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"asparagus" poems
spring planting, spring harvesting, spring garlic One of the great joys of having a job in agriculture is to think days, weeks, even months ahead, One of the great joys of having a job in poetry, like a fireman,  a patient planter of love, you wait to be called, then becoming by being, part of an all consuming burning come spring, take advantage of the cool, wet weather of spring to put in multiple crops of peas and lettuce, also a great time to get your perennial vegetables, like asparagus and rhubarb, started the planting cycle is not an either/or, come harvest thy labored fruits, nine crops to harvest come March, kale, pick leaves as needed, leeks, best left in the ground and harvested as needed, parsnips, purple sprouting broccoli, rhubarb, spring cabbage, spring cauliflower, and of course, my personal fav, Spring Garlic Garlic, like like love, is generally planted in the fall, before the frost and harvested the following late summer. But from March to May, once the ground has truly thawed, the young lover plants, spring garlic or green garlic, can be harvested. it’s a long bus ride to Western Canada where the garlic spring has come, ain’t complaining lots of time to write foolishness and plant a few good bus poems in northern ontario and even michigan, the window slides, and the seeds scattered, but at every bus poet stop, those that need it, planted many inches deep April 2 naught how I wish I was nineteen again
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Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 4:02 PM UTC
spring planting, spring harvesting, spring garlic
your hair appears darker when wet. black, corded, thick as puzzlegrass. a companion in contrast to frosted cupcake blue eyes and incense burning in the ashtray. memories thrown in the laundry pile with the wet towel swirling upon your head. your smile bitter as asparagus, staining my ***** for the next two days. your frame soft and slender as balsa wood. I’d eat your air freshly oxygenated and bend you into an arc. the waves would split on your bow and shower my face wet dark corded thick as puzzlegrass. then from your finger the standard of a dove leaving olive branch in mouth into the frosted cupcake blue sky. a miracle in the eye of the waning storm.
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Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 2:38 PM UTC
miracle
Five minute street artists and insomnia mongers. ****** drunk blondes and finger snapping phat booties. Street geniuses bred by Machiavellian philosophies cypher dreams over tokes of marijuana smoke. Color worshipping narcotic traffickers,   and bread winners parole corners sporting fitted caps and twisting fingers. Senile war veterans beg for change in cardboard boxes from the American dreams they afforded. Hard workers with every ethnicity molded into each pore of their face, rub shoulders with tourists at traffic stops barely escaping tires crushing their feet. Sartorial geniuses with no pants switch hips in knock-off stellos heels, selling the origin of the world on avenues next to Arab Halal food. Cooperate ties and blue collars chafe ***** on subways. nodding in and out of Daily News articles   while oxygen blessed by asparagus **** pump through their noses. Summa *** laude number runners dictate economies From sky-crapper offices, And powered rain swallows their concrete each winter, With no apologies.
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Jun 2, 2011
Jun 2, 2011 at 11:01 PM UTC
New York.
There's spring and there's summer, there's all that's in between no listless skies of anodyne; now nature flaunts and preens What beauty fills the hungry eye 'neath a sky of blue, serene verdant vales soaked in sun, awash in palettes of green There are pastels that awaken and deep shades that passion brews created hues that trickle...sprinkled with 'chartreuse' There's the green of 'asparagus' and that of 'artichokes' Of 'forest', 'ferns' , of 'moss', a brush of different strokes Fragrant plants of 'mint', then 'myrtle' and 'green tea' 'Emerald', 'jade' or 'harlequin' and 'malachites' that be Off creamy shells, just 'pistachio', 'green apples', then of 'pines' It lies too in 'sap' and 'teal', in 'avocados' and tangy 'lime' There's green of the 'mantis', in 'jungle', 'hunters' and 'shamrock' The lithe 'parakeet' fluttering and the lazy sanguine 'croc' In blessed 'basil', ' pickle', in 'pear', 'olives' in 'bottle green' 'Gourds' and 'peas' that farmers grow in cultivars pristine 'Tis there in 'aqua' and 'seaweed', in the ripple of 'sea green' waves In 'turtles', 'sea foam', 'anemone' and a 'tropical glistening lake' From 'laurel green' to an 'army green' , in 'sage' ( a shade of grey ) The color of 'grass' , the murky 'swamp' , hues in array There's 'neon' and an 'Indian green', a 'Persian' one to mystify A 'midnight green' to bright 'fluorescent', oh, for green rainbows in the eye
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Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 10:30 AM UTC
Fifty shades of Green
Get a big **** of butter throw it in the pan get your Asparagus out cut them fresh, not from a can Simmer them gently use a little pepper the more seasoning makes it taste much better Then put it on a plate just for you and me and see's who's first to run to the bathroom for a *** I watch from across the table is that a tear in your eye or is it a Asparagus stick between your thighs By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris By NeonSolaris © 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
