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Sand  Sep 2013
Peach Salsa
Sand Sep 2013
Peach salsa
Has that tangy taste
Between sweet and spicy
Burning tongues naughtily but nicely.

Peach salsa
Is the quiet librarian of dips
Unassuming until the bun comes undone
And blink of an eye she’s a firecracker in bed.

Peach salsa
Tastes a lot like you
And our Sunday afternoons
Experiments with papaya and pineapples
Tossed in with tomatoes and crying onions
The perfect recipe for a little change and a lot of disaster.
Kenneth Springer May 2013
You were hovering over me,
Violently yearning
You whispered:
“gummy bears can’t dance salsa”
Under us the ground broke.
And the choreography was immaculate,
As we fell on one another
Weaving our morals on the last door we passed,
Before we made that right and went downstairs.  
The puddle fell under me— icing my back,
The fall silenced you’re moans,
while the silence started the quiver,
A treble in full effect.
You’re song was in windings as the prophetic tongue wandered.
Then they came to boast the steps,
But one after another their dance lay deaf
For gummy bears can’t dance salsa
When you’ve chewed off their legs.
Jaee Derbéssy Aug 2014
Un, dos, tres,
un pasito 'palante, Maria!

Were the words
that ignited
her flare,
seducing every man
in the room
with her dessert-like
tone skin,
cherry colored dress,
and her *Latin
awing every soul.
She embodied
she embodied
Salsa music.

She was Salsa music.
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Here comes the sun little darling's
We all get burned
 Is it your turn
Oh! Where I thou
"Green light Diner"
It's telling us to Go
    *       *       *
The Earth beauty faces
I will be your direct sunlight
In plain sight to the daylight
her blossom tree
All I ask come for me
Her face could eat
The divine flower laced

French brie
Tie a yellow ribbon on me
We have so much to see
Let it be sun-face Moms
apple pies
The Sun  "Watchtower"
Someone knocks you off
Your "Bill" on the Ice Queen

The Goddess rodeo waitress
She got you roped in between
The cigarette 1940 case hostess
I suppose the sunflowers every booth
her smile sets in place

The stain-glass window Notre Dame
Rock and roll hall of fame
The earth kids rainbow chalk
Sun-fun treetops like a beanstalk
Napoleon Elementary Watson
New Jersey Diner capital admission
The Peking duck *** luck

European beauty hunter's menu
Any luck this will be awhile sip "Starbucks"

1-Antipasti cute Shiba Uni
2-Consomme Chicken soup
3-Sun-face to the soul fruit loop
4-Chicken pepper Salsa
Sun-face lights up Visa
5-Hearts of Artichokes Mona Lisa
6-Soy ginger salmon
My sun worshiper man

Fish tacos hummus
St Thomas
Rome was not build
In one day
The windpipes and
the tablecloths Oh! yikes
Full of dream pipes

Sun tan stripes and zebras
Couscous salad big star dipper
Egyptian Gods camels back
Sun-face diner no time
for the sun-chip snack
Diners from 1920-1940
Sun-face air force dresses

Medieval times two swords
Holy lords Easter parades
" Ice-cream Spumoni"
Dinner in the sky
Robin red breast fly
Italian artwork Coliseum
Look up in the sky
It's a bird shaped
Paper plane bad romance
going insane

Waffle House  jukebox rock and roll
Hall of fame whats in a food name
Cowboy steaks American Flags
Cajun chicken legs fruits and figs
At the caboose Ladybird jet lag
Valentine Diner chairs
got footloose homemade goose

Purple rain Prince maple
Bananas and strawberry fields
lake sun in shape of a snowflake
Forest Gump changes to
Presidential Trump
Vitamin C  honey bunches of Oats

Yummy floats of egg cream
Open table Sun-face dream
Eggs light she's not finished
over easy
Pristine of carrots with
artful daisies
Thanksgiving turkey

Rings of napkins holding
A time well-bred marriage
Well known landmarks of
Long ago time she saw the light
Daylight Knight like a scale to weight

Whispers of wine and grapes
Sun face courtesan love escape
Sun Faces trillion times mansion
Sun-faces never go out of fashion
Sun faces and dinner places the best in the world eat heartily Drive in and Diners all over the world have a medieval touch with the Vikings and melodies from the heart  of the surface  her smile will always be there everywhere she goes the Diners place her with Rose
VD Lee Jul 2017
Baby why you hit me up
At three am?
Greet me with a lazy sup
And break my heart

