Long Herbs Poems
Long Herbs Poems. Below are the most popular long Herbs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Herbs poems by poem length and keyword.
Come and climb these
Broad bony branches and
Have tea on this tree
with me,
Let's talk our hearts out
Into the poems unsung.
Sleep silently singing in my sizzly eyes,
Sleep might snap with some pumpkin chai,
The sun is seeping in my sulky bones,
Soon the milky moon will mysteriously be alone,
Here, have some squishy scone
While the sun is setting sleekly,
I reckon we should have tea weekly.
Sandalwoody sultry summer,
Hyacinth, hibiscus and hummers,
Poppies, primroses and periwinkles,
The night in esoteric eyes twinkle,
Starling singing on a starless night,
No gloom, a moon , no light,
In this sordid slumber silence,
I can hear your eyes speak.
Let's tell each other
All our hearts hanker
To say,
Drink tea and recite
The poems and make
No delay,
I'll have chamomile tea,
I'm not Mrs. Bennet
But it'll calm my nerves,
You like your tea with herbs,
Spearmint, rosemary and thyme,
And make sure the poem rhymes.
I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
"I know you think that I am dead"
"I'm alive"- my auntie moaned
Or- could it be that you're just- "Stoned" by Charles Messina
Niece Alice bakes brownies with magic herbs
She uses rich chocolate, and flour, two thirds
Before Auntie June gets out of bed
Alice feeds the cat and minds his head
She shared a snack and laugh with you
And now you’re happy and Auntie June is too
When auntie asks why your eyes grow and grow
You say “Go ask Alice, I think she’ll know”
A Vixen's Lair
Her front room was a simple setting with
no arts of distractions but a purposed
barren white wall in a circular room.
Two simple chairs that sat opposite of
each other with a centered round table
and tea set-up with a plate of baked goods.
Three doors, the main front, the kitchen, and the
restroom, an arched curtained draped hallway that
passes a study hall and massage room.
A round Chinese designed doubled-door led
into her very own private bedroom,
and upon entry is her vanity.
There laid her jewel box of convictions,
From her silver and white Pearls of poisons,
To her diamonds of destructive deceit.
Her letter opener was a unique
Ruby handle and silvery snake-like
Razor double-edged, felt-covered carved case.
Her specially made shampoo and lotion
Echoes through the night and concocted in
The morning sun with chosen rare fresh herbs.
A fur-covered round bed draped with silk sheets
Surrounded by tall Chinese vases stuffed
with protruding pink feathered plumages.
Tall lamps, porcelain, compressed together
With gas controls having two settings of
High and very high, configured torches.
--a knock at the door...
--...tour of adults that are camera-ready having left their kids
with tour guide at the ice cream stand out in front.
2019 September 02
*3rd Place*
Write the Poem You Have Always Wanted to Write
~~Caren Krutsinger
Flora and fauna of birds, beasts, microbes, soils, atmospheres,
Should only these contribute to the forest components?
Height and densities of trees and plants, and their thriving years...
Aren't silver, gold, diamonds, and gems woodland endowments?
Who cares much for herbs and shrubs where tiny insects abide?
Flies, bees, frogs, rodents, bats, and rats playfully hide and seek.
Ants, crickets, grasshoppers, centipedes, and millipedes hide
Behind grass, leaves, and mud to escape threats as they are weak.
With animals, vegetation, and evergreen landscapes
Air to breathe, food, medicines, wood, and fodder they provide
Forests reduce pollutants in air, water, sound, and space.
Protect humans from floods, droughts, soil erosion, and landslides.
Though like a student in primary school, I might recite
Abiding midst a forest is a venturous delight.
In the unquiet chamber of a kitchen,
where brittle leaves of thyme and sage sway
in unison, to the hot hum of convection
crooning softly from a stove of iron.
The guests hang waiting, by turns,
for their moment in the simmering cauldron.
Thick, steaming whispers of warmth
curl around the herbs like a secret,
as the ample arms of winter wrap the day,
in a slowing cloak of comfort.
The soup, a slower surrender of spinach,
blooms in the broth—verdant and tender at first,
then shrinking away, like sunlight at solstice.
Wilted strings of greens tie memory
in their tendrils, mingling with the earthy echo
and unrushed tones of rosemary.
Garlic, its own pungent alchemy, intrudes
as a perfume, lingering like an unpaid mistress,
an alabastered addition to the elixir, a liquid hymn,
of patience.
Bones simmered to capitulation,
cradled spoonsful of succumbing, each sip
an immersion into the gentle resignation of day.
Ladle gently circles the pot and the world slows,
even more, as though time, too, seeks refuge
in the simmering depths of the ordinary,
and the richness of the balm, in stillness,
at the center of the supper.
Deep pain bores into scalp as eyelids struggle to open;
Glaring sun menaces eyes as they face the sky boldly.
First thought dawns on me like elixir; I'm alive!
The vast blue sky seems to smile upon my spirit holy.
Hands try to grasp hot sand as I wade to turn on stomach.
Pitiless grains escape between my fingers, mockingly.
In tremendous effort, I crawl to nearest patch of shade.
My heart pumps heavily while sweat oozes out profusely.
Images flash; I'm pushed off yacht by lover unfaithful.
Mock inability to swim; I acted it wisely.
His satisfied grin is all I could see before diving.
Skills of past champion revived, I swam courageously.
This virgin island, is haven to me now;
Life's strong in me! Branches I shove away, decisively.
