Long Spices Poems
Long Spices Poems. Below are the most popular long Spices by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spices poems by poem length and keyword.
No doubt that July is a beautiful summer month
It is the year's best month is named after Julius Caesar himself
Summer raindrops pierced by sunbeams
Just think of how precious privilege it is to wake up to bird song
Columbines are still in full bloom, they are charming
Spices herbs for diversity and for flavor
Who would have anything against sitting in the garden all day
and let you tickle a bit of a grape plant in the neck
Flowers and plants are an important part of summer
Enjoy it all with family and good friends
Fair weather clouds that just gives a little variety in all the blue
July is synonymous with holidays for most
The temperature and enthusiasm rises
This summer we will swim in the ocean and eat lots of ice cream
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02.07.2016
- Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
(unrhymed couplets)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
- Published in the newspaper 05.07.2016
The honey once said:
"When you start making money
Speak to me poetry."
I say poetry pays
It's forever therapist
Like my very muse
Deep within my being
Love of words and and songs does ring
We've calmed raging waves
We make cozy most days
I say, poetry is in the way I dress our bed
It's in the way I clip unruly hairs
From his beard and fully gray head
It's in the way I kneel and give him warm baths
The Source let us flow with love and art
Poetry's terms of truth I've given
What have I forsaken?
Poetry's niche is rich
Like fresh spices I've beheld
And that, too, is final.
*
Beneath the cobalt sky, where legends are spun,
Island life unfolds, as traced by the sun.
Amidst the palms, a verdant ballet,
A choreography of chores, in the island's sway.
Fishing boats gently bob, tales in their wake,
Nets entangled with the morning's ocean handshake.
Fishermen, weathered, their hands tell the story,
In salt-stained shirts, a testament to the island's glory.
Coconut vendors wield machetes with pride,
Husks cast away, like secrets to hide.
Sweat beads on brows under the tropical sun,
As the islanders toil, their day just begun.
Children laugh, chasing the tide's embrace,
Building dreams in the sand, a jubilant race.
Their laughter, a melody with seagull cries,
As the day unfolds 'neath endless skies.
In the market square, colors burst and bloom,
Fruits and spices scent the island's room.
Vendors banter, a lively exchange,
Commerce dancing in the island's range.
As dusk descends, shadows embrace the land,
Twilight whispers with a soft command.
Stars emerge, a cosmic display,
Over the island, where dreams hold sway.
While the waves lash the shores and splash in soft music
The dishes we serve here in this Golden Grain restaurant
Emanate aroma into the nostrils a pungent sweet exclusive
Have you visited this earlier too or how are you insouciant
A sip of sweetly sour sea food clear soup with tofu in your mouth
While on your hair the wind from the Arabian Sea plays its tickles
As you change your seat for the cool wind coming from the south
Our gracious waiters serve you mouth watering sea food pickles
Tasting the cheesy tuna salad as you share your moments with sea
The boundless sky above invites you to look at its cracked blue art
We are mystified if we will have the listen and sight or have the glee
In Sorpotel with rice, the Goan cuisine we must take to fill our heart
Made of pork in spices coconut vinegar and green chillies
Sorpotel is the essence of Christian gastronomy of Goa
The pungent and little salty flavor will without doubt ease
Your fatigue and more so if you take chunks of chilly soya
To which delight you will employ your perception is
A challenge as your eyes are amazed at the sight of
Seagulls in front of the restaurant leaving the breeze
Have become scavengers in their wing-spread hops
There is the all time favourite basil leaf spread lovely
Pizza dough of Phoenix with a crisp but chewy crust
Made by our chef himself who learned his art at Italy
Sweet salty pizza margheritta of ours take you must
Bebinca you all have to take in its full seven saffron layers
Get the personification of Goan spirit in this unique dessert
While listening to and looking at the splashy music players
Nonetheless your taste buds seek the sweet food for a flirt
Golden Grain is a golden moment in the golden sea beach
Do step in and taste the food with waves within your reach
_____________________________________________________
9/9/2016
For My imaginary restaurant - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
I Celebration in the Year 2000
Cultures combine with cornucopia chalices
Spinning with starry spices steaming dreams
All together with pollination of feather flowers
Flowing with global glowing hope harvests
We capture watercolor waterfalls words
From freedom chests echoing expressions
With experiences exalting joyful gemstones
Teaching circulation of time's dancing chapters
We interlock internally with orchestra grace
Where world's writers inscribe soul scrolls
II Desolation in the Year 2001
Insane airplanes fire and flame wanton wars
From unknown blistering hate death's fate
Buildings burn with smoky skeletons
Tomb's teeth bleed scythe seeds upon
aghast eyesight halting worldwide scarred souls
Ghosts of time's crimson crimes question peace
From horror history halls that crumble with calls
Ringing culture's forever communication chairs
Within time's decorative trusting chambers only
exist with sweating escorts to eagle engine exits
Listen to me ,my dear guys, I met two little mice , They were small in size, And they visited my home thrice , The mice only came at night, They were afraid of the light, And they hid under the bag of rice, I never liked their cries,
They ate my cucumber slices, And pushed the glass of ice,
They never forgot to taste spices, I was ready to fight, And it was my right.
