Long Spicy Poems
Long Spicy Poems. Below are the most popular long Spicy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spicy poems by poem length and keyword.
In sepia foliage's of falsified fantasies,
cursed by haunting hornets stinging
with honeyed painted lies,
her mind was like a matriarch of metaphors.
An inflorescent seed buried in darkness,
with a somnolent spirit rustling in onyx nostalgia.
Too afraid to spread her fragile feathers,
she lay upon a bed of black rose petals,
veiled underneath dark raven phases,
hidden behind the silence of lunar secrets,
Her soul slept like grieving ghosts of galactic graves,
repeatedly releasing wounded sighs.
Not all florets flourish
with the mercy of rainwater,
only nourishing hands can create
an aesthetic pastel carnival of confetti,
like lilac lavender snowflakes of smoky love.
Some spicy spirits are like
the marigold locket of liquid,
glowing like turmeric hues
in tamarind tinted skies of oblivion,
clearing diaphanous dewdrops
of a grainy hourglass,
spreading vintage violet wishes
in bluish epiphany skies,
disintegrating a montage
burnt to nefarious ashes,
raising amaranth pink petals
of heartfelt empathy.
There is a magic in midnight reigns,
as dawn retreats, dusk births a saviour knight,
altering twilight's twinkling tunnel
of kismet stars perfumed with sins.
Moonlight spreads a subtle silk scent
when fears fall like cosmic dust,
soothing a scarred moon soul and stars in slumber.
Not all flowers need a gardener to grow,
but all seedsmen sow to bloom an ivory aurora,
through the obscurity of ebony eyes.
Sometimes, its the simple touch of fingertips,
that lays the perfect foundations,
for a sunflower to embellish in gold.
So hard to pick among my friends
for all of them are true.
My world is small, my world is large
and all here in the Soup.
There’s Andy sweet, with writing neat,
and dear heart Connie too!
They’re my support, they’re my comfort,
a spicy mixed up stew.
Now, Dane Ann tells me when I’m tart
and Connie when I’m strong.
Yet, Linda, my sweet heart Linda
delights me on and on.
My world is small, my world is large
mon cher lives in the south
Tim’s his name of Cajun fame
a charming, silly youth ;).
I’ve new friends too they come to me
silver so Un-Canny …
I treasure them as I do my Jim
my Jamie, my Soup family!
The weeping willows
Their widow's veil of leaves
Trailing sadly in the stream
Pungent spicy peppercorn trees
Their green feathery hair
Festooned with pink beads
Crooked old oaks
Their gnarled fingers
Pointing in twisted directions
Rigid tall poplars
Giant thin arrows
Forever trying to touch the sky
The blossoming apple tree
Petals slowly falling
Pink snow drifting to the ground
The purple flowered wisteria
Ever reaching out for somewhere else
Unable to be content in one spot
The graceful ghost gum
The crisp clean lemon aroma
Of a glowing spectre on a moonlit night
Prim pine trees
Dressed in green ballroom gowns
Still waiting for the dance to start
Liquid amber in autumn
Sending down colourful stars
A rainbow mat on the ground
The dull silver grey wattle
Glowing yellow with the brightness
Of a thousand tiny suns
Every tree on this planet
Has a beauty of its own
We should learn to care more
Unexpectedly, I heard she was still alive.
She had been living (as a flame),
in a room
I had made for her in my mind.
I had kept her there tucked away,
sedated and forever young.
Now I hear she is alive, though a little arthritic,
and living in Sussex with four cats.
Of course, the affair must now cease.
The fantasy cauterized,
her body heat squeezed out of my bloodstream
like a spicy toothpaste.
I should hate for her to see me as I am now
besides my own youth has become a ghost to me,
but perhaps just one more time
I will enter that secret place
where I know
she waits for me, still smiling seductively.
I saw a monk
make water today
and almost cry;
water that was almost
tea.
Tonight we couldn’t
make heads nor tails
of the blues or the pinks;
the boxes or the lenses.
Tonight we couldn’t
make heads nor tails
of the words called
poetries.
Tonight, the gravity assist
came to the heavy-papered
water coloured gouache, magnet held.
Tonight, the daal
was too spicy,
the back room too old,
the road too wind-y
or not winding enough.
Tonight, sleep came too soon for me,
for her,
for the cat on lap;
the grey barrier to repairing to
bed instead.
Today we pulled mint.
Today we lifted stones.
Today we borrowed swords.
Today we ate outdoors.
Sleep is coming...
for me
Sleep is coming...
to take and bury
the proper end to this
poem.
My daughter's getting married
To a super guy called Tom,
It's really fast approaching,
It won't be very long.
The wedding dress is sorted,
The venue and the flowers,
The music and the fireworks,
But the cake, it took us hours.
We went to do some tasting,
Each sponge was quite divine,
Chocolate orange, vanilla
Pimms, coffee and praline.
The raspberry and the champagne
Made us salivate,
Strawberry and white chocolate
Tasted oh so great.
There was banana and spicy cinnamon,
Ginger and caramel,
All so gratifying,
Oh and Battenberg as well.
The carrot cake with walnuts
Was tasty as can be,
Rhubarb and rose petal
And one flavoured with green tea.
Piña colada with coconut
Like kisses on our lips,
Chocolate tiramisu
Oh the calories on our hips.
Odd flavours such as beetroot,
Pistachio and courgette
Were actually quite delightful,
A taste we won't forget.
Earl Grey with lavender,
Pumpkin with peanut butter,
Mouth-wateringly delectable
They got us all a flutter.