Cautious exploration; Travelers trees welcome me.
With stick sharp I poke at it, water flows abundantly!
I do drink to my content and refresh myself while hares
jump around; I whisper to them and one stops daringly.
"Angel" I mumble as I follow it; on water melon I stumble.
Food! Hit with stone; humid sweet red flesh to wolf greedily.
Twigs, I gather and "SOS" I draw on the white expanse.
Angel from hole, under branched tree, beckons me temptingly.
A red bird hovers; branches dry and green, some Ravenala leaves,
enough to give me most desired tree lodge, marvelously.
"Now, some thorough exploration." Angel nods approval.
Disgust filled heart softens and I long to hug her fondly.
On other side of island, I land in a rocky area.
Good heaven! Rainwater is trapped in a pond; so lovely.
The sun sets the direction and I venture inland.
Swarm of mosquitoes invade my burnt skin, voraciously.
I run like a mad to land among wild peppermint.
No mosquito here…repellent herbs! I deduce quickly.
Handfuls I pluck, to rub on my body at night.
My watermelon shell, now dry, serves me efficiently.
Pipik, my red bird and Angel watch "friends, how to light this tinder nest?"
Eureka! here, my heart shaped glass pendant gleams suddenly.
Settled nearly for a week now, hope never leaves me.. I'm to live!
2/02/17
2nd and 4th line of each quatrain has 14 syllable.
(checked on howmanysyllable.com)
Placed 4th on 6 winners (judged 7/02/17) Tropical Island by Shadow Hamilton
It's a soup that's made to order never from a store
A little bouillon treat that's filled with herbs galore
Not the kind you get from packets, no not that kind !
with itty bitty chicken bits it has onions you can find.
I start with chicken base then add a clove of garlic,
turmeric and salt with a dash of home made magic.
I simmer for an hour while the veggies steam & swim,
singing in a playful voice, "a little blessed hymn".
I start with a clean counter then tuck my hair right in
wearing pinafore of white, with little ducks that swim
I stew it then I stir it, with a large wooden spoon
telling funny stories to a soup that cooks til' noon
Made with love and kindness, it really hits the spot,
I cook it just like mama did, when I was just a tot.
It's a soup that's made to order, never from a store,
this little bouillon treat is filled with herbs galore.
Enjoy !
Mexican Petunia purple blossoms in the garden
Invite butterflies to visit and drink their rich pollen.
Herb's crushed scent lingers from gathering for dishes starred-in
Maximilian sunflowers' brown seeds stand out and are starred-in
Goldfinches' meals served from our small herb garden.
Bees and butterflies enjoy both of those flowers' pollen.
The first frost soon will destroy all the glorious pollen.
Herbs from our garden will die and the dishes starred-in
Will change to fall and winter plants from our garden
Butterflies gone since no pollen, also dishes that herbs are starred-in from the garden
Finis'
Salt is the seasoning, the spice of life
The reason for giving out
Flavors to heal hurt
Herbs to relieve grief
Suggestions that fill minds
With hope, faith and love
Salt is the zest of giving
The tang that touches
Upon the heart’s feelings
The additive that suggests
We all need God’s healing
With the adoring light of living
Salt is the flavoring, the hint of
Hope that rises inside one
Who knows that love is there
Alive on the inside of the soul
Where the Holy Spirit lives
And guides us toward much more
Salt is the sense of truth
That beckons to our minds
Heavenly suggestions of joy
Inspiring the spirit to delight
In the wisdom of sending out
Laughter, smiles and gentleness
Salt is the aroma of tears and sunshine
The grasp of feeling inside one
Who knows that faith is alive
Providing a sense of assurance
Insight into the scriptural blessings
That thrive with pure inspiration
Salt is the touch of color pouring down
From the edge of the rainbow
From beginning to end, shades
Of pastel gentleness relieving souls
Of the sorrow, worry and fear
Sending love through that stunning arc
Salt is the essence of God’s breath
Sighing with the whisper of a caress
Gentle appreciation sent down to us
Who know that He lives and sends us
Quiet joy, hope, faith, serenity and more
To fill us up with unconditional love
Matthew 5:13 King James Version
13 Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men.
Salt Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
February 25, 2021
When I was young, Mom mixed tomato juice
with beans and ground beef; I would misconstrue
this liquidy deliciousness as soup.
Later I was told chili is a stew!
That’s because most people make it thick,
so chili “soup” I guess I should not say
is my favorite soup, yet there remain
so many soups that I now love today.
A white clam chowder makes my taste buds sing
as do most other creamy soups I’ve had -
like pumpkin, broccoli with cheese, or mushroom,
but one there is that always makes me glad.
My favorite of all the creamy soups
is healthful, even sweet yet savory.
Tomato’s key, but there’s much more to it
that makes tomato basil flavory!
Of all the Campbell’s soups my mother made,
I liked tomato – simply adding milk.
I had no clue that it could taste much better
until I tasted it as smooth as silk.
I saw “Tomato Basil” on a menu.
I smelled its aroma. It was the best.
I had to try it; oh, there’s so much more
to this great soup than I had ever guessed.
Some people might use onions well-sauteed
in butter and/or olive oil. Combine
garlic for pizzazz and basil, king of herbs.
Once broth and cream are added, you can dine!
I’m sure there are other ingredients,
like roasted peppers or a heavier cream.
Dip comfort food, like grill cheese, into it.
Good Lord, a meal like this is one sweet dream!