Short Corns Poems

Golden belt of corns,
Abraham Lincoln home in
State of Illinois...

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Fried sunny side up
Cup rice, green beans and ear corns
Nice breakfast on top....

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withered stalks on road 
scared deer chased from hiding spots 
farmers out all night...

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“Pop corns”-

The cart horns

Salt and sugar worn 

A wish to try born

No,she warns!...

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deep in the forest
                                             chipmunk finds tasty morsal
                                                  extracts corns nectar...

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The land is green
In flag and corns
Her coat is green
And her steeds' horns.

The land is green 
So footest her harvest
Her coat is green
And so win her chest....

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SUCCULENT  TASTY  POPCORN
 WHITE  CRUNCHY PUFFBALLS
  YOU SO COVETABLE WARM
     BUT   WHEN   BUTTERY
       I SUCCUMB TO YOU 
          kING OF CORNS
           YUMMMMMM!...

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Take the bull by the horns
                                 You may find blisters corns
                                       But man be brave
                                       You'll surely pave
                                The way to your new morns...

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N ow is the time for celebrattion
E ven in this chapter of war and desolation
W e must unite, join hands in resolution.

Y ou can make a difference;
E ven if its just a seed of hope, a tiny step;
A corns produce mighty trees.
R esolute it is up to us to work as one for peace....

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Open fields
No farmer reaping corns
Eternal pastures
Bereft of grazers
Streets and avenues
Dead silence only broken by military convoys
Houses and apartments
Men hiding like mice
Schools and colleges
Momentary sirens
Graveyards and crematoriums
Bustling with the dead

That’s you, dear world, today...

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Sid a sedentary popcorn
Married a pretty unicorn
They went for walk one day
Sid was crushed on the way
Unicorn was left with a corn 

Date: 8/29/2020 
Syllabus count : 8,8,6,6,8 check at soup poetry counter

Note : Corns and calluses are hard, painful areas of skin that often develop on the feet in response to pressure or friction....

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The Agony of de feet

When I am afoot I fear for the fact
That my didgets will fidget
And I must react
My corns are like thorns
When the pressure is great
The bunion’s no funion 
My toenails ingrown
With all this pain I can loudlly state
I must buy large shoes
 To give me some space 
to rid me of this winged tip fate

Ralph SergI ©
October 23, 2018...

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I stand amid the crowds of corns
at endless fields in farms.
I took a peice to pleasure to my tongue,
for I've never tasted corn that never felt so wrong.

It was sweeter than the buttered kind,
and more bitter than added to much of salt.
It was rather wrong, to steal a farmer's corn,
and yet it tasted right like child to candy corn
with a bitter tongue....

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Pecking corns like a crow
Quaking and cowering
Scampering on to wall's edge
At the meek noise
Of the approaching toes.

Stay and stare! the glibe
Its plump dwellers and dealers
Bombs swelling within their cerebral foetus  
Spewing Thunder, Blast and Blood
Thronging the shrines,

Screeching and shrieking
In perpetual fear.

With heavenly hide
Twinkling stripes of grace
Hop! Hop! My love! Hop thy race
Trample over the human race....

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Sir – dearest Vicar,
Tho’ you failed to tell
Those that faces in that dark night,
The gods had called the birds 
Fresh from the forced excursions!

Sir – dearest V.C.,
Now, this is another false re-approach: 
Demanding cowries from the birds
For the corns they ate not!
Why are the initial clouds being moved again?

Sir – dearest Vicar,
Free all the caged representors
– We need peace in the communal nest! –
Thanks: yours freed representor....

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Pass me a pass for a pass
Save me the troubling trouble
Constantly consistently constant
A disturbing disturbance 
Running in me, in veins
My soles hurt beneath
The leather that leather my feet
Weak from the week long walk 
In the solace search for my soul
Give me the feel of a maize
Two corn grains buried 
Amazing hub of corns
Grant me a luck today
Into the prison of my blessings
My weak soles will dance 
The dance of victory
And praise present in Your presence....

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Everything is creased & kept
In right place & order
To avoid even a particle of dust.
But all worms
Are not devised to
Die before a naphthalene.
 
The dead narcissus,
The spittle of wind on windowpane,
The half-empty dish of rice
Beside the folded mattress
Make me return & recall
The days of nursery school,
The lesson of my favorite farmer.
His corns would come & store themselves magically !
 
Flying out of ancient hearth
Gods & dogs
Gift me
The vessel of ashes....

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The Truth about Narwhals

The truth about narwhals, is that they're just bags.
Majestic bags, filled up with swag.
And bags filled with swag, well, they aren't a drag.

The truth about narwhals, is that they're just unicorns.
They dress up like dolphins, but still show off their horns.
And dolphins with horns, they love to eat corns.

The truth about narwhals, is they love shish-kebabs.
They make them all day, to worship their gods.
But narwhals themselves are gods, gods of kebabs....

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