Darling did you think this through
Darling didn't you know I'd miss you

And for all this time
I thought we'd still be in love
All this time
I thought we'd never be done

But life carries on

And now I can do things
I couldn't do before
I can pick my nose
And slam the door
You may not be here
But I still can breathe
You may not be near
But I am still me

So I'm dancin' on my own!
(Foxtrot, jive, samba)
And I know more than I've ever known
(Charleston, swing, salsa)
See me dancin' on my own
(Foxtrot, jive, samba)
My heartbreak has made me grown
(Charleston, swing, salsa)

And baby!
I'm puttin' you in a corner
And baby!
I ain't gonna be a mourner
When sunrise come knockin' on my door
Baby, you won't be on my mind anymore

Got my mind on an electric buzz
Got me drunk on a dizzyin' high
I'm spinning dusk to dawn
And I'll forget we'd ever said hi

So I'm dancin' on my own!
(Foxtrot, jive, samba)
And I know more than I've ever known
(Charleston, swing, salsa)
See me dancin' on my own
(Foxtrot, jive, samba)
My heartbreak has made me grown
(Charleston, swing, salsa)

And baby!
I'm puttin' you in a corner
And baby!
I ain't gonna be a mourner
When sunrise come knockin' on my door
Baby, you won't be on my mind anymore

Oh, anymore

Baby you took my heart
Ripped it apart
And I'm just pickin' up the parts
Part of me wishin' that we'll be together
Another part knowing that we shall never speak again

But now you can do things
That you want to do
Hit up that girl
You'd always talk to
Hope she eat you well
Like I use to
Hope she is just as good
As I was to you

Still, I'm dancin' on my own!
(Foxtrot, jive, samba)
And I know more than I've ever known
(Charleston, swing, salsa)
See me dancin' on my own
(Foxtrot, jive, samba)
My heartbreak has made me grown
(Charleston, swing, salsa)

And baby!
I'm puttin' you in a corner
And baby!
I ain't gonna be a mourner
When sunrise come knockin' on my door
Baby, you won't be on my mind anymore
Fly Vida Sep 2011
They didn't know what Diversity was...
The kids, that is.
Since the kids didn't know it,
the teacher coined it as "“black” visibility".
She wasn't sure if she could make that call
so she nodded her head, looking for approval.
The interviewer asked in what direction did the teacher see Diversity
As if Diversity was a one-way street.
Let me just refresh your memory...
"“black” visibility"
As if decades of progress in the schools were undone,
The kids voted on Performances and Projects for “black” History Month.
How shocking!... Kids of every shape, size, ability and race studying a time in history...
Sounds racist to me.
They wanted a Gospel Choir that is clearly only for “black” students
Because I'm the student Director for the Fordham University's Rhythm of Praise Gospel Chior for the fourth year running...
Maybe I'm missing something...
MAYBE I'm “black”... Maybe if I close my eyes really tight...
Nope, I'm still “white”.
Olive brown perhaps?
Only in the summer.
Anyway, I digress like Sophia Patrilo from the Goldren Girls
Who was Italian by the way.
Just advertising for Diversity.
Let's debate about "Music Debates" for a moment.
Maybe you call it Debates because Hip Hop is debatable, and by the way only for “black” students.
When I could argue for days upon days
About how Reggaeton didn't come from Salsa
but I know **** well that Salsa came first.
The kids wanted to Stomp the Yard and battle it out.
I do believe rap battles take place around the world
And one of the best rappers I know is an English teacher in Harlem
Whose hair is redder than a leprechaun.
Talent Shows that showcase every student's ability
Whether it be singing, dancing, performing their poetry,
But still apparently that's not Diversity.
Neither is an International Day
Where International ways are celebrated.
And finally, a Diversity Day,
That clearly means diversity is separated.
"They wanted a lot of things"
Yeah. They asked for a whole lot... of everything BUT diversity.
That's right, because they don't know what it means
The Kids, that is...
Then tell me please:
Define Diversity.
Is it seeing a “black” horse with “white” stripes
Or a “white” horse with “black” stripes?
Why is it between “black” and “white”?
Why not between “white”, “black” brown, yellow, orange, brick red...
Let's get it out of our head
That teachers can't learn anything from their students,
Because it sounds to me,
Like they had a pretty good start to the meaning of Diversity.
And if it turns out they didn't,
That's what teachers are there for:
Make a **** lesson about it.
Jay  Jun 2018
Stupidest Things
Jay Jun 2018
I'M MAKING nachos in your toaster oven. The chips fall in the pan without a problem. Beans, evenly distributed (if I do say so myself.) Salsa- good to go. Then the cheese. Generic brand shredded cheese blend. I dangle my (washed) fingers into the zip-lock bag, grab a generous pinch and rain mild cheddar down on my gourmet meal. And I feel the tears building. "No," my conscious scolds, "you will not cry over shredded cheese." I add another pinch for flavor, then another to assert dominance. I slide the pan into the tiny oven- triumphant! But the next task breaks me. I freeze when I try to adjust the heat setting. I hear your voice so clearly, like you're still calling from the next room: "you have to press the TOAST button, it cooks much faster."  The tears start to roll. I think about how excited you were when cheese bubbled perfectly- "just a little brown, ever so slightly crispy." We would joke about your persnickety preferences, likely a product of your superior taste. Of course, you would have appreciated anything I made for you, but it was always better when the dish matched the idea in your head...when I made it like you would have made it (if you were only well enough to cook for yourself again.) In the present, I poke the TOAST button and flee the kitchen as to not cry in front of the smothered chips. I sit on the sofa and break down, gasping in childish sobs. "I miss her," I wail to an empty house. Warm tears coat my cheeks in the air-conditioned room. I feel so small. I feel so foolish for crying over stupid, little things. I feel so... so... A bell dings in the kitchen. I wipe my sleeve across my face and traipse back to the toaster. Hand into oven mitt, mitt onto pan, pan onto table. I grab the plastic tubs of sour cream and guacamole from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer that sticks a little when you try to open it. I pick the non-wilted bits off the head of lettuce and rinse them under the faucet. I finish the recipe. I pull out a chair. I sit down to nachos for one.
Grief is such a strange emotion/process.

