Long Taste bud Poems
Long Taste bud Poems. Below are the most popular long Taste bud by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Taste bud poems by poem length and keyword.
I love you the best, but you LIE with your invites
Leisurely you come to entice my taste bud and hijack my brain
Oblivious to the addiction of sugary, fatty, salty foods
Victorious you come out ahead, lucrative to my waist
Eating for pleasure than hunger
French fries crisp and delicious you cannot eat just one
Oh, slathered with gooey cheese & pepperoni with sausage & tomato yummmmmm….
Onions rings, Cheese burgers, Bacon so loaded with what is bad -for -you my undoing
Desirable cravings, makes my heart a beating, swooning for the meltinyourmouth good
6/29/2016
Contest: I love food
Sponsored: Lewis Raynes
The whole world knows that
Adding vinegar to chips and fish
Turns the whole offering into
An almost Earth shattering dish,
But how many people know,
How many people realise
The amazing effect to be had
By adding Mayo to your fries.
Almost a Damascus Road event
The first time that you try it
Just take the humble spud
And very quickly deep fry it
Then take a huge dollop of
That thick yellow stuff
Don’t worry just how much
You can never have enough.
A nice thick blob to make
A very tasty tasty dip
Then use one by one
On every single chip.
An explosion of joy
Follows each immersion
It really is a case of
Taste bud subversion.
Oh vinegar can be nice
It never ever goes to waste
But lather on the yellow stuff
For that cosmopolitan taste.
It’s the simpler things in life
That can give it zest and glow
Like a bag of red hot chips
And a splodge of Mayo.
You can keep your Fine Dining,
Your food artfully arranged
Your Meat barely cooked,
Oh how things have changed,
Just give me fish and ‘taties,
Wrapped and ready to go
To be Eaten with the fingers
Hot fish and ‘taties alfresco
Writing is my bold stroke coloured topographic passion,
that I warmly clasp with such boundless love,
whilst story-telling or in vibrant verse mode,
that novel gold plate medium for apt word transport,
one can effortlessly count on not to founder or malfunction,
when the mind is on that journey to dream enshrouded destination,
where emotional enrichment based on fountain jet outflow,
of luscious mood wave oozing from my ardent pen,
in tantalising tandem with diffuse metaphor so near,
the imagination my dedicated devotee divine,
together in a lifelong quintessential quest between ourselves,
and an augmented otherworldly picturesque brief to pursue,
in environment awash with transcendental jewel rim signposts,
day and night celestial enchantment on list for surreal lyric capture,
myself that earnest bard so awestruck by bewitching channels in stock,
affection has me in its Eiffel Tower grip,
as I endeavour to assemble, collate, synthesise gorgeous paragraphs,
to caress, bestow, display each tender visual encounter,
with my keyboard paintbrush dipped in multi-hue’d colloquialisms,
selective word search, ample phrase contingent,
enamoured idiom once coined,
hail the solemn spine bound reference book our voluminous assistant,
as I lavish fulsome praise on mountain peak upsweep at blue sky first light,
the sliver stream eddy on a green moss fleck rapid course,
a lowing cow whose hoofs depress the lush emerald paddock,
but one must not pretermit or abandon urban features as a source well,
with their fragrant coffee docks, that aroma as it wafts,
taste bud gourmet slices, a conversation magnet,
extolled in drama and music concert hall,
innovation hubs for one whose gift is investment with flare,
the hectic noisy streets at sunrise, fascinating footpath echo,
monuments aplenty to enthuse the scholar,
that building with an enigmatic past a sacred tomb,
wry jocose folklore of vocal city dweller in circulation,
lest we forget the mythic nightlife whose moonlit shadow cast a bouncy play,
on a final note the arch romantic down inside me turns to feelings,
oh how my heart pumps and pulses as I endeavour to sculpt touching lines,
in letters, cards, messages at christmas, Easter, birthdays, anniversaries where thoughtfulness counts,
writing , I adore you!
A simple pickle is the essence of life’s journey,
The recipe of a very experienced granny,
Who has put for the test of our taste bud,
emotions we all taste from cradle to mud!
Have you ever tried a lemon pickled sauce?
With salt, jaggery, chilli fried with lime chops!
The tongue is treated to a host of delights,
takes your culinary experience to new heights!
The lime is the sourness that we all know,
When heartbroken in life and lost in love,
The chilli is the anger that grows deep in us,
When we lack understanding and forgiveness!
