Pantries Poems

Thorny Destiny

Some say he's a prophet
others swear he's the son of God
some say he was just a man
still others say he never existed at all.

I think he was the original hippie 
a supreme giver -who taught takers
how to give without motive
how to love without condition
to ask for forgiveness after sin.

Jesus would have stowed away on slave ships 
salving hope and snapping chains.
He'd have blocked the ovens of Auschwitz
volunteered at no kill animal shelters
and food pantries.
He would've made manna out of bullet casings...
arrested again, again and again
for weaving a giant peace sign and rosary
draping them over the pentagon, Kremlin
and the forbidden city-
He'd share wineskin, a bowl of Mexican gold
then lie down under tie-dyed sky and dream.

It was really never meant to be...
the prince of peace was hammered into thorny eternity.

Centipede

Don’t listen to that centipede. 
That’s not something you need.
Pay attention to the earth’s surface. 
Take a moment to look at their face. 

Don’t eat corn on the cob. 
It will make you sob. 
Just like that small town ten miles away. 
They just couldn’t keep them at bay. 

Trick or take a seat. 
That’s not something to eat. 
Pantries are for evil things. 
Do centipedes have wings?

If something doesn’t make sense?
And they charge you 50 cents. 
Only pay a dime. 
And they will pinch you one time.

A centipede runs very fast. 
Their pinch hurts but doesn’t last. 
Take a moment to let this insect grow. 
That small town was all I used to know. 

Take a moment to look at their face. 
This is a being from outer space.

Canned Soup

Maybe, we should put more things in cans.
We’d all feel better then.
Food doesn’t appear for us on a steaming plate.
It piles up in our pantries.
When I get home,
Cans get stacked, neatly.
Maybe tomorrow,
I’ll make that tomato soup.
The can will dance until the top twists open on the edge of the counter.
Laughing, dancing.
I could be happy if I wanted.
Maybe I’ll make the canned pasta instead.

Man I Am exhausted

So much effort
goes into feeling well...Man,
I’m exhausted! There’s nausea
from supplements, the squeak
and throb, Just One More Rep!~ exercising…
Man, I’m exhausted! 
                       As much effort
going into relaxation – rush to get
things done (always a backup of
things); shuffle schedules, get sitters
for the animals – Man, I’m exhausted!

Even love, the chores, the cards,
the gifts, the emotional lifts...honey-does 
seeming to have endless reserves, 
never running short on pantries of
exhaustion. 
             Someday, probably, I’ll
wake-up, unpleasantly surprised
and find myself either stoking furnaces, 
fluffing angel wings while polishing
the backside of clouds – Man, give me
a break!

Ouch!~ finally something I asked for….

radio phone-in, how are you saving money at xmas - calls cost 3 pounds 50 per minute

they've also got a guest on
who suffers from, the inability to burp

he sounds so bored presenting
the thing

as i listen, i notice 
the lid of the jar of the piccalilli

it states this condiment is,
'the life and soul of the pantry'

on google i look up images
of 19th century pantries

my wife comes in and asks what i 
would like for xmas

i want a pantry

'pantry ****'

'Pantry ****' writes Professor Denton
    is a crusade that she's been sent on
  to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt
    that she's an ignorant, stupid lout 

  She claims that tidy pantries and manicured lawns
    are 'racist and sexist structures' upper-crust society is based on
  Well, Ms. Denton, if you'd ever lived in a lower-class neighborhood
    you'd know instinctively what utter bull-roar your claims rest upon

Comes Fall

Summer soon is passing,
Fall is on the way.
We say goodbye to sunny days,
Prepare for Winter's grey.

The wheat fields now are golden.
The corn is ripe and sweet.
The fruit trees all are laden,
With such good things to eat.

Our pantries will be bursting,
With all we'll lay in store,
To see us through the winter months,
Provided for once more.

Thanksgiving soon will be here,
A day we've set aside,
To thank our God for all He does.
It's on Him we rely,

For all this precious bounty,
For good health and happiness,
For all the goodness we enjoy.
We know that we've been blessed.

Sweet Eater

Sweet Eater was pink from the inside out.
We saw her coming and we all gave a shout.
She had a sweet disposition she never did pout.
But she ate our pantries and our kitchens out.

