Masticating Poems | Examples

National Poetry Month

GHOST, RIVER, SHIVER, MASTICATE, COLD, POMPOUS

The cold wind swirled the mist all along the bank,
The ferryman held onto the boat, whilst the gentleman walked across the narrow plank,
The man looked quite pompous as he chewed upon his pipe,
He was large and looked like a cow masticating on fresh grass, I hope the man doesn’t develop the gripe,
Then as they pulled out into the river,
And the gentleman gave one tremendous shiver,
The ferryman pulled the oars as he rowed across the stream,
But this trip is not exactly as it seems,
The question is, ‘Who paid the ferryman?’ and the gentleman can’t boast,
Because after all he was only a harmless ghost.

This Ravel Music

This Ravel Music

this ravel music
reminds me of old delicious nights
spent with dark- skinned linda 
of canobie street 
she was my night girl 
my morning girl too 
wearing lilac madness
a pursed smile shooting darts 
projected by a fiery tongue 
speaking words of onslaught and reprieve 
of momentous embraces from behind 
a bending dilapidated garage 
she is digging deep
lassoing in 
my incipient soul 
masticating with a gooey tongue
this ravel music
reminds me of damp mornings
spent with dark-skinned linda
of canobie street

Towers of Shame

Academicians …
masticating and
 grinding their ‘truth’
Spewing out
what they would have us swallow
in gagging choking egotism
Regurgitating it back
in the toxic chunder
of a narcissistic reality
Papering the walls
of modern thought
with the bibs of their retching 
As they hide within
their ivory towers
—festering in mass 

(St. David’s Pennsylvania: September, 2023)

Not This Rose

I saw a dazzling rose,
Whose red petals cast blinding hues upon me.
She shot her cupid arrows from the Kabaka’s backyard,
And punctured the cocoon of my innocence.  

My heart burnt for a feel of her spangled petals,
My ferocious passions lost their sturdy grip on restraint as
I, like a pollen-famished bee, sniffed her whiff;
I gorged on her rosy scent, like a Don Quixote.

Then, I plucked her off the tribal bough;
And navigated the Nile River with her,
Tacked in the valves of my heart,
For a cross boarder allogamy.

What a welcome from my kinsfolk!
Furrows ridging the faces of my kinsmen,
Spittle of disgust masticating the hungry soils,
Grey beards wagging and waging a silent war;
 Alien!

Counting Sheep

Breathing, counting, don’t ignore the basiC
                                 cover up if you sleep commandO.
        “Monster mosquitoes masticating” in your bayoU.
                         “Disquieting dreams” can be so meaN.
            “Properly prostrate” on the mattress - don’t siT
 and stare, nor stress, nor sweat like you’re a tsunamI.
           One, two, three - begin with “dire determinatioN.”
          You might imagine “wooly wonders” as you sinG.

               Peaceful, quiet rest as you atone and blesS
          each pastoral lamb in the shadow of death husH,
          your breath, halitosis mixed with lemon and limE.
                                    Forget everything and everyonE.
                                      In no time, you’ll be fast asleeP.

9/29/2022

I Am a She Wolf I Told My Mother

They underestimated me because I am a she.
I threw back my head and showed my teeth.
My wolf howl was terrifying; they feared me now.
Not understanding their mistake until I devoured them.
Masticating is my favorite thing to do after I show my soul.

I chomped them down and swallowed them in grateful gulps.
Why do you do that? My mother asked, not understanding.
She is a product of the forties and fifties; she wears a dress to vacuum.
I am she-wolf, I told her. I answer to no man or woman. I am my best self.
I howl at the moon and chant my truth. Those who cannot take it can run.

But run fast, for I love to show my dangerous side.  I am all powerful.
I am woman. I am in charge of myself in every capacity. 
I do not wear the dresses or colors of other women. 
I forge my own path with daggers and axes.  
I gave her an eerie elongated wolf howl. 
She jumped out of my way, my mother. 
Fearing the ultimate me I intended to be.

Hawk

graceful flight pattern
She’s queen of the sky
Searching for rodents
Surveying meadow
Finding a bunny

Powerful jaws
Terrifying
Masticating
Devouring

Destroying
Meat Eating
Marauder

Handsome
Fearsome 

Hawk

Leave My Freaking Station Alone

I barely know how you bear it, I said to the grapefruit
Of course, true to form, she tried to smooth everything out.
I was irked because no words arrived to sooth me.
Which made her easier to eat, actually – more palpable.

