Potable Poems | Examples

When In Rome

No pease porridge for me if you please
neither hot nor cold
especially not if what's in the pot
is nine days old
for when in Parma Palermo or Pisa
(no pottage slop)
I'm predisposed and have the propensity
to pour a potent potable
(pink plonk)
and prefer to partake of a piece of pepperoni pizza
with pancetta pomodoro peperoncini
porcini plus a peck of pecorino on the top
even the penchant for a piccante prosciutto panini
or pass me a plate of penne puttanesca
with the proclivity for a platter of pinoli pesto
possibly pasta with parmesan
and I'm pleased to wine and dine al fresco

SAVE THE RAIN

        If were the rain,
  what some want it to be
     nowdays even more...
           toxic rain
    polluted vertical river
  how we would all live too long!
     IT WOULD BE
     A certificate of no cure,
     testimony of thirst,
    testament of zombies,
       acid hopelessness
     volunteering for death...
   let's fight for preservation,
     for the springs...
   Let's not allow the rain,
  the potable water that we have left,
 to become an expensive commodity
  in the hands of other people insane...
  as they sayThis The way
    to save The rain !
     insanity i say...

Howling of the Coyotes

When shadows fall across embattled land 
Dusk creeps slowly westward over the plains 
Comes a-wailing, howling of the coyotes 
Searching for prey among the dry creek runs
Thirsty animals, like humans, take risks
Seek out the sweet nectar of the rainclouds
Potable water, life’s necessity.
This cracked earth, barren of tillable soil
Given for our homeland--great Sioux nation
And Lakota--once land of thunderbeasts!
Our land carved from brokenness and hardship
For generations we courageously fought.
We will never surrender one acre
To greedy Eastern oil-hungry barons
Not one dried-up ditch for a leaden pipe
Winding across our sacred tear-stained soil. 

July 8, 2022
Submitted to "2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 7" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney

Written/Edited June 13, 2022
Submitted to "Creatures of the Night" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward

No Water

No water

The land is thirsty in Portugal.
Dams are like wadies 
despair and dust 
not yet noticed by city dwellers.
Flush their loos with enthusiasm
buy potable water
At the supermarket
More expensive than wine.
Meanwhile, tourists
Love Portugal
Naturally, they didn’t come
For rain.

Health

We eat factory made, ready to eat food
Full of preservatives, for health not good
We eat food stuffs many months old
As not expired, the package told

Eating in hotels, road side stalls
Without thinking about its pitfalls
Tasty food entices our mind
To our stomach we're unkind

We neither exercise nor walk
About them we only talk
Using gadgets for every job
All physical activity we rob

Glued to mobile all day long
For little rest our eyes long
We have time for everything
Except cooking and eating

Nature, the lungs of our life
We destroy adding to our strife
Potable water, used for drinking
Its quantum, rapidly dwindling

Happy mind our biggest wealth
Also a cause for good health
With negatives, we ruin our days
It is high time we change our ways

Let's make health and happiness our aim
If neglected others we cannot blame
Good health bestows everything
Without it we are reduced to nothing

If we alter the way we live our day
We'll be healthy, I can surely say

Reflections While Skipping Rocks On a Specifically Symbolic Lake

snowstorm related
she drowned trying to glide across the lake
violets are thrown in the center
her favorite perfume still lingers in the air

i remember her transistor radio
i remember her potable 8 track player
i remember her walkman
i remember her thingaamabobetta to play 45s on
my favorite was her hidden collection of vintage 78s

rainstorm worn 
she drowned while trying to float while breathless under the lake
lilacs are thrown leftmost symbolizing her specially talented hand
here decorated wheelchair is now a landmark of upliftment

i remember her collection of needles
i remember her muilfaceted threads and yarns
i remember her 'brown sugar drawings'
i remember her baby blue sewing machine
my favorite was here hidden collection of vintage quilts

the Mostly Appreciated Parts were the pleasure of their company's inspiration

i sit indian style in loving memory of Them Both.....

Satisfaction Or Addiction

My world with full of illusion, 
Feel me with a potable description, 
All is a result of excitement and reaction, 
It goes beyond limit of creation, 
Where it undergoes a short lived oscillation, 
A shift of energy with no attenuation, 
All based on thoughts and its conservation. 
Is it all about nature and its selection?
Should it be a place for natural habitation? 
I prefer to follow the story in succession, 
Never ever care about adaptation, 
I willfully chose a sign of no completion, 
And accepted its preconceived version, 
I get a jackpot of virtual validation, 
It has a cutoff duration, 
But still get all outlets as per my passion, 
A world of never ending fusion, 
Complex thoughts and there intersection, 
I want a never ending devotion, 
Where I am left with confusion, 
Is it a satisfaction or an everlasting addiction?

I Wish To Be One With Nature

I Wish to be one with Nature

I wish I were potable water alms
I could freeze in your charms
I would melt in your arms
I could flow in your palms

I wish I were a humming bird
I could flee to you ahead
I would reach your hold
I could be with you getting mould

I wish I were rain
I could reach you like a chain
I would make me sustain
I could have my love retain

I wish I were a honeybee
I could collect honey I agree
I would save my love for thee
I could feel this as honeycomb key

I wish I were a butterfly
I could fly over you in sky
I would flutter at you as I fly
I could become one with you in reply


          - C L Sivaranjani

Our Homeland

When shadows fall across embattled land 
          Dusk creeps slowly westward over the plains 
     Comes a wailing, howling of the coyotes 
Searching for prey among the dry creek runs.
Thirsty animals, like humans, take risks 
     Seek out the sweet nectar of the rainclouds 
          Potable water, life’s necessity 
               This cracked earth, barren of tillable soil.  

