Long Lettuce Poems

Long Lettuce Poems. Below are the most popular long Lettuce by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lettuce poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member To Eat Apeach

To Eat A Peach

Spring is here.
The delicate tree blossoms replace
     the delicate white lights of Winter.
From the petals fruit will grow.

Pears, plums, apricots, cherries,
       nectarines...
Peaches.

I set the unripe soft rose and yellow
    orb on the windowsill.
Two days later I tenderly lift it 
    and gently squeeze its warmth before 
    I wash it.

Biting into it...
     the sweet liquid is Ambrosia.
The juice runs down my chin onto          
     my tee.
I greedily suck the peach’s flesh dry.

I daydream as I munch.
Peach cobbler, peach pie with a lattice crust, 
peach shortcake, peach muffins, 
stewed peaches, peach tea bread, 
slices on your cereal, slices in a bowl with cream.

OR...only for dessert?
How would a 
       chicken breast soaked in a peach marinade taste? 
My taste buds begin chattering.

Summer’s here!
corn on the cob, okra, tomatoes: 
small ones that pop in your mouth 
and big beefy wedges that
garnish crisp celery slices, carrot medallions, 
tender Bibb lettuce, sliced mushrooms, cucumbers, 
asparagus, broccoli, Vidalia onions, cauliflower...

Watermelon, blueberries, cantaloupe, 
      strawberries, honeydews, raspberries...

Juicy hot dogs, spicy barbecue, thick charbroiled hamburgers, 
hot German potato salad, 3-bean salad, macaroni salad, 
potato chips and French onion soup dip, 
soft pretzels dipped in brown mustard, popcorn...

chocolate chip cookies, Snickerdoodles, 
strawberry shortcake, 
chocolate cake with red, white and blue frosting for the 4th, 
apple pie
  — softball, Mom, doggies —

I awake with a start. There is drool 
      on my pillow.
Another day begins but it’s really 
       not another day.
It’s the same day I’ve been living                          
       since 1 May 2017 ~
The day I let the dentist pull 
       out the last 5 teeth I had 
       in my lower jaw.

And as I come to consciousness 
       my tongue pushes
       against and spills out over the 
       the soft toothless tissue that burns constantly 
       and is covered in a thick gooey saliva ~ place a     
       teaspoon of Elmer's
       glue in your mouth ~ if
       you care to have a taste
       of my reality.

Summer’s here. 
Clear your palate.
Clean your plate.

Barbara Dickenson 
1 May 2018





        
	
	

- [ ]
Form: Bio


Premium Member Things I think now that I'm old

The older I get, the more I forget the names of colors.
Would you call this paint amber, burnt ochre, or clay?
Would it were the same with all of my dolors.
But age hasn’t washed any of my dolors away.
I finally saw hills as old as me,
and it was a pitiful sight to see,
with many a crevice and facial scar,
and so, pointing at the hills, 
I asked my dearest wife, Shar,
"Is that what I look like?"
She said, “No, that's is not what you look like.
That’s what you are."

Only two o'clock ~ still an hour till it's three.
Time's passing slower than eternity.
Now it's four, and as even the clock's cuckoo can see ~
I'm having trouble with this end-of-life monotony.
How much longer till it's five o'clock ~
and I can put this head of lettuce on the chopping block?
Tick ~ tock ~
tick ~ tock ~
tick~ tock...
That's life ~ in a game with grandpa ~
running down the clock.

As I reflect on my old body’s daily decay, 
I wonder ~ did God really mean to do it this way?
Couldn't He have let me journey to life's end, whole and entire,
instead of having part after part of me periodically misfire?
You assert emphatically, "Yes! He really meant to do it this way!"
Okay.
When you're old, you know what's really insane?
It's when you're going down memory lane,
but you find nobody there
with whom a memory to share.
And you wonder ~ am I in the right brain?

My route home seems to have been mislaid.
I have a feeling I've walked way past the Fire Brigade.
And where's that street
where the park and the bicycle path meet?
I'm completely lost! ~ My God!
I'm so afraid.
One thing when you get this old
is that your body can get so unbearably cold,
because your skin gets so thin,
it lets all the iciness in,
and then a hot partner is worth their weight in gold.

