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Michael Ryan Oct 2020
Am I a good person?

Underneath all these layers
(The layers of an onion)
[Like Shrek, full of layers]
-pretty sure the onion quote is dead-

I don't want you
to remove my layers
to find a person that
isn't the same on the outside.

Onions are perfect
because with each layer
they look exactly alike.

If you took me apart
we'd find the person
I think you want me to be.
(If you took me apart you'd be a murderer)
[Don't try to find out, organs don't talk.]
-The mess would be such a hassle-

I wish someone could tell me.
It's all in the way,
these layers
they're all that we have.
I've been quoting the onions almost my entire life, I don't know if that's how great the line is or how much I haven't grown.  Could be both.  Pro tip: turn on a fan when cutting onions makes the process a whole lot easier.
Karijinbba Mar 2020
Roses spices and onions skins off
Richie ride me back home
there's nowhere to hide from your love.
I thought I could find a place not to think of you for one day, so I went to the kitchen for a soup there was nothing to eat but pasta sauce and there you were
in front of me up in the spices
I had to use in place of meat on bone for boiling a soup.

Heating up battled water added cento tomato and the sauce
all kinds of spices; parsely real sea salts garlic pepper a pinch of taco spice wild cilantro, a garlic squized and cloves
(no basil)
cayene pepper did the magic
lemon juice added the final punch for my Mexican soup;
added a few granes bazmati rice found, added a white onion slice and blessed as I felt
"I cried me a river for you" and
The White Cliffs of Dover
songs came to mind to console
me as I broke shrinking down
the stinking onion was me
and noone to share my soup
I turned stove top off to go
wipe face off and
entering the bedroom I tripped
knees on the red floor unconsolable crying.

Yes the room was filled with
roses wild and roses red!
and again you made my day.
I felt so blessed to have
held so many of your treasures
in arms to see my hands half full with roses
and half full with bittersweet spices beheld.
Upon my bed a heart was carved
inscribed in tiny little
red rose buds and purple hearts
in your words "I love you"

I craweled to reach the bed careful not to disturb the million roses nor bleed feet with their thurns as they layed artisticly everywhere room full of roses,
I wept there caressed by your roses spices and songs
hugged all night long.
by insomnia bug

Oh please my darling Old Richie "ride me back home."
there's nowhere to hide
from your love.
Copy Rights
Thank you for your healing romantic love even if you now this love to another you give only because it fell from my hands.
I love you more.
Veda Laurenski Jan 2020
The quiet hum and midnight darkness
Cool and contained you sit, sealed tight.
Cool air on my face and there you are
Illuminated in the blue fridge light

I roll and turn you in my hands
And hold your glass up to my cheek
Vinegar stings my fingertips,
But the brine is salty and the onions sweet

I replace the lid and seal the jar
I place you back with care
Until my lips taste you again,
I’ll remember you there.
Veda Laurenski Feb 2020
An onion can grow from a seed,
            From a tiny place and start its  life  
                                                   from the beginning,
                                                      ­                         to its end.

Or an onion  can grow from a broken piece of itself.  
           If it’s tended to carefully
                                and the conditions are favourable.
                                                                ­          And go on again

  To begin again.
Veda Laurenski Jan 2020
Little seeds, growing.
Little shoots, showing.
Water gently flowing,
To seeds in the ground.

Little bulbs, forming.
Little layers, warming.
Sunlight is transforming,
Little onions in the ground.
I wrote this to impress a girl.
Ken Pepiton Mar 2019
Truckin' onions down the Grapevine
Jake brake blaring
I am almost HOME
sang the feller drivin' onions,

Singing common man songs
just getting' along

Makes up words when he can

He's an uncommon man
but he takes a lot of pride
in what I am.

They're playing sad Merle Haggard songs
on the radio

Rollin' onions down the Grapevine

Airbrake smokin' smell heavy
fifty miles by now,

Singing trucker man songs
Just getting along

all downhill from there

He was an uncommon man
but he took a lot of  pride
in what I am.

