Marinating Poems | Examples

Winding Up

   Spools for a day.
   Wound up with what they say.
   Tighter and tighter.
   The insanity won't go away.
   A year or two marinating.
   Chaos has won.
   Then the spring becomes undone.

Rotten

It isn't just incompetence
That leads a custody evaluator
To to clean up messes
For bad actors,
To justify
The unjustifiable,
To gloss over
The vital,
It isn’t just incompetence,
It's the rotten system
That the custody evaluator
Has been marinating in.

Been Around

I've been around words and I know how to play with them
I can put together anything from a punchline to an anthem
Not of my own making though I'm made for the making
But like a cuisine sizzling, steaming, marinating
You know Shakespeare lived then and I now
With word in season and skill to wow

Imagine how much more God holds
To endow many more men before time folds
And you are such as is endowed as I
But you suppress, downplay or are shy
To be seen as too Godly for conventions
So you surrender fulfilment by many concessions

Play your game like fire is fanned from a flame
Bring out the mystery that brings the wild to tame
Let the gift leave them wondering how and why
Let comprehension fall too low for the Most High
When we bring out the treasure in our earthen vessels
With indelible works which time never wrestles

K. Muitherero

You Are Your Own Sous Chef

Struggling with this silent internal war. A smile on the outside today, is what I fixed and uncomfortably wore.
 I felt like the bigger it got the more I could hide. Now only the universe and I can see the dismembered emptiness, that's falling apart from the Inside. 
 How can I blissfully sit in a room of smiling faces, when I know most of them are too, teetering on the brink of disassociation. We all pretend we are fine, but we have a master feast of feelings marinating for years within our own made up lies.
 I am tired of being the sous chef for my own tragedies. I prep these emotional meals, and I store them away and for what a sick twisted pity party for only me?
 I really got to start working out the muscles in my face, they need to learn to decipher a real smile from a fake. 
I wonder if others notice their glue is slowly showing.
 We have to remember you can only hide the stew that's brewing for so long until it starts overflowing, so season your insides with things that make your feeling pot feel full. Also, don't over season feelings you are aware are no good.

Ode To a Garlic Press

Oh, my precious press, you are my
praise-worthy kitchen helper.
You take a clove of fresh garlic, bland, 
and soon it becomes a brilliant burst in
minced, crushed, or creamy paste.
 
My gentle press, you transform 
the wild garlic and tame it in a most 
determined and delightful way.
You impart fine perfumery in the air.
You make a delicious marinade possible.

Your actions provide a tantalizing tongue treat
as a succulent addition to marinating 
lean red or white meat, or veggies.
Oh, were it not for you, dear press, 
my life would be a thankless kitchen
chore, well-intended, but poorly executed.
I applaud your bold audacity!

The Narcissist's Prayer

May I be free from pride and arrogance
For I am surrounded by the humble kind,
May I be restrained from looking askance
At those whom intelligence left far behind.
Help me to fend off this rank narcissism,
Since I’m aware I can be far too enchanting
To mingle among the more common folk,
While marinating in my own sweet wisdom
I sense that others may not understand,
Why I am inclined to think myself so grand
Seems some are annoyed by my success,
They cannot reach the realms I will access
Still, staying on top causes so much stress.

written February 26, 2022

Tenderized

As the tenderizing tenderloin rub his meat.
The antibiotics circulated through his veins 
ran down beneath his feet. The taste is off 
but memorizing my mouth, as I swallow his 
flavors I began to have doubts.

Marinating over night with different flavors, 
as he leaves the fridge I lay to rest. I 
overshadowed the instructions to meat the end,
 I grab the brush to serenade the mood. 
I rub down the kinks.

He's at his peak, as the aroma sets in; my mouth 
waters as his meats slides In. The juices are
 warm as I expected the timer has one second.
 I climax as the time vibrates to the 
end I enjoy every bite until the very end. 
I tenderize that meat well that day.

Mastications In One Movement

Mastications In One Movement


Lathering on the ranch dressing, 
mixed with honey mustard grunting;
these inhaling engorging souls are
finding the emotional precipice, 
high up and dangling,
hanging by french fried ropes, 
smothered in thousand island arrhythmias.
here come the fat waiters, 
pushing arteriosclerotic meat carts, 
spangled in barbecued thrombosis
and chocolate-covered infarctions,
served au jus on peanut butter trays
filled with maple syrup cherries and 
white-creamed heart palpitations.
You know what I mean? 
You’ve smelled those words before, 
tasted their glazed cordials,
licked the candy flowers 
as they swayed there, and
sucked the inner pap of the sweet melon
with perspiring brow; now
having a reason to wake up, it is
time for cupcakes and cinnamon churros 
with the vanilla-skirted girls,
marinating inside bacon and lettuce taxis, 
dipped in onion teriyaki, sizzling 
delicious smoke with au gratin effusions.

