Long Piece de resistance Poems
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When in swanky restaurants, 'tis easy to daintily dine on cordon bleu,
But dining on lobster requires deft finesse without humiliating you!
For what its worth, I offer the following that I've learned o'er the years,
To show snobbish waiters you're really not all that wet behind the ears!
First of all, a wizened waiter will provide a bib if he's really on the job.
(Somehow, they perceive right away that you are a rather artless slob!)
When cracking open each morsel, some violent squirting may occur!
Should juice spritz the guy at the next table simply say, "Sorry sir"!
The hapless lobster is dissected in certain order to make the meal complete.
First, remove the claws, crack the shell with a claw cracker and remove the meat.
For this a fork is provided, then discard the shells in a bowl being discreet!
Next, twist the tail from the body and break off the flippers - those you musn't eat!
And now for the piece de resistance, that long anticipated holy grail,
(That you paid fifty-five bucks for!) - that scrumptious lobster's tail!
Insert a lobster fork into the flesh and gently ease it out of the shell.
(Sucking meat from the legs is optional - on that matter I will not dwell!)
A female lobster might contain a bit of roe considered a delicacy by some.
(If that is your fancy, quietly asking about the lobster's sex is the rule of thumb!)
Plunge lobster pieces in butter taking care not to let it run down your arm!
(Leaving a sizeable tip for the disaster you've created wouldn't do any harm!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Lavender Massage Oil, Lavender Sheets
The snowstorm doing its very best,
To sneak through the window panes
to our night of play and rest.
The almost musical crackling of our
grand fireplace.
Casting an amber-like glow on your chiseled,
beautiful face.
The armoire with lighting divinely glamorous,
A setting for lovers forever, truly,amorous!
Flickering candles add to our lovers' nest
ambiance.
The piece de resistance is warmed Lavender Oil
making our hearts swirl and dance.
Those magnificent,silken Lavender sheets.
So inviting and what a great and wondrous
Christmas treat!
Good-night, dear world~ here is where
this poem must conclude.
We wish all those in love, a very close,
warm, winter's eve, interlude!
December 12, 2019
The Peterson Directed Handwriting System...
Tis beyond the depth and scope
of this electronic post,
and author, what triggers deliverance
housing bounty full memory absorbance,
yet no matter how many
heat sinks plumb cognizance,
most ordinary happenstance
often dredge up old nettlesome
rusty mettlesome names
of teachers forbearance
nearly half century ago
recalled in a flash,
and helped birth this poetic instance
break open literary
piece de resistance,
yet I will make
no subsequent reference
albeit once, about Peterson Handwriting
non cursively typed poem
filled with nonsensical abundance
dashed off viz seat
of my squarepants
typed, via strong arm lance
meant tubby considered pure entertainment,
so...,this rhyme merely hints
at cerebral imbalance
as minor rave and rants,
culled from convenient
20/20 hindsight stance,
while this quiet as bobbing sponge
minutely straddled across
space time continuum expanse,
and (analogously, invisibly,
plus quixotically perched circumstance
amidst wide webbed worldly metaphysical,
intellectual, and existential kants),
yet unable to disguise me
porous (poor ass) student advance
barely getting promoted,
cuz sigh re: Seine ed lee
imaged myself prince charming
to frolic and prance,
and dreamt about being in France,
when teacher called on me,
I immediately (whistled like
a little teapot) appearance,
whereby steam issued
out chrome dome
(scanned hull – i.e. numb
skull) affixed on
short and stout genetic grants,
which noggin always
(automatically) looked askance,
while me got alphabetically seated
from grades three to six
(mrs wells, mister stout,
missus shaner, and
miss rinderle respectively)
with absolute zero exuberance
(at Henry Kline
Boyer Elementary School,
I just recalled aforementioned
randomly accessed memory by chance
casually rifling thru
memory bank, freelance
sing, while pissing
away time performing,
"I gotta urinate dance,"
thus rendering painstaking years
perfecting penmanship style
(reference poem title)
executed with Liberace flamboyance,
whereat yours truly obsessively and
compulsively excelled at
duplicating signature compliance
plus crossing T's and
dotting I's with rapacious
perfectly ruled slants.