Masticating my cereal is never easy these days, 
especially when the news is on, so I shut that puppy down.
If it is not good news, I do not need it, especially in the morning.
There was a wreck at 17th and Lamar, as usual.

I see one there almost every morning, 
Yet I continue driving this same exact route.
And me, the woman who loathes routine,
Actually living one now. Is it my age, do you suppose?

The car radio is on some 1970’s music but not folk music.
The one channel I had on before my husband drove
And ruined things by changing my channel.
He is going to be eating mothballs for supper tonight. 

My girlfriend calls to yack about her dead husband again.
I wish he was still alive so I could beat his ass, she says.
I have heard it about sixty-nine times, still it never gets old
Especially this morning as listen to the wrong freaking station.

Icelandic Yule Tide Cat

Rat-a-tat-tat, it is the sound of the dreaded, Icelandic Yule Cat.
You have to get me a jacket or shoes or something else I plead
My mother rolls her eyes. That’s a faerie tale, she says. Her face is fat.
Come on! I say, it will eat me up, I will be ripped and bleed.

My father gives me an eye roll that says he does not believe.
Polish, what does he know of this notorious evil Yule Cat that’s near?
My grandmother told me. My chest begins to wail and heave.
Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat. I can hear it and nearly faint with fear

Socks, a headband, a wrist, a shirt, a blouse, something I beg.
I can hear the masticating teeth, and I nearly die with fright.
I would get you jeans, but they will be long and narrow in the leg,
My mother says after a while, then she turns off my night light.

It is Christmas Eve, and I am too afraid to close my eyes.
I should have only asked for clothes, not toys or that autograph.
If she does not keep her promise, I will be one of many who dies.
Rat-a-tat-tat sound comes right up to my ear, hot breath, and a laugh.

Ghost Santa Stealth

Ghost Santa Stealth came upon a dead night dreary,
His intention was madness and I was quite weary 
He took bits of my mind, but not in the usual way
He chomped it out of my fleshy brain dendrite gray.

I felt him chewing, his masticating was angry and mean.
He was a destructor, a Christmas devouring, ugly machine.
He took my ideas and threw them outside in the snow.
He burned up my house, not fast, really slow.

I was trying to tell the firemen, but I could not speak.
He had eaten the part of my brain where language doth peak.
Might as well have scalped me. He chewed slow and gave me a fright.
I was terrified of this devil, that Christmas Eve Night.

I Am a Masticating Omnivore

I am a masticating omnivore, 
Devouring meat and plants and more.
My teeth are rotten
My gums are cotton.
From blender my mushy juice I now pour.

Porous Pupils' Plight

eerie vision vied
pluming perforated plights
dark dribbles dug
masticating munching mug
hoisted hankerings smothered
felon zeal fostered

moaning mist cloned
thorn ocean thrown
gloating gaunt glows

salient shaver sucked
la-de-da lures lust
wielded wits gulped

airy alakazam ailed
porous pupils' plight
      '20:05:13:18:47

Note: Of porous perception.

Besotted

Jealousy eats at me, masticating my miserable flesh,

each time I see your opulent smile it takes yet another bite,
chewing slowly savoring and seeking my heart to enmesh

. . .as visceral emotions move slow through molasses midnight.



12/25/2019

Gregory R Barden
Arbitrium Divisa contest
Taken from "Jealous"

Chewing Jaw

Jaw
Biting
And chewing
Our skull hinges
Some people clench them
Masticating
Mandible
Yawning 
Jaw

Hunting

Looking for a poet to eat...
Hey You are quite delicious!
Masticating words of love;
Naturally nutritious.

Another bite of something light;
in the midnight hour,
Hey there You; you with your memoir
Your work I shall devour.

My appetite has increased...
To satisfy this craving-
I hope you've written lines and lines 
or else you're misbehaving.

Once I have consumed you-may wibble wobble away
to find another poet to snack upon all day.

• Short Masticating Poems
• Famous Masticating Poems
• Best Masticating Poems
• Read Masticating Poems
• Long Masticating Poems
• Masticating Quotes