Chocolate fudge with peppermint,
Marshmallow and key lime,
Traditional dried fruit,
They were all sublime.
How could we make our choices
For a three tiered wedding cake,
We just couldn't do it
So we've gone for twenty-eight!
4th March 2017
THANKSGIVING LEFTOVERS
Thanksgiving has now come and gone,
But we’ve still got turkey by the pound,
So the question now becomes,
What leftover recipes can be found?
We can have turkey tetrazzini,
Turkey chili with lots of beanies,
Turkey chow mein,
Turkey with whole grains,
Cause we’re not thrilled by more turkey plain.
Turkey stacked on white bread, lots of mayo,
Turkey quite spicy doused with lots of Old Bay,
Pasta with turkey spaghetti sauce,
Turkey on a salad gently tossed,
And let’s not forget some turkey jerky.
Ben Franklin pushed the turkey for our national bird,
Cause turkey provided sustenance, that’s what he heard.
But he didn’t face the problem that confronts us today,
How do we make so much leftover turkey go away?
Turkey is quite versatile, Help us eat a pile,
Eat the neck, munch the gizzard,
So much white meat, it’s a turkey blizzard.
And let’s not forget the turkey liver,
That’s the part Grandma says to give her.
Our turkey didn’t fly the coop,
That’s why we’ll enjoy turkey noodle soup,
Turkey in the straw, turkey cole slaw,
Take my advice, try turkey fried rice,
Turkey pot pie, Got to give it a try.
How many days can one turkey last,
If we don’t get rid of these leftovers fast,
Then we’ll have turkey coming out our ears,
And we’ll eat turkey for a couple years.
Oh, no, I just remembered, Christmas is coming soon,
We can’t eat another turkey or we’re gonna swoon.
Guess instead we’ll serve ham, leg of lamb with mint jam, can of spam,
A dozen clams, with a side of yams and crackers of graham.
Anything but turkey!
If finding good times is your wish
And poetry your favorite dish,
Then visit us. The soup is on!
It’s piping hot and never gone.
And with so much to see and do,
This place is hopping! Rabbit stew
Has got to be our specialty
Because we move so rapidly.
I recommend a cup of Joe.
To keep up here, you can’t move slow,
for this is such a lively group,
you won’t be seeing turtle soup!
Chorus:
So come on! Step outside your shell.
Learn all the rules and learn them well.
Of poems, we must have every kind.
So come inside and feed your mind!
No turtle soup, but plenty of
All kinds of soup you’re sure to love -
Like vegetable hot in the pot;
Of healthy soup we have a lot!
If psychedelic is your thing,
Try special mushroom with a zing!
There’s spicy enchilada too
If Latin passion flows through you.
Some soup is salty; some is sweet,
And many soups are filled with meat.
There’s chicken noodle for the soul.
I guarantee that you’ll get full.
Chorus:
So come on! Step outside your shell.
Learn all the rules and learn them well.
Of poems, we must have every kind.
So come inside and feed your mind!
Learn how to post, and don’t be shy.
Most poets love when you reply,
Especially if you read their work.
New friendships are an added perk!
New poems appear on lists. Beware!
They vanish soon into thin air.
So many contests to get in.
You’ll feel your head begin to spin.
To learn the ropes, just ask around.
Quick! Like a bunny, leave the ground.
Hop to it! Ready, set, now GO.
Remember turtles are too slow……
Chorus:
So come on! Step outside your shell.
Learn all the rules and learn them well.
Of poems, we must have every kind.
So come inside and feed your mind!
'for Cindi Rockwell's "My Poetry Soup Recipe Contest"
When I saw Susan's cute little contest on the famous Roses are Red poem,
I went upstairs and said to Joe, "How would you finish this poem:
Roses are red
Violets are blue. . ." ?
(in case you don't know this famous little English poem, the actual finishing lines are "sugar is sweet/ and so are you")
Very quickly my husband gave me an ending that was a twist on the old poem's
lines. But I was proud of him for actually coming up with something, so I put it into Susan's contest. I wanted to see how my hubbie would do if he were to enter a contest
here!
(if you want to see it, it's the post I made before my Abracadabra poem)
Later I thought up a bunch of other endings. These are some I came up
with for
Roses are Red
Violets are blue:
1. Be my spicy meatball
and I'll be your Ragu.
2. your library book
is long overdue.
3. I'd tell you much more
but it's all Taboo.
4. Do you style your hair
with Dippity-Do?
5. Your cocker and my poodle
would make one great Cockapoo.
6. You tempt me like honey
tempts Winnie the Pooh.
7. I'll play you a love song
on my kazoo.
8. you'd make a good rooster
Cock a doodle do!
He ran around shooting unsuspecting souls with his golden tip arrows
and one perfectly bent, Port Orford Cedar bow. Wearing nothing
but a diaper and a silly grin he aimed, shut one eye then Wham!
love is dapper
always a gentleman
respectively yours
He studied at the Rose City Archery where all smart Cupids go for
an education on falling in love! What he wasn't expecting was some
day he would fall for a crazy red head who was a Pixie in disguise.
he leveled the arrow
it ricocheted back
to his heart
She baked him cinnamon hearts both spicy and hot to the taste. Then she
took him to a magical place where every day felt like Valentine's day.
It wasn't long before a winged infant carrying a bow and a quiver of
arrows bounced up and down on Cupid's knee.
I'm a Cupid
he said to his daddy
with Pixie Ma, Whoo-ee