You know how it is
when cola loses its fizz.
That's kinda what happened here.
And what can I say but, 'Sorry, my dear?'
I kinda feel like I've flunked the pop quiz.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead.
Rather have everyone don a motley party hat.
And if anyone's inclined to cry,
please say, "Don't shed a tear for this old guy,
cuz he's gonna live it up ~ in the sweet bye and bye.
© Rio Jansen  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Rabbit Dna


Hare trigger instincts
always served Roger well
He had an oh, no-no lettuce nose — 
a hyper-keen sense   when to leave
Roger was rabbit good
at knowing when
to skip out    on his responsibilities  
  
Before bedtime stories
would end afoul, he could always tell
the impending sour cabbage signs — 
The ***** scent in the air   pregnant with crisis ... 
	rabbit feet had better odds,
		  	                 than a roll of the dices 

Women said he was a   tricky   daddy dodger,
his friends said it was in his DNA
The court affidavits said his name was Roger,
the summons said he wouldn’t pay

Those hare trigger instincts 
always served Roger well
Pearl hip handles, he loved to caress

Hop aboard a bullet train,
when the bad news got belly swell
Twitchy nose rabbit hole escape
	            was his poker face tell

But one determined Alice 
didn’t give 
the baby carrot    carriage subject a rest
Roger got tortoise marriage cold feet,
half-hearted turnip turtle vows
           was his delay strategy best guess 

Women said he was a tricky parent draft dodger,
his friends said it was in his rabbit DNA
The court affidavits all said his name was Roger,
the arrest warrant said he wouldn’t pay

Roger has good    long hare instincts,
he’s Copperfield cool ...   a Houdini Blondie
Angel Eyes bad   you better not blink,
every time your back is turned, he gon flee
So deadbeat ugly    he’s just a Tuco-hearted rat,
a kid welsher    ain’t no rabbit doubt about that

The rabbit in his blood, 
is simply hop-along      run away DNA
He love to cabbage patch play,
but he hate         to bacon lettuce pay

Women said he was a   tricky   daddy dodger,
his friends said it was in his DNA
The court affidavits said his name was Roger,
the summons said he wouldn’t pay

Roger don’t like 
looking at paternity suits,
it just give him the Dodger blues

Rabbits don’t care
to stay in one place too long ... 
in a standstill
That just ain’t how their feet DNA think

And those angry Alices         kangaroo purse pouches,
holding those court-ordered papers unfriendly ... 
they be pushing the Dodger to the brink
Roger’s an absentee parent wearing slipper slouches — 
Hopping-mad child support check is an empty
Cassidy signature signed in invisible ink
Form: Ode

What

what
A multitude of dishes is just not a sanctuary of fishes. Ok? Did you hear the trinkling of the water omitting from the tap? Gaps are small and small is smell and smell is stagnantly sipping stoic spit. Judge not a golden orb of a heifer. Especially not when placed with great dignity on a platter. An apple achieving across-the-board according to acrobatic acronyms is very wise especially when dressed in a sun hat and a pair of shorts. But sailing pears can pair with the wind and this would surely exact much chaotic waving weaves for the tiny little wading jelly fish whose waters are at risk of great corrosion. Explode that then! I think not. Battle no burger bombing belly. Big bull. Bionic bacon brawl. And a trawler filled to the brim with ice cream is weaving it's way underground watched by the kilometre wide whale. Xenophobia of a hexagon should shut all the windows and not speak to kettles. And the fortification of a French Fri. Is neither akin to a brain washing line, a string skirt, a lute or a playlist of random energies. During a download one must eat copius amounts of sage, onion and lettuce casseroles with a nice pleasant dessert of melon served on a bed of floaty cream. Just watch that it does not float out of the window or it could be confused as an unidentified frying object. Flying you say? No that is merely a ground level rising to meet an upper arm akin to a wardrobe tackling the clothes in a wrestling match. Dumb no dim dinner and during dogma derive decisions. Ok then. Good. Ample is fantastic. But hundreds and thousands dancing on a little one centimetre cake is just not wise, clever nor pleasurable really so always wear a pair of spectacles to a game of rugby and play with arms and legs holding a seven foot spoon who is smiling at the antics. How quite articulate of the appearing ant then. Earthworm glow-worm flying worm speaking worm. And a large fathomable waltzing waters snake. Hahaha now pick up a dish and dance around the ten acre kitchen. Hahahaha ladle leaving. Xxxx serving a dollup of tea with sugar and lemon. Xxxxx combustibles z that was the p Y q reporting from the road on the road around the road and on nineteen lanes eighty three beaches ten forests and a ten centimetre pond. 89.0 radio p. Z z z z z applet z
Form:

