Pot Poems - Poems about Pot

High-Minded

Smoking toking you must be joking
it's a bust I just don't need an altered sense
of time and space or on choking
a mind-numbing feeling of euphoria
as I am happy as a clam
(thank you ma'am)
for as you two while under the influence
of lethargy-inducing external stimuli
proceeded in search of smokeable weed
a.k.a., a whole lot of pot
a joint venture

Rainbows

I'm forever chasing rainbows
pretty rainbows in the air
they're so high way up in the sky
they are but my dreams
which all fade and die
altho' fortune's hiding
I'm dreaming dreams
I've looked everywhere
building castles scheming schemes
tho' born anew their days are few
and yet as the daylight's dawning
like a sweet butterfly
they return in the morning
there's one at the end or

Freedom falling

First Russia fell, a vast land,
Nine time zones, Stalin took command.
Millions of Russians died due to his rule
But Russians don't learn that fact in school.

FDR called him "Uncle Joe,"
Mistook a tyrant for a bro.
Churchill described what he could see—
The Iron Curtain shielding tyranny.

And North Korea - the U.S. let Russia install
a communist regime, let it

Pot Luck Suppers

Anapest!
Intro ---------------Coda
and all inbetween.
Très chère Mère and
La porte de Mon Père
are proposed names for the Restaurants.
There a 40 piece Orchestra can
perform.
Seating and dining
areas separate.
Two Restaurants in the same building
and a deal with the Bed and Breakfast 1/4 miles down.
The Three doors Down Deal
will inspire a more family oriented feeling.
We'll let the ballroom be
used for alternatives
but

My Grandmother's Pot Plants

Against the side fence,
four long planks of wood
ascended like steps supported
on pillars of old red bricks 
serving as a stand 
for my Grandmother's collection 
of potted plants.
Cuttings from exotic species gifted
by friends, passed down family heirlooms 
harboring memories of past lives,
feathery ferns and plump bellied cacti
battled South Australian
frosty winters and the baking heat 
of a

Watched Pot

If a watched pot never boils,
why am I looking at the steam from the pot?
Then I burned myself.

Success Is Like A Pot Of Soup

Success is like a pot of soup: 
Think about making a pot of soup
You put the ingredients in
Boil them for a long time
It seemed like nothing was happening
Suddenly the sweet smell came up 
That's where one may wear its smile
Success takes time to accumulate and grow.

A pot not fully baked

A pot am I made some two decades back,
Baked too but not enough,
In search  of a good kiln
To rid some half-baked fluff.

And then to set sail
In this ocean of life.
Why?
Go far without getting drowned,
Someone is waiting there for me.
Who?
Not sure, I’ve to figure out
Nor I know who he is,
Nor why waiting he is.

When will

Filched formerly anatomical slender man me! Thus I take a pot belly stance!

Filched formerly anatomical slender man - me! Thus I take a pot belly stance!

Absolute zero escape
velocity gutted dance
sing days (contra and square),
cuz metabolic full abundance
abdominal adipose tissue acceptance
not in accordance
with light as a feather
physique I sorely miss lost acquaintance
the boy within forced admittance
as sure man tanks of fat did advance
shotgun marriage demanded allegiance
to pledge lifetime

His Wife as a Coffee Pot

He says his wife is a coffee pot
because she percolates a lot;
and when he calls her cooking slop
she starts to boil and gets real hot
so he wastes no time to drop
the subject lest she blows her top.

Smoking Fire pot

Smoking Fire pot

Of men of gods
Feasting on the fears
Of mere mortals 
thirsty souls
Grasping on 
sipping patience 
of dawn of dusk 
a tale of myth 
a trial of will  
tampering minds
tricky with tickling time
probing souls

Yours truly embarks on wild goose chase after elusive pot of gold

Yours truly embarks on wild goose chase after elusive pot of gold

alternately titled: incorrigible lottery dreamer
big plans to relocate self and spouse
to some tropical island paradise
by the dashboard light
(the above line credited
to musician named Meatloaf)
upon arrival of Stanley steamer.

When my ship comes in loaded 
and laden with precious cargo
from busy ports far and wide
captains trumpeting

Pattys Perfect Pot of Piquant Chili

Patty’s perfect pot of piquant chili hit my pallet hard
It is hot, tasty, sharp, tangy, made with grandma’s lard.
What a strong zesty kick, this chili has, my stomach laughed.
My own chili is less provocative, less biting, by maybe half.

There is a secret ingredient, my aunts told me but she will never tell.
We went through Patty’s

The pot

Life as a whole can be so tragic, 
And never will you witness magic, 
Emotions change in a blink of an eye,
You start off happy and end with a cry,
Loss of my loved one this emotion was new,
Like it's tipped in a pot stirred up like a stew,
Then it's poured in a bowl picked up

I BROKE THE POT

The pot
Tat killed my great grand’s thirst
That reared all who lived before me
That produced our water
Water sweeter than honey.

The pot
She valued more than gold
It was her favourite
Because it was passed to her
From her grandma.

The pot
Is a generational pot
Passed from one generation to another
But now it’s no more
What am I going to leave for my granddaughter?

The

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