Into our harbour
Two ships did sail
From foreign lands
Through storms and gales
These bringers of new
From far distant places
With their spices and silks
And their different faces
Most welcome they are
To our harbour walls they approach
To respect our laws
And not to encroach
Once on our lands
They can do as we do
But to misrepresent themselves
We shall see them through
Off their ships they embark
On my lands they now stand
Absorbing the greenery and grandeur
My island of grand
Our children and women
To the harbour they head
Two ships have arrived
Many people have said
For they know there will be
Many things that are new
As they barter their wares
To these foreigners few
Days will pass
And these ships will depart
On a new journey they will head
To another place so apart
Where am i
You are asking yourselves
I am on a place called Atlantis
Near the Atlantic shelf
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/atlantis.php
i am a pastry chef
the constant baker my lot in life
i have shelves filled with life's spices
grains from many different fields
my ovens are in constant heat
doors begging to be opened
that feed the outer shop
where the world may peruse, purchase
if it so cares
but on that end, i hardly bother
i am not interested in what life
saunters away with
more so the ghosts that come in
this kitchen for an illuminating chat
after the recipe has been prepared
and the tray safely behind the oven door
we sit and line by line remember the limns
that now rest in ages gone by
delighted i am with each new word
that passes the lips from fields long harvested
or explore a bit of myth, perfect metaphor
how can one ever be alone
when so many pastry chefs
come thru the door, accompanied by pages
that has served them well
and tho they never lift a tray
they are in every recipe
and every pastry you taste
OKC 6/27
"In the depths of my mind, a lover did dwell
A dark companion, with thoughts that would compel
Me to doubt and fear, to lose my way
But I found the strength to face him, come what may
He whispered lies, and fueled my pain
But I rose up, and refused to be tamed
I searched for a way to break free from his grasp
And found solace in the warmth of a gentle clasp
The aroma of hope, a savory treat
Filled my heart with joy, and my soul to greet
The soup's smell aroused, from corners so dark
Flavors of freedom, a delicious embark
I lost my lover, over a soup so fine
The soup's smell was so tempting, that I tossed him into the boiling soup"
Would You Like Some Toast?
I’m just a guy named Nacho Libra.
I work at an orphanage.
They gave me cooking duties.
And dead guy duty.
Would you like some chips on your salad?
Where are the spices?
Would you like some toast?
With these eagle eggs, all have the best wrestling moves.
Sometimes I wear stretchy pants.
In the ring, are you ready to dance?
I like paprika on my corn.
Do you have feelings for a nun?
If I win, I will buy a big bus.
On my bike, I will leave you in the dust.
Iv’e had diarrhea since Easters.
It says in the bible not to wrestle your neighbor.
This is the worst soup, it needs flavor.
Everything you just said is my favorite thing.
Nacho Libra likes to party.
Choncho, I need to borrow some sweats.
I’m not leaving, I just want to look my best.
I love cheese in my tortilla.
These are the lords' chips for the orphanage