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annh Mar 16
dear bill,

so sweet of you
to leave behind
a paper jot
for me to find

for ev’ry breakfast
lunch and tea
gone missing since
you married me;

- however -

such wilfulness
I do condemn
each crust and crumb,
each stone and stem,

each potluck plum
purloined at night
to satisfy
your appetite;

this doctor’s wife
has had her fill
of poetry
and bitter pills,

and crumpled drafts
in juicy scrawl
appended to
the icebox door;

your words do not
a meal make
how many more
must I forsake

- meals, that is -

before your page
is fit for press
and I can sup
on more…not less

love, floss

ps dinner’s in the oven, probably
A creative writing course exercise in found poetry. Williams married Florence “Flossie” Herman in 1912 and became the town doctor in Rutherford, New Jersey. Despite the time commitment, Williams continued as a full-time doctor while writing his poetry, benefiting from the financial stability it offered.

‘I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold’
- William Carlos Williams, “This Is Just To Say”
TheBlackBird Aug 2021
Oh, wild things
laughing and blushing
devouring that warm
delicious champagne breeze

That fever and desire
it is sacred
slow
poetry

Kiss me he said
And she did
Svetoslav May 2021
An Arctic breath of north moves
across the snowy dirt
like a fridge
across a chocolate
ice cream with vanilla

Winter sun lights
over the white shadow of ice
like a microwave heating frozen meals
grief and joy are the two sides
choose favourite
LC Mar 2021
a little simile here,
a splash of metaphor there,
all carefully folded and mixed
to form a delicious souffle.

it goes into the oven
at the perfect temperature.
the souffle begins to rise,
the sweet aroma engulfs the room.

but the timer chimes early.
they take the souffle out,
and it sinks within itself,
forming a deep, large canyon.

but this souffle is different.
they put it back in the oven.
it bakes longer and longer
until it finally rises again.
Sometimes it takes time to find the right words. Take all the time you need. :)
Amanda Hawk Aug 2020
Love is delicious
Lingering deep in your chest
In a heart-shaped box
Pulsing slowly
You glow, flickers
In your gaze
And love finds a way
To communicate, deeply
In rhythm, and unspoken words
basil Aug 2020
_
laughter became our
common tongue
as we filled our mouths
with each other's whimsy
_
Lily Audra Apr 2020
The leaves on the tree outside my window get bigger by millimeters,
And the umami delight of marmite on crumpets is comforting and luscious,
One eye shut because the sun if filling it with heat and light,
This way I can still read my book in the sun,
These joys,
These small joys,
Which you have to take note of, you must,
Are endless;
Cold beer zapping my tongue like electricity, zing zing,
Dippy eggs with toast crunchy and eggs runny , salt flecked across the top,
Coconut hand-cream rubbed between each finger and thumb meticulously,
Music pouring through rooms into the flat and lilting in and out of earshot from outside, inside, next door and my radio,
Sparrows with their endless cheep cheeping,
Steam from strong black tea, gilded with rose, warming my hands nose and stomach,
The tiny hairs on raspberries, so soft and the juice so ****,
Plans to go no where, somewhere, the pub! A river! A farm! On a train! On a boat! On a bus!
Candles which pack the room full of floral, honeyed scents,
Crunchy apples,
Flaky pastry,
Warm bread,
The tsssssssttt when you open a can of Coke,
Lemons, just lemons,
The bbzzzz bbzzzz of my phone carrying I love yous, and for ***** sakes,
You have to take note of these joys, you must,
Because when I think about 16 women dead by lovers hands,
I feel I've hollow bones,
I need the beer, eggs, hand-cream, music, sparrows, lemons and bbzzzz, tea, bread, pastry and plans to keep me upright,
And I send thoughts of dippy eggs and lemons to those without.
ms reluctance Apr 2020
Bottom heavy, firm to touch,
summer flushed round cheeks,
pleasantly pitted. Stripped ****,
swerve curve, mellow flesh
deseeded. Cubed, served
papaya.
Sweet!
NaPoWriMo Day 24
Poetry form: Epulaeryu
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