Long Toasted Poems
Long Toasted Poems. Below are the most popular long Toasted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Toasted poems by poem length and keyword.
At the tender age of twenty-three
Carl took his leave of family
He'd put his stock in friends, he said
One year later, happily wed
Life was easy, an ocean breeze
His siblings, Carl loved to tease
Mocking their holiday get-togethers
He toasted his friends in Vegas weather
The years passed, memories faded
Carl and his wife fully persuaded
They'd done the right thing, sans regrets
Although no children did they beget
But Carl took ill, then his wife left him
Life took a U-turn... painful... grim...
Distant memories of a caring home
Awakened Carl's nostalgia zone
So despite himself, Carl picked up the phone
~ Family long gone, address unknown
[Verse 1]
Traveled the world, chasing the lights,
Toasted the towns on those faraway nights.
The price of the show, how things had to be,
The crowds grew loud, but the silence grew on me.
[Pre-Chorus]
Thinking of you, dreaming of home,
Glory feels empty when you're all alone.
But I couldn’t quit, addicted to fame,
Blinded by pride, I couldn’t feel your pain.
[Chorus]
The sun always rose, but it hid the dark nights,
I got lost in the music, forgot our fights.
The band became family, but you were far away,
Another night’s concert, and I'd call it a day.
I couldn’t see, I couldn't see...
I was writing love that would never be.
[Verse 2]
The stage lights faded, the crowds moved on,
Another lonely city, another empty song.
You begged me come home, said "It won’t be long,"
But I kept running, like I was always wrong.
[Pre-Chorus]
Thinking of you, dreaming of home,
Glory feels empty when you’re left alone.
But I couldn’t quit, addicted to fame,
Blinded by pride, I couldn’t feel your pain.
[Chorus]
The sun always rose, but it hid the dark nights,
I got lost in the music, forgot our fights.
The band became family, but you were far away,
Another night’s concert, and I'd call it a day.
I couldn’t see, I couldn't see...
I was writing love that would never be.
[Bridge]
You begged me to come home, I turned my back,
Chasing a dream that I couldn’t take back.
When the world called, I answered too loud,
But when you needed me, I was lost in the crowd.
And now the echoes are all I hear,
A voice in the distance, so far, so near...
[Chorus]
The sun always rose, but it hid the dark nights,
I got lost in the music, forgot our fights.
The band became family, but you were far away,
Another night’s concert, and I'd call it a day.
I couldn’t see, I couldn't see...
I was writing love that would never be.
[Outro]
Now you’re gone, and I’m still chasing the sound,
But it’s too late for love that can’t be found.
I was writing love that never will be...
Writing love that never will be.
while experimenting
with flavors
Doctor Sinister
developed
a flavor the world may
have been waiting for.
He dehydrated cucumbers,
onions,garlic, and
a seedless tomato with liquid smoke.
he used a food processor to
to grind them, when he had a powder
he mixed it with dehydrated buttermilk solids
he added some cayenne pepper.
he used it to season ground beef.
he made a egg sourdough and made
hamburger rolls.
when these were done he
combined them making a wonderful
flavored hamburger.
he used cheddar to accent the flavor.
lettuce and tomato, minced onions
two slices of bacon.
and slathered the toasted
bun with thousand island dressing
he called it
The Rhine Carte Burger.
He wasn't finished
he used the same cucumber powder, oion mix
in a sourcream sourdough bread
what did you expect?
well he got knowthing but great results.
come on down to our resturant
and get yo'self sum of dat grub!"
he
Connie's The Women Without A Ticket
I sit at a bar, starring at other couples
I admit I had a few
No, not relationships
But a few beers to ease the pain
Today's not any different
I keep starring at the couple across the bar
There's chemistry
A subject that's foreign to me
He keeps kissing her neck
And her eyes sparkle wide, she plays the role
And I become incessant
Why can't that be me
Why can't I have affection
Where's my ticket
I see the bartender walking by
He's wearing a pair of tight-fitting jeans
My mouth awes and gapes
How I wish I catch a fly
Or receive me a free pass
On his train, thru and thru
Yet should he ponder about my baggage
1/17/24
connie pachecho
Note-For today's exercise, I did go to a bar. And drank And drank. And toasted a poem I wanted to say. I write wild without inhibitions, quickly, and without reservation. Yes it reads like a confession because it is.
