Long Drippings Poems
Long Drippings Poems. Below are the most popular long Drippings by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drippings poems by poem length and keyword.
This is who I am
My name is Stanislaus J. O’Connor
Born on April 17th in Belfast, Ireland
Youngest of eight children
My father admired the Polish people
The way they fought
During the last Great War
When the odds were against them
Wanted me to be strong
Like them
So he named me Stanislaus.
I carried that name
Not without some teasing
Took it in stride
Solidarity came along
Organized by Polish dock workers in the 1980’s
Ended Communist rule
Father remembered stories
Of 1910
When ten thousand dock workers went on strike
Closed Belfast down
Taught the Brits a lesson.
Young, unemployed and drunk
I saw an artist friend of mine
He worked on me all day
Not stopping except to wipe the drippings on my back
I felt no particular pain
Jut laid there flat on my stomach
Waiting
When it was over
I had the color and imagery
From the tattoo
Of a Polish Cross.
Listened to the people
Took to the streets
In the struggle
Against the Brits
One night
Strangers jumped out of the shadows
Put flashlights to my eyes
Stood me up
Led me out
In handcuffs.
At HM Prison Maze I was kept in a small cell
Occasionally let out to walk in the prison yard
One summer afternoon
I took off my shirt
Paddy asked me what’s that on your back
Polish Cross I said
Murmur of voices
Fellow inmates hesitated
Someone near the wall broke the silence,
“Let him be. God is in every cross.”
In despair a cell mate said he couldn’t take it anymore
Afraid that he would die in prison
Recalling words
From an old Catholic catechism
I said
“No man can learn what his heart cannot hold“.
I made up the rest
“Tell God what you stand for
He’ll understand
And forgive you.”
Ten years later
Dragged from my cell
Feet barely touching ground
I was released on amnesty.
Coming home
Family met me
Open arms
Some traveled from faraway
Felt good
To touch warm hands
Climbed to the top of Cavehill
Seagulls
Glide in lazy circles
Twelve hundred feet above sea level
Overlooking Belfast
From its heights
The world can be seen
Across a wind swept ocean of dark memories
Of what once was
My youth.
Now sits the redeye gravy in the pan
It certainly is not at all like jam
Mom made it years ago for her man
Fry some country ham, pour coffee bam
Never knew why it was called redeye
Then my grandson informed me just why
Men who had been out late had bleareye
Who looked like they had been drip-dry
I always thought that it was because
It had dark red color from drippings
In my home it got an applause
I thought that it was God's blessings
I learned my husband doesn't like it
My grandson doesn't like redeye gravy
When I make it only make a bit
Always redeye gravy left heavy
Today decided to place on grits
Feed to the cats see if they like it
Now cat is running around won't sit
I guess that caffeine gave them lift
How far to the Sun
so rise
Son of God risen towards the skies
on this day that you departed
left the world brokenhearted
yet alive he rose from the dead
sun and brightly call signs over and over
again it is a lesser light lesser yet
is the moon that shines bright at night
the Son has risen so rise
Father God has created all things
the universe mother and within this rain okay
in rainbow trains to request so spins droplets
The rainbow shine drippings of the water flow
the clouds the second heaven to the third
Washing my heart doing so impart
Let It Rain it rains the reign God Aon Jesus
has risen but yet He's coming back again
He shall gravity lower Himself down with his angels great
Judgment and His time in His appointed time
Amen
5/22/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2022©
Gobble the breast if you can get it off the leg.
What is going on? Asked Pirate Captain Sleg.
Honey Butter dressing will be great on the finger.
Thigh drippings will make you want to linger.
The platter looks dirty. It needs a dry rub.
Where is the desert for the delicate club?
Here is a bit of sauce. Please cover the stuff.
If you swallow the turkey, we will show you a buff.
I was running naked, not understanding any of the lines.
I dressed rather fast, and picked up my fork tines.
Gobble the breast, what exactly did it mean?
Why was it on the leg? Was the conversation keen?
Come here and cover the deserts, while I do the turkey baste.
Caress Aunt Martha’s arm, so she can make the banana paste.
I will swallow some of the chocolates for there are way too many.
If you want some cake and cookies, there simply are not any…
21/2cups of flour( self rising)
2 tablespoons of cornstarch
2 whole eggs+ 1 yolk
2 Tablespoons of lemon juice
1 Tablespoon of Gin
1/2 Teaspoon of lemon zest
1 cup of bread crumbs
1 &1/2 cup of buttermilk
1 Tablespoon of cayenne pepper
2 tablespoon of dried chives
1 Teaspoon of salt
1 Table spoon of dehydrated onion
1 Tablespoon of garlic powder
1 Tablespoon of Paresean Cheese
3 cups of shucked Manoes
6 cups of oil for deep frying
mix all ingredeints
minus the clams
create a batter
add more or less to
create a sticky consistant batter
smooth
dip Manoes in the batte
and deep fry until golden brown
serve from a bed of watercrest
small cunks of deseed watermelon
crumbled feta
and fried onions with crumbled bacon
lettuce, fried green tomatos
and a vinagerette
serve with tartar sauce
Enjoy!
