Long White bread Poems
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After weighing myself and gaining five pounds
I knew the consequences were profound
I bowed my head and softly prayed
Please let these pounds melt away
I had made a grocery list to send
It was time for a home delivery again
I knew I had to do as I must
Edit the darn thing or my belt would bust
The sugar became Splenda the doughnuts were gone
Ordering those Reeces cups was just plain wrong
No more jellybeans the soda became diet
I deleted the white bread, whole wheat got to try it
The syrup and jellies became low fat
Peanut M & M's no more of that
Brown rice replaced white rice making sense
While Nestle Quick became milk at two percent
But Halloween was dawning so would I dare
Order a giant bag of chocolate to pass out and share
I knew I could do it not nibble a one
So I order the big bag for the holiday fun
My groceries arrived and the deliverer put them inside
I begin putting everything away my order seemed okay
But emptying the last bag I was disappointed to see
My order did not contain my giant bag of candy
So I checked my e-mail for the grocery review
And it was something I should have knew
I did pray for myself to lose weight
The candy was out-of-stock, ain't God great
In her sixties now Gladys dreaded the cold,
She travelled to the beach trying to be bold,
She went because it might be fun, she was told.
Gladys said she would not swim she was far too old.
There were gentle ladies with dark glasses on,
They were telling rowdy children to begone,
The sand was warm and the glorious Sun shone,
Gladys sat there like a sad queen on her throne.
Mountains around gave views that went forever,
The sky was light blue a sign of good weather,
The children throw sand failing to be clever,
But Gladys said no she would not swim ever.
Near the river people had cake and white bread,
They had beef and pork, “hurrah” the children said,
Some drank wine and sang when they were all fed,
Gladys said no she would rather go to bed.
Gladys was left quite alone on her cane chair,
She began talking to the warm midday air,
I should swim in the sea but I do not dare,
My grey hair would get wet but I would not care.
For the longest time she stared at the wild sea,
Wondering why she was so afraid to be,
Was her life long enough for validity?
Some come to the beach to cocoon and be free,
Others come to escape their life’s misery.
Amid the mighty Arabian she was born and bred
A girl as delicate as the sweet smelling rose
For food she took the camel’s milk and choicest white bread
And a beauty mark she had at the base of her nose
A soft veil of satin covered her head
And amongst all the knights that at her command rose
She choose a mysterious stranger in her desert town
Long of limbs and tanned chocolate brown
Her love she conveyed with kohl black eyes
Her deep flowing desire by the tinniest of touch so warm
She did not pay heed to any well meaning advice
For in her life was raging a new storm
Their hearts were joined with divinely ties
It had no human body or a concrete form
She had never touched or kissed those lips
Nor felt his heart with those soft white fingertips
With him she left the desert on the night of no moon
True in her faith, love soaring ever so high
His merest touch and warm breath made her swoon
When he placed her amid his powerful thigh
And on they rode over every treacherous dune
When tired on the beautiful oasis sand did lie
A love that began through the language of the eyes
Became the legend for which many a lover dies
By- Tahera Mannan
El Dorado
by Michael R. Burch
It's a fine town, a fine town,
though its alleys recede into shadow;
it's a very fine town for those who are searching
for an El Dorado.
Because the lighting is poor and the streets are bare
and the welfare line is long,
there must be something of value somewhere
to keep us hanging on
to our El Dorado.
Though the children are skinny, their parents are fat
from years of gorging on bleached white bread,
yet neither will leave
because all believe
in the vague things that are said
of El Dorado.
The young men with the outlandish hairstyles
who saunter in and out of the turnstiles
with a song on their lips and an aimless shuffle,
scuffing their shoes, avoiding the bustle,
certainly feel no need to join the crowd
of those who work to earn their bread;
they must know that the rainbow's end
conceals a pot of gold
near El Dorado.
And the painted “actress” who roams the streets,
smiling at every man she meets,
must smile because, after years of running,
no man can match her in cruelty or cunning.
She must see the satire of “defeats”
and “triumphs” on the ambivalent streets
of El Dorado.
Yes, it's a fine town, a very fine town
for those who can leave when they tire
of chasing after rainbows and dreams
and living on nothing but fire.
But for those of us who cling to our dreams
and cannot let them go,
like the sad-eyed ladies who wander the streets
and the junkies high on snow,
the dream has become a reality
—the reality of hope
that grew too strong
not to linger on—
and so this is our home.
We chew the apple, spit it out,
then eat it "just once more."
For this is the big, big apple,
though it is rotten to the core,
and we are its worm
in the night when we squirm
in our El Dorado.
I believe I wrote the first version of this poem during my “Romantic phase” around age 16 or perhaps a bit later. It was definitely written in my teens because it appears in a poetry contest folder that I put together and submitted during my sophomore year in college.
Keywords/Tags: city, life, culture, society, social, addiction, drink, drugs, big apple, New York City, Broadway, Times Square, dream, dreams, reality
It was constipation, you know
All of the bananas she ate were alarming
Then a bit of cheese, brought her to her knees
All the little faces she made were so charming
It was constipation, you know
Eating all that sugar and fast food will do that
And too much white bread, brings it to a head
It got to the point, she was ready to chew fat
It was constipation, I know
I was staying with her and that’s all she fed me
Drinking all that cow, played a part and how
Now I guess we both better lay off that red meat!
