Long Eating Poems
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Oreo and the seer
Oreo was deep in thought one morning about Leo the neighbourhood bully stealing his food. How does he let himself into the house by sneaking in some way or other when I’m not looking?
Instantly he remembers Snitch the Seer.
Snitch was a wise old lion who lived in the neighbourhood. He was famous for foretelling the future and advised folk on how to go about their business. In exchange for his wisdom, he expected a tasty treat.
So, Oreo went along to see Snitch. Snitch was busy sorting his cozy little corner he has on a desk for clients.
“Ah, it’s you Oreo, how can I help today”
Oreo didn’t waste any time he quickly took out some biscuits and handed them to Snitch.
“thankyou” said Snitch.
“Well Leo keeps stealing my food, I don’t know when Leo will try to come for my food again. Can you help. I don’t know how he gets in.
Snitch put on his tin hat and closed his eyes for a moment and stood up holding a wooden spoon.
“Leo is going to sneak in with the food delivery today, but be careful he is going to hide in the shadows until you walk away from your bowl”.
Oreo didn’t waste a minute he left Snitch and went and hid in a corner waiting for the food delivery.
Sure, enough there was Leo sneaking in. He was hiding in the delivery bag. Oreo could see his head hanging out.
Oreo quickly jumps and grabs him and battles with Leo; there was a lot of biting and punching. They were fighting in the doorway and into the chair in the room. There was a lot of dust flying, but Oreo wins. Then drags Leo out of the house and Leo falls on the door mat. Oreo quickly closes the door.
Then drags Leo out of the house and Leo falls on the door mat. Oreo quickly closes the door.
Little Oreo was pleased with Seer Snitches advice and had a lovely evening eating his food and relaxing.
(This is a fictional poem)
I'm a country boy and I eat a lot of beans.
I've gotten so fat that I'm about to bust right out of my jeans.
The problem with eating lots of beans is that it makes me fart plenty.
I don't know how many times I fart each day, I'd say about twenty.
If I'm with someone else, I always pass the blame.
I farted while I was at a restaurant with my girl and I said "Sally, you should be
ashamed."
I fart over ten thousand times each year.
My stinky farts have finally caused me to lose my friends just like I feared.
I went to a doctor and begged him to tell me how to stop farting and how to lose
my big gut.
He said "Stop eating so many beans you idiot."
Form:
O tree hum! O tree slow! Under I, do leaves
of browning — descendant of dervish dust sleeves
and landing, upon my impoverished wan head.
A keen sense of failure of deep Autumn dead.
Like yellowing pages from book of the ill,
refuse from the oak’s perch alights on my sill.
And yawning, so tired with such aching, I grate
my teeth with strong vigor, thus feeling the weight
of boredom — there’s trembling beneath these poor nails.
The scratches of chalk drown out screams from my sails.
And rain and, yes, dark clouds, descend o’er my storm!
Alarmed and awakened, this soul crash — suds form.
And drooling with fervor — it dead ends my book,
of eating and drinking a golden fallbrook.
2/2/2018
*Fallbrook - a town lacking anything interesting, motivating, intellectual or entertaining forces the youth of this town to act out. A full description of this term as found in Urban Dictionary is in my comments.
Is this an exception? Isn’t inter-caste marriage a taboo even today in the Indian sub-continent? Being born into two contradicting castes yet mad in love for each other, they knew their kith and kin would let them not live together. They decided to go far away from the inhuman world. They knew they’d be easily tracked were they to travel by bus or train or airplane. They walked through the hills and vales eating from the plants, drinking from the streams, and resting under trees. Lo! They surrounded them. The villains of love! Torturing them, slaughtering, they threw them in the Holy River who could not swallow up their holy bodies rather floated them in procession.
hands held together
two lovely wedded angels
to eternity
“Since formation in 2014, Telangana has witnessed at least 50 murders related to inter-caste love liaisons and marriages” – Deccan Chronicle, Thursday, June 10, 2021.
10 June 2021
Here is my newborn brother to celebrate the day!
Together we'll splash around in mud spots eating tater tots.
Wake-up, my brother, wake-up and let's play!
There's no time for a baby snooze for the sun we shall lose!
I'll have you hold the phone books while I get a cookie from the high nooks.
Here is my newborn brother to to celebrate the day!
Slip 'n' slides and kiddie pools, otter pops and pizza!
You have no idea the magic things hidden beyond your eyelids!
Wake-up, my brother, wake-up and let's play!
You do like sleeping, don't you? This we'll have to fix.
Maybe mom can whip you up a snack of caffeinated Chex-Mix.
Here is my newborn brother to celebrate the day!
We will certainly rule the planet together one day, you and I.
As King Brothers: Your Highness Who Does Stuff and Your Highness Who Doesn't.
Wake-up, my brother, wake-up and let's play!
Yawwwckk, now I'm sleepy, move your teeny arm a smidgen.
Maybe tomorrow when we're both awake we'll catch a pigeon.
Here is my newborn brother to celebrate the day!
Wake-up, my brother, wake-up and let's play!
(Zzzzz...)
4/30/11
"Brotherly Love"
Matt Caliri
I doff my many hats away,
To a lazy sunny Saturday,
Lounging, lazing and lying about,
Doing absolutely nothing but nowt,
Just loving and dreaming the day away.