*Oh my! Thank you all so much for your support! I wrote this back in June when I needed to get it out of my head and had no idea it was chosen as a daily until I just logged back on and thought there was a glitch with my notifications number. I was slightly mortified that a piece of my mourning got exposure but after reading your comments I'm glad that I documented something many of you identified with. I've since journeyed a bit farther in my grief- slowly overcoming my initial instinct of trying to instantaneously analyze every feeling to determine whether I'm "allowed" to have it. I went to a group bereavement meeting offered by the hospital that treated the loved one in this poem and the nurse running the session made a good point- no one can fully understand another person's relationship with an individual who's passed on. Interpersonal relationships are unique and so is grieving. Being gentle with yourself (especially in times of struggle) is woefully underrated. And with that, I send love, gratitude, and positive vibes to this wonderful community
Sam Greig-Mohns Jan 2014
A sign, that was all
proclaiming in bold red letters

Salsa On Sale

below the letters a cartoonish Mexican
grinned and danced merrily

draped in his festive looking poncho
his sombrero that seemed to big
even for his shadow

along side him a monkey in a smart red vest
and tiny hat doing the same

tin cup in hand they danced together
trying to entice just a few more dollars from the pockets of the passers by

the irony of the moment struck me...

Monkeys don't like salsa!
Md HUDA Jan 2013
Heart’s eyes are more dominant than our eyes
It can gaze far-flung beyond the skies
Where the heaven lies…
Where the Angel stays
Where the Torrent  engages in recreations
Where the eternal bird chants
Where the heavenly rose shows its salsa
Where the leaves making love with each other crafts a fascinating musica
Where the sun can’t go moon can’t smile
Oh heart! Oh heart! Take me, Take me
Bear me aloft, Bear me aloft
Let me fly on your eternal wings that can fly an infinite mile…….

murari sinha Sep 2010
…thus riding on a memory-bicycle those people who used to go to pick up dry straws, grasses, twigs from the daily-wage of the squirrels  are neither the husband of any wood nor the wife of any wood-apple … at the best they may be one page full of must-dos regarding keep-fit practice of one’s health…

around the grazing field of the night-gowns
in course of a long-journey by train one has to cross
so many grass-hopper-points

one-piece of life is this

in its daily hopping to pick up the pebbles of
which is the amplification of what
the bodies of all prose and poems are touched with
by the sunshine… by the wind… by the rain…by the water

it-may-be-for-you afternoon
is running

is the people after the office-break

running are the broken people

the sullen public
due to late-running of train

before the darkness sets in
on bare branches of the tree
clusters of crows
are running

forward steps of the return-home people
are running

many invitations has been remained
unattended … accumulating…

so much anger… many secret pains… tears…

the life is running
in the  rows of the flying birds

the life is running
in the meat-houses…
in the shopping-malls…
in the churches…
in the wheat-fields…

running … running … running…

salad poetry and salsa-dance
are also running…

in the letters of the alphabet…
in the swarm of mosquitoes…

from William Shakespeare
to Rabindranath Thakur

the sky is running …
the air…
the sunlight…
Irate Watcher Jul 2014
This isn't your mother's dance.
The wooden clave
seduces the naive  
into suave arms
of the night.