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Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
Naughty Asparagus
In the garden, a soft-bodied plant thrives, through sun, wind and rain, it survives, among asparagus ferns, it proudly lives, contrasting its purple triangular leaves against greens...its lightest of pink blossoms waltz with the wind, in their fragile freedom, almost white to blurry eyes wavering...but, they never hide raised high above the grass like ladies proudly poised, with so much class... a small white butterfly suddenly blends in, deceivingly perched upon the pinks but the sound of the camera's clicking sends it immediately fleeing... to and fro, the blossoms are swaying reeling from the wind....wailing over the sudden flight of their lover waiting, for a new winged creature on their purple bodies, to perch, to hover alas, ....life is short...........never fair... ....and so are some...love affairs.... :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Sally © Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan March 15, 2019
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Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 8:33 PM UTC
Purple Love Affair
A satisfied appetite is a simply joy Overlooked and simplified Like a growing urge, a salivating need That is entrancing and glorified. Everlasting for moments we call meals Forgotten in time, lingering above But the taste, the lonesome lover pushed aside Gazes afar and near wanting to be enjoyed again The young lady with a tongue of raspberry delight And the matured widow with darkened cacao lips Ripening nectar of a sliced peach center Halved and topped with mascarpone crème The man with a skin of caramel glaze Caressing and savoring With a fragrance and scent Of hazelnut coffee indulgence and sin In the pursuit of a brief love affair What oral sensation did my taste buds want? My odyssey of gustatory endeavors await Through the seas of lined people and waiting staff Generous portions and humble pies Decadent desserts so rich you’ll die Vine cherry tomatoes sliced and sauté Over al dente rigatoni in a roasted cashew sauce A robust aroma and savory appeal Basil leaves with garlic strips Olive oil to top the surreal Hubristic meatball aborigine Elysian cuisine or many dreams Teasing the senses, warming the pit Of flowing pleasures And tingling fingertips Without moral measures And succulent wines Rotisserie lamb falling of the bone Seasoned with Sicilian herbs And paired with broiled asparagus Drizzled with lemon juice And a glass of Merlot Spices I hardly know Lachrymose apologies beside a bottle of faded sorrows With love there is pain, passion endured through the names Thin soups, flavorless and dull, feeding street-thrown bums Breathing hard against the delicatessen glass Hickory smoked hams, pepper-seasoned pastrami Vinegar cultured pickles and hard dried salami Unpleasured, without measure, at one's leisure. Forever my endeavor Blackcurrant tea laced with slivers of gooping honey Layers of cinnamon hair atop olive skin red-painted doors with cedar trim crushed almonds mixed with hazelnut butter cream spread devilish rounds of crumbling rum-swirl bread Smells and wonders, tastes so ... oh god Divine and sublime.
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Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 5:42 PM UTC
Lachrymose Taste
A satisfied appetite is a simply joy Overlooked and simplified Like a growing urge, a salivating need That is entrancing and glorified. Everlasting for moments we call meals Forgotten in time, lingering above But the taste, the lonesome lover pushed aside Gazes afar and near wanting to be enjoyed again The young lady with a tongue of raspberry delight And the matured widow with darkened cacao lips Ripening nectar of a sliced peach center Halved and topped with mascarpone crème The man with a skin of caramel glaze Caressing and savoring With a fragrance and scent Of hazelnut coffee indulgence and sin In the pursuit of a brief love affair What oral sensation did my taste buds want? My odyssey of gustatory endeavors await Through the seas of lined people and waiting staff Generous portions and humble pies Decadent desserts so rich you’ll die Vine cherry tomatoes sliced and sauté Over al dente rigatoni in a roasted cashew sauce A robust aroma and savory appeal Basil leaves with garlic strips Olive oil to top the surreal Hubristic meatball aborigine Elysian cuisine or many dreams Teasing the senses, warming the pit Of flowing pleasures And tingling fingertips Without moral measures And succulent wines Rotisserie lamb falling of the bone Seasoned with Sicilian herbs And paired with broiled asparagus Drizzled with lemon juice And a glass of Merlot Spices I hardly know Lachrymose apologies beside a bottle of faded sorrows With love there is pain, passion endured through the names Thin soups, flavorless and dull, feeding street-thrown bums Breathing hard against the delicatessen glass Hickory smoked hams, pepper-seasoned pastrami Vinegar cultured pickles and hard dried salami Unpleasured, without measure, at one's leisure. Forever my endeavor Blackcurrant tea laced with slivers of gooping honey Layers of cinnamon hair atop olive skin red-painted doors with cedar trim crushed almonds mixed with hazelnut butter cream spread devilish rounds of crumbling rum-swirl bread Smells and wonders, tastes so ... oh god Divine and sublime.
