Long Ingredients Poems
Long Ingredients Poems. Below are the most popular long Ingredients by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ingredients poems by poem length and keyword.
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!
A great and Devine recipe
Alas He brew one day
The Gospel worked great wonders
Precious blood did make a way.
Hebrew vessels, chosen jewels
Their descendants were the prick
That Paul before conversion
Against the same did kick.
Many calculated numbers
Of ingredients he mixed
Negatives and positives
A spiritual arithmetic.
Unknown integers he added
On his name destined to call
Filling up the empty places
Of the ones that didn't fall.
Factors traveling a time line
Squared and powered, proposed to
Change the world of doomed and dying
To a beloved city, new.
When just a cup full of injustice
And a pinch of bigotry.
Jealousy running rampant
Spreading pain and cruelty,
Scoops of undetermined rages
Shredded truths and kneaded lies;
Seasoned slabs of accusations
Pots of reeking compromise,
Strained to slip into the mixture
To turn bitter all the sweet
So death might come to weary pilgrims
Needing rest and food to eat.
"Come drink my blood and eat my body
In communing, you shall find
The kingdom gates are always open
To weary travelers all the time".
Says Emmanuel , standing patient
Interceding at the door,
Whose blood is more than sufficient
For those who stray forever more.
RETA PRUITT
August 1, 2016
* Here’s one that is quite … unusual. I hope you enjoy it. Don’t ask me where these ideas come from … it’s probably better left alone, lol. *
~
fascinated …
I watch the game by
way of a watermelon Jolly Rancher Stix -
seeing my world through
rose-colored candy …
but it’s gotta be a first, right?
what other nutcase would care to
do such a thing?
(rhetorical … don’t answer)
but, despite the seemingly unavoidable
aberration that should BE,
I can actually make sense of all
that’s taking place on the other side of
the 1/8” of hard confection
and my silly attempt to turn the ugly
defeat of my fave team into
something of abstract interest,
seems far too clear a vision to mar,
and that in itself HAS to be an unvarnished,
empirical statement
on the quality of ingredients and
manufacturing excellence of
the Jolly Rancher folks,
(the Hershey Corporation, I believe)
I mean, the flavor of Jolly Rancher candy is
and always has been of unmatched
tangy-tart sweetness,
and the packaging?
a gaze-holding wonder in itself
but who would’ve thought that the
substance of it could be so pure -
so limpid and translucent,
that the details of a 48-to-3 blowout
would still reach my eyes
despite the reality of it resting upon
the bridge of my nose
balanced precariously between my eyes
and a 60” Samsung flatscreen??
it’s incredible, really …
absolutely mind-boggling!
and here I was thinking that today would
be a total waste …
ha!
I discovered the oven mitt I now use
in a cardboard box Mama left behind.
She used it till she became unable to cook,
shortly before she died. It was a sweet find,
symbolic of the busy woman who left it.
I had newer and prettier ones, but
they did not inspire like this old one, with
its faded yellow and pink flowers.
Each time I gather ingredients for a cake
a casserole or a pie, my dream is to make
it blue-ribbon-worthy like the ones Mama
once carefully removed from the oven
with this special mitt while we family
members waited, forks ready.
I’m not there yet. Maybe some day . . .
Date: April 29, 2020
Contest: Potholder Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
I have waited so long to compose a new song; I have waited so long for you to come along. Time is setting fire underneath my feet; time is igniting a motion in the third degree; time is raking up the dust and everyone is getting ready to board the bus.
The sun is setting fire to my mind and the journey from mega peak to California is divine .
I am walking in a straight line and the clouds in Angola are dancing about causing the people to run and shout. What on earth has gone wrong?
The Angolans are chanting a mournful song today they are here tomorrow they are there and the wind is blowing through the trees and moving across the hemisphere littering the avenue and the streets.
They have been waiting for fifteen years underneath the trees on a political promise that had no legs but it came in time when Obama had something to sell and nothing to tell.
Sixty-three thousand of them waited in the bush living in the wilds honey all day with nothing to cook, they survive every day on water and grain to enter America visa free but the promise was not fulfilled.
A new administration came along and everyone was singing a different song and the deal died peacefully in the bushes.
The new administration began to shout and the bush people’s fate was worse than before. They were tossed in different directions, and forced out of the woods to go and fend for themselves.
The sick and destitute start moving around in crotches and long gowns, and the old and feeble trod along praying to Allah in the woods but time propels them in different direction and the Americans watch from the big screen an epitaph of a broken promise lying among the trees and the promise was covered with dirt and those that survived moved boldly with courage to another place.
