Long Ketchup Poems
Long Ketchup Poems. Below are the most popular long Ketchup by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ketchup poems by poem length and keyword.
First Love
A man remembers his first love.
Until he finds his grave.
If he lives to be a hundred.
That's what he'll always crave.
For some it might be a blonde.
A red head or brunette.
Others are still looking.
They haven't found it yet.
For some it is those buns of steel.
We've all heard about.
Whatever a mans first love is.
He hates to go without.
There may be some who's first love.
Is in the color of her eyes.
I'll always remember my first love.
A greasy cheese burger and fries.
Make it a double patty.
With everything on top.
Ketchup, mustard, or special sauce.
Please don't ever stop.
Fries fried to a golden brown.
Thin and crispy too.
A greasy cheese burger with some fries.
No talking til I'm through.
So now you know my secret.
A greasy cheeseburger and fries.
If you want inside my heart.
Make mine super size.
Edwin C Hofert
Tasty words! With ketchup served hot..
Shattered Romeos, lover’s paradise: NOT!
The odd desperate housewife, wanting more!
Tired with the ONE hubby real sore..
“Feeling blue” they summon the angels from the wind
Trying hard to kindle the reader’s insatiable flint!
Stupendous secrets succumbing into the great “Void”
Fearlessly the writer rescues his version of The Helen of Troy!
The War time heroes,
With their grueling woes…and wives bestowed with imperial wait
I turn the page with a numb conscience
Still not in for comments!
Its when I see the boy who runs from the world,
A rich kid, a football hunk, always with a pretty doll;
Searching for peace,
Not some corrupt grease:
Lying at the face of the human race:
He finds divinity in nature,
Happiness in the beggar’s couture
All the fantasies he has, and the reality he fakes
Makes my finger whisper, like silent snowflakes:
I applaud the struggling lad, I can feel
The need of the vision and the dream…
~~ Entry in Comments vs Views~~
What do you do with a fried lemon sandwich
when lavender leaves have messed up its hair
How to you cut it in two equal pieces
while no one is home and you don’t like to share
Why is it sitting alone at the counter
as saucers of milk perform on the stage
Where is the flavor when bland is in fashion
and comic books sing on the very next page
Will you surrender to appetites chanting,
crossing the line where the pickets are white
Shoveling corn flakes when it is not snowing,
flying a kernel instead of a kite
Serving a side that is right down the middle,
leftover vegetables mashed into paste
Like a potato but not very filling,
smothered in ketchup to drown out the taste
Do you like tablecloths made out of vinyl,
just like a record but square when they play
Nothing to spin when you can’t find a needle,
looking through stacks that are covered in hay
Cook books too heavy to fit in your diet,
checking your math while subtracting a pound
Running in place when you’d rather be singing,
wishing the dining room table was round
Can you believe that a poet would write this,
watching a hummingbird outside his door
Smiling from one ear but not to the other
feeling the pinch when his cheeks are too sore
Maybe his mind is a field of distraction
perhaps it is someone that he’s thinking of
It’s a safe bet amid all this confusion
the poet who wrote this has fallen in love
it’s exasperating and makes my stomach churn
there’s a brand new prejudice at every turn
looking at others out of the corner of our eye
all this nitpicking to try and find fault on the fly
this pointless bickering has been going on for years
people with floppy ears or those with itty bitty ears
people with purple hair or those with locks of green
people who dress up or those who wait for halloween
people who are on their guard or those who feel and touch
people who hardly talk or those who chat too much
people who talk with an accent or those who laugh funny
people who like their tea with lemon or those who prefer honey
people who wear profuse makeup or those whose noses glow
people who speed along or those who drive too slow
people who walk on stilts or those sporting stubby legs
people who skip breakfast or those who throw ketchup on their eggs
people who dive foolhardy or those that do a bellyflop
so yes ~ we’re all different, when’s this bickering all going to stop
AP: 3rd place 2021
For hamburgers hotdogs and french fried potatoes
add the sweet savory sauce a gift from tomatoes
Ketchup Ketchup pour it thick
for bland foods it does the trick
Scramble eggs just to plain
Ketchup adds that sweet tang
Steak a little too dry
that's when ketchup applies
Try adding ketchup in your sauce
topping meatloaf it is boss
Beautifully red rich and thick
Ketchup is foods favorite condiment
For finger foods a tasty dip
so yummy you smack your lips
Ketchup is a sweet sensation
taste buds crave with anticipation
That magic that ketchup brings
is that flavorful wonderful zing
. Cheesus Say cheese
. Medium rarely The last sesame
. Bun up and done Patty pending
. Cowabunga Grate expectations
. Grate escape Bunbelievable
. The great Bunknown Curl up and fry
. Bun voyage Patty wagon
. A Bun too far Bun intended
. Pickle me up Muenster mash
. Burger me up The last Bun
. Bun there, done that Burger queen
. The Bun also rises For whom the Bun tolls
. BURGER
. Mustard up some courage Bill the Griller
. Much ado about muffin A farewell to fries
. Bun voyage BLT me be buddy
. Pickle me this Bun for money
. The Bun identity The grill seeker
. Burger me up The beef fore
. Bun in a million The last Bun
. Grill or be grilled Relish the moment
. Grate expectations Ketchup if you can
. Lettuce meat again Bun for the money
. Cheddar late than never Lettuce entertain you
. Mustard up some courage Mayo the force be with you
. Cheddar luck next time Lord of the fries
. Nacho average burger Relish the thought
ALL ABOUT THE LIPS
He has seen her before
But today he saw her for the first time.
