Scraped, friendly freckled face falls to benchtop
Starchy spud plays poker, blank slate envelope
Lost costume spotted cape, super elixir escapade
Layers on shiny raised scars, recovery escalates
Sticking plaster, milky soak soothes, heat tempered
Compost bound bandaid quells Hell unrelented
Derma learns renewal, Nurse dresses fire sore victim
Tugged taut rawness fades, subsiding symptom
Nerida never administers synthetic medicine
She reassures peel press is healing essence
Piano punctuations plod, then pace, parade
Figaro notes frolick over keys, aural first aid
Choral cure prays perfect circle curse moon miracle
Stroking fingers fuse potato to patient, glue
Discarded skin glimmers in kitchen, hopeful sunbeam
Her burn potion infuses through bloodstream
6th May
Quick Recovery
Categories:
starchy, absence,
Form: Couplet
I see it in cubes cast
And chiefly featuring in breakfast;
In Bread and cake harboured
And in plantains and cereals honoured…
Also in my tea that would gullets pass through,
Its presence in oats holding true.
I see it in packs neatly filled
In layers arranged and sealed,
Each one of them as white as white can be!
Every one of them nearly the honey of a bee.
I’m told The Best Quality is in Havana,
Although readily grows in every Savannah.
A starchy stuff and energy booster,
Raiser of the Weak and sure Mover!
Yet, not a fabulous treat for The Diabetic
None ever, after taking it, ecstatic…
Must, in fact, forget consuming even a single:
Their no no-go area and Bermuda Triangle.
Categories:
starchy, death, eulogy, food,
Form: Rhyme
Sunday was patent leather shoes, white anklets with lace
Starchy petticoats, flouncy lavender dresses with huge bows in the back.
Sunday was Sunday School, where everyone in the church knew us.
Singing so loudly in the pew during church our mother was shushing us.
Sunday was roast beef and potatoes with chocolate or lemon meringue pie.
Sunday was a day for Daddy to stay home all day, show us his sense of humor.
We looked forward to this day all week long; it was almost our favorite day.
It would have been our very favorite if Saturday had not been cartoon day.
Sunday was singing along with The Lennon Sisters,
Sunday was singing along with Mitch Miller
Sunday was eating homemade donuts and popcorn for supper.
Childhood Sunday memories make me smile to this day,
Fifty years since I had one of those childhood Sundays.
Categories:
starchy, memory, philosophy,
Form: Free verse
There once was a man named Archie
Definitely not so starchy
Ridicule his best gift
Supremacy his lift
An upper hand controlled Archie
Bunker was his family name
Superiority his game
He put intellect down
Made Michael wear a frown
And his viewers flush with red shame
Syllables checked.
Written: 02/14/2019
Categories:
starchy, funny,
Form: Limerick
The record plays -
sounds of love; words that touch the heart.
I reach for you with all my being
and, finding I still cannot touch you
I sit down to cover paper with my song to you.
A piece of paper - starchy white with tiny, symmetrical
blue veins running across.
An impersonal piece of paper that obligingly holds my
ink-blotched words so that I may gaze at them
and wonder at their lack of saying
what I mean to say.
I run my hand across the page and wish it were you I was touching.
I wish each quiet scratch of the pen on parchment was
the sound of your voice.
And, because not the page nor the words nor the sound is you -
I cross out everything I've written, crumple the page and
throw it away.
The room is silent now. The record has quit turning.
The needle is in its cradle.
And I find that tonight I have no song. Not on paper.
Only within me.
And, tomorrow, I'll again reach out to touch you.
Categories:
starchy, heart, how i feel,
Form: Free verse
Smooth,
yet flawed.
Tiny tears upon a mesmerizing palette;
like miniature beads
sewn together by an experienced hand
caressing its surface
the perfection unreal.
Yet time goes on
aging perfection.
Pushing the breaking point
guiding the cracks
between inseparable friends.
Heeding.
Until
only disaster awaits.
Colours fade from green to gold
as the staunch winter beckons,
its icy grip
intent on separating what was once combined
simply to create
some semiprecious whole.
As calmly as if everyday
one pines for forgiveness.
Intelligence in its simplicity;
I wait as we part,
drifting away like friends overseas.
The starchy, crisp leaf,
leaving its tree.