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56
I'm Spartacus Well I'm asparagus according to predictive text The leader of the Christian slaves a vegetable? Don't you love technology
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Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
I'm asparagus!
artful creations colors, charcoals paints stone and clay wood and paper bringing life from lifeless form from formless can the artist choose? ~~~ garden creations shades of green jade artichoke asparagus fern, forest and jungle mint, moss and pine shamrock tea, olive mixed with a multitude of blooming hues can the gardener decide on one? ~~~ kitchen creations sweets and treats savories and piquants cakes and pies meats, stews casseroles butter, garlic lemon rosemary and thyme parsley and saffron onions caramelized to sweet peppercorns and cardamon tamarind, turmeric nutmeg combined in precision joy and love can the chef say which is best? ~~~ and thus I challenge any poet can you choose your favorite "child"?
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Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 5:56 PM UTC
Sophie's Choice
Leave if You Can II I live in the house of poetry. I ascend her stairs slowly and leap back down. I sit in the chair of poetry, sleep in her bed, eat from her plate. Poetry has windows through which mornings and afternoons fall, and how well she suspends a teardrop how well she blows until I tumble / With this I mean to say that one basket brings both wounds and bandages.   I love poetry so much that sometimes I think I don’t love her / She looks at me, inclines her head and keeps knitting poetry. As always, I’ll be the bigger person. But how to say it / How to tell her I want to leave / honestly I want to fry my asparagus… I see her coming near with her bottle of oil and crazed skillet. I see her, her little bundle of asparagus slipping out her sleeve. Ah her freshness / her chaotic glint and the way she approaches with relentless meter.   I surrender / I surrender always because I live in the house of poetry / because I ascend the stairs of poetry and also because I come back down.     — Translated by Lisa Allen Ortiz & Sara Daniele Rivera
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Jun 10, 2023
Jun 10, 2023 at 9:02 AM UTC
Leave if You Can II by Rossella Di Paolo
I sip my beer, the relief of foam the last remnant of civilisation like a porcupine shawl alcohol is the spine slice beneath the skin welcoming me in. Electric lights shining bright eels wriggling in a pool of light like Frankenstein reborn the monster within the feathers of a passing dove give flight. Sometimes I feel like grilled asparagus the breathlessness of sentiments wrapped in tin foil the coil of perfection at gas mark 7. Sitting in my bathtub and a 3 piece suit electric toaster bubble and squeak and fidgety machete at the ready the voice in my head says, 'hey man, steady!' the institute transmutes its underplay I opt to not execute on this occasion instead soak up the libation of liberation. Safe in the knowledge; tomorrow is another day.
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Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC
Death or Asparagus
hetero aliens is there god in asparagus is there god in a stump we build bridges and world wide webs, spider webs? dolphins can love too.
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Mar 28, 2011
Mar 28, 2011 at 6:40 PM UTC
**** sapiens
As I walk down the road all I see are Asparagus lanes and Asparagus trees what is this thing about Asparagus and me when will these stalks of green set me free I see Asparagus in the morning I dream of Asparagus at night I eat it till it comes out of my ears with a belly so very tight My best friend just knocked for me and blow me do a Asparagus I see oh pity me and my Asparagus plea By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris By NeonSolaris © 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
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Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 6:22 PM UTC
Asparagus Everywhere
There once was a fight on my plate In front of my face while I ate The Broccoli on the left picked up its Spear And stabbed the Corn on the right, right in the Ear The Avocado Artichoked the Zucchini Before the Pepper rang the Bell on that meanie The Onion went to Bed on the Lettuce and cried Afraid that the Beets on the side were all Red cause they died The Okra came in and slimed the whole affair While the Yams slammed and Squashed the Cauliflower The Peas ended up with Black Eyes Next to the Potatoes that were mashed up and fried The Cabbage brought it all to a head Which Steamed the Asparagus with all that was said There once was a fight on my plate In front of my face while I ate
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Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 8:54 AM UTC
Food Fight!!!
