Peppered passions poetic pistachios
Onions fashioned like sonnets season soul
Eggs elevated eccentric embraces
Timeless haiku like wonton soup with sages
Racing red romantic bean ballard
Yellow limericks of potato salad
Salty somber sayings sweetly sly tribute
Oregano onomatopoeia monotone lines of truth
Universal utterances of sensual Senryu
Paprika topping the cheesy poetry soup
Between the breathless dawn of glorious glow
and twilight's sensual soft moonlight
the wonton nectar of romance aches
to fuse with fervent lover's lips
in supple yielding and fervor's confession
this secret expressed to the mouth
searches the boundaries of longing
to find a pleasant burn, that melts time
and dissolves the world around
where eyelids close and hunger climbs
this braille touch of deep caress
fills the well of ardor, with a passion's wish
held between the tender palms of lovers
like a captured realm of bountiful beauty
that stirs the dreamy eyes of love
with each kiss
3/10/23
contest Writing Challenge "K" Words
sponsor Constance La France
Our hostess had creamed cheese in pea pods.
I loved it!
And jalapeno jelly in wonton wraps.
I love jalapeno.
I made a pig of myself.
Snorting and chomping.
Squealing with hog gusto.
She brought out strawberry turkey salads.
She’s like Martha Stewart, my friend suggested.
Except she has probably never been in jail, I replied.
Jealous of both of them.
Anyone can write a poem
I mean, they’ve never passed a law
and with the quick access to paper
and all.
Of course, the serial poet’s the danger
that keeps us up at night - someone lacking
the gene for rhyme control. Normal people can’t
imagine such wonton, naked promiscuity with words.
It’s best that we ignore them - to nip it in the bud.
A real collective effort is required - let us build
institutional archives - yes - we’ll call them libraries - to
lock such verse away - may it never again see the light of day.
If you catch a child with a pencil, slap it out of their little hand
because we cannot start too early in discouraging needless rhyme.
This public service announcement - pointing out this new “poetry”
trend - was made for the benefit of all.
blonde hair
an immediate impression
for some a happy, marvelous one
others immediately look for prissy, or a snob
Some think she must be a lively dancer
red hair
an immediate impression
for some a wild, crazy, wonton woman
others think she must be a liar, a thief,
some think reliable, dependable, trustworthy
brunette hair
an immediate impression
For some a disrespectful, mean-spirited wench
others think she must be loving and caring
Some think she’s probably got the best sense of humor
First impressions.
It behooves us to become aware of them.
We immediately have feelings that may in no way
make any sense at all.
Isn’t it time we gave everyone a fresh start
in spite of our first impressions?
Kept wonton and willing, the new day's many, flower' petaline; all opening up to the moment.
If but only briefly, and if but only merely, and if but just once; now all beholden under the gracious eye of the Sun.
There full and in bloom by the fancy of our Creator, some there laying spent and still and melding now into the kindly need of the ground.
No, Heaven knows no other abandon and no kinder reflection, of the desire of all life, sharing in this and knowing no other welcome!
The cost of true freedom is to withhold nothing!
...
100 words above.
...
I use Grammarly on my computer. This is supposed to be my support for writing, lol!
I received a yellow neutral face meaning that this is neutral, no low, no high emotion to this effort.
The program had no idea what this writing means, lol.
I hope that you do!
I so love this, fact, friend, Happy Birthday! We are in charge of our very own monotony, and Joy and hope, and peace!
...
What truth we constantly find that arrives unconditionally, and ever-wonton to be expressed!?
Our Creators, and our song together of Love for Him, for all life, is the song that brings us to the highest heights together with Him within any moment, on any day! When we let this go, in the direction, of Him, of all life, we soar with Him, with all life!
Offering this all away, to receive this, constantly, we all find our continuing victory with the sender, our Creator! Who has always been here from the beginning way back when, and; is here now within us, and always will be!
His Love that we share with all life, yes; this is He, and He, is our victory, continuing on together with Him, with all of this life; forevermore! When we let go of Him and His Love for all life, for the tender maturation of all life, we will always find Him, and this to be well within; all life, and; within ourselves!
