Long Malted Poems
Long Malted Poems. Below are the most popular long Malted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Malted poems by poem length and keyword.
The menu: a dozen slick pages.
The venue: wood tables and chairs.
From breakfast to dinner
You’ll never get thinner
With food that a diner prepares.
The choices: from eggs to paninis.
The voices: from hushed to guffaws.
There’s no place instead
I would rather break bread
And the answer to why? is because…
It’s a place meant for every consumer
With the space to relax and to schmooze.
Never fancy or rich
It’s a restaurant which
Serves you coffee, a malted or booze.
You can keep all your Michelin ratings
And those steeply exorbitant bills.
Slap a sandwich and fries
Down in front of my eyes
In a diner – for me, that fulfills.
Humming as she arranges an assortment of biscuits
On pastel green plates,
(Viennese waltz)
Beryl checks the clock ticking softly, three thirty,
“Come along, Shannon”,
Her young charge steps in alongside her
As Beryl works the care home rooms.
Teas and coffees, counterclockwise,
In the waltz of the afternoon tea trolley.
Beryl choreographs and guides as they go,
“Now, remember Reenie is partial
to the vintage charm of a custard cream,
Whereas Doris will go for a fig roll –
Sturdy with a hidden sweetness,
That surprises,
And Edie will tell you her stories twice -
Will want for the Twix.”
Shannon pours teas into proper cups with proper saucers
As they glide over to Ballroom Blanche,
“Danced through life haven't you, love”,
Beryl adds in whisper,
“Blanche can seem a bit crisp around the edges,
But she's really quite a softee – sweet,
She leans to Viennese whirl”.
Shannon adds two sugars,
Twirls the spoon in the cup
As she hands silent Marjorie
in her beige cardy,
A malted milk.
They reverse turn to the sun filled lounge.
Jammy dodgers with heart-shaped windows
Are shared by Norma and Dierdre
Receiving bouquets of babbies in bonnets,
Children gathered
to see their great nannies.
And by the window looking out,
Connie,
For whom standards never slip,
In wig, pearls, red lip,
Takes the Florentine of glamour.
Young Shannon turns in awe to Beryl asking,
“How do you remember who has what?”
Beryl smiles, and with mock curtsy,
She blushes
“What am I to say?
It's like I have a gift.”
The corner candy store displayed,
On the counter next to where you paid,
Tall pretzel rods, two cents a pop,
In a glass container with a top.
They were often added to a bill –
Toss some pretzels in, please, if you will –
Or were ordered by a kid who’d planned,
His pennies clutched in a sweaty hand.
But the best was sitting on a stool,
On a Saturday or after school,
With your mom who’d let you have a treat –
A vanilla malted, cold and sweet.
It was served within the silver cup
Which the owner’d used to mix it up
With a pretzel rod included, free;
There was no place I would rather be.
The sweet of sugar, tang of salt
Combined with the vanilla malt
Made taste buds squeal with pure delight
With each and every sip and bite.
That amber liquid far from insipid
Like molten honey but drawn from a tap,
Bitter or dark, the choices quite stark,
God's malted ale, nature's true sap.
Vikings grew strong, strengthened their bond,
Giving them courage for mayhem galore,
A beer in their hand, they pillaged the land
Never quite feeling tired or sore.
The Celts used for curing, Egyptians for luring
Their gods from the heavens bribed to partake,
The English just drank as their water so stank,
Beer their solution to gulp for life's sake.
Wine lovers admit that their glass needs
be sipped
While describing aromas of berries and earth,
No such constraint, nor need for restraint
For drinkers of ale are freewheeling from birth.
So let raise a jug or a frothy filled mug
While watching a game and eating junk food,
Nothing is wetter, more luscious and better
Than a cold tasty beer when expertly brewed.
“You’ve been married for 35 years!”
a young couple asked an old couple on their anniversary.
“That’s amazing…That’s so great!”
“After 35 years together…how will you celebrate?”
Then this old couple, who in their 35 years together
had grown old and gray…held hands, smiled at one another
and said…“The same as yesterday!”
“I almost lost him years ago.” The old woman said.
“And we decided from that date…every day we wake up together…
is a day to celebrate.”
“It may sound corny…or boring…a little dull…perhaps cliché
but why would we wait for once a year…when we can celebrate every day?”
We learned a valuable lesson from that old couple…
How we don’t have to wait…
How every day that we’re together…is a day to celebrate.”
Now, after 35 years…we’re that old couple
who together have grown old and gray…
who, when asked how we intend to celebrate
say…“The same as yesterday.”
In case you’re wondering how we celebrated
another day together we have reached…
It was with grouper nuggets, she crab soup…
followed by a vanilla malted and chocolate milk shake
together…at the beach.
Silhouettes of darkened places
Busy going nowhere so fast
But you have to be somewhere at last
Instant eyes microscopic chocolate rice
We now have synthetic blue ice
I believe we come a long way
Places, homes now building the day
It took God 6 days to create the universe
It took God 6 days to create the universe
HE too rested after all love these works
Washed His hands of the dirt
Somewhere I've read
We are just filthy rags
Lighted passenger I'm traveling in a twinkling of an eye beams of light shining bright
Someone forgot to invite all the poor
All the boys and girls
Where they're going to eat and sleep tonight
Hungry for Hunger sake
Wish they had a malted milkshake
I am not promised today
But if I were a gambler I say
But if I talked to my Father
Be on the altar
But if I talked to my Father be on the altar
I'll be back with him instantly no not tomorrow
I'll be with him today I am with Him now even in my sorrow
2/22/14
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2012, 2021
When I was growing up in Brooklyn,
Which was way back when,
We’d always get just what we needed
In the Five and Ten:
Cosmetics, stockings, pots and pans,
Greeting cards and games;
Curtains, tablecloths and vases,
Clothes and picture frames.
Sundries (who knew what they were?),
45’s and candy;
Mops and brooms and other things
A housewife would have handy.
It was fun to browse the aisles
With friends right after school,
And sometimes have a malted
Sitting on a fountain stool.
The Five and Tens have shut their doors;
New stores cannot compare.
I sometimes need an item
That I can’t find anywhere.
Of course, there is the internet
To help me in my search,
But in the Five and Dime, I’d never
Be left in the lurch.
A treat that should be most exalted
Is a real vanilla malted.
Made with ice cream, milk and malt,
It’s oft forgotten, by default.
It must be mixed by a machine
Endemic to the diner scene
And served inside its silver mixer
Meant for holding this elixir.
Pour it in a Coke-shaped glass.
Use a straw (now, don’t be crass!)
Take a sip and be transported
To your childhood days, distorted…
For when seen through such a taste,
Negatives all get erased;
And once you start to reminisce,
You’ll just remember days of bliss.
Today I passed a luncheonette;
It’s been there eighty years, I’ll bet.
I thought of malteds, got the urge –
For $7.50 (!), I could splurge.
Happily, I did indulge
And that is why I here divulge
It’s worth those calories amassed
For that connection to the past!
Anima balances Animus
In a dance of fathomless rhythm
The hangover reaches the consciousness
The cherry tree goes on blossoming spree beside the sea
I find myself delving deep with the emotions by her hands set free
In the warmly maternal hearth
Are my malted moments of mystic mirth
Never any dearth in perceiving the coffee cup held up
Anima has at all times been most pleasurably giving birth
To a variety of rain and thunder in an awesomely good earth
Anima is generous in beckoning under her brackish breath
A momentary death underneath is euphoric in its affinitive depth
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
April 27, 2016
For: Anima – Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tom Quigley