Jaggery is that ancient mellowed sweetness,
That brings us cheer that we call happiness!
And Salt added to remind us of its potential,
For survival of species on Earth, it’s essential!
one more secret ingredient not listed before,
The bitterness of fenugreek from the core,
sprinkled into the mixture in a small measure,
Like life’s resentments so we value pleasure!
So in a simple home made granny pickle,
The wisdom of several civilisations trickle,
When you hold a spoon of pickle in hand,
You have all of life’s emotions to understand!
Date written 20/02/2020
4th placement
Pickle Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Nina Parmenter
Recently, I thought upon the story of Jesus and his disciples having their Last Supper together. I considered the fact that there were few food items with which to part take. Or were there? For example, just to name a few, there was the bread, the water, and the wine; there seems to be no record of any other foods present. Or were there? There were other types of non physical food items present; the kind that does not enter via the mouth. For example, love, tenderness, and compassion were very present. Should I even mention that there was The Presence of The Almighty God wrapped in human flesh and speaking of how much he appreciated having a meal with his disciples?
Moreover, there was also selfishness with a topping of desires to be the greatest. There was a 'power struggle' between his disciples at the divine table of God. There was the 'love of money' saturated with greed; and so obvious to everyone, there was an overflowing of over confidence and down right cockiness.
'Servant hood', although not a very desirable and tasty item, was also a highly present entree. It moves me to tears to think upon the vast menu and entree at God's table. However, I am forced to choose only one entree for this Divine purpose. My taste buds gravitate toward 'the entree of service'. I must confess that this taste bud is not a 'natural one', but one obtained by observing the "Master Server" who said, "I am among you as one who serves". Lk. 22:7
We are programed by nature with a desire to be served. A baby is born with an attitude that does not ask, "May I help you please?" On the contrary, it seems to come with a list of demands like, "I want food, and I want it now!" Nothing is wrong with the baby. It's just the way we are born into this world.
Let me suggest that when we gather as family and friends for dinner this Easter, let there be something on the table more than ham and roast and a host of other delicious foods. let's open our spiritual eyes a little bit wider. I think that we will notice the Christ, not only serving up the 'Bread of Life" and saying, "Let Me Serve You", but He would be inviting us to join him in 'serving one another'.
04152017 cj PS
Dewdrops stream down boisterous
children’s freckle-strewn mischievous dials,
as they dash in cartoon costume faux denim
apparel amidst the pale yellow sunlight glare.
Marble stone button twiddle on a blue
rinse wrinkle t-shirt,
Sumptuous ice cream raspberry blobs
tantalise the cheeky taste bud imps
whose chocolate brown eyes swell with
every morsel glutinously gorged on.
Doting parents wantonly indulge
their dawn glow
offspring’s shrieks of antic wonderment,
the honeysuckle fragrance that
releases germ-stuffed
nostrils a portentous spring nectar booster
shot for folk and kin alike,
effervescent yodel from young sibling and the
young at heart zeal of golden realm guardians
elevated to this neon sign paradise,
purple sleeve lacquer layer hydrant, surreal spirit saviour
of parched embryonic throats.
Picklock to that universal perfume
cloud that hovers
over asphalt stain urn and
stoic mint green
pristine luscious lawn,
playground for the butterfly wing vernal innocent shrouded by an orange peel citric soft fruit haze.
Age span infant euphoric zoom on fountain spume,
where families in a Ferris wheel hubub rejuvenate the
lacklustre greyness of their far too often
monochrome existence.