Human Nature

As little child walked in the field of flowers,
  Picking and smelling them as she grows,
  The pervading air fragrance of Guava
  The majestic mellow Mangoes too in wet season,
  The atmosphere of green garden eggs,
  Caressing melody of crunchy carrots cracker,
  The hidden colours of pineapples,
  Bulb of yellow oranges lighted the line green trees,
  Would be in season all year, including rags to
  riches filling Maize
  And pods shelled nourishing beans,
  Surging umbrella leaves of papaya,
  Shallow rooted coco-yam,the variegated
  lettuce that brightens everyday,
  With the crowded bananas are growing everyday,
  But now,they are in wet tins and dry cartons
  For that very busy mankind.

  The landscapes within are beautifully measureless,
  The Jacaranda and Tamarind trees had cast
  Their shadows on the plain, and not forgetting,
  The Silk-cottons and the wilderness of palm fruits
  That grow tall and sure,
  And under them we played cracking out nuts and
  eating them,
  But now, elevated long balcony, we have
  That you stand and weep of the passing phases.
 
  The sepulcher we all grew up in,
  Might not be the same dungeon now,
  And the cradle you are born in
  Could well be the same abode now,
  Thatched roof has given birth
  To corrugated reflections,
  Likewise the fragile asbestos fight for space with  concretizing flat,
  The mud debris has turned to bricks and plaster erect;
  New galaxies of dwelling and scattered
  About in a festival of designs;
  Some are like an octagonal
  A cone, a triangle  and spec angular façade yet unseen;
  All glasses, cupped and straight down
  Like the eccentric mansions in heaven,
 
  The spec tropic clime had turned suddenly,
  The wind blows and smell of change,
  The sun blaze down on man and space and warned,
  Of great consequent yet in the
  Outer-atmosphere would burst,
  As we are cuddly  warm
  The poles wildly discharged their zillion captured
  Water in a spasm of deluge right upon us…I think,
  Like urchins, we fumble forgetting the next hour,
  But what would happen is  nature’s raison d’etre;
  Man and his environ scope both have shibboleth gone pathways
  And fast we are turning into artificial humankind.


SAMADHI

SAMADHI

I am the Void
                   and THE ALL
I am the pen
                   and paper
                        the insertion and hole
the breath, the nostril 
                                  War, Peace
Surrender and action
               Angelic wings descending 
Transfiguration and Embodiment 
                          Lover and Beloved
nipple, nourishment, lips

I bolt, then follow, appear, disappear
                               Essence and form

Only in my Silent Point of no Return
                                            and no Time

    can Shiva and Shakti drown in
                     Samadhi

Forest floor was prickly hard with dried
               leaves and elves
the path to Cave I had to walk
      Doe awaited inside the Darkness 
              a pool blacker than black
                    the deep unknown of knowingness 
                           her eyes my own Void
trying to remember Yeats or Wordsworth 
or Camus or even Ghandi
      it was all in vain


I beckoned your I AM
           to follow suit to Samadhi
 your guitar strings, seas, voice 
       or smiling eyes you feared to leave


           What was His Silent Point beyond the entrance
the endless depth of no Return ?
where was music or feasting or cool waves 
             where was a mustard lettuce sandwich
                           or escape  ?