It might as well be another late afternoon
when new moon rises, bathed in honeydew
and gleaming with soft weariness: above,
mantled clouds bleach the lanes with first tinges
of blue-gray light, while figure sways pouring tea
and mint cheese on park benches, whistling
strains of linear intervals…intervals where violin
tones tap the breeze for some hint of mellow
hush. This sense of accepting what weighs
or buoys the tracks of soothing energy
pushes feet to circle among tumbleweeds,
ready to sink into hours of a genial night:
Like so, throats wheeze the vowels of tender
tunes brushing refrains of charity for some
sprig of warm comfort: after all, how can
a bursting sun account for the speed of fingers
clutching nicks of time mortal in workrooms,
racing barbed rails of hours hours lashed by
the 9 to 6 office grind… and to drop, drift,
dry off the weary body crackling stiff bones …
it’s about time for half-closed eyes to rest
from a dazed world demanding submission;
That is why heaven fashioned nightfall misty.
.............................
Piece De Resistance Contest
Written 5/14/2018 Re-entered 7/18/2018
Delete Fear and Dance
(Ode to Joy)
Many fear-mongers met at Marseilles!
To make sure all nations shook in dismay.
They used Covid for their piece de resistance display.
Schools, shops, towns all closed down.
A bunch of morons masked us, like idiot clowns.
We fools bought it all, and so now everyone frowns!
Sane people knew the score, they were not buying it anymore.
Tyrants were jailed behind doors, when people thankfully knew the score.
Grandparents are not left alone to rot.
We had enough of Fauci, masks, vaccines and elected snots.
People lived normally as before.
Masks became an international joke.
Just like those life killers from Marseilles~ top idiot pokes!
They even used Covid to ruin one national election?
But truth overcame, that mucked up idiotic, demented selection!
The Land of Dominion shall never be in the land of the free.
Health, happiness, hope was their pleasure and ultimate, joyful, destiny!
11/29/202O
2:45 am
she is an exquisite dinner
awakens taste with beguiling smiles
a platter of kindness
wrapped in delicate crepes
lips that promise
a selection of wines
set for any course you so desire
a delicate glass never empty
a macedoine salad
stolen from the garden
of some goddess
a bewitching soup
dipped from a cauldron
enchantment in every spoon
that reaches the palate
fruits that have come from far
and forbidden shores
an intoxicating sweetness that consumes
all of the senses
and finally the piece de resistance
what drove Greek sculptors to stone
she is sitting across the table
OKC 06/22
Pièce De Résistance Lauded...
Ninety years April 9th 1929
after maiden USA début
hoop fully more than a few
remain, a filial connection
I can cultivate and hew
cuz, the ghost o' me late
mother, would be Jew
(red eye with swollen tears),
bull lent beef hoar, aye rue
permanent AWOL of papa,
whose paternal Zayda, I never knew!
He, pulled off a top aerospace
rocket launched secrete tete a tete
impossible mission an ace legendary
sharpshooter, sans Aaron Harris
firearms passion never did abate
spewed spear shaped ammunition
in league with the missus to create,
who no surprise hapt tubby his bedmate
launched payload with joint consent
(plus bonus) re: private effort to satiate
call of the wild hit targeted bullseye
(eggs cell lent lucky shot) did initiate
genesis nine months later begetting
an audacious, industrious, rambunctious
bouncing baby boy with black curls atop pate
christened Boyce Brandon Harris
bright eyed infant bestowed with brilliance,
brawn, and bravado quickly evinced late
tent smarts landed lad admittance schools
geared to those who did accelerate
with mathematics and sciences, which
positive accolades since a lil whippersnapper
family and academicians did accentuate,
thus stellar classroom dedication, diligence
dogged nose to grindstone did accommodate
him being courted by prestigious storied
halls of education kickstarting promising
future and adequate income to accumulate
ample to live comfortably within middle
class economic (March madness) bracket,
and provided basic creature comforts fate
blessed him, and Harriet Harris nee Kuritsky
with this sole son and two daughters, I advocate
as exemplary siblings (despite) contention,
which required lifetime to agglomerate,
and estranged relationship with me father
coalescing into pleasant raport, adolescent
chomped at the bit, and
did fidget, cower, and alienate
experienced palpable tension
as though a "FAKE" wall,
I could not eradicate!
