Short Margarine Poems

Give me a taste of yellow butter please.
Not that crummy oleo or margarine.
I want homemade rolls not that store bought stuff.
And beef and noodles made by my mother.
Nothing else....

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Our eyes met in the supermarket queue,
She sent my heart a flutter,                                      
But then all thoughts of love ebbed away, 
In her basket, margarine not butter....

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Rub-a-dub-dub,
Margarine in a tub,
Without any butter the table is bare
The crumpets, the muffins, 
Bread from the loaf tins
They all need to be buttered thick
For the most satisfyingly simple fare...

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The hours fade away
Like old men at evening
Wearied of the day
As their lives drift by,
Like the slow /swift sailing 
Of clouds in a margarine sky
And fall in flakes as the pendulums sway
To those man-imagined measures of decay....

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Do you call it …..

Peanut Paste or Peanut  Butter

Is it Smooth or Crunchy

That sends your tastebuds aflutter


Do butter or  margarine accompany it

On your toast or bread

Please feel free to share your preferences

Regarding this very scrumptious spread



My Answers:

Peanut Paste
Crunchy
No butter or margarine...

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At the furthest bank
This river flows
I dip my trembling toes

The highest cloud
I’ve yet to reach
I sit and then I eat

The horizon 
Won’t yet soon evade
And then I’ll sit beneath its shade

Rationed
Stretched thin
One drop of margarine
On burnt white bread

In the darkest cave
I’ve dared to dwell
I cry and scream at hell...

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The day was killed 
diving in the books.
A lamb was dyed to
please the race.

You gambled for water
huddled in eyes.
I wanted to scatter the pearls
on cheeks.

Drenched in gasoline you
tried to send the message.
A flame was ready to
light the dark.

Margarine had the lustre
but was not a gold.
A red hot iron will
tell you the same.


Satish Verma...

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We are the first dead in this house
Books in dysfunctional piles; debris,
Tins of old paint in the garage,
Airtight as the finish on bedroom doors.
A density of standing air,solemn
With the austerity of dried cornflowers.
Sour margarine on thin grey bread,
Old gruel of past weekdays, gone;
Children`s laughter in a bottle,
Too late, too cold, now not part of it....

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Spring lingered margarine for weeks in disguise
 not a hint of summer on the rise
then the first day of July
 rain no longer cried
threaten walks
  heart stalks
  golden pokes 
embraced heat stroking
 as humid perspiring looms
 cue fair flaxen sunflower in bloom.
bold brilliance glowing faces in summer dance.







for Dear Heart's Writing Challenge 2
July 2nd,2019...

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No store bought jump starts
Cool creamy dough kneaded by hand
Baked until golden then cooled so slightly
Carefully sliced and slathered in butter
Because margarine would never do
Sun ripened berries diced and stemmed
Tossed gently with sugar forming the glaze
Fresh heavy cream beaten in a chilled bowl
Using a wire whisk until stiff peaks stand
Placing the layers one on top of the next
Then garnish with diamond wedges of fruit...

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