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Best Poems Written by Joe Sloppy

Below are the all-time best Joe Sloppy poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Joe Sloppy Poem

Potage Passion

Just a bit of black pepper
As your breath brushes against my neck,
Dangerously close.
Don’t forget the heavy cream
You whisper gently in my ear.

My knees slightly shaking as I stir 
You passionately intertwine the broth 
As I whip the contents savagely.
You place a handful of rosemary in my opened palm
Reminding me of filthy nights.  

The thoughts flooded in
Sick and twisted as I whisk.
Bodies lie against each other
The tub filling up with milky warm liquids
Rosemary sprinkled your chest
Soft as the unsalted butter that you placed in the soup.

Bringing me back into reality, I chop up the carrots
As your parsnips brush up against me
I shudder and add two tablespoons of olive oil
Reminding me of sleepless nights
Oils running down us
The fresh smell of lavender as I enter-
Tain the idea of white wine.

You used to love cocktails
Late at night.
I never entertained the idea of dry liquor
However, whatever I must taste,
I will,
For you.

We were close to finishing
As you split open leeks
Reminding me of our tongues
Tangled together like dashes of garlic and onion.

You place the toppings
Light crunchy croutons,
A pinch of Himalayan salt.
I weep slightly.
Reminding me of pinched parts in tight places
Or so, it used to be.

You’ve had your bowls of higher qualities
Coming back now, to me
Due to inconsistencies 
Yet I awaited your return
With enthusiasm
To taste, once again, your so called
Potage Passion.

Details | Joe Sloppy Poem

The Soup is Piping

The soup boils and spits out at me
Reminding me of the past.
Steam builds as it circulates around the fans
Lurching forward, with a spoon,
I taste a small droplet of the sizzling delight
Only to find myself reminded of that long dreary night
I groan as I rip the picture from the wall
I stare and reconsider as the soup continues to thrive,
In the background.
One day,
One night, 
we will make love again while the soup burns.
I no longer care of the seasonings in the jar
I long for connection
I stir and I stir the watery substance 
Only to see the lonely figure in the reflection.
I cry out as I remember
The slow burn of a forgotten pan
The sadness in your eyes as I placed the soup in front of you
Our last moments as the spoon went to your lips
It touched and ran along your chin
I licked out towards you
yet there was only air...
However, I still have the piping hot soup
A bit of garlic and spice
reminds me of those long steamy nights.
Olive oil drenching the bottom of the pan
and your body as I poured it upon your skin
Easy...
Only a few moments more of reminiscing.
The broth was close to perfection,
As I also start to simmer down. 
One tear fell from my lashes
Splashing into your once favorite stew,
The final ingredient added.

Details | Joe Sloppy Poem

Champagne Flavored Spheres

The delicious aroma circulated 
As the heat from the oven radiated 
The stove top warmed
As white chocolate chips melted downward
Into a candied thick syrupy puree.

Thoughts flashed across my mind
Of white paste plastered across polyester bed sheets. 
I turn away from the smoldering flames
Imagining
A shadowy figure draping over luminescent lights.

Egg whites and velvety oil
Drenched the skillet
Like lubricated breasts at twilight.
I falter and catch my breath
This was the old me.

Ivory cake mix spilled out
Awaiting to be released.
The waxen texture splashed my fingers.
Reminiscing of a time,
When this was all I had. 

I pour a little too much of champagne,
Hinting of a dangerous night.
I whisk and blend the ingredients in conjunction
Like bodies distorted
Contending for air. 

I linger around the cookware
Till the mixture congeals.
I scoop a handful,
Conforming to my touch,
Creating spheres, 
Pressing gently, as I weep.

One by one the orbs fluffed
Grew as I appointed
Vanilla flavored frosting on the polished surface.
I placed four on a dish
As I drizzled gold flakes along the edge.

I wondered how many I could consume
At least two, I thought longingly. 
Placing them against my tongue
Icing smearing against lips
Spheres slapping my skin

Champagne drenched, 
Filled with melted cream.
How I long for your touch
This is it for me,
Too much excitement for one night.

Details | Joe Sloppy Poem

Cream Filled Pastries

A sweet fragrance pierced the air
As I hold on to this moment.
Awaking at last to lonesome bedsheets
As I hear movement from within the kitchen. 

I arise to a foggy atmosphere
being probed by lucid sun beams
Flowing through mundane draped curtains
As the murky morning dew splashes against glass.

I arrive next to you
As heat slowly radiates against my exposed body. 
Holding against you
As you create our nectarous breakfast.

Honeyed and milky,
Sugared and Ivory,
Glazed along the top,
And darkened upon the bottom
Due to being battered with flames. 

