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Left Foot Poet Aug 2017
the server (waiter) raps
praise upon the sushi,
its integrity,
the harmonic
of its construct,
the curated singularity of
each rice grain

the innate elegance of
the thin sliced,
nearly translucent,
au naturel, organic,
ginger root

the skin smooth paste of
green wasabi,
grown naturally
along stream beds in
mountain river valleys in Japan

genuinely puzzled,
when he,
the old erstwhile poet
unabashedly weeps before all

no hero he,
just an overcome one,
his tears flavoring his food

mourning the
celebrated abuse
of his verbal children,
those natured nurtured babes
the stuff,
the words of his definition

each weird word,
loved for their cultured,
unique quality of their history
grown in languages's
perpetual petri dish

asked if something was a matter,
answered yes,

"this plated performance,
such an extravagant essay
on the beauteous wonder
of life's bounty,
left me wordless"

and she, burst out loud in laughter
Priyam Jun 2019
Tik Tok
Is it morning again?
Do I have to wake up?
Tik Tok
I like this dish
But it doesn't taste the same anymore
Tik Tok
My hair's a mess
But so is my life
Tik Tok
I have to go out
Oh no, face the world
Tik Tok
I'm out for so long
Do I have to go back? Is it home?
Tik Tok
The day passed and it was uneventful. Or was it?
Did I do something wrong? Did something happen?
Tik Tok
Is it morning again?
Rekha Nur Alisha May 2019
You were like breadcrumbs
left unpurposely by my digestion during breakfast

You stayed on the kitchen table 'til noon,
'til Mama swiped away the remaining crumbs,
and I have lunch
with another dish--a different meal.

Something else, but not
you.
Shelby Marler Apr 2019
The strife is fixed by all that’s grand,
But that just seems a wish!
It seems with all the world at hand,
You still can’t wash a dish.
KM Hanslik Sep 2018
Oh please don't leave me on the side
Sidekick, this side dish life is not what I'm about
I'm going down with speakers blaring loud
I'm swinging from every angle, gotta keep it proud

keep my head above the noise and
the fan blades chopping through everything
my head is too full of ghosts and scissors
I am a loser, need to find me a winner
take me out to dinner

spill your contents into me and after
I won't find me another, I'm too full of disaster
too full to ask her

what she's doing out this late
empty my plate
I am not a side dish
but I still act like one.
Mystic Ink Plus Aug 2018
*******
He repeats
So frequent

No wonder
It may be his
Favorite dish
Genre: Humor
Theme: Serve him his favorite
Not sticking to the rules
adding apricots
In my bread & butter
Pudd.
I like being creative.
experimenting  with my own flavours. .
I'd silt there beside a barb wired fence
and once praised these vagaries again
then yesterday at daybreak  
as aft-dew came this flow-r  
and hit hers in between rows of attire
where her beauty was herd in raindrops today
and altogether was something very big
with milk and honey in a market of wares.
RLG Mar 2017
At dinner for two
I chose a tasting menu.

Chatter was pleasant,
Until the sous-vide pheasant.

Conversation digressed:
My faults were expressed.

I did not forsee,
A deconstructed m
                                 e.
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