Long Garnishes Poems
Long Garnishes Poems. Below are the most popular long Garnishes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Garnishes poems by poem length and keyword.
Blue Cheese and Old Pickles Poetry Contest
Craig Cornish
A dish of disappointment
mocks the kitchen chef
two anomalies sitting on his cutting board
all in their glory, dumbfounded
... and unappetizing
plated for aliens and not humans
or for a horse that doesn’t know better
this recipe’s giving him the blues and he’s seeing red
where …
his yellow brick road has two strangers today
two lost food groups
arriving earlier in hearses
a funeral procession
mythically carrying the deceased to his kitchen foyer
… some blue cheese and an old dill
that are down for an undressing
of his bitter words
like, fudge, where’s the beef
… or better yet Mars is up there
as a cloud of despair hovers over the kitchen
not a spaceship as one might think
darkness begetting light
salt, pepper and garnishes spooked
… a ready barf bag crashes this meal
I am the wind
the textured curl of clouds
those specks of glitter
silver and gold are my
illustrative gleams
the foiling wings
that flutter and flap
feathers ripe with color
complementing all rosy hills
a rolling kiss a splash of
blush a dash of spicy dish
the pepper and the salt
of a morning's stirring serving
see me in the meadows
there where wildflowers overflowing
bees and butterflies how they gaily
bob take lick like little children
at the serving tops of apples candied
making funny faces where those more
tart chasing rainbow tails the
fond remnants of showers
I made this day for you
now do me honor
save some acres from your cities
and roads
one or two at the least
as I keep sacred
your plot through the heavens
An old sweetheart of mine never believed
in daytime dreams, because they shattered
quickly and shaking her unconvinced head
silly words came out of her mouth admitting,
" Aren't fantasies unrealistic dreams...
when they appear more tempting
then a cake with irresistible frosting?
And while she cut it with careful fingers,
" The outside tasted very sweet,
but the inside looked kind of hard;
its whipped cream was soft and white,
its filling was solid and not much inviting! "
It's worse than a thriller too unconvincing and trite,
although to the novice novelist the tragic plot
appeared to be real with the small-minded bigot.
Comparing fantasies to a decorated cake
is a huge and unforgivable mistake,
the ingredients look fine and exquisite;
but who garnishes it may lack artistry
and gastronomic skills to create an extraordinary
delight not applauded by someone who's inquisitive
about what went into it before baking it,
and laying it down on the table it looks perfect.
Are we still pursuing hallucinating fantasies
that weave themselves into allusive dreams
that make others notice how disappointing
they are having put all our trust in them?
Is this an end to dreaming coming to grips
with a stark and naked reality never being
challenged by a mindless dreamer who causes an ahem
not realizing that he's in a dire state of optical illusions...
instead of being persuaded that nobody ever wins.
Jack O' Lantern jeers through
molten screen
With fiery eyes and a fifth sense
so keen
Masked goblins saunter in shadows
unseen
Wily Jack swills jade folds with
florescent stream
Billowing ghosts in phosphorescent,
satin mantles teem
Stolid Jack bathes in Hoary Frost's
velvety Vanilla Bean
Gaunt Scarecrow from barren field
garnishes Per Diem
While gilded Jack siphons his rich,
mellow meringue
Black-caped witch casts spells
hinterland residual to glean
Domesticated Jack scans hearth
skimming every melancholy dream
Rabid bats swarm o'er stinging
insects with stealthy sheen
Endearing Jack charms fluttering
moths with radiant gleam
Bleary-eyed werewolves' curdling
howls seep through each woody
seam
Spry Jack o'er quilted courtyard
flutters his palling requiem
Creeping ghouls seek spilt warmth
to redeem
Jilting Jack singes their hems with a
boiling steam
Three o’clock and Grandpa Cat Chef King
Has snagged Samantha and brought her to the ring
She is in training to win dessert eating contest at the fair.