Winter’s Passion’d Heat
“Snowflakes gather in crystalline drfitings”
Lifting your hair, kissing the nape of your neck
Warm flesh waits on tippy toe desires
Lips brush skin, lower beyond silver chain clasp
Sighs slip past moon shadow echoes
“Frost bitten warnings fuel whistling winds”
Candlelight flickers in illumined frenzy
Strong hands caress velvet curves, moving
Satin skin excites at the touch, shivering
Mouths meet across milky shoulders
“Frost coatings mingle, drafty windows squeal”
Reaching delicate fingers, soothing touches
Passion emanates from quivered partings
Honey drippings moisten, sweet syrup yearnings
Whispered moans tantalize, moments ignite
“Wind chimes sing frantically behind icicle curtains”
Down pillow yearnings, grasped, held
Eyes look back, smiles meet motions
Held closer, breathless exhales on dreams exposed
Deeper finds the pristine moment
“Algid gusts wail through frigid echoed alleyways”
My name, loudly sung, enchanted nirvana
Faster still, bodies in charged friction
Two become one, senses explode, flooding oasis
Eruptions quake bodies in perspired heap
“Arctic blast pierces sweltering pleasures”
Ecstasy sings in midnight harmonies
Melodic as the polar pulsations beyond
Numbed in devotion’s destinations
Wondrous snowy white blankets chill the world
“As our love provides winter’s passione’d heat”
Good night soupers.
She talks to blackness
Madness running in the night
I follow her trial through
Field and wood
My trigger finger heavy, good
Pshow the twenty two fires
Blawo blawo the shot gun calls
I can hear her breath
Collapse, revive, collapse
Revive running for her life
Shoeless, naked
Her bare flesh ripped by brush
The hunt is on
The hunt is good
I fire into the darkness
Gauging her distance
I begin to circle. Circle
I cut her with my hatchet
Right in her throat
She wants to scream
But only bubbles belay her bereavement
Blood drips from the hatchet
Like the wax drippings coagulated
My pet is dead!
Calls the madness from the darkness
The urge is calling
Already pecking for me to bleed them
Hiding in the darkness
It consumes me, coughing
Collectively choking my breathing
What madness is this?
Down on one knee
Chocking on the blackness
My love is gone! So what is life?
Meaningless.
When I think of dessert, you come to my mind
How delicate__ flaky crust__ crumbles with a touch
Then on the inside those apples slightly tart spring
Forth bursting out of the crust that held them there
Ummmm...those fried apples pies of yore
When mother fried them in no less than side meat
You know those drippings of it fried earlier
Do you remember also those pies, my dear?
Have not eaten one in years but what does doctor
Know about health__daddy lived to be ninety-seven
Mother lived those years too and what about Aunt
Euvela she lived to be ninety-eight ate
Bacon everyday of her life and eggs
I think that I will cook some of those Fried Pies
Enough to share with everyone on soup
Can you catch a whiff of those apples cooking?
This evening called passion
“Moonbeams now blushing ‘pon soft heavens ashen,
love flowing deeply, this evening called passion”
Ensconced in effervescent lingerings
sifting through moonlit seams
Soft flavored drippings of ecstasy
melting slowly within the fever
dancing across my skin
as your fingers trace
the outline of my deepest secrets,
mysteries lodged in seductive breaths
Your love my opiate, addictive enchantment
Stimulated senses heightened
Moon drenched quivers, silver lined
adrift on satin sighs
Floating delirious within
hypnotic eyes,
seducing my mind in eternal desires
Trance infused emotions
cling to each nuance of mesmeric longings
Swirling smoke ringlets
penetrate stardust cosmos,
culminating in sensual motions
atop gilded sheets
drenched of our rapture,
etched in euphoria
Two silhouettes entwined
on this evening called passion
Good night Soupers
Have a great weekend
See you on Monday
The heart doesn't show it's beating from the outside looking in;
Those of the domestic violent also sometimes doesn't show it's wounds;
PAINTED DRIPPINGS OF RED
One of the deadly sins, war, wrath dishonor amongst the brethren;
My heart leaps for joy, in the praise and worship of my Lord;
SOIL RUNNING DOWN THE STREETS DEAD
My mine is fixed abundantly for the service of my Father God;
Reach up, reach out, witness
For the coming for of the hearts of God's Children
AWAITING, DEBATING THE WORKING OF CHRIST
Jesus soon will be parting the skies;
One day soon Jesus shall witness us as we fly:
HEARTS OF GOD'S CHILDREN WILL SOON FLY-
11/7/2022
Written words by James Edward Lee sr. 2022©