She devoured cookies, she devoured bread.
Her cheeks got pink and her teeth got red.
She slurped up frosting, and she ate our cheese.
She could barely walk on her corpulent big old knees.

She’s coming! We yelled, getting out of the way.
She usually appeared on the third Thursday.
She liked sweets especially, our food was not safe.
She’s a glutton! Said our cousin, Mr. Rutherford Rafe.

Zero

I will go on diet
I’ll purchase products with zilch fats and calories
at markets

Vegies only
Drink coke zero from groceries
Solely!

Less meal
No more pantries
Nil!

I will go on diet
Drink coke zero from groceries
Nil!



April 19,2022 12.24am




Let's Minichu on zero
Contest Judged:  5/8/2022 3:47:00 AM
Sponsored by: Mohan Chutani 
Place 9 (10 w)

Harvest Bounty

Harvest Bounty

Season of harvest, horn of plenty;
Tiller of soil reaping the fields:
Grains and legumes, hay and vegetables,
Fruits and plants, and gourd family genuses;
Filling silos, barns, pantries, and cellars.

Grapes abound, on vines climbing trellises,
And plump, red tomatoes dangle from stakes,
While apples grapple to keep from falling,
And livestock fatten on pastoral grasses.
Reaper of fields to feed the many.

Crops quenched by rains and meandering streams
Are ripened under the inexhaustible sun
And spring forth produce abundance in season.
Cornucopia spilling over with autumn goodness.

Unlicensed *********** 2

Post-coital Tristesse: 

Are you feeling violated, like you’ve repeatedly been the victim of some heinous, perverted molestation too gruesome to detail? Does the term gang rape fill you with a new-found sense of disgust? Do you feel as though you’ve been tossed out of Eden, your innocence lost, virtue corrupted, soul shattered? Do you feel empty despite the abundance of consumer goods that fill your shelves, stock your pantries, furnish your chambers, and entertain your senses? If so, there may be hope for you. If not, you’re a sl*t.  If you feel like you’ve come away with a bad case of the clap, don’t be surprised. You did it to yourself. Now go home and put on your big boy pants or your big girl panties. There’s work to be done and you’re not helping. Let’s face it, most people are sheep. You can be like that, or you can take responsibility for ennobling the human condition by seeing through the bull! It’s your choice to make. Bon soir, mon ami.

'til Early Morn

She stumbled amid her pantries
                            so forlorn

A jar of pickles; perhaps a can 
                               of corn

Debating with herself on and on
                        til early morn

Whereupon the dilemma faded instantly ~
                           her new baby born

Quarantined Spring

There's plenty of empty
Shelves and pantries
The streets weep for missing feet
Crowds of clouds float and gloat
Mocking our lot, as they mingle and flock

Oh, the lords of hoard now run the board
Going by social media shifts
Toilet paper's now the sought-after gift
One can't use scanty panties
To clean your fanny's nooks and crannies

In this sparse farce
The walls grow small
Under the strain 
To remain sane
Our horizons turn on spaces burned

My dear, it is with love I say
I can't miss you 
If you can't go away.

3/28/20

For 'A-Muse-Sing' poetry contest
Sponsor: Richard Lamoureux

Pancake Batter Bessie

Pancake Batter Bessie
She makes flapjacks so fine
Avoiding corn syrup 
With Tabasco, liver and onions sublime.

We try to stop her 
But she is obtrusive and a ghost
Where we make our own batter 
We hide it with our toast.

For Bessie will take that batter 
And add extra stuff galore.
Peanut butter and sausage
Corn, pickles, oranges and more.

Bessie empties our pantries in the middle of the night
And grills up inventive pancakes that fill every counter in sight.
Our mother has asked her to stay out of her kitchen.
Pancake Batter Bessy’s creative juices can’t for they are always itch’n.

Undivided Unity

We cousins looked forward to our summer holidays which were full of fun
Our barbaric guffaws were louder than the joys of any battle won
One was always on the run while another chased him with a water gun
Heroism was on the footloose, with many ghost chilling yarns being spun
Arguments, fights, boasting, was our forte as each refused to be outdone
Pantries ran out of stock as the food we gormandized was more than a tonne 
The swimming pool was but ours, and we refused invasion by anyone
We stood undivided, if a glass had broken when we had hit and run
We were punished together, sheepish grins at smuggled food for we were one!



18 syllables per line
June 14, 2016
For Laura Loo

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