling naked over minimum-wage-manicured lawns.
Dipping painted toes in minimum-wage-maintained pools.
Sipping minimum-wage martinis under a commies red dawn.
So eager to take you to task for not wearing their commie red masks.
Playing their little shrinking violet games.
Only half out of their socialist closets.
Hypocritical yapping -socialist autocrats.
bird songs drift through the tall Autumn trees and
photographs are floating in my mind and conversations echo
in the deep, crumbling amber gold leaves falling
an old man with a walker gets into a car with gnarled hands that I love
blanket on lap magnifying glass words blurred meaningless
raging river view with cold waves crashing, remember the pier Grandpa
ahead is the endless winding road to nowhere
I miss you most of all Grandpa when Autumn leaves start to fall
and horses gallop in the changing fields, wild and free
bird feeder on the deck, tweet and twitter, twitter,
staring for hours, Grandpa where did you go a little boy fishing off a pier
playing with your leaping dog hospital bed in living room
at the dining room table cannot hold the fork let me help you Grandpa
sparkling sun on the water kids jumping off dock fishing
long ago echoes falling red leaves... Grandpa Grandpa
water dripping, oh see the rain on the window blurred fragments fall apart
gulping for air cannot breathe the birds are at the bird feeder singing
darkness and silence peacefulness glittering sun
yes Lord I am ready . . . .
empty hospital bed empty wheelchair girl weeping at the window
I miss you most of all Grandpa when Autumn leaves start to fall
and horses gallop in the changing fields, wild and free
oh every bird song drifting whispers to me of you
_____________________________
April 26, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/Grandpa's Autumn
Copyright Protected, ID 16-782-873-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Inspired by the song:
Autumn Leaves, by Natalie Cole
For the contest, Golden Oldies, #2
sponsor, Teppo Gren
Second Place
Travel once on a haunted train,
a taste may make you lose your mind;
Railroad tracks leave the world behind
dismantled boxcars keep rolling;
Phantom mouths continue screaming,
they show you tickets that were signed;
Pure horror here is well defined,
you’ll visit with those who were slain;
Now you feel even more confined,
travel once on a haunted train;
Take the seat that you were assigned
surely they’ll be no arguing;
When a covered scab starts bleeding
don’t pick at it like you’re inclined;
You’ll visit with those who were slain,
to their curse pain is intertwined;
Get there early or they’re unkind,
a disturbing ride you will find;
Travel once on a haunted train
get lost in the way it’s moving;
Spontaneous can be soothing
you’ll visit with those who were slain;
The Dining car feels so refined,
relax the ghosts are on the grind;
Disobey? Idle hands they’ll bind,
probably should never have whined;
Restless spirits sit there waiting;
Travel once on a haunted train,
you’ll visit with those who were slain;
It’s real the nightmare is growing,
by the end you’ll be undermined;
It doesn’t matter if you’re kind;
Conducted by a mastermind
evil has now become streamlined;
Old clock ticks it becomes chilling
you’ll visit with those who were slain;
Travel once on a haunted train,
where they lived you’re now exploring;
Not really knowing how they died
only pieces have been outlined;
Racing down a track that’s unlined;
The length of this trip? Never mind;
You’ll visit with those who were slain,
strange feelings have you believing;
Your heart won’t ever stop racing,
travel once on a haunted train;
High anxiety undefined
for any relief victims pined;
Purity will become maligned
you’ll visit with those who were slain;
They were just trying to unwind,
surely safe where they were going;
Never thinking about running
to the obvious they were blind;
Travel once on a haunted train
see the dark nature of mankind;
You’ll visit with those who were slain
sitting back in a chair reclined
listen closely to tales enshrined;
As long as you keen on sharing
there will never be an ending;
Fallacy and the truth combined,
curious how we were designed;
Travel once on a haunted train.
