Long Saki Poems
Long Saki Poems. Below are the most popular long Saki by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Saki poems by poem length and keyword.
So how do you like your sushi
just sashimi on a plate?
or do you prefer it wrapped in nori?
decorated with microgreens and eggs?
And is there wasabi?
that heat to the tongue?
just a dash or a dab?
Does it make your nose run?
Do you dip in soy?
or is it the modern aminos?
without that salty it seems a bit drab....
Do you like your fish as an appetizer to your meal
or can it be the main course?
Do you want a bit of surf and turf
alternating between beef and fish
culinary exertion almost unreal?
Start with seaweed salad, edamame or just some simple hot green tea?
And is it chopsticks or handrolls?
or do you eat with your hands?
Are there other accompanying tricks?
I long to hear of your distinguishing traits
as you tempt me with your stories and wit
So tell me your tales of sushi
and I will tell you mine
And then perhaps we shall have some saki
and find another way to pass the time
- Do you like it raw? - Artimus (C) Susan Manley 6/15/2024 2:48PM
Yeah... I am a bit salty today
JACK DANIELS met JIM BEAM at the CANADIAN CLUB
to discuss their upcoming trip on the CUTTY SARK.
They were planning a vacation to a Caribbean cove
to get some SOUTHERN COMFORT.
JOHNNY WALKER, who had a disagreement with
them over their SLOE GIN game, wanted to
give them a SAKI. "VODKA ya think you're doing?"
chimed in GIBSON, who was a BEEFEATER sitting nearby.
"It's not like EARLY TIMES...so just wipe that
SMIRNOFF your face." A brawl would have started,
but a beautiful woman came in. "Look at them
COURVOISIERs," said the MARTIN MILLERs.
They noticed her ring with the BLUE SAPHIRE from
BOMBAY.
JACK DANIELS immediately lost interest in the argument,
and asked if he could sit with her. She agreed and he sat
down. He noticed that she had a B & B monogram on her blouse.
"I've not seen you here before...what's your name and where
are you from?" he asked.
In a charming southern accent she replied, "Ma name is
MARGARITA, Ahm new in town, and Ahm from HENNESSY."
When the waiter came over, they ordered two MINT JULEPS.
It was the start of a relationship that the DEWARS of them
enjoyed, especially when they bowled SCOTCH doubles together.
If this fair flower blossom not, The bulbul will not sing,
Nor rose-buds make the garden smile welcoming in the spring;
If he is not the saki, then nor jar nor wine will be,
Nor in this world will tawhid shine, Nor your heart beat in you;
Yonder ethereal skyey tent, This great name still sustains,
And dancing to its music, flows the blood in Life’s own veins.
It is in the forests and the hills, And on the tranquil plains,
On the seas, in the arms of waves, In roar of hurricanes;
A music heard in China’s towns, Morocco’s desert-song,
And hid within each Muslim’s heart, It makes his faith grow strong.
Let all the peoples of the world see till the end of time,
How I have made this glorious name beyond all thought sublime!
That pupil of the eye of Earth, Soil only dark men tread,
That region where have always been your martyrs born and bred,
That land upon the hot sun’s lap, That land of al-hilal,
Which lovers fondly love to call The land of their Bilal,--
Is all a-quiver with this Name, Like trembling mercury,
Like pupils dark, in pools of light, It swims perpetually!
Your shield be wisdom, be your sword the flaming Love Divine,
My fond dervish! do you not know that all the world is yours?
All else but God is at your feet, If sounds your Takbeer great;
If you a Muslim truly are, Your effort is your fate.
To my Muhammad be but true, And you have conquered me;
The world is nothing you will command My Pen of Destiny.
Kalam e Iqbal (The Answer to complaint by Allah AlMighty to Pious Muslim on their Kind Complaint)
Translated By Aliza Kashmala Kiran.
her brown skinned
body laying atop a
table top covered
by a white table
cloth but she is
naked yet dressed
as a buffet with
delights to eat
placed like plates
for to be self served
my finger tips imitate
chop sticks to take
the taste of her now
noodle hair with
seaweed eye brows
following further down
her cuisine figurine
fingering disoriented
flavors and spices
sipping the saki shot
puddling her bellybutton
pairing with her pear
hips where sit not fig
greens but the earthy
shiso leaves that by
uncovering these find
two slices of raw tuna
sashimi dripping blow
fish soup the deadly
delicacy i immediately
drink licking her bowl
clean liking her sticky
rice inner thighs i
find no longer fingers
but my tongue turning
over the table now
able to smell pickled
ginger and inhaling
the heat of
wasabi
Form:
A night with friends to enjoy a culinary sampling tour downtown
Time for a boatload of fun, and let our hair down
Our journey begins with our tour guide loading us into his van
A jolly fellow who is letting us know all the stops in our four-hour span
Samples from many countries we will get to taste
My guess is we will not let anything go to waste
First stop Italian for some authentic pizza and fine wine
Then it is British with its fish and chips and a pint of beer, mighty fine
Japanese is our next stop with its sushi and saki to wash it down
Finally France for some French onion soup and pastries, and some of the best wine to be found
Such a culinary delight, as well as a wonderful evening spent with friends
Tanka by night
Deceptive words by day
This the Russian leader’s way
Putin is short... sighted too
As he stumbles over Ukraine
Forewarned
History repeats
Nato retreats
In a huddle of words
Tanka you for nothing says Ukraine
As a hail of Russian shells fall like rain
Europe must beware of Russian floods
Footnotes from Japan:
A samurai warrior raises his sword
Slicing though many ancient verse and texts
He smiles at me, as I stare back in absolute abject terror
Am I I next?
He is beaming at me in raucous laughter
As he says No Tanka, Tanka to you
I raise my saki and replied Tanka to you too!!!!
There’s a fella I know.
He is noble.
He is kind.
He is silent.
He is still.
There’s a fella I know.
I mean to say, I know I don’t know.
He isn’t noble.
He isn’t kind.
These are my words, for him.
For this cat.
He is a cat.
He is not these words.
He sees beyond words,
He sees beyond worlds.
He is a cat.
He knows that words are the cages we attempt to trap meaning in.
He sees meaning and meaninglessness. He sees no difference.
He is a cat.
I call him grey.
I call him gray.
I call him content.
I call him graceful.
I call him Saki.
(its the name given him)
(though it's not his name)
He is a cat.
These words are for me, though seemingly given him.
He is a cat.
Out beyond ideas of word and meaning,
there is a field mouse.
“I’ll eat you there.”
He is a cat.
He is not that
that I call him.
He is a cat.
He is a cat.
I call him Saki.