My love and I have such a home,
Where on such days we never roam.
We sit together on our upper deck,
And all the chores can just go to heck.
And sometimes I may even write a poem.
Here we have such a beautiful life,
Made even more beautiful by my wife,
Who adds zest and quite a lot of spice,
And makes even the bad seem nice,
As we plan hand in hand and roll the dice.
Here in our Little House in the Pine Barrens,
A world you shouldn’t have a care in,
Where animals come to our backyard to play,
And some have come to our home to stay.
It’s a wonderful life we have come to share in.
With us we have Salem our sweet fat cat,
Woodstock cockatiel the ever-eating acrobat,
Barnanas snake quiet and reserved,
Andree cockatoo loud and absurd,
And we have zoo guests come to visit at that!
There’s Lucky bird quite opinionated,
Tater-tot skunk who eats till over-satiated,
And Rocky ferret with his bouncy little dance.
Who’s next? It’s up to chance! (Or my love’s fancy!)
I think the quiet country life is a bit over-rated!
Together we sit on our deck, my love and I,
On a warm sunny day or ‘neath a cool starry sky,
Talking of things that now are but dreams,
Of children we’ll have, one, two or three!?
Growing up in a home of love and hopes high.
My love is everything to me I could find in no other,
An amazing woman and wife and she’ll make a great mother.
She makes our house a home with her sweetness and love,
And brings down the blessings from God above,
And I am her husband; I’ll be father and love her.
Here even the ladybugs visit on a cold winter’s day,
They bring with them good luck that never flies away.
We have seen three seasons come and go with much pleasure,
Now we wait for fall to come and bring us its treasure,
And all we pray is for a child to bless the rest of our days.
Alone together, we enjoy our time
and mostly we act naturally well.
We can be seriously funny too,
but deafening silence is hard to quell.
Found missing sometimes, a minor crisis of
impossible solutions that are made,
like eating tasty, tender jumbo shrimp
along with hot chili and marmalade.
And quite deceptively honest are we...
good grief, we are what's called terribly good.
Low-key, festive tranquility is ours;
we never are clearly misunderstood.
So pleased to be each other's larger half...
sweet-tart and butt-head, we are such a pair;
tight slacks, light tanks, and we are good to go.
Life's magic realism we do share.
See the world around yourself,
See the people around you—
The scary face of people,
The crying face of children.
They are scared, lonely, and sad.
They fear the world.
See the fearless around the world.
The mothers are crying with children in their hands,
Praying for their children’s life,
While others are praying for their children’s future
To be bright.
People say, “This is the way of living.”
If you don’t understand,
Then you will lose your life.
The world is watching around in silence—
Can’t we stand against this violence?
Their hands are coloured with blood.
Some of our hearts are filled with guiltWe are living—
They are bleeding.
We are eating—
They are starving.
Some say this is revenge...
But we are taking lives.
Cornwall Security employee has in daylight today exited work vehicle in thousand oaks to initiate false name using another's forcibly removing public utility access from the army corps of engineers in the United States of America. Per declaration
Removing free speech
Time now is 9:59a.m
Interested parties up to the AFL-CIO and all account holders in California have previously been named defendents
Order of city draw from account concludes upon registration entries of harbor house desk pantry fool reception.
As to whom is eating
Typically "fasting" days, rights and laws devolve internment districting rather astutely in history.
That one has as currency and is currently undergoing the burden of halting on side notes for another's labor in a daylights gaining momentum.
Conjectures reposing argument precludes
All we eat is elk meat, boiled elk, roasted elk, elk jerky
sometimes fried elk if we get bear or whale oil,
oh, and sometimes elk soup,
for four months we've subsisted exclusively on elk
except for occassional dog meat, candlefish or duck,
the elk have become our saviors, and our culinary suffering,
yet it keeps us nourished like some kind of ape predators,
Clark has officially named the massive boulder at the front of the bay
Cape Disappointment on account that its now March 1806
and since November no one has spotted a merchant vessel
nor has any trading post been discovered along the coast in either direction,
frankly its astounding, has the world done gone forgotten that the Columbia exists,
everyone is gettin uppidy as bull frogs
and we've had enough rainy hours here to last ten lifetimes,
to hell with the sailors, we've gotta race to finish
and we ain't gonna get beat by a disappointment or by a sinister suprise,
Load'em up!...
Since coming out of the Rocky Mountains
like a migrating pack of wolves pursuing the scent of a bloodied den
I've been spending more time away from the river's rigors
providing fresh meats for the mission that we leave hanging along designated banks,
for the first time I feel liberated from the fear of failure
winter can no longer hurts us,
the great mysteries of the continental crossing have been revealed
through their savagery and splendor
the tribes have been touched with a new spirit of survival
animals ferocious and exotic have been tasted and classified
we have learned what these landscapes can lend to farming legions,
the mountains no longer menace us, we know how to travel their pain,
as my horse feeds on the grass of unowned soil
I reflect on my moments of intemperance with the natives
when I thrashed a Chinook thief into bleeding shame,
the order I gave to burn their village to silent ash when my dog and saddle were stolen
fortunately that was not necessary because I got them back,
the time I was meanly mocked by a Nez Perce Indian for eating dog meat
and threatened to split his skull with my tomahawk if he ever insulted me again,
J.A.B.