We naturally reflect on America’s past
this July 4, 2026, Independence Day
Could be America’s last
So, take a minute to pray
With Momdani running New York
Muslims to ban Christianity, alcohol and pork
As corporations flee Katie Wilson’s Seattle
#1 company there soon will be
‘Gramma’s Baby Rattles’
In Chicago, there’s Brandon Johnson
who doesn’t like to call a thug a thug
even when all they do is kill and mug
Progressive judges sentence them to summer camp in Wisconsin
(And if AOC is elected President in November of 2028
She’ll serve up free LSD and cannabis on the White House lawn)
So, let’s hope that by the time July 4, 2029 comes around
Putinville, Iowa won’t be America’s premiere town
Well, she boiled up the water
in a construction worker’s can now:
seems she forgot all about the library
that she told her old man now:
and with the kettle boiling,
she’ll serve up some cups of Jiguan now -
and she’ll have fun, fun, fun
till her daddy takes the teapot away.
Went to a dance
looking for romance:
saw Barbara Ann,
but I left with JD Vance.
My buddies and me
are getting real well-known:
Zelensky met us
and he sold us a drone.
We came in on the Sloop John B,
Mbappe and me:
Around Nassau Town we did roam.
The beer was like pee:
I caught an STD:
I feel so broke up,
I wanna go home.
She’s giving me good vibrations
with quality lubrication.
I think they’re taking a notion
in Californ – eye – ay
to throw themselves in the ocean
before election day.
The options are gruesome,
as you’ll acknowledge when
it’s bushy-bushy-bon Newsom
or Orange Trump again.
April Fool’s Day
There’s still time to find jokes from think tanks
If family offers you a gift say no thanks
Not on April first
Family is the worst
Unless you’re not the brunt of all their pranks
Cinco De Mayo
Come join the fun on Cinco De Mayo
Latinos grab a bat and don’t be shy good fellow
Hang the Donald piñatas
We’ll serve up the Chiladas
Batter up, swing it hard, and aim down low
I'm at ease in nature and its informality.
Church is rigid like a crucifix.
Everything in its proper, perfect place.
While nature makes the sweetest grape.
Church turns it into the spirit of sacrifice.
Nature is honest- carefree, without need to lie.
Church has many closets without exits or alibis.
My imperfections are just blemishes on the pristine.
In nature I'm good enough-good enough to eat.
Church will serve up your flesh in a collection plate.
Sauté your pocketbook week after week.
I'm at ease in nature
in my stained blue jeans
sitting on the mossy face of decay.
Beneath an emerald umbrella
face to face with a Paw Paw tree.
Sunday's not Sunday unless there's a roast.
It's the day of the week that I cherish the most.
With the veg on the hob and meat in the oven.
The aroma that wafts is a gift sent from heaven.
It's a time for the family to gather round the table.
Which keeps families together and families stable.
Gathered with the family, we laugh and we cheer.
It's the warmth of this day that I hold so dear.
With the carrots and the roasties lined up on the plate.
It's a smell just to savour and i just cannot wait!
So bring on that gravy and serve up that meat.
As this is the time to make Sunday complete.
Whilst we sit at the table, tuck into this feast.
My plate overflowing. This dinner is a beast!
With a belly so full, a home filled with aroma.
One eye on the sofa, for the incoming food coma!
Surrounded by loved ones, we share in the cheer.
It's the day of the week that feels so sincere.
It's a feast for the soul, now time for a toast.
That Sunday's not Sunday unless there's a roast.
In memory of John Farmer, a man so bold,
An ironworker’s tale, in stories retold.
From Local 46, his strength did shine,
In New York’s skyline, his work divine.
A skydiver brave, he soared the skies,
Twice he faced death, but still did rise.
With a heart full of courage, he took the leap,
In the clouds, his spirit, forever to keep.
He loved to cook, with a chef’s delight,
At barbecues, he’d ignite the night.
With spatula in hand, and a grin so wide,
He’d serve up joy, with friends by his side.
A two-fisted drinker, who loved his beer,
In his local pub, he’d bring good cheer.
Known by all, with a laugh so hearty,
He’d light up the room, making everyone jolly.
For John, retirement was just a fancy word for more time to play,
With friends everyday, in whatever came his way.
On April 10th, 2024, he bid us farewell,
But his stories and laughter, forever we’ll tell.
His retirement brief, yet full of zest,
John Farmer, you truly were one of the best.