Posted ; 4th May 2022
Years have past but still can’t quell… won’t snub Orwell’s “the Moon under Water” pub as did cast a vast spell which did last….but pray tell what the hell should we call the restaurant of our dreams….which memes bestows seems to have all the right themes…glows how about “the Sunbeams below Sea”
Fables about higgledy piggledy chairs & tables
Cradles candles & scandals under their gables
Culinary cables run free no bland brand labels
Feast on every bit of the beast gourmet stables
Restaurant procured and manicured by a savant
Chef the ref hits the right clef is the commandant
An epicure tincture the cure for any bon vivant
An apothecary of wonders dispensed you adore
A third space with grace for either rich or poor
Service smooth as lace sings like a troubadour
Sweet as the smell after a downpour of petrichor
To attract and have a pact with every locavore
Delightful detour will always get highest score
Every encore makes sure come back for more
Beacon of light for us with appetite of a labrador
Another secret lover met palate whet paramour
The restaurateur not only a brassy raconteur
Flavour to savour taste bud flood provocateur
With bravura not bravado true entrepreneur
Not only an aficionado a classy connoisseur
Food looking pretty thanks to chef de partie
Maitre d’ quick with a ditty and slick repartee
Never sh*tty always a pity if they’re not witty
Cheer for every peer & the atmosphere is free
Sanctuary of treats from nearby streets so gritty
Harmonious not parsimonious not overly twee
Sybaritic symphony its rhapsody down to a tee
Glee of a miner finding gold & going on a spree
Umami tsunami a melody for my old china & me
Marvel at the majesty of a well woven tapestry
Pedigree and fancy free filigree the place to be
Treacle toned well honed academy of alchemy
Push the glutton button for a gourmands epiphany
Charms calms any qualms are like balms of apricity
Nowt finer for any city diner than elan & bonhomie
That it seems would be a restaurant of our dreams
Teems with reams of gleams “Sunbeams below sea”
“Christmas is like candy; it slowly melts in your mouth sweetening every taste bud, making you wish it could last forever.” – Richelle E. Goodrich
Xmas means
the time of winter people love.
Traditions there are plenty of,
especially where Christians live.
A time to celebrate and give!
A time to give to all those who
we love so much and strangers too.
Salvation Army rings its bell.
Donations we should give and well!
Xmas means
the time to think of One who lay
one night upon a bed of hay,
Who died in innocence because
His way of saving us it was.
A time to pray; a time to play;
to maybe ride upon a sleigh.
To hear sweet children shout with glee
and decorate a festive tree.
Xmas means
a time that kids look forward to
and all the wrapping parents do.
White Elephant, my favorite game
and Secret Santa – draw a name!
A time for making special treats
to give the neighbors - mostly sweets!
To plan for parties and to send
cards to every special friend.
Xmas means
a time for songs about God’s son
and silly kids’ songs just for fun
like songs of Santa and his reindeer.
Almost all those songs bring good cheer.
A time of great anticipation
for our children’s great elation.
Special shows for all to see
and pretty gifts beneath the tree.
Xmas means
when family can be together
finding ways to enjoy the weather -
like skating, sledding down a hill,
or making snowmen, too a thrill.
The ham, the turkey, all that food.
The Christmas spirit, the best mood.
It’s sad that some alone will cry.
To share the joy we all must try!
April 29, 2023
for Writing Challenge - Words With 'X' - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
MARRIAGE GOALS
What a colossal list and express phenomenal;
I enlist the daily dose of making her laugh like Hyena,
And evoke unseasonal smile like Harley Quin,
Unleash all romantic poetic armoury on my Queen.
Just like King Solomon, I'll write her classical notes,
Breakfast in bed of nutty pancakes, Ricotta strawberry and oats.
Tease her, not in a rush, till she begins to blush,
And joy starts to torrentially gush...
compliment her till she turns pink
as we skate gleefully on ice rink.
Make love with her mind and soul,
Wise word impartation is the seed I'll sow
until her name changes to Wisdom.
Fulfill our conjugation and exercise marital freedom
Learn a lot from her like my loving mother,
And every potential discord we'll both murder!
As her Bride, I'll Groom her in the way of the Lord,
Fanatically imbibing & feeding positives from my taste bud,
monetise our skills and use all our God-given gifts,
resonate in unbridled sex like freaks in the creeks,
Producing bedroom evidences as we raise our kids, bringing up our seeds even more than I was raised.
And continually, Christ name will only be praised.
????
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhyme
Copyright©November2022
THE LION WHO RUNS FROM A LION
Born of a Lion
But raised among sheep.
Stronger than iron
But shiver like leaves in upsweep.
Boldness is one of your identities
But at the sight of your clan,
you flee in company of groupies
And scatter before God and Man.
Instead of taking your territories
As it is written from the Genesis,
You succumb to your enemies
just at the sight of their emissaries,
Not knowing the old saying of wise words:
"He who runs because he has seen the Lions
can never run faster than he who runs
because the Lions has seen him" in the woods.
Since the son of a Lion is a (lion) cub,
Then the son of God is a god.
That's the veracity you have to absorb.
Accommodate this truth in your taste bud.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright© December2022.