I beckoned the bolt, the appearance or disappearance
Doe watched as our Observer both


Transfiguration had you mesmerised 
             at a mossy fringe
a toe became a stepless step
            sinking, sinking
    bodies becoming dark water 
 nothing escapes the Gateless Gate
            An event horizon was a fallacy
the Void and THE ALL
                                 tightened all spirals
to silent scream in a Cave pool blacker than black
A pool melting into Doe’s eyes
              a velvet not known to Mind

Samadhi was His alone in surrendered peace
              Our spirals His ecstatic tools

                a mustard lettuce sandwich waited at 
                    another oak table


{POEM READ BY POET ON YOUTUBE @ghairodanielspresence. Check it out ! }
©GhairoDanielsPoetry&Song


2024
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Beachside Food and Drink Slinks

A is for algae, red, green, blue cells, soaking up sun, sliming teeth 
B is for bacterial mat, clumping underneath, earliest born, never asleep

C is for coral reef, the place we all find cover or the sand parrotfish chew and release
D is for diatom, all seeded calcium, all float free, all denizens barely seen

E is for eelgrass, nursery meadows of the anchovy, and other browsers of green 
F is for fan worm, filter feeder like a flower, 8000 species on which fish feed

G is for giant kelp, floating on bladders of air they’re forests of cold waters clean
H is for helmet, the royalty of snails who protect our feet, queen, emperor, king

I is for isopod, the chameleon crustacean, they color match what they eat
J is for jellyball, or cannonball jellyfish, not upside down or moon, avoid their heat

K is for keyhole limpet, favorite food of ochre stars, will erect its own wall
L is for laver, the sea lettuce of nori, it swirls red skirt as ocean falls

M is for mermaid’s purse, the sack of the skate whose yolk keeps them alive
N is for nerite, the prisoner striped snail of the rocky zone as numerous as a hive

O is for oyster drills, the snails that slurp oysters and use them to lay eggs
P is for pleurobranch, a sea slug answer for oranges, with one active leg

Q is for quahog, the bivalve seaman who can survive eating the mud
R is for rove beetle, the one waiting to snatch the unwary beach hopper for good

S is for saxitoxin, those red tides produced by mating that can paralyze humans
T is for tubular sponge, they squish, bore and encrust as space lends

U is for urchin, those spiny skinned balls, no eyes or noses but dig food in sand 
V is for Venus, Music Volutes dined or Vampire Squids skimming along land

W is for whelk, not the musically inclined, but the slow moving snail in a shell
X is for X and a half, the six rayed star, hungry for anything on the half shell

Y is for yucca, blooming on the beach, they bloom nice and tolerate the sand
Z is for Zostera marinara, the address of eel grass when they're feeling grand

All of this green life is what crunches, stinks, dries and slips underfoot
The rest that find the housing and dining compatible means someone’s on the look.
Form: Couplet

Mcdonalds Poem

me and my girl kelssey just got done smoking weed
 are stomach start rumbling and we started too have cravings 
what was it what do we need 
we but our minds together and it was micky d's

so we walked in to get our burgers and fries,
but realized we aint gots no money to our surprise

i look in my back pocket and a 20 appear
 we was like holy crap then we walk up to the cashear 
she was like "how can i help you? you want that here or to go ? "
 umm i dont know but i like a number 6 plain with cheese
 but her not sure what do you want kelssey?


i want a classic combo. a sweet tea to drink. 
thats what id order im pretty sure or i think.
 burgers on our mind..thank god it was micky d's that we would find
. but watch the drinks. make sure the dont spill. 
but if you do its ok. cuz we get free refill.

they called our order and we grab our meal 
right when we seat down i cause a big deal
 i looked at my food and guess what i see 
they put lettuce ketchup and mayonnaise and the receipt says plain with cheese
 i cause a fus and a big scene it all worked out
 the food was free and i got back my 20


so we didnt have to pay.
 we got out there real fast and started a good day.
 but we were still hungry and what did we do? 
well we thought a shopping cart would fit through the drive through.

 a bad idea? i dont know. but me and west thats how we roll.
 so we climb in and away we go we went so fast no a time was spent
i was like " i hope we dont hit a car i hope we dont cause a dent"
 we finnally got to the end of the drive through 
so we told em to give us order number two and dont for get order number three
 right when we grabbed our food we jumped out of the cart and then we flea



so our trip to mickey d's was quite amazing at the least... 
as we eat our burgers and join in a great feast.
im like dang what are we doing 
we are packing our face s like a 8 year old eats pudding
 im a skinny kid but now i feel like a fat as pig 
i ate so much im starting to feel sick

so fat we feel. cuz we ate to much. kinda bad idea. 
who would of thought of such.
 well me and west kno how to kick it. eat mickey d's all day is good living
Form: Ballade

Talking of Vegetables and Other With Humor

The tomato is the Kamikaze
    of the kitchen ...
    every day in droves or
    sliced ??..