Happiness is like waking up to see
my favourite dishes for breakfast;
toasted bread and fried eggs.
Getting to school early and scoring As on all my tests.
Then I come home after a long stressful day at school.
Taking a bath and settling down to watch my favourite TV show;
just to see... it has been taken off air.
The sadness swallow me whole could have been mistaken for despair.
Over the long weekend, it is anger that fills me up,
when I see my younger siblings trooping into the room I had just mopped.
Littering every free surface with their toys.
Oh! The grief that came when I heard we lost my grandfather.
"Grandpa, we aren't done with our paintings,
you haven't taught me how to perfectly contour the nose!
You are yet to tell the stories of your younger days!"
Adieu grandfather, you will be missed.
I sit under the mango tree located in our front yard.
I remember the days my friends and I spent playing under this tree as children
Back then our hearts were free of worries and full of laughter.
Oh mango tree, you are the very representative of nostalgia.
At night when I lay in my bed to sleep,
I become afraid, my mind makes the clothe
hanger on the wardrobe look like some kind of monster.
I dive under the covers to hide my fear.
It's the Award-giving ceremony at the end of the term.
Everyone is seated to hear who would be given the title of 'The Best Student'.
My right leg can't stop bouncing with anticipation.
My teeth are clattering.
I am filled with anxiety.
And then I hear my name being called.
That pure feeling of ecstasy is joy.
He touches me in the early dawn
Hours before the chickens start to
Peck the rich, toasted earth around
Their pen, clucking with enthusiasm
For the tassels of rich emerald lawn
Coming away with them as they peck
Relentlessly with a fervor that dances
Merrily to the tune of cackling, fussing
Peppered with crows from the rooster’s
Fertility gloating, he swaggers, preening
Sensing the way his heart will mourn
On the days the hen sits on her almond
Shaped eggs, awaiting the time when
There will be new life tapping its way
Through the tough shells to be trained
By the hen to feed, bath and seek
Refuge, as I chase out the lines
Of his hands against my breast in the
Morning, while we embrace, caressing
Sighing, whispering, just before the light
Shines down from the sky to warm my
Thighs and trace a glimmer of hope
Along the edge of the silent night
August 20, 2020
Violin in The Darkness
Coughing,
Sobbing,
wrapped in dark.
On the surface,
bombs make their mark.
They want to be thankful
for being here.
Yet each person,
feels the breath of fear.
They hold their frightened children near.
Those little faces awash with tears.
A note,
a glorious note.
A solitary violin,
filling the emptiness within.
They feel a change begin.
Singing above and below the madness,
releases some joy within their sadness.
Wrapping them in blankets of light,
within this moment their minds take flight.
There will be no more tears tonight.
Transporting them to a happier time.
Meals of celebration,
toasted with glasses of wine.
Each note plays a glimmer of hope.
On wings of memories
together they float
Old and young humming along.
Each pass of the bow a glorious song.
Hearts feel comfort,
humanity revealed.
No longer locked in a shelter sealed.
Fear released with rosined bow,
spirits lifted on songs they know.
Joined as one they feel a glow.
Human hearts
Transcend mens worst.
Clinging to music no longer cursed.
Tomorrow will be another day.
Lifted on hope they listen and pray.
Into forever,
their angel plays.
Let the Music Play on Contest.
Form:
ekphrasis
Five glasses filled with brew but only two in kind;
the bread is toasted lightly, portioned just for four.
Although the background’s hazy, something rests behind,
dim splotch of green? a clue we may be out-of-doors.