They're still playing  Merle Haggard songs
on the radio
There's onions on the freeway
Clear on down to
Button Willow.

I guess old Merle died too, today.
I later saw that wreck as a poster in the dmv, when I wen to renew my farm labor bus driver license. I remembered back in 2016 when Merle died, I think.
nikitakayal Oct 2018
They would never let me
cut onions
for the tears mattered

They found me sobbing
a salty river

But they couldn't find
the missing chopping board
the knife

the chopped onions
Jeff Gaines Mar 2018
I like ANYTHING flavored with Onion ...
I like Onion rings ...
I like Onion straws ...
I don't, however, care for them raw.
In powder they're handy ...
On 'taters they're prized ...
And oh that smell ...
As they become caramelized!
I like French Onion Soup ...
I like Onion crisps ...
I like them in doses ...
I like them in wisps ...
On a side note ...
I must be fair ...
I prefer my friends with ...
As many layers ...
For seasoning meat ...
As many have known ...
That flavor infuses ...
Right to the bone ...
I like any type ...
From any ground ...
I've tried so many ...
The world around ...
I like them pureed ...
In macaroni salad ...
Minced in my meatloaf ...
They're definitely valid ...
I like how they smell ...
Even like how they look ...
But for some strange reason ...
They MUST be cooked!
Ok, to put this in context, Cné and I were chatting in messages about cooking. She answered me about something in a rhyme ... not to be outdone, I returned the act.
I DON"T CARE if it sounds like a Dr. Seuss bit ...
I like it!
Ma Cherie Sep 2016
I love you onion
I'll tell you why
in part because
you make me sigh,
you are everything to me
the song my Mother sang...
a whimsical, sad
and poignant little tale
I hear you crooning
& the radio tuning
my Mother knew me better
than I'd like to think,
singing ...
Lonely 'Lil petunia in an onion patch
a bittersweet memory
of all the saddest words
that I have ever heard
the saddest is the story
told me by a bird
tears fall from a pungent smell
when I cannot forgive,
say you'll never tell
and in tears of laughter  
when I'm tickled
seeing the inchworm
in the shape of a finger
a moment comes,
  I stay
and linger
climbing like a spider
singing me a verse
Spent about an hour
chatting with a flower
and here's the tale he told
as you're peeling layers,
& hearing prayers
revealing honesty
and depth of flavor
intoxicating waifs
I sniff and savor
kept safe
by a sturdy skin
cooking you
I start, begin
chopped fresh
and finely diced
or maybe
even thinly sliced
for summertime
franks, not the
Ballpark kind
these I doubt
you'll ever find
homemade baked beans
that you adorn and grace
a smiling sweet,
lil' onion face
everything made
from scratch
gleaning my
lil' onion patch
in toasted rolls,
whole grain mustard
potato salad...
best I can recall
my Mother
took the time to make
in everything
she cooked and baked
you're in all my memories
though you're in so much more
I've never shared with you
this love I have before
Onions are adaptation at its finest
fresh, sauteed with butter
translucent sweetness
Elevating anything you touch
they cry, and laugh
and give so much
dried, grated..slightly dated...
even hated, chopped up..
or roasted, grilled...
so very skilled
any way you slice it
even if you dice it
differently delightful
and delicious
smart for recipes,
even onion haters
appreciate the graters
sometimes your in  disguise
a lovely found
& welcome surprise
must be
I have something
in my eyes
as the flower
continues to sing
a joyful gift
my onion brings
familiar sounds
songs I sing
petunia continues
who put me in this bed
I'll bet his face is red
I call him down
with every teardrop that I shed
  then she said
if only I had him here
I would take him by his ear
and make him share my misery
I'm cooking homemade
onion chips,
rewound on old-time family clips
recall the fresh-squeezed lemonade
while we're sittin' in
the cooling shade
a memory of you replayed
so very glad you came & stayed
  sippin' slow brewed iced tea
my lil' onion friend and me.

Cherie Nolan© 2016
For my Mother - used to sing me lonely little petunia inan onion patch
Smile everyone! Beautiful here!
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