               Given for our homeland--great Sioux nation
          And Lakota--once land of thunderbeasts!
     Our land carved from brokenness and hardship
For generations we courageous fought.
We will never surrender one acre
     To greedy Eastern oil-hungry barons
          Not one dried-up ditch for a leaden pipe
               Winding across our sacred tear-stained soil.

Hot Water Crises

Hot water crisis

Suddenly no hot water
We didn’t have hot water in my childhood
We had to boil water on a kettle
Pour it into a bowl, add cold water and wash
The vital parts.
It was when it was a communal bath, I discovered
Hot water in a shower and clean towels.
I wonderful moment.
Talking about water, there is not so much of it now
The summer lake near the houses is a hole covered with
Thistles and the river are a stony track.
Where I live now the water from the faucet is not potable
We have to buy it at the local shop, and it adds to
The household expensive.
I drink about two litres per day, and it cost more than cheap wine.
I refuse to drink the nasty, the residue of an empty, wine sold inboxes.
A cold glass of water in the morning is aa
Nectar, no one should be denied.

Making America Grungy Again

AnthroCentrism
grows from globally rabid nihilism.

As cynicism
grows from anthropocentric roots

As narcissism
grows from cynical Lose/Lose
trampling our Win/Win EarthTribe opportunities
in over-marching, 
uneconomically smart
unecologically naive
anti-ego/ecosystemic,
stomping bully boots.


What the USSR Military-Terrorist Party
learned the hard way,
their Russian mafia metamorphosis
has learned a simpler
continuing kleptocratic way:

When plundering and raping your own people
and Earth's international climate of active nutritional hope,
it is easier
and less transparent
to not have the unfortunate responsibilities
of actual 
factual RealTalk 
and RealWalk governing service provision

Like developing robust health and climate care systems
and building safe railroads and bike paths
and viable water and sewer systems
and healthy soil
and potable water supplies
and breathable air
and not quite so yang-fired up
win/lose competitive capital hoarding
among just-us AnthroCentric plutocrats.

Would that Apprentice Donald
had stayed private mafia likewise
rather than fiddling and twittering
extracting and walling
making America grungy again.

Confused and Misused

Confused and Misused

Further down we did dig deep;
Deeper into  will be our sleep,
Had counted too many sheep;
Except ones not giving a peep.

Poems may be much more possible,
When water appears to be potable,
Down throat more smoothly flowing
And no bacteria in there growing.

Why would anyone ever be eluding,
Poems appearing  to be protruding;
While we continued to be confused,
Poems were mishandled and misused.

Jim Horn

What More Am I

The glamour of their squalor is found
in specular highlights of crisp brown eyes
peering through mud-matted hair, crying.

Weeks of eating an abundance of whatever,
which consisted of scarcely more than bugs
fished from  non-potable cesspools.

A decade seems a long time, until singularly
it accounts for one’s whole life…and yet
we won’t home them, because they are a plague.

Self-righteousness cannot bear the reminder
that “refugees” might be people…children even;
running from nightmares that persist in daylight.

Ignorance is bliss, after all…
and who chooses to come down from a high?
We have full tables, full inns, and empty hearts.

Opportunistic politicians see a platform,
borne on the backs of the starving and desperate,
they manifest feigned outrage and farcical hand-wringing.

Droves follow droves out from the gloomy dread
greeted by cool apathy or worse; outright derision…
what more is to be expected of humanity?

The squalor of our glamour is found
in hopeless disconnection to what matters, or
to the reality that we could have been them.

11/18/15

Quiescence

===

*^* take the vivacious steps of my world's elated lilt *^*

Burning effulgent golden daystar - mirrored, reflected
Drawing up the facsimile of faith and luminescence
Trees oscillate and dance together with the rhythmic gust of breeze
Air - blowing and puffing, zephyr cooled by the brook
Turfs overran the land with exultation and furore
Fondling, gripping, and cuddling the headstream
Odoratas - ample-petaled,whitish-pink flower lilies
Bobbing in the reverberating melody of undulated waves
Nymphalid - gliding, vagabonding with elegance
Bragging its chromatic colorful ala above the stream current
Cervids drinking serenely with potable crystalline water
Salmons plunging, swimming for life and subsistence
Sedimentary rocks carried away gently, instinctively
Indigenous sanctuary - obscure, raw
Undisturbed habitat of existence
Factual heaven - midst of the woodland
Home of soothing silence - rivulet of my daydream.

> and dreams are sometimes more fun than reality <

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

' In My Dreams '

========================================================

~*~

Burning, gleaming effulgent golden daystar - mirrored, reflected, pictured
Drawing up the facsimile of faith, ardour and iridescence
Trees oscillate and dance together with the rhythmic, dulcet gust of breeze
Air - blowing and puffing, zephyr cooled , frozen by the brook
Turfs overran and overlaid the land with exultation and furore
Fondling, gripping, and cuddling the head stream
Odoratas - ample-petaled,whitish-pink flower lilies
Bobbing in the reverberating melody and cyclicity of undulated waves
Nymphalid - gliding, vagabonding with elegance
Bragging its chromatic colorful ala above the stream current
Cervids drinking serenely with potable crystalline water
Salmons plunging, swimming for life and subsistence
Sedimentary rocks carried away gently, instinctively
Indigenous sanctuary - obscure, raw
Undisturbed habitat of existence
Factual heaven - midst of the woodland
Home of soothing silence - rivulet of my daydream.
How I wish I will never wake up again ...

~*~

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*-*  ~~~~ " POESY'S LIMITLESS SCULPTOR " ~~~~

*-* August 27, 2011 *-*

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