    The onion is offered
     all life ... all over
     naked, defoliation in all
      veins ... covers ...

     Garlic is full of proud ...
     Does not attend
     in all dishes ... only comes
     to be a partner in spice ...

     Eggplant is a lucky fellow,
      rarely comes to war ...
      Almost never is summoned
      to be eaten ...

      Chuchu ... come on pet
      dear ... serves God,
      and everybody ... in the salad
      and in the juice ...

      Lettuce, it's buddy
      trendy  to classics,
      live on high elite,
       in the mouth of the muses
       and artists ...

       Bunny Carrot,
       and eye fortifier ...
       It comes together in salads,
       and it's cake batter ...

        Asparagus, it's fine stuff ...
        just adores high society ...
        Loves the bourgeoisie,
        and it doesn't appear on every fair ...

        Jerimum, known and
        called pumpkin,
        but loves to be called
       of zucca, or zapallo ...

        Azafran ... is  snobby ...
        Don't even talk of saffron,
        this distant poor cousin ...
        But it is delicious in rice ..
        This already proved is fact, ...
        Said to be Spanish, but it is
        from Egypt...

        Some others I'll just name ...
        Maxixe, is for those who appreciate ...
        Many dance the rhythm from Brazil ...
        Okra has drool and beard
        and some sticky taste ... there
        in MINAS with chicken
        it looks tasty ...
        And the cilantro ... ah! .. for
        who eats it ... I ...
        I do not ...!
        Cumin ... makes spice,
        a care for you to dreams ...
        Without cumin I eat everything
        alone ...

       Finally the POTATO ...
       Bread of the poor and the rich ...
       Packaged in salad, cooked,
       French fries ...  potateee,
       Kartofen ... how tasteful  ...!
       You have fought in many wars,
        saved many lives ...!

Do Dot To Dot

Clump of earth. Green glow. Clump of concrete clapping. Green glow. A grouped nylon is akin to a skinny pair of trousers swinging in a breeze. Twisting with furry knees. But not ever in trees. It is the pointed cradle fork that envelops a mysterious marshy rock into a music score. How rather talented. And how rather quaint too. But a tulip in a tutu is quite wild so shut the door on a barm cake. Ok then. Good. So don't put it down carry it. Vast amounts of miles. And don't sit down. Twenty three hours of sit down in a basket looks rather like a very large dog snoring in a bed. Rather remarkable when the banquet begins. The very long jewelled hands beckon to the plates. Then consume. Vast amounts. While the skinny cat looks in from the window. It might be thrown a pea. Hum. Not substantial is it? And very very very unfair, feudal and unbalanced. Economic egg eats erotic éclairs. In a bistro. Large belly grumbling in hugh waisted pants. Circumference of injections cannot control countries. Calling the rain. Singing to sun beams. In an iced cave. Or a tree. Moat built around a house to house a lord is quite similar to a ladle entering a soup. Or a kettle whistling to water. External shroud. Internally baked. And the state signal of a lemon with pursed lips is spitting words like a sour lemonade. With hardly any sugar. Snow then. Beams budding booming bricking bridges bringing benign baked bomber blooms. And the dusk brings the tailored iconic broom heads. Watch for the tightly woven hairstyles then. In suits. Lean lanky laviscious lecherous limpets. Often dress in red gowns. And hide hair in wigs. But no gigs or pigs. Ok. Ridicule not a rabbit ear or tooth of a rhino. Smiling sunnily. In pendants. In palaces. Paint no fallen star on an erotic empty feather or a leaf. And flock is not a fleeced sheet nor sheets of printed plagiarised rubbish. Zoom then burn. And when burning swim. Very good. Hahaha lettuce loving leeches. Hahahahha twenty cows plus sixteen minutes equals moooo. Xxxxx derogation dogs. Xxxxx humanitarian z this is the p y q reporting from 89.0. On a windy day. Ooh. X. Z 0%
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