Rest in peace, dear John, your legacy grand,
In our hearts and memories, you’ll always stand.
Our founding fathers showed great wisdom,
Defining our roots by constitutional debate.
From experience against an angered monarch,
The need was seen to separate church & state.
This core concept is now again being questioned,
As the church seeks a larger role to play.
It seems God wants to have more direction,
Towards guiding our lives day-to-day.
My lowly opinion on this topic is critical,
Yet it has little to do with God.
But more to do with rabid fundamentalists,
Greedy for more power & influence behind a facade.
Now I'm the first to realize just how
Difficult this separation would be to apply.
Since there are so many links in our social fabric,
From our 'pledge of allegiance', to the currency we all buy.
Sadly, this evangelical effort, seems to
Press the need for God's voice to legislate.
Although the church doesn't have a clue with
Governing, as long as it continues to serve up more hate.
Poets here have got a lot
Of soups that they can sup:
Elegy and etheree, epulaeryu served hot;
Tanka, haiku, dodoitsu -Asian broths served in a cup.
Rhyme here is a regular favor.
Free verse also we can savor.
Sonnet is a classic some serve up with ease
On our menu, many items every day are shown.
Using creativity, we like to tweak our recipes.
Please try our soups; better yet, cook some up of your own!
Climate change starts at home
Lower the temperature under your dome
Never raise your voice, let alone scream
Discard the hot sauce, serve up ice cream
POETRY SOUP
Poetry Soup Pizazz added to our lives.
Otherwise as lonely poets,
Everyone’s words, bound.
Together, we serve to sharpen our
Rhymes, free verse, sonnets and more.
Yay! What would we do gathering dust?
Soup! Soup! Hurray!
Ostrobogulous sips, along with our
Usual emotive and nature poems, serve up
Pizazz by the cupfuls, peppered with friendship.
8/15/2022
POETRY SOUP BEYOND ITS NAME
Beata Agustin
*Ostrobogulous - bizarre, unusual, interesting
She looks up to me I'm her role model
I birth her after nine months
Yet caught up on a world
Of deception
I shelter her
To keep her safe
Yet I feel like giving her wings to fly
She looks up to me as a role model
Will one day she sit in front of billions
Of people
Only the God I serve up above does know
Yet lessons are a respectable way of steering through life's twisted roads.
Any night
I serve up my fat
Drunken weary soul
In sweaty verbs
To the gods
Not real.
I sit ever fatter
Licking prayers
And books of prayers
Pretending
I am a genius.
I deal cards
In a game I've not learned
And coat candy
In licorice kisses,
To dance, for naught,
And spark no more
And leap so short,
For eternity and a day.
Catch Fall’s foliage Brasstown Bald —
Highest peak for colorful leaves.
Red squirrel’s cache of acorns, seeds,
pine cones, bird eggs in felled log sleeve.
Serve up Helen’s Oktoberfest
in Alpine Helen-White county
with brats and beer, cool weather dressed,
polkas and Ein Prosit bounty.
The down-home fun, my southern town,
relieved of heat, I hope for snow.
Meanwhile In Autumn hues, I drown,
warmed by an orange pumpkin’s glow.
9/13/2020
Brian Strand’s COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (8)
any form any theme Poetry Contest
The First Six Months
January, you remind me to close the door to yesteryear
And to welcome the new entry ways you have for me
Febuary, I'm off and running, and not the least bothered by
Any resolutions that I did not make
March, I am filled with the energy you bring and the anticipation
for things just ahead
April, with a name like yours, how can I not see and feel the
Spirit of resurrection in the air? Ah April, how refreshing you are
May, I have seen and crossed many bridges, both the great and
Beautiful ones, but none serve up the service you deliver. Why,
You are the calm and silent one connecting and blending the warmth
Of Spring with the heat of Summer.
June, your name competes with April and I will say this: I am acquainted
With a lady name April, but one of my best friends has a wife name June.
She is one jewel of a person.
100819PosoupFB
BEEF ON WECK
Caraway seeds and salted -
Beef on Kümmelweck.
Spread a bite of horseradish
And serve with french fries -
Salty and crispy.
Serve up beer.
Cheers!
10/15/2018
A beef on weck is a sandwich found primarily in Western New York State, particularly in the city of Buffalo. It is made with roast beef on a kummelweck roll. The meat on the sandwich is traditionally served rare, thin cut, with the top bun getting a dip au jus and spread with horseradish. Reference - Wikipedia
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Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.