Long Epicurean Poems
Long Epicurean Poems. Below are the most popular long Epicurean by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Epicurean poems by poem length and keyword.
Still baronial the feudal caboodle at the home of cricket
Colonial testimonial for a posh canoodle should picket
Ben used his noodle & won’t see Crawley surely nick it
Purely those who chose bacon egg clothes got a ticket
Neighbourhood of dons not wrong uns in St Johns Wood
Confess is a public school caress where members stood
Impress hamper-ed pampered and champered so good
Largesse epicurean finesse with Eton Mess for your pud
Spiffy faction only see pithy fraction of the action perhaps
Sniffy Telegraph on laps drinking clinking sinking schnapps
Aristocrat sippers in Gucci slippers round neck cravat wraps
Squiffy slumbers sarnies with cucumbers smoked salmon baps
Maps round the ground laps for the sound hand pull taps
Recover in the bar batters flaps to cover another collapse
Diehards doing hard yards tryhards with lanyards on apps
Iffy in a jiffy encumbers fiesta to siesta and afternoon naps
Real fans do obsess about the Black cap chaps prowess
Claps & reciprocal back slaps for underdogs feisty scraps
Kiwi bowlers wrist snaps out of the traps can be express
Batters when matters fielders energy saps finding the gaps
Rare Lords success Bazball under duress feeling the stress
Mystery..artistry...history of the Test tapestry fills me with glee
MCC forever twee picky with bow of dickie for every wannabe
Oh yippee will be many a yuppy but sadly not really any Kiwi
And poorer sorts without Sky Sports can’t even see it on TV
I would choose Iberian over Siberian a true culinary librarian
Epicurean yet utilitarian not barbarian don’t be a contrarian
Top picks & tricks from heady cultural mix definitely not aryan
Runaway or just the gravy train arcane but with modern refrain
Can’t restrain or contain the insane foody reign of this domain
Go like the clappers for Tapas fiesta then siesta the slow lane
Rally your pals with the gals go dullally down any hidden alley
Croquetas or Las Gambas or just Patatas Bravas in Las Ramblas
Paella the story teller paprika bestow Chorizo glow best seller
Scarlet harlots prawn p*rn dig suckling pig jig a verdant valley
Have a trenchant penchant for any merchant of the don Jamon
Svelte slivers melt tastebuds pelt flow across the Iberico rubicon
Flavour flotilla scintilla of morcilla or tortilla to savour all thriller
Rain falls mainly on the plains starter or main food reigns in Spain
Grab for all the gusto you can
Because TV and beer are all I need, man!
Weltanschauung? Yes, it is one
Not a real complex decision
So, let us for a moment, and as we are able
Look at what hedonism brings to the table
Epicurean hedonism of the quantitative type
It’s what I mean to be more precise
If all there is, is pleasure,
And that’s what’s buried in your heart as treasure
Then you can't turn and be indignant
About anyone else who is just as ig’nant
After all they are just grabbing gusto
Maybe in a different form
But who is the hedonist?
To expect others to conform
to non-rationality
to being arbitrary
So what are we left with
When we look and see?
You can’t go beyond and seek a conception
When all is physiology,
and empiricism
and behavioral biology
And it can't be psychological
Because psychology is not made of matter
But these things do matter
How do we get to the ding an sich?
After all we don’t all share the same brain-ium
In fact, many don’t even use their cranium
So, we must challenge all the gusto grabbers,
Who’ll get upset
When others don’t live up to their double standards
Special pleading may sound valid
But if all there is, is motion and matter
Then it’s melancholy salad you’ll be served on a platter
So, let me say there’s nothing wrong with TV and beer
But that won’t lead you to the ding an sich
Or from the phenomena to the noumena
You need a Weltanschauung where the abstract can fit
and that helps us make sense
To have an apologia (a coherent defense)
How do we do it?
We intuit
As God expects us to think thoughts after Him
As the Father of lights enlightens a world so terribly dim
Just imagine...
Flowers of possibilities blooming
In the garden of your imagination.
Fun travel on nostalgia's time machine,
The sheer magic of moments
As if sand turning into gold dust.
Quiet thoughts gliding
Like rows of swans on a placid stream.
Endless pleasure carried in the back pocket,
Cheerfully sounding off like jiggling coins.
A much welcome egress
From a hum-drum existence
To an epicurean wonderland
Where the past and present are irrelevant;
Seen in the rear view mirror.
A resplendently bright future, gift-wrapped.
What of goals and dreams to accomplish?
Yes, set your mind free to wander, 'tis a portal
To paradise untouched; your very own.
Oh yes, don't quit your daydream, my friend.
Submitted for..
Don't Quit Your Daydream Poetry Contest
Date written: 11/28/2022
Harsh Mission / San Francisco, CA 2011
Through the harsh white sunlight
the random bits of cast offs tumble and stick
smeared to the pavement and layered upon
upright posts, from pillar to post they roll
on bikes and trikes, on roller blades
and skate boards, down and out,
drunk and oh so sober, they meander
as if on the streets of Paris
in their mock Bistros with their
fake hair, their primal piercings, and their
do me do's just screaming of abuse...
The childlike sibyls and torrid sirens
howl at the fog banked moon
as they stumble on the dole from room
to rented room, or huddle in the bus shelters
waiting to sneak a cheap ride down town.
Bizzaro meets his mate in the masked
denizens of the mission district
breasts starred, caped and on display for all to see
face hidden behind plastic lunacy...
The giggling effervescence of misspent youth
crumbles into a heedless epicurean
mosh pit of aimless wandering
joyous neglect...