Categories:
starchy, autumn, fate, friendship, goodbye,
Form: Free verse
The couch
I lay here on the couch
Springs pierce my spine
My neck bent
An unnatural angle
My cold feet try to find warmth
In the crevices
There are only crumbs and coins
Coins and crumbs
Starchy fabric rubs the skin
It creaks when I move
How come you get the bed?
You are my princess
That's what you told me.
How come?
Soft but firm
Cozy but not too hot
It engulfs you
Twin size
That's all we have
But enough for one
We never take turns.
The couch is my bed
It comforts me now
I know its structure
My foe at first
Now a comforting friend
I still yearn for a bed
You said we would take turns
Every night I tell you I'm going to bed
Blankets
Pillows
Wrap your body
You say goodnight
I know you know
And I come to the couch
I sit and I think
I go to bed
Repeat
Repeat
Repeat
Categories:
starchy, anger, desire, for him,
Form: Free verse
Those breasts are a granary of life
they are silos for the thin times
they are feeding gourds for the fragile
there are vitamins in them
there are proteins in them
there are starchy foods in them
there are fats in them
there is rough-age on them
there is water of life in them
there are all minerals in them
those who carry them
those whose use them
must do so with holiness
and dignity
Categories:
starchy, allusion, relationship, woman,
Form: Rhyme
The mill house filled with oats, kept the mice in feeding heaven,
the cat was gaining weight, his daily mouse intake was seven,
the farmer’s daughter fed the horses oats and fresh picked barley,
while the son was searching ads, for a working vintaged Harley,
the mule had spent a restless night, mosquitos bit its nose,
the wife was trimming flowers, she gayly snipped a scarlet rose,
the kids were swimming in the stream, diving from a tree,
the paper boy on his new bike, brought news for folks to see,
the dentist and his happy drill, frightened children as they screamed,
the seamstress ironed starchy shirts, she whistled as she steamed,
the railroad crossing bells were broken, the mayor blew a fuse,
he pointed to the train approaching, shouting madly at the crews,
who rested ‘neath the maple tree, eating fresh made apple pie,
instead of fixing broken bells, before someone could die,
today the sleepy town in Georgia, cancelled their parade,
the honoree was drunk at home, the people felt betrayed,
life goes on as news show flooding, on the banks of Tennessee,
me, I’m staying stoned at home, and watch it all on my TV.
Categories:
starchy, america, natural disasters,
Form: Verse
You tell me all the time
That you are fat and ugly.
That you aren't good at anything.
That you are the biggest jerk.
You tell me that your hair looks bad,
That your jackets is too ragged.
That your hat has been around too long.
That your shirt looks too starchy.
Through my eyes, if you could see yourself,
None of the things you say would be true,
Because to me: you are you
And that's absolutely perfect!
Through my eyes you'd see,
That you are so strong and handsome.
That when you try for something, you excel!
That you have a huge heart of love and kindness.
You would see that your hair is perfect.
Your jacket keeps you warm.
Your hat does its job well.
And your shirt is just your style.
If only you could see yourself through my eyes!
You wouldn't see anything imperfect.
Because I see you through a filter of love.
You are you and that is perfect.
Categories:
starchy, beauty, body, heart, love,
Form: Free verse
I REMEMBER GRANDMA
I was sent to grandma’s place for a week
And she greeted me and kissed my cheek
I helped her to cook and the mess was no problem to her.
Grey wisps of hair knitted back constantly with finger
With embedded wedding ring, covered with flour.
And taste of her thick cherry compote after an hour.
She told me bedtime stories sat on her stool,
Oh, those bed sheets were always starchy and cool
The smell of her fresh-ironed old linen apron
Was there whenever I would waken
Yes, I buried my face in her clothes, I knew her scent,
Like a fledgling bird to the correct nest sent.
Categories:
starchy, childhood, family, me,
Form: Couplet
He did not want anything
after the sex and death of a protagonist.
Rebuffed and sliced through the body,
the onus was left on toxic mix.
He died in deprivation, in intensity
of hunger and fluidity of thirst.
The quartet of grenades stretched too far
the indemnity of shell shocked apostles.
A clan lost the sense of hearing.
A mystic odyssey of massacre, raising
the doubt of gifts in heaven. The starchy
statements and commands scattering.
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
starchy, adventure, allegory, angst, animals,
Form: I do not know?
Pasta
yummy
gummy
saucey
starchy
It is all good ,yummy, ziti mix.
It can be so saucey, starchy too !
Copyright McCuen 2009
Categories:
starchy, food
Form: Tyburn