"bagels" poems
One little window
in
my tiny dorm
room.
To watch the sun rise
and then
sleep
Makes me miss my tree house windows
untoasted bagels
for breakfast
And a textbook
for a friend--
Thomas's 12th edition
One little
Window.
That keeps me sleeping
Until
noon.
One little window.
That keeps me
so concealed.
One little window
That makes me miss home.
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 11:24 PM UTC
It made me
Sick.
The kind of sick
That books describe
As green,
Ghostly skinned
With red rust noses.
Sick to my stomach
Like when you wake up
At 2:00 AM
And realize that
Something
Is
Not
Right
Before you sprint
Down the hall
To the bathroom
And ***** pizza bagels into the
Pristine marble sink.
It made me sick like
When it gets so bad that
Blowing your nose hurts
Because the extra soft Kleenex
Have scratched your skin raw
Over
And
Over
Again.
It made me sick
When I realized
That it wasn't you that I loved
But the feeling of being loved.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
Our first date at Rise
Holding your hand at the Firehouse Theater
Eating bagels you brought back from Montreal
Having lunch at Salata
Going to the Arboretum
The way you peeked out children’s house
Cuddling on the couch
Watching Game of Thrones
When you fell asleep in my arms
Drinking Amaretto Sours
When you would be silly
The sound of your voice
The maraschino cherry stem you tied with your tongue
The Forget Me Not Flower Kit you gave me
Exchanging texts
The sound of incoming WhatsApp messages
Diner at Howard Wangs
You wearing bunny ears during Easter
36-28-41
When you posed for me
Your blues eyes looking up at me
Seeing your smile
Touching your lips
The way you smell
The secrets you would tell
Showing how you care
Hugging me tight
Letting me take care of you
When you cook Arepas
The gluten free Clafouti
The time you had the flu
Wearing Calvin Klein underwater
Your dainty feet
Your goddess like figure
Your cute accent
Typing in the door bell code
Hearing you answer
The emoji of puppy heart kitten
Knowing you are my Bijou
Calling you Minou
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 7:21 PM UTC
Staring at sunburns from sunsets-- we watched the waves crash around us.
Bagels and wine; don't even dare to judge us.
With bittersweet goodbyes we washed the sand from our toes and walked home.
Staring at sunburns from sunsets-- we watched the birds fly above us gracefully.
Pizza and ****** beer; don't act like you're better than us.
With bittersweet goodbyes, we danced home with no shoes in the city lights.
Staring at sunburns from sunsets-- we talked about our deepest fears.
Orange juice and tacos; don't act like you know us.
With bittersweet goodbyes we let the wind sing us one last song before we went home to the place we hated the most.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 4:46 PM UTC
It follows my movements
behind a seashell,
every few steps
it drops the cup
over it's shoulder
prolifically it shifts
positions, so do I,
as slight of hand.
If the secret of love
is buried in his armpit,
and it is, maniacally.
Tho' not the kind
you buy at the movies,
of optimist derringers,
smoking guns.
Still,
flight begins when
the sun goes down
it shifts euphemistic trees
like shadow puppets
into walls of passion,
makes bulimia dreams
of doughnut holes,
something sweet
craving bakery counters
and bagels take up
the lonesome place
still ringing in our ears,
my ears,
placards hanging lobes
of the emotionally distressed,
handicapped dangle
I can't move my tongue
...again.
But, they still hear love
whisper their name
just before
the dawn becomes.
Sunny rising sonic
boom that scatters the birds
all into synchronized
sign language.
We strain,
to hear them sing anthems
over the roof tops,
it makes us happy to hear
every time,
just one more time.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC
THE TOOTH FAIRY...
The tooth fairy knows
When you loose that tooth
BUT
HOW WILL THE TOOTH FAIRY KNOW?
When my granddaughter
Lost her tooth
It was at Barry Bagels
With her other grandma
In the bathroom.
Dropped it
Couldn't find it
Grandma panicked
Granddaughter panicked
HOW WILL THE TOOTH FAIRY KNOW?
So home without a tooth
Sad granddaughter, sad grandma...
BUT
Her mommy saved the day...
A note under the pillow
From the tooth fairy
Dear Jenson
My tooth fairy friend found your tooth
And ask me to deliver your $ reward
With a little fairy dust added
And everyone was happy.
BUT
HOW DID THAT TOOTH FAIRY KNOW?
Wink wink....
By judy
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 5:54 AM UTC
Jane the economy toaster
Was cheap as appliances go
Her unpolished sides were all greasy
And as grey as suburbanite snow
The edge of her slot was all melted
And her tray was encrusted with crumbs
Her lever was missing a handle
And would nibble at fingers and thumbs
She lived at the back of a cupboard
With some rusty old pans and a spider
In the gloom she would dream that somebody
Would hammer a muffin inside her
That some special son-of-a-baker
Would fill up her dusty old holes
With croissants and baguettes and bagels
With waffles and tea cakes and rolls
But alas with her family broken
The whisk and second-rate kettle
Her owners replaced the whole set
With something more classy in metal
And so in her murky wee crevice
She wept and she twiddled her ****
She twitched her lever with envy
Of the toaster that lives by the hob
Jane faded away and she vanished
But in silicone heaven she boasts
That she's Jane the economy toaster
The maker of muffins for ghosts
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
I am a white, Jewish girl from Florida.