Quick quick slow
exalts wooden caderas
and untames silky locks.
Wrinkled hands
caress the caras
of clumsy coquetas.

In the name of the dance,
vestidos apretados
replace pants,
which men outgrow,
steeling blue eyes
in rusty miradas.


Mira la guera,
como se toca,
como se mueve,
comos se salta el vestido suyo.


Look at him,
how he touches me,
how he swings me,
how his feet mock me.


Ella me quiere.

We are JUST dancing.

Ayyy, como me pega.

We're close, but Salsa is intimate.

Oooh mami...

Does he think it's more than a dance?

quick quick slow,
quick quick slow,
quick quick slow,
quicK quiCK quICK qUICK  QUICK...

they shake hands,
and thank each other for the dance.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2013
(Inspired by and dedicated to John Edward Smallshaw, and his "Spice")

I am a summer-man,
Because I'm blessed to sit by the sea.
Let it and the other two Musketeers,
boon companions to me,
Sun and Wind,
erase my discomposure as I
reside in the Poet's Nookery.
Let them have almost
all that troubles,
but not all.

I am a summer-man.

On the bay, on the beach,
I see birth, I see death,
osprey nests, carcasses of
mussels and horseshoe *****.
This, somehow reassuring,
the cycles,
this circularity,
the tides and inevitability.

I am a summer-man.

Student of languages seasonal,
Peaches, plums, cherries, poetry
and loving Woman.^
This, the  summer alphabet-soup
of my multiple tongues.

I am a summer-man.

Sancerre and Pinot Gris, super cold,
Paul Simon, Nina Simone,
with proper aging,
getting  hotter,
Salsa and Afrikaner hints,
super louder,
Even "Still Crazy After All These Years,"
chills outer.^^

I am a summer-man.

When ever this lad's writes appear,
it proves once again,
there is no truth that his  
name was once Dr. Seuss
In a prior life, even if
each is signed by
Ogdiddy Nash

I am a summer-man.

Disrespectful of the calendar,
if I can, try to make
summer season stretch-marks from
May to October.

I would add April,
but the IRS is already
****** at me.^^^

Though the cherry blossoms of May
now gone away,
the lilies of June
arrive, but but for a week or two,
soon, like my mom, withered away.

Acorns in August^^^^ have arrived too swiftly.

This summer, beloved,
and love of summer,

Season of my Peter Pan Poetry Galore Festival.

A love,  incapable, impossible, of ever
growing old, ever growing cold,
it cannot wither.
It is summer heat reminders exposed,
how it misses its man,
that hide in the flames of
the teasing, popping, reminding
Winter fireplace's crackling popping
^ See "The Summer Alphabet of Woman (I Speak Woman)"
August 23 2013


^^ See "Made the bed backwards"
August 24 2013

^^^  See "Caesar Has No Authority Over The Grammarians"
August 22 2013

^^^^ See "* Acorns in August (Sonata for Summer Cello and Fall Piano, No. 3)" August 19 2013


* Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel

April come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain;
May, she will stay,
Resting in my arms again

June, she´ll change her tune,
In restless walks she´ll prowl the night;
July, she will fly
And give no warning to her flight.

August, die she must,
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold;
September I´ll remember.
A love once new has now grown old

Tonya Maria

Tonya Maria  I am a summer-woman,
Because I'm blessed to sit by the sea.
I too display the summer season stretch marks.....
The sea, my lover, owns every inch of me......
The Good Pussy May 2015
                                1 can diced
                           mangos, drained•
                          1 can diced tomato
                         es, drained • 1\4 cup
                           diced red onion •
                           1\4 cup  chopped
                            fresh  cilantro or
                            mint• 1\2 jalapeñ
                            o, seeded and fin
                            ely chopped  or 2
                            tbsp. canned dice
                            d jalapeño. • 2 tb.
                            p.   fresh  lime or
                            lemon juice **
                 stir together     all ingredients
          in medium bowl  Serve as a dip with
          tortilla or pita ch ips or as a topping
             for quesadillas   or grilled chicken
                   fish  or                  pork
First,   consume  mangos directly from can.

* Use fresh mangos and fresh tomatoes. (do not eat mangos before using them in recipe)

— The End —