Long Unseasoned Poems
Long Unseasoned Poems. Below are the most popular long Unseasoned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unseasoned poems by poem length and keyword.
DIRTY RICE
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Datiraisu
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El Stingy Pig
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8 cups of cooked rice
(toasted and browned in olive oil, and in chicken broth cooked al dente)
2 cups of meat from pork neckbone
1 cup of cooked chicken livers( grounded fine)
1 cup of browned grounded beef
stir fry unseasoned until mixed
set aside
1 cup of minced onion
4 Tablespoons of minced garlic
2/3 cups of diced green peppers
1/2 cup of diced celery
5 tablespoons of grated ca
add 3 cups of canned kidney beans (rinsed)rrot
sautee til peppers are softened.
set aside
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in a pan brown 1 cup of pork sauage
remove the meat
measure 5 T of grease
5 T of flour brown a roux,
1 cup of veggie stock
2 tablespoons of chilli powder
1 T paprika
1 T dried Basil
1 T dried Oregano
2 T Cayeene Pepper
and sauage meat.
mix in rice and beans
toss
and serve!
Pumps my heart to see you take a 180 degree turn,
Lumpen and thinking of the wonders your acts had
done to me.
That a life is made sinning against the creator.
It came, yes it does of a divine warning against
being cloud by the nipples.
When the hormone is crying for it,
And age couple with the society vibes are not
helping.
Then daily longing can't be made whole,
Comes, the declaration of sin upon my neck,
For love yet unfound has glued me beyond my
space.
In the heat of anger my creator is and danger is at
stake.
Won't I loose my crown to this unseasoned voyage?
...in you dear divine I ask for mercy,
for the most loved has put on the crown of vashty.
Making life miserable even to share a thought.
Like Hannah I make my plea that she answers
soon,
Or at your will let there be miracle.
That I will stop my act and Lucifer will not be my lord.
The house I wrote in
became an apartment for the ocean,
then a zoo for the innocently maladjusted,
then a garden for dreaming cats,
then floor-space - just floor space
to walk back and forth on.
The room I find these words in,
these metaphors, these bewilderment’s
of a younger blood,
flood me
now in my condo-maze-ment,
my spindle-boned easement.
Once I was a simile, similar
to something else, a green fracture,
the unseasoned sap of an analogy,
now I am upholstered, a place
roomy enough
for returning younger words,
their brain dizzying songs.
revisiting, unearthed,
as if they had just come to me,
and had not been arriving
from abandoned living-spaces,
from the forgotten foundations
of elsewhere.
Sprinkle of grit in the creases of faces terrestrial
Depravity aided by YouTube love advice tutorials
Doll eyes gloss lips curvaceous torso ubiquitous
Entices spiceless meat frozen with unhappiness
Piled minuscule crystals emenate white vibrance
Pull unseasoned cuts to sea salt tumult violence
Dishes missing piquant rub their raw in welcome
Against uptown gusto, ditch wrinkled wearisome
Screen learned psychology reveals men on X- ray
Seduction refined script, - precise final edit essay
Melting snow merges with meat, stinging and yet
Mounts a powder poured alternate animal to zest
6th March 2021
(not for Contest, as didn't stick to syllable rule)
Just imagine
this life
without music
or any desert
without an oasis
or darkness
without light
or a day
without the sun
or food, unseasoned
without salt to taste
or strong black coffee
without cream and sugar
or a garden in spring
without flowers in bloom
or the sky
without the moon and stars
Oh yes, it's true, my darling
It is indeed unthinkable
to be so starved...of your love!
STRAND PICK 3,any theme,any form Contest (Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date submitted: 04/06/2020
Anything You Want Poetry Contest(N/A)
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
Date written and submitted: 11/02/2019
Writing Challenge - December - Any Poem Na'd In November 2019 Poetry
Sponsored by: Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode (Winner: 3rd Place)
Submitten on 12/03/2019
My life is untitled
Maybe because I have no direction. I am always stressing to keep with the group in fear of abandoning the safe shield from opinion. Shielding me from the choice of a goal in a life that has no meaning. A directionless goal with no beginning or end so I’m stuck in my place like glue on the soles of my shoes or ice climbing up my legs like vines on the side of an old mansion. A dam blocking the river of my life, so my water stops flowing forever. But determination can break this dam down and let my water flow again. Persistence can cut those vines down and make the house look new. Resilience can lose the glue on my shoes and get me moving in the right direction again.
My worth is unnamed
Continuing to be belittled by a society of people with no idea of the weight that their words hold. I contemplate my worth with no idea how to continue in a world where no one cares about my next days so I’m stuck feeling betrayed. My worth has no name because it is untamed, but I’ll act like I’m okay because who cares? Who cares about my hour-by-hour? Who needs a play-by-play of my miserable life? No one. Because no one would bat an eye if I suddenly went quiet. Suddenly stopped smiling. Suddenly felt tired. My worth is unnamed because my worth is unimportant.