It is truly hard to know where the
garbage ends and the art begins.
It’s funny how a simple question…a group of words…when combined
can set off a flurry of activity within the recesses of your mind.
I was taste testing another batch of Deborah’s famous chocolate chip cookies
(Yes, my epicurean cookie skills are vast)
after giving her the thumbs up…she smiled, looked at me, and asked:
“I wonder how many of these cookies I’ve made for everyone over all these years?”
Which set my mind to wondering past cookies to all the moments we’ve shared..
all the laughter…all the tears.
How many moments did we have when everything in life seemed just right?
How many times have we hugged our children and grandchildren?
How many times have we kissed goodnight?
How many times have he held hands or looked into each other’s eyes?
How many times have we watched the sun set?
How many times have we seen her rise?
In all our travels…in all our walks…I had to wonder…how many miles?
How many loud and happy moments have we shared?
How many silent moments? How many smiles?
How many times have we said, ‘I love you’?…I can’t even guess at the amounts.
Suffice it to say…in a lifetime together…we long ago lost count.
I imagine what’s important in life…is that these moments…we create them!
We don’t need to keep track of every moment…there’s no need to calculate them.
There’s no need to keep a tally…
no need to discover the exact amount.
What’s important is knowing tomorrow…
if we’re blessed…
we’ll be adding to the count.
Deborah happened on it by chance…and it had immediate allure
an advertisement in Asheville…for chocolate factory tour.
“We get to tour a chocolate factory.” she said. “And taste chocolate. It’s a win win.
Before you could say Willy Wonka I yelled, “Did you say chocolate…count me in.”
We showed up early at the chocolate factory…and were immediately aware
how the sweet delicious aroma of chocolate was wafting in the air.
We shared a look and a smile as we opened up the door.
We were literally now two children about to enter a candy store.
We learned a lot about chocolate…and about the French Broad company too…then we got to taste some chocolate from India, Nicaragua…and Peru.
There were people on the tour who could taste the differences…
“I taste citrus or flowers they’d say” and others would agree….
but with my less than epicurean palate…they all tasted the same to me.
Next we took a tour…where our tour guide happily conveyed….
from the cacao bean to the final product…how chocolate is made.
There was one point where we stood under a pipe…on the very tips of our toes
and the sweet smell of chocolate was pumped right up our nose.
We bought some chocolate for the road and Deborah said…undaunted
I think with this chocolate factory tour…I now have everything I ever wanted…
“Don’t forget what happened to the couple who got everything they wanted.” I said
as we floated out of the factory…a blend of joy and bliss and laughter….
“What happened to them?” Deborah asked…
“I smiled caressing my bag of chocolate and in my best Willy Wonka voice said,
“They lived happily ever after.”
Wee ditty about the loudly, proudly beating heart of our oh so pretty city.
No hustling..strolling along...to the rolling soundtrack..bustling throng
A musky busker hums, strums and sings their husky song...
Familiar faces..fayre made with care..displayed with flair to share..
Tip top one stop shop..rare.. hallowed not fallowed places.
Grab a seat...have a natter..nab a moreish treat..baffled by the seasonal snaffle raffle..
Becalming as disarming stallholders flatter with charming chatter..
No need to scatter whatever the weather..for once it doesn't matter.
Feast your eyes...on the fruit, veggies, flowers and pies...a treasure trove..
We loyally royally rove..Dunedin’s own homegrown orchard grove.
Hordes..maraud..applaud the smorgasbord hoard..
Toasts to our harbingers & hosts bucolic boasts...
Our locavore lair...after dawn duty on a Saturday morn..
There to share..our adored victual ritual..
Rootling & pootling...epicurean sights..sybaritic delights…
Pushing greedy needy…gourmands & gluttons’ buttons..
Fossicking..their weekly home from home outing..
Gastronomes roam.. pouting swag bags sprouting..
Never snooty....just rollicking & frolicking..
Touting this tutti fruity booty of beauty..
I just happened to grow up this way…it’s not something I was taught…
but when it comes to my food preferences…epicurean I am not.
Some people like to separate their food…they think that’s the way it taste great…
I approach this from a different angle…I mix everything on my plate.
I don’t know how to explain it but to me a meal isn’t splendid
until all the food groups set before me have come together and been blended.
I have a friend, he is a food critic, who thinks most meals I disgrace…
I only know when I mix everything together…I love the way it tastes.
I love the way the colors blend but what I truly savor
is how, with every bite, I get a different blended flavor.
Deborah says it’s like feeding a dog but I am not subdued
I mean…show me any dog out there who doesn’t love their food!
Again I can’t explain it but to me it’s easily comprehended
and I make no apologies for loving food that’s all been blended…
I don’t expect everyone in the world to eat their food this way
(that would be nothing short of rude)
but I do think it would be wonderful if everyone in the world
blended together…as easily as my food?
So wholesome beauteous, bewitching;
Arousing, inviting, mature, provocative racy and seductive;
Vessel cave opening covered in brush;
Mound of majestic, smell of essence eucalyptus;
Mandrake allure ahh, me odor composite aroma;
Flushing tunnel moisten with the dew;
Sweeten view, vibrant hue;
Vessel cave entry in tunnel dark misty;
O' Epicurean, ahh! sybaritic yes voluptuary and dionysiac sexy;
Sweet are the tissue of her veins says he
O' Jubilee, caressed embraced shalt they so kiss, heavenly now blissed;
Mandrake, allure me odor composite aroma;
Mound of majestic, smell of essence eucalyptus
So whole some beauteous envisioned so delicious
Arousing, inviting, mature provocative graced and seductive
10/16/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023