I have waited so long for you to come along to listen to your story of how you escaped from glory,
I have waited for so long to have a decent shower and walk in the book shops to feast my eyes on new literature.
I want to look at some focused recipe and the ingredients that is mixed with dusts and those that cause you to fuss. A combination of truths will draw a fine line around those terrific boots.
I have waited for so long to compose this song so meet me underneath the tree and sing along with me.
The Crafter
From her pantry inventory
A list of ingredients, she selects
A spoon of this, - a cup of that
A delicate food, she projects
From off the dirty forest floor
A large log is obtained
Sawed, molded, sanded and polished
A beautiful object can be claimed
"Things" are crafted by human hands
That do enhance the way we live
But they are paled, when compared
To what our Savior, has to give
From the womb of a lowly virgin
Amid a meager atmosphere
Untainted by the touch of man
The advocate for sin, did appear
A plan God crafted, for all mankind
To restore Eden's bond
With love to great for us to fathom
Extended to all, who will respond
My goal is simply, to proclaim
There is hope for a fallen race
All who will heed the Savior's plea
Can be redeemed, by His grace
Colan L Hiatt = 01-02-15
© All Rights Reserved
Sari, Sari the woman spoke
I was delighted when I found she
spoke of supper, as I was hungry.
Majestic and Magificent
Lavish and slendid
modish and grand
Chic Genteel and posh
a delight for all
a great choice of food!
Marvelous and grand!
Might a world of hungry people
eat and enjoy!
cups of cooked rice noodles drained
1 cup of steamed chopped spinach
1/2 cup of roasted red bell pepper
1/2 cup of lemongrass
2 tbsp of fish stock
1 teaspoon of chopped ginger
7 green onions chopped
1 cup of chopped cooked pig feet meat
5 crushed garlic cloves
3/4 cups of cilantro
1 pound of shrimp jumbo steamed and chopped
1/4 cup of lime juice plus 1 teaspoon of rice vinegar plus 1 table spoon
of pomegranate molasses plus 1/2 teaspoon of gin and
1& 1/2 tablespoons of cayenne peppers
6 cups of chicken broth
2 star anise
Sautee ginger,garlic,onion and lemongrass, five minutes tossed
and remove from heat.
boil chicken stock mix in vinegar and molasses mixture.
add pig feet and spinach and
allow to simmer.
remove stock from heat add all ingredients and serve!
There's nothing positive about racism
However, this cancer dehumanizes everyone
This bacterium kills all good pisum sativum
All necessary ingredients that distinguish a human
From something worst than a sinful animal.
There's nothing good about racism
The racists are the naughty scums of the es
The vile predators that thrive on controversial
Issues, the narcissistic skunks, and the bogus kites
That won't fly during a storm of schism and racialism.
Racism is reserved for the worst fetid pest
Racism is of course for the worst of the worst
Racism is indeed for the funkiest of the funkiest
Racism is reserved for the most hangdog waste
Slavery is the original bigot of racism and bias
From this narcissistic evil begets race and unfairness
Slavery is an abhorrent crime against humanness
The most abject and fusty form of selfishness.
Copyright © July 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry
“Luckily I've got an adventurous gene, as life
in a wheelchair is full of the unexpected.
I was a keen runner, climber and [the life,
An] all round outdoor addict, but, [devastated,
I] fell off a cliff and became paralysed [badly]
from the chest down. With friends [and love],
creativity, and [stamina], most things [happily],
are still possilble, and thanks to [the above],
…to those ingredients I have a [fantastic
and a] pretty extraordinary life.” Karen today
Is involved full time in the cycling athletic,
And in Rio won gold in the time trial bray.
At London 2012 she took home the silver,
For the women’s road time trial in H1-2,
Because she hand cycles, so is a low lier,
And so in the Auckland Worlds, gold too.
CAUGHT NAPPING
Cocky
bluffing like the covered duck
Tripping
boasting 50 years sojourn ahead of tomorrow
Stuffing
filching away our future in a "Ghana Must Go"
Sniffing
snuffing life out of the halves not
Smiling
suffering in the midst of plenteous
Praying
screaming to God in a pinnacle for miracle
Thinking
scheming to uncover the protruding umbrella
Dropping
raining fuel scarcity in fuel city
Wailing
knocking hope for an end to Boko Haram
Willing
making our votes count with a loud voice
Drinking
making mockery of the change ingredients
Napping
snoring while the people's eyes remained ajar
Fluffy
Cutting the wings of 16 years umbrella
Aging
caging no more the sage of change
AST 3.42am
@Home on June 12, 2015
Conceptualized for the recent wave of change in 2015 Nigeria Political firmament.