She walked his way
Her smile and laugh carried across the field
The field was freshly cut
The aroma of fresh-cut spring grass,
Frisbee throwers jumping, catching, laughing
Light breeze and warm sun,
Everybody smiles with happiness.
Beautiful day as she bounced up the stairs.
Getting warmer by the minute
Her bright glossed lips show their luscious fullness.
Like Heinz ketchup out of a bottle
Slow with anticipation, he fantasized about her.
They locked lips. Oh, those horizontal lips!
Lips finding each other repeatedly
Tongues started flicking
He stopped to breathe.
Imagining her full natural mounds,
Her moist vertical silky covered lips.
Man’s desirable dreams.
She walked by bringing him back to reality
As he watched her walk away
He smiled, going back to reading his Nook.
It was our first date and I had to impress her
While fighting the urge to move in and caress her
I’d have to be subtle and somewhat refined
And show her an intellect dwells in my mind
It wouldn’t suffice to say, ‘Fancy some nosh?’
Took a taxi uptown somewhere awfully posh
I tipped the head waiter to get a good table
Kept up the decorum as best I was able
The vino was tasted and two glasses poured
She licked her top lip and my temperature soared
Her manicured nails browsed a pure vellum menu
And we ordered the very best dish of the venue
We chatted, I felt I was holding my own
For not even once did she check out her phone
Dinner was served, to hell with the cost
My eyes drank her in and I knew I was lost
But I fell in love when my date got het up
Oy Geezer, she bellowed, got any ketchup?
At the kitchen table
Sat still like stone statues – petrified.
A sick game of musical chairs
Sat waiting for the muted music to play again.
Saplings uprooted early; replanted in rows
seated in toxic soil – a stunted growth.
Wooden faces: no smiles or frowns.
Emotions set in stone from eyes set on Medusa’s head.
The slim cracks in plates a widening schism
Where we sit stranded on one side.
An earthquake leaving never ending ripples in the water.
A word or deed, seen or heard. On repeat.
Chairs with no more legs to stand on. Everything and everyone on edge;
Braced to face a world turned upside down.
Sliding plates and tilted tables; fallen trees and twisted broccoli.
A seismic shift from foreboding calm to unnatural disaster.
With shattered glass come shattered dreams
Shards bursting imaginary balloons of hope – slivers of normalcy.
Promises smashed against the hard cold walls;
Fragmented, strewn and lost forever.
Reflections in the broken glass show broken faces –
A blackened eye, a frown mistaken for a smile.
Sliced lips hiding wobbly teeth; a stern and stoic jigsawed face.
Hiding years and months and days and lifetimes.
Ketchup splattered walls dripping fast past congealed blood
From last week, last year. Running parallel to tears on faces.
Races with no prizes for the winner once the finish line is crossed.
Blunt knives, sharp tongues. In a colour red
To go with black and blue and green and carrots, beets and peas.
Sealed lips, bitten tongues. Tension cut like a rusty knife
Through sweetest bread. Through gullet, throat or neck.
Heart and stomach; guts and innards without the glory.
Sweet tooth lying bloodied at the head of the table.
Unseated from its usual place. Yet no crown in sight. No coronation.
A King without kith or kin. No heart; just jacks and jokers
Pummelled hard with clubs and spades. With withered spoon for humble pie.
A cry for just desserts fit for a King: The final serving is a bag of frozen peas
Applied to faces with a frozen look - chiselled art with eyes still warm.
Tears like ice – shaped like shiny diamonds. Sat on tired cheeks –
Semi-permanent. Sure to thaw well before the King is overthrown.
I walked past my pantry
Late one Friday night
To the sounds of what appeared to be
The goings on of a party inside
I grabbed a hold the latches
Swung wide open the door
With absolutely no earthly idea
Of what was soon in store
Colorful lights were flashing
Somewhere in the back
I moved aside the ketchup and mayo
To see where it was at
I took out the pickles and saltine's
So I could better see
What all the commotion was inside
Of my food pantry
That's when I saw the flashing lights
Inside the jar of Nutella
I picked it up right away
Me being a some what curious fella
As I held it at eye level
It vibrated in my hands
In what felt like a driving rhythm
From a 70's Disco band
Can't say I wasn't nervous
As I loosened up the lid
No telling what was going on inside
What dangers lay ahead
With both hands slightly shaking
I removed the rounded top
There was a party in the making
And it was going on non stop
The Nutella had it's boogie on
Or if you prefer, it's groove
Whatever you wish to call it
A party was the mood
There was a strobe light and confetti
Even a tiny Disco ball
As I gazed over the edge of the jar
I saw banners wall to wall
I guess you could say Nutella
Is quite the party treat
That may cost you at the grocery store
But once home the cover charge is free