Watching leaves cartwheel down
we meet at the bench
tucked under the trees, in the park
Unable to speak
I am feeling a squeeze in my breast
My emotions are clenched
with years of unrest
since that day that I left, empty armed
Still weak in the knees
I must sit while I watch
this child, once mine,
sit cross-legged, in light
of the late August sun
His fingers unpeel
the paper, and twine
from the gift I have brought
from a little gift shop
that I passed when I walked in the night
With the package undone,
he smiles up at me
and I see in his eyes
the wholeness of him
And I am strangled to say
the words that I could….
Would I tell him the things
that would empty those eyes
of a soft place to land ?
Now he grabs for the hand
of the mother he knows
and I thank her with eyes
before I must go
I must leave him to her
and not say the words
that would follow him home for all time
I have broken away
any hold that I had
except for the one
that chokes out the sun
on a hot August day
in the late afternoon
A leaf tumbles down, then is swept by the breeze
Only here for a moment, then gone
___________________________________________________
A Fictional Poem Based On Contest: "Long Lost Family"
8/15/16
Resubmitted for the 'PIECE DE RESISTANCE ' contest
Stinky Stan the dustbin man
Was always less than fragrant
The aroma hung like cattle dung
And he looked like a vagrant
If you saw Stanley at his work
You’d never call him posh
He wore the same clothes everyday
And never seemed to wash
Our Stanley wasn’t stupid though
In every days collection
He’d find some bits worth having
And soon had a fine selection
Then, one day Stan the dustbin man
Decided to retire
Took his dirty working clothes
And tossed them on the fire
Had a haircut had a bath
A nice hot shower, then
Didn’t feel too different
So, he did it all again
He gathered his collection
All neatly catalogued
Took it to the sale room
Where it was promptly flogged
The piece de resistance was
A painting of a man
He didn’t know the artist
But the experts said Cezanne
It made a pretty penny
In fact a lot of money
So Stanley’s leaving Blighty
For somewhere warm and sunny
© John W Fenn 28-08-2009
Form:
~~Johnny Depp Wrapped in ChocolateThat Would Be Heaven Sent~~
Bonjour môn amies a ballade to write, will be my fait accompli
The trials of a woman to bring love - in a village that did not play.
An alluring female chocolatier opens a choclaterie-e
Hated by the Mayor she wished her plans she never did lay
Ooh la la !! Her dress was racy - but still they began to pay
Johnny Depp was her gypsy lover when on the river they went
But she had to win the love of others to fulfil plans, come what may
Johnny Depp wrapped in chocolate - that would be heaven sent.
A village so French - a so called femme fatal-e
She determined to change there outlook and stay
Viva la difference, but one by one she turned them to see
Her chocolate treats did melt in mouth - in secret they did say
C’est manifique - they whispered with authority
Her sweets bites bought together those she thought were meant
Even though some tried to block her treats others made a silent plea
Johnny Depp wrapped in chocolate – that would be heaven sent.
To church the lady never went an illegitimate child the Mayor did see
But slowly the French ladies turned to love this alluring woman and say
Her chocolate they thought magical- her raison d’etre it must be
Her tête-à-têtes were to open hearts, and bring peace and love to stay
Reconciliations made in her chocolate shop - their thoughts began to sway
But no chocolates were they to eat, and the reason - it was lent…
But those that did dare to try - found on their tongues it did dance and play
But Johnny Depp wrapped in chocolate - that would be heaven sent.
Prince Depp my piece-de-resistance, is there for all to see
My joie de vivre if I had been there, even though it may be lent
I would have paid money just to see…
Johnny Depp wrapped in chocolate - that would be heaven sent.
©
For the Un Deux Trois contest....well at least I tried ha ha