Heed the words I’ve said, we are both half dead
and now constipation lies ahead
To the tune of ‘Fascination” by Nat King Cole
artisan bread sliced
I baked on a stone
in a oven medium
on a warm summer day
placed on a stoneware platter white
on a table of butcher block
with the condiments I’d need
to prepare my noon feast
from the deli bought
baloney fresh as can be
on a platter laid out
slices fresh and round
to complement these
from the grocery I got
a tin of bright red
with Ritz crackers filled
with a butter knife spread
mayo pure and white
mustard nice and brown
tart as I like
round slices I did spread
upon the white bread
and covered them all
with crackers mirroring them
rebellion did raise
it’s little ugly head
and swiss slices square
on them I did spread
a second bread slice
to top it all off
to complete my noon feast
now ready to eat
Although I am a ***** white Queen
let me reassure you
I can be just as mean
or as green,
Mr. Clean,
as any fascist
conjured in your wildest
wettest dream.
I can kick my ruby RightWing heels
and hold my greenly skanky breath
as long as it takes, tis true,
until you eventually agree
to turn less boring white
and unenlightened blue
It's true,
I can spread my fascist net,
get in line with Straight White Men
with penile envy
of dark-skinned vets
you never could acknowledge seeing
in the singing shower
much less slurping
in your homophobic panic
nastiest place to hide
just yet.
Although a ***** male Queen
married to the blackest man
you've ever seen,
You may rest re-assured
I've clearly found it true
as red
white
and blushing blue:
Once a person
and a nation
has tried black,
There's a whole lotta happy folk
don't care to go back
to refight a civil war
against a white flight bully bore
Supremely self-chosen evangelists,
y'all just help me
deeply snore.
You think
and feel,
know
and spiel,
I'm rotten to my core
because, like your sissy sister
it's men this male adores
But, if men were good enough
for your sainted mother,
and hers too,
and my two,
let me introduce this thought
to you
It wouldn't really make you
all that blue
to admit just maybe
all that pleasure
could suit a special man just fine
too,
But, don't worry,
be happy,
I'm not the least bit hot
for white bread
RightWing you.
Gooey glop getting suctioned out
technicians venting expletives
emphasized obvious
NO FOOD OR DRINK rule to abide
cuz suctioning tower
or laptop presented vulnerability
plus unforeseen downfall against fried
food and greasy hands ended up hide
ding in hardest to reach locale
on circuit board no matter how expert pried
yelling out gratitude
to geek squad member helping
before he/she went out side door
eagerly awaiting
remotely controlled self driving vehicle
transporting techie guru home
to an obscure gated destination,
an uninterrupted distant, yet pleasant ride.
eventually amateurs encouraged
to tinker like an apprenticed tailor
akin as raw troubleshooting recruit
oft playfully feigned to be soldier spy
pretending to repair bowel of computer
when in truth visiting supposed shadowing dark side
which lined illegal benefits of labor saving devices),
the sound of silence
(written on the subway walls)
though heretics opposing
latest technology and felt sinister chill
(just ask Punxsutawney Phil),
the Internet ranks as greatest dog sent rill
lee where wiz kids ranked
chatting killer apps with grateful dead
information superhighway as heavenly manna
with artificial intelligence street cred
since introduction of white bread
and powdered milk biscuits baked by Ahmed.
Grace how sweet you are in my time of need, I prayed I even wanted to plead. Will I need to bleed, please have pity on me I decreed. My solitude feels like a beach topped with seaweed, I am sitting in the sun but cannot succeed. All alone my cares do need, you must have trust in deed. I need to get out of this with speed, all I want to do is sit here and read. Grace I hope you have not fled, I need you more than white bread. Thank you for the hope and seed, I now feel I can proceed.
Date Written: 4/24/2020
no mind for losing face
chalk and cheese and
white bread, black coffee
we did not make it through without the grind
no softer thrill
to tempest of ill will
fair enough to say we've had our time
I do suppose we could romance the ghost
reminisce on those days gone by
but I for one would sooner be gone
who of them can say we did not try?
there is no time, there is no space
I have no mind for losing face
no one is at fault,
blame will not be cast
regardless of how guilty we might feel
many futures past
nothing seems to last
forever is the notion most unreal
we could be strong enough to carry on
getting better the same way we got sick
all fates are sealed, th' dirty dogged deal
no-one here gets away with it
there is no time, there is no space
I have no mind for losing face
I've paid my dues
I didn't come to lose
dismissing ev'ry lesser victory
plenty came and went
some were heaven sent
an' possibly meant no harm to me
braver hearts will fly, whereas mine can but try
to weather, come what may, rain or shine
with heavy head, I put my dreams to bed
and begin my freefalling decline
there is no time, there is no space
I have no mind for losing face
no mind for losing face
no mind for losing face