Signed: "Your Joy & Hope & Peace"
. 154 Words . Our Very Best .
Yes, I am the raw vision, of my true, self wonton, and willing to succeed within this moment infinitely supported and surrendered to all of us, by our Creator!
When I dance gratefully under the storms, all that I act upon, that is the hardest to accept about myself, within the mirror of this life, when I do, I am my very own savior.
As I suck out, all of the yummy marrow of this life, sharing this with all others!
I am the terror, lost when I am not, when, truly, I need for not!
I am an ever-evolving creature of our Creator, mistakes, and all!
"Saints," they say, can be no more, nor, do anything, more, or less, but; live for another, to share in no personal regrets for, themselves!
Yes, just as much as I am willing to grow, as I let go, to learn, I am at my very best!
Most often, our weak hands, and our hearts, mind, and body, and ever-emotional soul; all offered up and left unto the hands of our Creator, become the strength of great nations.
Yet when any people within any nation will not offer all of themselves up unto this blessing above, within their treason, they are all swept up and offered away in parts, until they are nothing more, than a distant memory.
This same choice, wonton, is all ours, within the consistent and continuing blessing of every moment.
Patrick Ferguson and the battle of Kings Mountain
He rode up to the mountain in great haste
planning vile acts, and much wonton waste.
Hiding, the whigs taunting, scattered about.
They were in waiting, the mountain through out.
Brave volunteers were on the docket.
John, the father of Davey Crocket
Ready to give his life, so long ago
just as his son Davy at the Alamo.
Ferguson sat on his steed, the pampas ass.
That’s about the worst thing I can say’
without being completely crass.
Little did he know this was his last day.
A small conference upon their steeds underway.
While shots periodically rang among the fray.
Then Ferguson’s second Lieut. spying a whig
trained his pistol...following that dirty “pig”
But God took a stand on the mountain that day
He ended the conflict in his own absolute way.
The lieut’s hand and his gun with certain disdain,
trailing the whig, fired into the general’s brain.
Charles Grady Henderson
Feb. 13, 2020,,,Have rewrit several times, hope this is the best.
The Chinese head out for bagels
The Jews are imbibing wonton
Makes it hard to decide
which side that I'm on!
Bowled over, kneading you, feeling sub-lime
from my head tomatoes. Hear my heart beet!
Eggcited, wonton you olive the thyme.
Donut you carrot all for me at yeast?
You’re one in a melon, sweet sugar pie,
forbidden fruit I find so appeeling.
Cherry on the cake, apple of my eye.
Has there bean love? Don’t berry the feeling.
It’s a big dill and takes two to mango.
I’d sacri-rice all because you compleat me.
You oat to love me. Peas, love miso!
Just food for thought. Chew that fat with your tea.
I have so mushroom in my heart for you.
A pizza your heart? Say yes, honey - DEW!
Dec. 28, 2017 for Viv Wigley's Food Fight Poetry Contest
I’m no poor man unless I give away
What life and beauty owe me more than most,
Although I do not fear that I would ever stray
From love of which I’d sooner dream than boast.
When all which perishes is born again
To hold me near my memory of you,
I look away, though never would I feign
What might inspire my words and make them true.
A tree grows fair with age despite the leaves
Which fall into forgetfulness at first,
Whereas your eyes change color when the thieves
Of wonton love make hearts suspire with thirst.
What came before—and surely you forgot—
Is that which, once, with many tears, I bought.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
She see's through daisies and succumbs to night things
Her heart keeps on breathing for pleasure in the evenings
She's wanting to see you at any time of day with eyes wide open
Even when she see's through an ivory of daisies amidst within
Her viewing embers are so well hidden, along with her knowledge
Are her own makings with in this fine enclosure of foliage
She's the epitome of a wonton beauty as you shall see
Oh how she does love you, while smells and is so free
She see's through daisies and succumbs to night things
Her heart keeps on breathing for pleasure in the evenings.
04/03/15
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