Salt(A) Poems | Examples

Actual Axion

Axion, gone actual?
Energy low? Mass?
Sing within us all, moon full!
Shine in colored casse...

Opopanax, gears a-grim?
Young people these days!
Teeter on the crater's rim?
Success always pays.

Tamarisk tree, waking up.
Dreams from this one fly!
Covenant of drinking cup?
Do not deign to die...

Squirrel in deepest burrow?
Not this day, O my friend!
Fields with salt a-furrow!
Broken past the bend!

Winter snow, thy undertow.
Cold, take hold. O spring;
Which way leads to warp? Which woe?
Serpents, how you sting...

Gold on floor of old ravine?
Better leave it there?
Yellow eyes in skull, thy scene...
Press but don't despair.

Hope, tragedy. Rail or risk?
Horror, right this way!
Hell and Heaven, in a whisk!
Hatchet, who to slay?

Angels, demons, sacred art?
Cherries taste a-tart.
O explosions, tear apart!
Arrow, seek the heart!

End Times, tunnels, breath. Wind chimes.
Doubt, do not fail now.
Doom and Death dance on the dimes!
Best not to ask how...

Part 2 Or In Other Words A Final Copy

Salt a gin and tonic,
It’s too dry. 
Assault my temple with sin, 
Be honest, 
You like the rye. 
Look me in my honest eye, 
Conversations with myself are the fondest, 
Because no one understands me better when I rhyme. 
Took a pen and across the paper it slides, 
Scribble out the oddest lines. 
Apply pressure to the page, 
Trickle out ink until the pen has died. 
Wet ink is promised to eventually dry, 
But tomorrow isn’t promised, 
For some reason I can’t help but question why?
After four portions of Moët fine wine,
I tend to think of life as if it’s all just a waste of time.
If tomorrow could be withdrawn then what’s the point of the “grand design”?
If tomorrow I wake up past dawn, 
Should I consider myself only one step closer to dying? 
Don’t overstep, 
The temple has redrawn the walls and implores you to walk within the lines. 

It’s not perfect, 
But nothing’s wrong with second best. 
When it stops hurting, 
In comes walking Sudden Death. 
We can’t always be our very best, 
Attempting perfect, 
It feels like burning, 
The scars left behind showcase regret.

Ocean Crystal

Of fathoms far below the surface of time
Crystalline white on the surf you roll ‘n slide
Enduring realms, onyx-deep, where pressures climb,
a glittering dust astride current ‘n tide
Navy lolls where you’re the star in sapphire’s prime
Close to shallows, on aquamarine you glide
Resplendent diamond sparkling on sunny seas
Your quartzy pinks salt a Himalayan breeze!

(9/9/2022)

Scrambling Down To Cracker Town

Scrambling down to Cracker Town
I’ll have a Ritz, a salt, a round.
Can I come too? Asked a blue tick hound.
If you promise to not make a sound.

Triscuits followed us all along the way.
Wheat thins so jumpy, they could not stay.
Had no idea what else we might see.
Butter, peanut butter, cheese spread, and me.

A Nip of Salt, a Red Chili and Some Mustard

Misfortunes mushrooming 
from malevolent glares
are beliefs, 
as common water hyacinth.

Eying me 
drooping in dejection, 
grandma takes a nip of salt, 
a red chili 
and some mustard, 
locks her palm, 
rotates her fist over my pate thrice, 
then throws the ingredients of charm
into the embers in our hearth. 
I refresh, fooling myself. 

A scarecrow 
hanging 
in front of
building construction
is another Patriot system
against eye-missiles.  
Defense is diverse.

Evil eyes thrive 
from rhizomes of envy. 
They have been 
on the earth 
since the inception of thought. 

First published in The Literary Hatchet

When You Fall

Tonight sleeping thoughts awake a giant God 
my dream moulded outside this world 

I kiss you breathless sighs of mystery 
in a thousand blinks a picture silhouette 

Every second heartbeat skips with wonder 
Straight to the soul echo bounces of chambers walls 

Under a flower candlelight exploring magic 
silver lining shadows with the stars shine unique 

Dancing our love becomes the banquet 
conquers all tunes as sweetly a songbird sings 

Written in the sands salt a treasure 
Of our time together sweeping pulsebeats 

Who will stand before us as I kneel To honour 
Because as one I will catch you and save your grace

Miranda Writes

Miranda has the right to write in silence--

Anything you say, she will use against you
because you're moving your jaw.
Come knock on the door of my friend
Tom Sawyer. Especially if you cannot
afford a real lawyer.
He'll be standing in the darkness
reading the writing on the studio wall...

I was trapped inside a rusty clock,
now I'm running out of time.
I'm gonna buy a tall, tall drink
and rub the rim with lime.
A pinch of salt, a pinch of skin,
just one more step and you'll be in.
These bottomless disturbances
quell my quivering quill,
I'm running out of time,
I've no time to kill.

Where voracious flowers whirl
with the movement of the moon,
and the lyrics won't be written
if I cannot find the tune.
In a dreamer's deeper darkness
remembering the womb's trembling throng,
keeps me merely existing 
to write your favorite song.