I am unworthy
Unworthy of the things that are given to me. The things I did not do anything to achieve. The things that feel unearned in the grand scheme because I am but a person with nothing to be achieved. I think that is something that we can all agree. Just like my unnamed worth and untitled life, my unworthiness is very apparent. My life with no meaning and worth with no reason is beginning to make it all feel unseasoned. I’d like to think I am an amazing person who deserves the world and so much more, but the days feel longer with the world’s weights on my shoulders. Never giving me a minute to catch my breath, I am tired. Tired of being unable to be like the rest. Always happy and without distress. When will my time come to smile and not be so depressed? Will I ever get to address the mess that is my life full of tests? Will I ever feel worthy enough to appreciate my worth? I feel like I am being sucked up by a black hole with no control of my soul I am helpless.
The house I wrote this poem in
became an apartment for the ocean,
then a zoo for the innocently maladjusted,
then a garden for dreaming cats,
then floor-space - just floor space
to walk back and forth on.
The room I find these words in,
these metaphors, these bewilderment’s
these vernal chimes of a younger blood,
flood me now,
now in my narrow redoubt,
now in my condo-maze-ment,
my spindle-boned easement.
Once I was a simile, similar
to something else, a green fracture,
the unseasoned sap of an analogy,
now look at me.
I am upholstered, a place
roomy enough for a younger poem,
for returning to younger words,
finding ghosts in the spaces between them,
breathing through vowels,
with their open lungs,
their brain dizzying songs.
Revisiting
underlining, unearthing
blind roots, simple cyclic thoughts
as if they had just come to me,
and had not been arriving
from freshly abandoned living-spaces
places excavated
from under the forgotten foundations
of elsewhere.
That kiss is still moving,
lips pursed, migrating in time
until my own lips pucker
sensing bubblegum lipstick.
That unseasoned taste of young lips
now wayfaring and rekindled
within a hundred mature women.
Landfalls, rainfalls, waterfalls,
all that falling into willing mouths
as if we were parents to each other,
a consuming need
to nurture and be nurtured.
Then those savage collisions
where blood is the thirst,
where lip to lip, fevered senses
are ground into ash or embers.
All those lips perfumed with honey,
bitter root and raw moonshine,
all exploring ways to drown.
That first sweet kiss
still moving on, as a question
in transit, transient, yet as deep
as a desert succulent
or as light
as any other wild flowering.
I only be looking down now, looking inside myself now,
not head set in defeat but reflection, not the thoughts but the actual events that happened, wild flower child, yea right boom boy im a power plant, a quater-back serving audibles, wide-receivers run em in slants, run deep, swapping the rythym up, call it skill or pronounce them fiery darts of the devil, replay read a lot of fake words, deploy nothing but truths that carry troops, dead-zone drop-off swing wide scrape the danger, winged right there then, repairs upmost respected like I have a strong command of the english langauge, a strong sense of honor, PoW's plenty of wise men, plenty that u couldnt challenge on the battlefield, u better be ready to die when you walk in their battallion, Feel the valance the stealth, feel nothing feel what you feel wether its false politics American Goverment, I dont condemn my country, American people be the damn blindest, conditionally unseasoned , refutedly would he die in that war man? Well im a black speck in his eyes dying where ever it dont make a ****, you think a soldier gives a damn about being remembered, nah its about fighting your hardest, living longer, having your friends back, perfecting that last love letter, asking God for guidance, as waiting for it, Command given stretch the ammunition, permissions only to use your intuition, now i put a disatant on that idea's be balanced if you spot it u got it, six strikes 3 terrible battle plans, instructions be on a good heart. we life size- we realize it. we competition cams with a lope pulling deeper compression, true intentions blow up in your mind like mushroom clouds, like the repurcussion was a blast to the laws broken in an accident, cheap shells cheap never be Blaine c cheap s sweetlies b bashing breaking *****es, bullstrong. balls with the brillance, beautiful blows, brainstorming, bulls of bashan beaware the wheel of furtune turns quick ask me I slip out simple vibes I be on top soon. blanks broken hollypoints I keep one jax in the chamber, Bang baby I still hit hard with the power, bang *****es blaine me, can u blame me? Straight and narrow , not like in a false form, warfront back on a warhorse, back on the foremost thoughts of a man with a decision to make..
Form:
Amidst reality of my life two single things remain
inflection of your voice and glow of your tender eyes
held safe by this memory we become transparent rain
wild as the tidal waves of Bristol souls of no disguise
fluid as the ocean we are open inlets, giving rise
sepia moments of a little cottage hidden in the cove
the scent of sweet cinnamon and the taste of your clove
the cackle sound of unseasoned wood against the brick
we sucked the flavors of our passion, and called it love,
holding on to each other, like flames on a candle wick
molten wax and liquid centers with all I hold so dear
when the moon comes into view the stars turn into glass
willful moments arching as tender reeds adhere
we spiral down the staircase, of God's Mandir
we find the miracle of us, and know that it will last
caught between two soft spots we are cloaked in silk
like two lovers in heaven or two lonesome sacred elks
amidst the reality of my life, two single things remain
the taste of a kiss and the place from whence we came
you my first love, were always right as rain.
August 27, 2021
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Contest Name: Vagabond Dreams