Diverse types of jellies slurped and oozed 
Out from tightly carved holes
As a coat of cream penetrated 
The interior of the dough. 

Flashes of the night before
Danced along memories as I watched
Cream filled and ready for more
As I groaned your name at dusk. 

It has been years prior
Since I have seen a pastry 
Drenched as I have been
No longer afraid of the unknown. 

Willing to risk taste and passion
In order to receive what I most desire. 
You flip the sweetened goods
The same as before. 

Smacking the top
Of the lightly toasted tart
Caused liquids to flow down the side
Squirting out from its petite cavern. 

I watched over your shoulder
While you work slowly,
Passionately. 
Tender as the night was long. 

As I stumble to the table
You place the delicacy on a plate, with ease.
You begin to feed me 
Your cream filled pastries.

Details | Joe Sloppy Poem

Cream Corn Chowder

Despicable 
How it drips down the side
Bubbling up from the innards of the pot

I can hear the sizzling 
The smell of the butter drenched corn
I throw in a bit of salt and pepper
To spice up the contents

Cream splashes up, upon my cheek
I leave it.
The light burning sensation begins to fade 
As I step away, breathing intensely 

This alone reminded me of my younger years.
Frightened yet interested 
In how the cream drizzled corn was hesitant to conform. 

How I yearn for the old me
Who could make batches of milky substance,
Yet now I struggle 
With the makings of one 

My fingers felt greasy 
Like those nights years ago
How I would work every evening 
Hoping you enjoyed the taste 

My eyes sparkling,
Lost in the thoughts
The slurping and screeching 
Of the boiling brew

The fragrance of corn graces my nostrils
Flashes of memories flood in
Your body, yet again
Covered in the opalescent matter

You used to love my cream corn chowder
The same way I still desire you 
Yet there’s always a bowl of higher quality.
Saddened, as I turn the flame on low

Let it seethe,
Let it come to a halt.
Now I await to enjoy 
Like those feasts years ago

Details | Joe Sloppy Poem

Stewing Romance

A tune flickered on the radio
As we waltzed into the kitchen
My hand wraps around yours
As I flick on the stove top with the other. 

You grab a pot out of the cupboard 
And I grab the meat from the fridge
You spray down the warming metal 
And I grab out the vegetables

I peel the potatoes gently 
Trying to watch you from the corner of my eyes. 
You tenderize the pork 
Your hands pressing down and squeezing softly

I groan aloud, by mistake
The sizzling and popping have arrived
And I still have carrots to chop.
You turn to smile at me delicately 

The table slams 
And I awake, alone in the kitchen.
It was just another memory 
Of a time, long before now.

The stew warms gradually upon gradient flames
I open the lid to see juices flowing over bite sized pieces of meat
This caused a sensation of heartache and lust
As I stir gently the meat melts away from bone

A shiver runs down my spine as I watch
Like an outsider looking in 
I tear away bit by bit as secretion splashes against potatoes
I no longer care; I know I need this.

I rip and smack until I couldn’t anymore
Just like those forgotten years. 
I place a shaking finger into the stew
Licking away the sweet nectar 

Where are you, I thought
You always made such flavorful fluids
As we laid entangled 
We could create better together now. 

Both older and wiser 
Like the soups of old.
I turn the stew on low as the doorbell rings
I open to see my past. 

You stand in the doorway
Yet again, 
With a stew twice the size of mine
I no longer care, I need this.

Details | Joe Sloppy Poem

Red Velvet Lust

A quarter cup of melted butter
Slips quietly into the bowl.
Minuscule amounts speckled my lips
As I scatter in a mouthful of sugar. 

Not the first or last time,
I will create this dish. 
I bring out packages
Of cream cheese, softened.

I whisk thoroughly 
Dashes of white, stains my hands.
I grasp on firmly
Beating the ingredients till completion. 

By the time it fluffed to perfection
The handle was wet and lubricious 
Creating a situation 
That brought back flashes

Of butter milk splashing out before us
Drenched, for what felt like hours.
Still tasting the vanilla extract 
As your hand came away from me.

I mistreat and whip four large eggs
As they frothed for more.
A spout of red dye 
And a flood of emotions rushing in. 

A meaningless tear slips down my cheek
As I place the unbaked delight in the oven. 
After what felt like moments,
I moved the dessert into the fridge.

I bring out the frosting with trembling fingers
Reminding me of a glaze
Spreading and forming anew
Against defenseless skin. 

Oozing along parts
That icing has no business being
A strong desire overtakes me
A feeling of lasciviousness longing.

I complete the cake with the delicious topping
Begging to continue to slather me in the saccharine sauce.
In this moment I needed you,
I must. 
To taste my recipe 
Of red velvet lust.