A piano intoxication is like
being chased by bees.
How would you like to
go swimming in the keys?

Illumination's clear,
music is distressed.
It's time for me to go,
please don't be depressed.

Do Sane People Have a Chance At Romance

How often have I asked myself this question
As I reflect upon my image in the mirror each fine morning
And wonder,
Who would want you, really want you
And wonder too if sanity might be an arrow in her quiver.
Or more likely, as seems certain, she is kin to Humpty Dumpty
A good egg perhaps but she’d have to be quite cracked
To ever be with me.

With two eggs you have an omelet, 
Which is really not that filling
But with three eggs…….
Now you know why I’m alone.

Dreaming always dreaming
Our juices now are scrambled
If I could be a three egg omelet
I swear I’d never roam.

So pour me in some cream,
Sprinkle cheese to make me randy
And bacon bits to add some crunch
My God we’re cooking now,
Some golden onions fried just right
And peppers to add color,
A little salt, a little pepper
Things are really firming up…
Denver’s coming boys right now!

Yeee Haww Ladies!
Whew………..!
Do you-all take American Express!?

Brian Johnston
March 30. 2015

The Green In Mom's Happy Eyes

Winter never looked cloudy and gloomy
when I recalled spring meadows
as green as mom's happy eyes;
days could have no sun in gelid January,
nights could have no gleaming stars,
and yet her smiles imparted many joys!


Isn't life without a mother: a moonless sky,
an ocean without salt, a land without trees?
Always exult, honor and love her, lucky one: 
would the lonely orphans shed tons of tears,
and seek comfort when all ignore their cry?
I was the luckiest boy, never feeling alone! 



Copyright ( c ) 2015 by Andrew Crisci

Lorna

A seafromt full of salt;a lost girl,
The wind puts space between us,
Big dirty of a tide,a flood tide
Sly as a gull`s dive...

Shout Shakespeare at the dark,
Blow ye winds blow..

You are the face inside the storm,
The inner eye, the stolen word.

Mangata

Reflection, a road leading to the moon.
The night rippled, waves crashing; 
Ambiance so serene, nothing disturbed;
A mirror. A pure beauty, flawless stars
upon water spoke ever so honeyed to
the night. A calming of the storm. 

Smell of salt, a cleansing of the air; 
purifying ocean. Footprints tracked 
the shoreline; disappearing but unforgotten.
The consciousness of love. I saw her at the
end of that road, her smile in the sky; a
crescent moon. I dove in unaware; sinking.

Anchored in love, drifting passion.

Gifted Hands

A pinch of salt, a dab of pepper, a spinkle of Mrs.Dash
Lets mix it all together
Gifted hands starting at the age five
Helping grandma in the kitchen all the time
Choosing to say in the house to learn all the ingredients
Instead of going outside to play hide and seek
Grandma always told me my hands are special,
You wait, watch and see what I tell you
Gifted hands is for certain people only
The miracles that you will be able to do 
Don't forget what grandma told you
6 bars of 10oz cracker barrel cheese, eggs, carnation milk,
seasonings, salt & pepper
When you put it all together, this makes macaroni & cheese
One of the gifted hand's favorite dishes
It will melt in your mouth like a piece of candy
Grandma always told me my hands were gifted
Now I cater for a variety of people
Gifted hands is one of my best qualities.

Nerrissa Jenkins
Contest-With these hands
12/17/13
Visual #2

Spudly Love

Mashed potatoes are a drug
each bite tastes better than than the first
ladled in hot pork gravy 
puddled in the middle of the dollop
and dripping slowly down the sides

soft and warm they slide down my throat
a little salt a little pepper
every bite I feel the pleasure 
everything is simple when I eat mashed potatoes
I am in the NOW when I eat them... 

I'm nurtured by the texture and the creamy warmth and flavor
of that fat spud who I think loves me as much as I love it.

Food is love and  "love is a drug"

I heard that love is a drug in a song by the New York Dolls.

Boil 'Till Red

Salt a mess of fresh blue crabs
Steamed in a beer broth,
with onions and Old Bay spice. 
Mix vinegar with
Worcestershire sauce.
Pick, dip, eat.
Treat!


note: Have plenty of cold beer and paper towels on hand!

Inspired by Sara's Low country Boil contest 
8/14/11

The Soup Needs More Salt... a Big One For Poetrysoup

As a plain and passionate pen, I ponder
How would some wealthy words just wander
Out of this world of wisdom and wonder?
And we don’t care to search for them in yonder

Let’s lend our love to those who are lost
We don’t need much, we need to be just
All we need is to bear the courtesy cost 
Of knowing and asking after the lost

It’s a pity!  Poetrysoup is a colorful city,
I guess we have the hottest hospitality,
Yet I don’t know if we have the tenacity
To cater for those who zoom out of this city

I wonder why some hot meats halt
And we don’t care to ask… what
Could have happened? We’re all at fault;
This pot of soup needs more sincere salt.

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