You're all invited to my party.
No, not Jack or Jill or Marty.
I'm inviting apple strudels,
pies and tarts, the whole caboodle,
custards, puddings, buttered scones
(with muffins and bagels, I'm not alone),
cookies, croissants, an eclair,
and my lovely baklava, so dear.
I've got the lecture notes ready
I've got the examples
Just blow what I'm telling you to blow
I am responsible for the resurgence of the sales of saxophones
I unlock the doors of my car
By raising my right palm
You saw the crescent
I saw sod all
You need a guitar player
Bass and the whole caboodle
But don't stop there
Get yourself some
Man clarinets
And ear trumpets
In fact
Sack the band and
Just have a sax on stage
And horn away
Nostril reeds and
Ostentatious bellowing
I'll be your mouthpiece
I'll pretend to be from L.A.
Cringetown bottom burp
Dementia has stolen part of her from me
But also, from herself
I cannot complain; she lives a partial life daily
I am thrilled the days the sun is out
When her soul returns
Even if it is but for one brief moment
It is enough for me
Because it has to be enough for her
Much of her has been swirled away in dementia’s cloak
but on warm sunshine filled days
sometimes there is a glimmer
And that is enough
I would rather have a glimmer of her
Than the whole caboodle of anyone else
Our love will last until the last day
Signed: Her Forever Husband
Fabulous paintings on rag mats
Gorgeous under the glazing glass
Resembles my granny's noodles
But not are they silly doodles
Vibrant hues of varied patches
Divine hand's magical scratches
The whole caboodle looks graceful
Makes the innocent hearts joyful!
Nursery Rhyme 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Date: 15-03-2021.
Placed : 3rd
In every pantry far and wide
are noodles waiting there inside.
On every plate in every nook,
on pages of all cooking books...
The slivered fingers of spaghetti,
the twisted hats of capilletti,
the hollow curves of macaroni,
the pockets of a ravioli...
No matter what the shape, the size
of pasta dried in posed disguise
I'm goddess of the yummy noodle
in every style, the whole caboodle.
In every kitchen I've a church
an altar where my shapes are perched
and worshippers bow heads o'er me
and pray for more that's yet to be.
It's rare that I am found offended
my filling, flavor recommended;
but tasteless, blasphemers be boiled,
their sacrilegious farts be foiled!
Disarm the tacky ketchup villains
before they commit noodle sin!
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.