Long Spice of life Poems
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Because I like variety,
I’ve got many different boxes of tea upon my shelf.
Sometimes I might mix them up,
adding two different bags of tea to seep inside my glass.
Some flavors I enjoy consist of these: rose hips, jasmine,
hibiscus, cinnamon, apple spice, chamomile, mint blend,
and one called Tension Tamer! Its ingredients are
peppermint, licorice, and hops (to name a few).
“Real” tea contains antioxidants, which means
I ought to drink more of those teas than I do.
Though green tea is the healthiest, I still prefer
unique and naturally sweet herbal teas.
They have minerals and other ingredients to make them healthy too.
I enjoy a variety of them, with names like “blood red orange.”
I add a few of them together, seeping them in boiled water,
then flavoring them with honey. Ahhh, to savor nice warm tea.
What a life be; if without a tint packed with spices
All spices high and mild; nostrils filled with its aroma
Whether flow with the Ganga colliding the bourn,
Or sang with the chirping of the Sparrow sitting on the roofline,
The hot spicy heat prickle of the Ghost Pepper Chilli cuddling the tongue
The wild breeze nudges the chest while walking on the land of Sohra,
What a life be; if without a tint packed with spices
All spices add a pinch; just like sugar and salt an Indian lore
Add spices to the game and flaws
Add spices to the love and lust
Add spices to death and conquer
Add spices to lives and victories
What a life be; if without a tint packed with spices
Critters born and die; but good and bad is inscribed in their graves
Spice are harvest and contained; but the tale of aroma
Begins from my kitchenette and voyaging across the overseas
Some folks like their food real spicy;
Others lean towards bland.
Oftentimes the piquancy
Is not what you had planned.
There are those who favor bitter;
Many savor sweet.
Recipes that call for both
Are where the twain shall meet.
Certain people would declare
Their meal a real fiasco
If it didn’t have the sting
Of salsa or Tabasco.
Personalities, as well,
Are fiery or cool.
Foods reflect one’s temperament,
Though logic may not rule.
It’s possible that someone dull
Likes savory cuisine,
Yet someone sultry somehow lacks
That tangy pungent gene.
It’s like the nursery rhyme we learned
Of Jack Sprat and his wife:
Variety makes the world go round
And is the spice of life.
Ilene Bauer (http://primetimerhyme.blogspot.com)
Mum said "birds of a feather flock together"
so I searched for a man who liked similar weather
until Dad stressed "opposites attract"
and I tried to determine just what I lacked
"Small packages", Mum said, "held the best things"
so I looked for a humble guy with diamond rings
until Dad said I should find a real go-getter
because it's a fact "the bigger the better"
When I fancied a guy from amongst the herds
Mum said "action speaks louder than words"
but Dad said this advice should be ignored
because "the pen is mightier than the sword"
Mum believed men should be kept closely entwined
because of the saying "out of sight out of mind"
Dad urged I give them space and make them ponder
because "absence makes the heart grow fonder"
I worried how I'd react to being charmed
Mum emphasized "forewarned is forearmed"
The male perspective gave my ego a hit –
Dad said "cross that bridge if you come to it"
When I found love the saying Mum liked to push
was "one in the hand's worth two in the bush"
Dad said "there's always time to be the faithful wife"
and persuaded me "variety was the spice of life"
I struggled at courting and was getting old
but "you're never too old to learn" I was told
However my confidence was hit for a six
when Dad said "you can't teach an old dog new tricks"
"If first you don't succeed try, try again"
this was Mum's attitude toward courting men
Dad's radically differed of course –
he told me not to "flog a dead horse"
My parent's advice couldn't have been sounder
for I found a genuine all rounder
but I hope he can live with the reality
I now have a split personality.
From David's unpublished book entitled 'Poems for Wedding Receptions & Poems Definitely NOT for Wedding Receptions
In the days of old
A story told
Found it's way to paper
The spice of life
Or better strife
Neatly born on typewriters
The mysterious deeds and detectives pleas
And facts of sports are given
The small details as big as whales
Reviel the secrets that are hidden
The mind, the facts and a little time
Along with creative splinder
A reporter trying to find the angle
That will make a story bigger
The ancient keys
Of a dying machine
With ribbon and metal letters
A story told on pages that fold
With pictures and adds from sellers
A magnificant machine
That made all words clean
Provided correct the speller
Along with letters
And puncuation as feathers
Communication was much better
A combination of high technology
With artistic values of high quality
A solimnity mixed with wise cracks
And facts
The writers best ability to discribe
A certian act
And the typewriter
With it's standard theme
Letters all perfect punctuation clean
Being a lover of poetry so much
but good to make time for other things
variety they say is the spice of life
enjoy real satisfaction for what it brings
I've always been a great lover of books
so I still love a really good read
whether history, bio or Christian thought
obviously, poetry inspires me up to speed
Walking is something I love to do
especially among nature colours so clear
among the woods branches and twigs
has such effect to inspire all that's near
Music has always been a love of mine
tastes have changed over the years
at one time in my 20s, punk was my thing
now latterly classical soothes all my fears
In all of this, I've enjoyed variety
brings joy to my life fort each day
so good being alive whatever our years
enjoying these pastimes hoping to stay
(This is a piece to describe what hobbies/pastimes fill my life other than poetry.)