I'm a hung dumpster! Alcohol flask bucket Sacked into the trash can of grocery store monopoly the end of all produce and of production Collapse Coronary killer vegetables Rotting in the stomach Begotten sons of Aspergers eating asparagus the symptoms of collectivism and social surplus. colliding and, The end of evolve. The cities you see are the collecting cells pooling to cesspit trudging on tracheing breath. Collapsing lungs with no space left The cornucopia is over. It fell down with its mortar and grout lain to crust into soil. Traipsed through toil torture and insolence. The Crimea fell next comes bombs next comes Obamba. Capitulation with motor skills Feigning docility and anti-hostility mortar round bills. Mountains from Jerusalem cricket ant hills I am your friend though we owe the same blood I am no different yet I give nothing up I claim all the land just as you do You take and you take and I lose and lose Corruption and solitude Killing people only gets you less friends We are mirror yet very mad at it . My time will be up only but once. This is the one time I'm not scared of death But the glimmer in her eyes laughs me through it.
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Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
Connoted with Capillary
I have been letting people dig in deep and take out chunks of me for their bookshelves for far too long now. I cannot make them stop. So I always love more I always love I always
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Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
Asparagus Fern
You see I didn't know What an asparagus plant Looked like Until today And the fact that you Would understand My horror When faced with That ignorance Is one of the most Liberating things In the world And even if All the meaning We derived From the other night Was drug enduced And maybe mistaken I still can't wait To show you That asparagus plant And watch your eyes As they watch me
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Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
Asparagus
I recite your scent to my every acquaintance as if I have spent a lifetime living in fields of it, canopies of you atop a jungle. Truly, it has only been a mass of airplane rides – maybe two or three or four or five with one stop – that I have sifted you through my candy-and-smoke air and that makes my stomach turn over like soil and earth. There is no distance and stretch in time that’ll give me a stuffy nose: we have had bike-baskets filled to the brim with tropical rainstorm waters, and we have never caught a cold. Nothing’s bitten me hard enough to uncurl my toes, swinging above you on monkey bars. I smell your scalp although it is not visible, I have your shampoo memorized by ingredient and chemical property to play scientist when the park closes. All I need are cinnamon roots long as asparagus. The morning dew climbs the tree I am in, this is a room I can never escape. This is you materialized – buds still in growth.
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Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
aroma compartment, candle stem
Ooo how to describe the feeling The feeling that I get The feeling that I get When I'm with you We've been to the Garden of Eden And seen God Seen the snake that played Eve And came back With roses and flowers Plants that smelled like blue berries, asparagus and mushrooms That was our Ezekiel, Better yet our Genesis . . . We’ve been to the coast were they still Harlem shake Except they shake their whole bodies like if they caught seizures We laughed at their moves But skilled one had to be to shake like that As if they had 100 grams of sugar in their system They went at it for two or three, on what felt like days We were almost left behind How can we forget we almost missed that plane Since we barely slept . . . Let's take a trip far from memory lane One that can only be remembered by the pictures we take I found this new place Is supposed to be great They say is the second best thing next to heaven and we both been near that Is like one step forward and two step back Let's take a trip I promise it'll be first class
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Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 11:06 AM UTC
Lets take a trip
When the curtain draws closed on my mind And leaves my body alone. Think of the times we were together, The times we talked on the phone. ——————————— Remember the times we would walk on the beach. Hand in hand always in reach. The moments we shared - together each day. The love we shared in every way. Though the hours get long that make up a day. While you are sitting with me in your caring way. Remember the times we would take a long walk. We would get an ice cream, just sit and talk. Remember. Remember for me. ——————————– Remember the seasons of flowers in bloom. We’d walk through the meadow, nature’s room. We’d hunt down asparagus along a fence row. Bring home a bunch and fix it just so. Remember at Christmas the lights on the tree. The gifts for the children from you and me. The smells of the season that filled the air. The laughter and joy of people who care. Remember. Remember for me. ———————————– Remember the moments our thoughts would blend. No spoken word between us would send. The thoughts of love and things to be. Would cross the distance ‘tween you and me. Tell me over and over again, Of the things we use to do and when, Times of laughter and times of fun We had together, under the sun. Remember. Remember for me. —————————– When the curtain draws closed on my mind. And leaves my body alone. Think of the times we were together, The times we talked on the phone. As yesterday’s memories caress your soul. Close your eyes, imagine us whole. Where some day we will be together again Where memories won’t fade, we will again begin. Remember. Remember for me.