Seagulls and Saints of Emmaus
David J Walker
I see Seagulls and Saints
And icy sills of Window’s
Restraints of blurred realities
And unaccompanied Complaints
But clearly every pray ends
In amends and Amens
And incitant constraints
I see syllables in Sawgrass
A syllabus of things passed
Down in hands of hand me down
Phases and phrases
Of false praise promises of
Devine Salutations extended to
The someone just behind me
I see sunsets and bad bets
In this and that complications of
Unfinished pages of equivocations
On the road to Emmaus,
(about seven miles from Jerusalem)
“Stay with us” we plead
for it is nearly evening and the day is almost done.”
So he went and broke bread
And then fled as their eyes opened.
And That’s when I saw
Seagulls and Saints
Dining in fields
of locust and wild honey
In Milford,* a mansion, (Grey Towers by name)
Has a feature that I just adore.
It's a setting for dining, outdoors, under vines -
Who could ever want anything more?
But that's just the beginning - a table was made
Out of stone, in a circular style.
As a kicker, the top, where the guests would expect
Wood or glass, they'd be off by a mile.
For the table itself is a water-filled pool
And the food served in bowls that can float.
With the surface reflecting the vines draped above,
For best setting, they'd sure get my vote.
Someone named it The Finger Bowl, likely because
The temptation to dip is so strong
That I'm certain the guests, in their fancy attire,
Could resist it for not very long.
Ah, how nice to be rich and indulge in your whims
While the rest of us have to make do,
Yet I'm sure if the means somehow fell in my lap,
I'd design my own Finger Bowl, too!
*Pennsylvania
'It's A Small World' Restaurant ~ Hudson Valley, New York
My restaurant makes sense, it's rational...
the food I serve is multinational;
selected dishes, tasty, lots of fun
served in a setting that's compared to none.
The dining room's a circular design;
the floor rotates around and walls align
with landscapes of fine countries of the world
so diners feel the ambiance while whirled.
From USA's hamburger treats with fries
to Ireland's rich, delicious shepherd pies,
deep-dish lasagna with Italian wine,
and bratwurst, spaetzle Germans think divine.
Some soul food choices cooked as African
American delights browned in the pan,
like chicken, southern fried with black-eyed peas
and collard greens, a dish that's sure to please.
My Asian menu's served with varied teas,
from Chinese favorites to Japanese:
Chow Mein, Dim Sum, fried rice and spring rolls too;
Sushi, Tempura, Niku Jaga stew.
Great Britain's fish and chips, beef wellington,
or escargot from France; all said and done,
my restaurant draws many people in
to choose their culture's favorite at whim.
And while they dine, the music plays along
selected part from each land's special song.
My restaurant makes sense, it's rational...
with food and spirit multinational.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: My Imaginary Restaurant
Sponsor: Silent One
Judged: 10/03/2016
Inspired by:
Garden Grill Restaurant - Epcot, Disney World, Florida
revolves around vibrant views from Living with the Land.
and
It's A Small World - Show, The Magic Kingdom, Disney World, Florida
Absolut a total blackout
Baileys a trifle sweet with a big kick
Courvoisier won't make you an expert
Drams of spirits to up lift you
Echelon for wining and dining
Fireball wow that was hot
Gin maybe a Sloe to help you sleep
Hpnotic will have you in a trance
Irish Car Bomb most explosive
Jack Daniels a old favourite
Kamikaze is hot so watch out
Lady Godiva drink it but remember to dress
Margaritas make your head spin
Negroni phew this one's hot enough to blow you up
****** only not too many or you will pass out
Panther a real sleek subtle drink
Quarter Deck don't fall off
Royce just don't forget the Rolls
Sake Bomb puts hairs on your chest
Tequila make mine a sunrise
UFO just don't get carried away
Vampire too many you will have nightmares
Wolfram creeps up on you keep a lookout
Xeres Cocktail a treat for goddess's
Yorsh too many you won't get home
Zombie over indulge its walking dead you will be