A meeting of the minds? just what shall we assume?
Simplicity. The toast and drink, an easy fare.
It seems the palate lacks variety, it’s true;
be careful, but move past the concrete things in view.
Which guest will do without the toast or maybe share?
Perhaps this scene’s a prompt not meant to be consumed.
Imagine artists gathered round, with tools all set,
each marking what he sees upon that butcher block.
A not so simple task, the brush and palette used
or words in lines employed so meaning is infused.
The artist/writer spinning thoughts which can unlock
the core of what is seen, our appetites to whet.
written by Reason A. Poteet
written 18 April 2015, for Giorgio's Ekphrasis 01 Contest
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poetry_contests/member_contest_details.aspx?ContestID=6243
Sage Saga Of A Home On A Hill
Having drank from the sun at meridian,
The moon drunk with the light
Of reflection, always dissipated dreaded darkness
Seeking to veil the Hill—Raised bump
Of nature’s glowing face;
This swollen womb of nature nourishing beginnings
Of generations plodding centuries wounded
With trials and tribulations—Grand Canyon invisible walls
Mocking the abyss of Middle Passage ocean depths
Carpeted with ivory bone trees rattled by circadian waves
Splashing stilled sandy sea shore stones sunken in time.
Beginnings begin with the eruption of sunlight;
Rays flowing lava-like to chloroplast genes
Of generations of quantum leaping Greens
Synthesizing seminal spirits spewing
Audacious faith—audacious faith blooming
Mushroom cloud determination rising
As a risen national family tree;
Branches thrusting tentacles forever upward.
Streaming through, flows a river Brazos
Whose residents often crawled, netted and hooked
Their way to the Hill—accepting all aching
To give or receive freely—nourishment.
A gumbo gathering of love supreme;
Charged sable soul soars—sailing
Pillow puffed verandah skies;
Stoking old horizons—searching
Mountain top promise land dreams.
Where I have been I have just begun to go;
Returning to the beginning—
To tap the toasted roots anchoring the journey’s
Design—etched beneath the shade of limbs
Of an ancient Chinaberry tree
Looking out over the Hill—
Shadowing shelled street that oysters built.
The senior poem now resonate an ebony perspective:
“…It’s sweet to dream of Venice…It’s great to think of Rome…
But when it comes to living…There’s no place like home…
So it’s home again and home again for me…”
My Hill—My home…My family tree. Here I grew; here I be.
Biff, the oboist
2 cups of pureed shrimp
1 cup of chopped turkey bacon
4 cups of flour (self rising)
1/4 cups of coconut flakes
3/4 cups of green onion
3 T celery seeds (toasted)
2 T sesame seeds (toasted)
5 Tablespoons of crushed Garlic
1/2 cup of red bell pepper(diced)
1/4 cup of olive oil( fused with 2 Tablespoon of cayenne pepper)
2 T of lemon zest
3 T spiced rum
1/4 cup of chopped mango
3 egg yolks
1 & 1/4 cup of buttermilk
4 egg whites whipped to stiff peaks
mix all the ingredients,(all except the egg whites)
mix smooth, and set aside. fold in the egg whites
on a flat hot oiled skillet, spoon the fluffy mixture
onto the skillet, making four inch round pancake
flip when golden brown.
serve with a pomegranate syrup...………….
10 pound fresh ham
score the fat with diamond shapes
coat with a mixture of liquid smoke, honey and orange juice
(about 5 Tablespoons each)
mix together
1/4 cup of cayenne pepper
5 T garlic powder
7 T of onion powder
1/4 cup of ground ginger
6 T of ground cloves
1 cup of grounded pecans ( coarse)
2 cups granulated brown sugar
5 T of orange zest
4 tablespoons of salt
coat the ham, and cover with foil,
bake for about four hours at 350, use thermometer to keep doneness
serve with some twice fried plantains
I love you, morning after morning, evening after evening.