Grandpa Cat Chef has laden the table with fancies here and there.
Surrounded by flowers and plants, maybe hiding a bird or a mouse.
Samantha is sitting at a table with fourteen dishes in his green house.
Grandpa Cat Chef King is squinting his eyes, urging her on.
Pancakes, scones, cookies, pink brownies, desserts from here to beyond.
Blueberries, strawberries, fancy garnishes and sweet tidbits galore.
Grandpa has outdone himself, She will be here ‘til four.
Oh, no, he says, you have to eat it all, I bet it will take you ‘til nine.
She starts out eating in a petite way, but is soon an assembly line.
Shoving in cream puffs and apple fritters, six cinnamon rolls.
She feels ugly and puffy, like one of those fat garden trolls.
Grandpa Cat Chef King offers her a tiny bit of cat nip special tea.
She does not dare move, for she has been hiding food where he can’t see.
She satisfies the chef, before the double heart clock strikes ten.
Come back tomorrow, he says. We have to do it again!
She rolls herself from the table, and onto the path, black.
Determining to never ever ever come back.
it is one of those dinners
leaning in the doorway, she is working
to her, this is a simple one
spaghetti ala Carbonara
she explains it to me as she processes
pancetta is meat from pork belly
salt-cured in black pepper, other spices
made with egg, hard cheese
prefers to use the spaghetti noodles
altho other kinds of pasta are used
you may also use guanciale for pancetta
she fluctuates between Pecorino, Romano
for her hard cheese
before her, i also varied my cheeses
white and yellow American cheese
which soon disappeared in our marriage
leaning in the doorway
i am enthralled still as i watch her
years have only increased my ardor
and i do listen to her every word
upon the plate, it appears
garnishes with a grating of Parmigiano-Reggiano
topped with parsley
bread smothered in garlic, cheese liberally sprinkled
salad of spinach, kale, arugula, topped with
cherry tomatoes, black olives, her own dressing
sworn to silence about the dressing ingredients
at dinner, she explains the eggs
they feed the chickens marigolds to add yellow
the creamy is obtained by correctly emulsifying
eggs, cheese
using some of the water used for the pasta
i have heard every word
never taking my eyes off of her
now you may ask, hasn't she said this before
i will tell you, i heard every word
this is the woman
to whom i was reading poetry
on a park bench, a ritual in our lives
where love walked us to the aisle
praying Cupid would grant my wishes
unleash a quiver of arrows
suddenly streets were amok
full of beggars upon horses
she reached over and closed the book
then said, shut up and kiss me
my patience is at wit's end
love is mysterious in its ways
it is inside humor we share
over a plate of spaghetti ala Carbonara
outside the world dances in its din
the furnaces of stars churn away
and not once have the marigolds
at this table produced nostalgia
for my yellow American cheese
i have heard her every word
it has kept me on my toes
that life never presents her
at wit's end
3/5/19 Kismet
God-endowed resources present
grasses serving as pasture haven
with vegetable terraces for well-being nourishment
upon flower parks cheering with their beauty
cheerfully featured as gardens of blessings....
As the Lord blesses the grassy lands
trees invite heavenly freshness
orchards welcome photosynthesis
multiplying granaries of supply abundance
graciously in the gardens of blessings...
While the Creator garnishes landscapes with grasses
hearts delight with childhood glee
basking under the sun in barefoot mirth
along enjoyable running spree
enthusiastically around the gardens of blessings...
Thankful to the Almighty for grass-filled freshness:
body and soul are invigorated in exercise-zest
toward nurture-nourishment of stewardship toil
in worshipful reaching-out pursuits, sharing love of Christ
serenely prayed for in the gardens of blessings*!
*Genesis 49:25 Even by the God of thy father, who shall help thee; and by the Almighty, who shall bless thee with blessings of heaven above...
April 29, 2019
Edited on March 27, 2023
7th place, "In the Grass" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Anthony Biaanco; judged on 5/30/2023.