Adorably Herbal

she sniffled
into a
tissue
saying
she was
cold

my tongue
tip touch of
her forehead
felt hot
so to stop
future coughs

rubbing 
crushed
mustard and
garlic on her
chest
marinating

while making
two separate
pots of tea
one which is
ginger mint and
honey

the other
valarian
root the
smell of
a boiling
bootless

sock 
she will
drink so
that 
she will
sleep

while i 
watch
over
her
in my
heart

Humble Gratuity Flows Easily

zealous woozily throbbing
quintessentially narcotic
karaoke humble ecstasy bubbling
yawningly vibrantly

singing praises motivates
ineluctable fancy caparisoned
zestfully whooping tellingly
quaking novel kindles

heartfelt essence
blubbering yipping vocalizations
sincerely pronouncing
myriad jubilant gleefulness

describing absolute x2c
unbridled rhapsodic
obeisance loosening
inimitable fabulous communication

zeroing wakened tremendous pleasure
marinating joie de vivre
gurgling dynamically aspiring xylem
unstoppably roiling

overtly liberal fawning calculus
zinging wordy tome
proclaiming motive jangling
glorifying divine adulating

x uber rants obediently liberating
inducing fantastic crowing zestfully
warbling tenderly quiet nursing kingdom
harkening enjoyment bestirring

x unnumbered remarks
outlining linkedin impressiveness
from crocheting zany way
this poet marries juxtaposed grammar

describing atypical xfinity urging requiem
oozing libation inside
fleshly corporeal Zen wordsmith thyself
questioning messenger's (mine) jabbering
gets decoded accurately.

America's Beggars

You won't find poetry anywhere 
unless you bring some of it with you, 
said Joseph Joubert,

a French writer whose day job 
was working for Napoleon.
If Joubert was right and you have

poems marinating, then go out 
and search everywhere for more.
You will find nice ones in the forest 

twinkling in the eyes of a doe 
or twitching in the ears of a rabbit. 
Add them to your marinade and then 

go into the city and you will find more  
blazing in the eyes of America’s beggars.
There’s room in your marinade for more. 


Donal Mahoney

Drunken Brio

Rendered your elixir within flowing fire
turned my head till flames got higher
'neath vapors' influence lustfully burning,
imbibed upon insatiable blushed lips
feverish craving ignited darkly melting hours
intoxicated of ravenously absorbed flamings
zealous ardor pulsing beyond desires,
hungry to the bone poured of unrelenting fervor
skin soaked in mania's intensified voracity,
unrestrained cries out resonating wanton tongues
dizzying gypsy soul dripping sinfully impassioned
liquid quenching glow farther impulsive madness,
scent of mounting sensitivity's rush marinating
'neath rhythmical torrid undulations gushing
through every explosively satiated vessel,
breathlessness melded 'tween kindled ascendancy
exploiting drunkenness of volatile ardent spirits

“Drink wine. This is life eternal. This is all that youth will give you. It is the season for wine, roses and drunken friends. Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.” 
Omar Khayyám

Graves

Graves for mariners,
leaning towards the sea,
a lot lop-sided
as if seasick

Gravely now,
we went towards the graves,
the sea churning,
then marinating green

--------------------------------

6/22/2015

Contest  -  Any Old Poem #7

Sponsor  - SKAT A 

1st place win

Body and Soul

my body and soul

marinating in your love

a dinner for two

Houdini

As he walked,
Breathed,
Talked,
Sneezed,
The root of all evil was indeed marinating deep within him,
A natural seasoning,
A cue for treason,
Short side of critical reasoning,
His attire was outfitted for any season,
His shoes covered many miles,
He supressed plenty smiles,
The eradication of the same breath he enjoys
dazzles his need to cause 
pain and suffering.

He likes to be the Big Bad Wolf,
Follows his prey and performs a Houdini act,
Dangerous is an understatement,
Violence and cruelty is the aftermath,
He doesn’t know any better,
Desensitization at its finest,
He takes pride in adding the minus,
He takes pride in fulfilling his addiction to adding the minus.

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