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Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 6:05 PM UTC
Remember for Me
When the curtain draws closed on my mind And leaves my body alone. Think of the times we were together, The times we talked on the phone. ——————————— Remember the times we would walk on the beach. Hand in hand always in reach. The moments we shared - together each day. The love we shared in every way. Though the hours get long that make up a day. While you are sitting with me in your caring way. Remember the times we would take a long walk. We would get an ice cream, just sit and talk. Remember. Remember for me. ——————————– Remember the seasons of flowers in bloom. We’d walk through the meadow, nature’s room. We’d hunt down asparagus along a fence row. Bring home a bunch and fix it just so. Remember at Christmas the lights on the tree. The gifts for the children from you and me. The smells of the season that filled the air. The laughter and joy of people who care. Remember. Remember for me. ———————————– Remember the moments our thoughts would blend. No spoken word between us would send. The thoughts of love and things to be. Would cross the distance ‘tween you and me. Tell me over and over again, Of the things we use to do and when, Times of laughter and times of fun We had together, under the sun. Remember. Remember for me. —————————– When the curtain draws closed on my mind. And leaves my body alone. Think of the times we were together, The times we talked on the phone. As yesterday’s memories caress your soul. Close your eyes, imagine us whole. Where some day we will be together again Where memories won’t fade, we will again begin. Remember. Remember for me.
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I don’t know what it would be like but a man can dream, I want to go grocery shopping with Jeandar, you know like a team. She could drive and I would ride, Backseat buckled bags by my side. Where do you want to go? Natural Pantry? Fred Meyer? Costco? Ok well we’re gonna go get some healthy food, Now taste this codliver oil come on don’t be rude. Here take this bottle of oregano, It’ll make your skin glow, dontcha know? Can you go get the milk, and I mean soy and it better be silk. I’ll be in the vegetable section, checking some asparagus for defection. We’re not gonna get bread here, We’re going to great harvest for real stuff dear. Before we go grab a thing of cashews, oh yeah and some vitamin-D too. Have you been taking your vitamins? Hey call Ivory and ask if she wants some treats, We can find her some healthy snacks to eats. Have you eaten dinner yet? a place at the table we can still set Make sure you wash your hands now, That’s something I won’t disallow. Goodnight, drive safe, call me when you get there,
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Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 12:15 AM UTC
Shopping With Jeandar
There's trouble growing in the garden As the carrots make fun of those that are green The potatoes are keeping their eyes out Staring down those bleeding heart beets Leaves of spinach are flexing their muscles And of course the corn are all ears Broccoli is green with envy With the onions always in tears The rhubarb has a thing for the strawberries Can't seem to get along with anyone else New to the winter garden which has the vegies talking Not sure this frost will ever melt The asparagus has been here forever And the pole beans are always vaulting the fence The lima's are out searching for the wisdom of the succotash As the lettuce wonders where its head went Yes there's trouble growing in the garden Like we haven't all seen this before The only time they get along is flash frozen and packaged Chilling behind the grocer's freezer door
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Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 8:41 AM UTC
Garden Troubles
The other marjoram and the clothes Are chimes inverted for her story, What if we had chives, asparagus? And what, asparagus, if we had chives? Why did all that rain fall All day in the grounds And on the bird feeders, And through the clearing? The neatest patrons are back, Their statue tortured by your autumn sweater. Then there is the storm of receipts. The salad bowel needs sanding, but not this Fall. Scatter the remaining marjoram like dust. Sweet peas from melancholy gardens Sautéed over her faux tofu. Fruit flies like a banana.
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Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 11:36 PM UTC
Autumn Menu