The Seasons
The changing seasons
—winter, spring, summer, and fall—
I love them all.
Variety is said to be the spice of life,
And I enjoy their arrivals and departures,
Each season unique with its own set of characteristics.
Winter presents a choice between cross-country skiing, slalom,
Or tobogganing down a hill; or snowshoeing in the woods;
Or staying warm inside while reading a good book;
Or going for a leisurely drive around town to see the Christmas lights
And enjoy the festive Yuletide merriment.
Spring brings the warm rains that freshen the Earth
When imaginations are set free after the winter pall,
And to lace up the sneakers after a winter spent in the gym
And go jogging outside to feel the wind in your face.
Come spring, love is in the air, and new life is born.
Sunny summer, breezy and warm, fills the days,
Lending decision-making as to whether to go biking or swimming,
Or to laze on the beach relaxing and suntanning,
Or to go boating or canoeing to fish and explore.
Summer is the season to visit kin and rest from work.
Fall is the harvest, whose abundance I’m thankful for,
When leaves change colour and scatter in the wind,
And walks in the forests are a common thing.
The days grow colder and the nights longer
As winter approaches and autumn ends.
I love only my kind.
But a world of just
your kind would to
monotony consign you.
I celebrate just my kind.
But a world that celebrates
only you, would to the utter
depths of boredom relegate you.
I prefer just my kind.
But the preference of your kind
would your curiosity wear out.
I only recognize my world.
But a world of only you
can never its horizon broaden.
I only relish my own race.
But a world devoid of
other races would be the
most uninteresting.
My race must the entire earth occupy.
But without the 'inferior' races,
how could you 'superiority' claim?
I have a lebensraum for my
race to occupy.
A lebensraum for only you
would geography obliterate.
So let your world be yours,
and let mine be mine.
Your culture and language you
may retain, whilst mine I also
retain,
as we both our diversity
celebrate.
Because diversity is nothing
more than the spice of life.
After what seems like years, I’m back in society,
Hoping that the outside world hasn’t changed too much.
If the spice of life is what they call variety,
My time spent alone has caused me to be out of touch.
I did my time, willingly, for something I didn’t do,
But I suppose that the punishment did fit the crime.
Some may say that that’s wrong; but that’s their point of view.
My reasons may give them insight, but all in due time.
I may not know a lot, but I do know right from wrong.
That gave me comfort while I was in my room, alone.
Though I was grounded for only one day, it seemed so long.
But, covering for my little brother felt good to the bone.
Well some they say though straight or gay
Get fun from innuendo
While others wait ‘til dark
To get their kicks outside your window
Some do the deed without a sound
Some labour in the dark
While others roars would wake the dead
Some sing out like a lark
Variety’s the spice of life
And while there’s a great selection
We’ve all been screwed from time to time
At every new election
There’s watersports and bondage
There’s even golden showers
Beware though not to mix the two
Or you’ll stay wrapped up for hours
Some wear a mask with eye-holes
Or some dangerous protrusion
Some sport a tail or riding crop
While lost in their delusion
Some women favour veggies
To chippies sparks or plumbers
They relish every celery stick
Or juicy green cucumbers
There’s tales that tell of fishermen
Quite partial to a skate
Though fond of fish I always was
I prefer mine on a plate
Some wrap up like an onion
For fear their skin is showing
While some rush in all fingers and thumbs
With boobs and buttocks glowing
There are those without a conscience
Who swear they’re not the owner
Oh deary me it had to be
Someone elses *****
Though some would up and go all night
Some finish in a minute
While others just the thought alone
Would push them past their limit
While girls dress up as men
And Lads like Cinderella
It takes a little work sometime
To tell female from fella
Uniforms are common place
Considered rather arty
A sturdy pair of coppers cuffs
Are the rave at swingers parties
There’s beads and balls and bangles
They may become a habit
And a whirling whirring weapon
They call the Rampant Rabbit
When picking out a present
For your partners Xmas box
Have Duracell a plenty
In her little Xmas socks
So while sex it has its ups and downs
Even Daniel would agree
It’s a sure fire cure for unwanted frowns
And it beats a cup of Tea