Hit me.
Hit me with your white girl jokes,
Your Jewish American Princess stereotypes.
I will giggle and squeal right along with you.
Because yeah,
I do order white chocolate mocha frappuchinos from Starbucks,
I Instagram pictures of my nails,
I take selfies, whiten my teeth, straighten my hair,
Shop at Forever21 and drink Naked Juice like it is my job.
Yeah, my daddy buys me things,
I don’t pay for my data plan,
There’s no way in hell I would drive a sedan,
I wear Nike shorts and avoid any nearby cameraman,
And let me tell you, I love jamming out to old school Britney Spears.
Hit me one more time, because none of that means I am any less intelligent,
Any less diligent,
Any less likely to face judgment
Than any other slice of diversity around me –
I am a white, Jewish girl
My nose is not its own cartoon,
I eat bagels (but I absolutely hate lox),
I’m not tan or even the least bit tinted,
And god knows I don’t wear Uggs.
Tell me I need to get married young,
Major in business,
Wear clothes that leave me airless,
Get some of that European gracefulness,
But don’t tell me I’m dumb.
Don’t tell me I’m not thoughtful.
I’m a white girl.
Take a glance at my resourcefulness,
Understand my goals of being ambitious,
Get rid of your own stereotype-inducing cockiness,
And notice me in all of my flawlessness.
Because I am a white girl,
And I am unique, strong, inventive,
Empowered, passionate, adventurous,
Indomitable, unbeatable.
I am an individual –
Not part of some whole that you put me in to stabilize your mold,
Not the example of a societally scatterbrained ***** meant to be your centerfold,
Not a previously worn-out piece of clothing thrown to the gutter unsold,
Rather a human being of my own rules and my own morals
A human being with ideas and intelligence and power,
A white, Jewish girl,
A person.
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
Thirty three years we go back,
Of course I think of you when I hear it.
Thirty three years of listening, questioning, understanding...
Of course I think of you.
My mind isn't a spigot I can turn off
and forget the water that flowed through.
I think of you when I was proud to be your wife,
proud of your accomplishments.
What does she know of those?
She doesn't know you.
She doesn't know you.
She hasn't loved you through the rages and disappointments,
through the utter giddiness of new fatherhood,
through your father's death,
your mother's pain.
She didn't thrill with each promotion,
plan homes,
plant gardens,
hope for thunder,
dance in the rain,
live on bagels for lunch,
play badminton in the dark.
She hasn't dried your tears over a son's illness.
She didn't play bridge with friends
or know their son who died,
the tow -headed little boy who made us think of becoming parents.
What comfort can she give?
She doesn't know you.
She knows this creation you've become
in Hollywood jeans
and weekend hikes without attachments.
She knows your daughters as bait--what a great dad--
your sons as accomplishments;
your wife as an anchor
who held you down, held you back
when all along I thought I was your support.
She doesn't know you.
And neither do I.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
Excuse me Sir, I'm ready to order.
Can I please get some breakfast sandwiches
and a couple of bagels?
Uh, excuse me rudeness! What the hell was that look for?
Can you believe this motherfucker?! One look at my nopal
and he went straight into his skinhead manners brown paper bag
and picked up a big ol' hand full of **** you" and put it all
over his ******* face.
I like how now racism has a new look.
Indifference and side ways looks.
I still ******* matter.
I have a right to be where I please.
As a matter of fact, I have a right to be.
If I want a bagel I would like it without
a side of Caucasian *******
Pinches gringos cabrones.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
I miss you but
you need to do better.
Sometimes at night I
think of you. I think of
the good times we had.
I think of the
hot sun on
our sweaty
Bodies. I think of the
bagels we shared. I think of the long
heartfelt talks and I miss you. Usually
I don’t think of who you became. I don’t
think of the mean things you said behind
my back. I don’t think of the times you made
me feel worthless. I don’t think of the betrayal.
I don’t think of the person you have become. It's
funny how I only remember the good things when I
get nostalgic. How I remember the parties.
How I forget your immaturity.
How I remember the dreams we
Had. How I forget your artificial
Nature. At one time you were
Beautiful. At one time we were
happy together. At one time you were
the most important person in my life,
And even though you would never
share it with me,
I know I was the same to you.
Then you threw it all
Away. When I gave you
The chance,
gave us the chance,
to have it all back
You threw it away. I
can’t keep chasing you.
I can’t keep expecting
you to change.
The truth is
that I’m repulsed
by who you have become.
I’m disgusted by your weakness.
I wish I could say that I’m doing great without you,
But I’m not. And you’re not doing great without me.
I did everything I could. You have to try harder.
You Need To Do Better.
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 9:23 PM UTC
The fearless ones
are fanning out
into the woods.
Others are huddled
in smartly constructed
camouflaged blinds.
These self styled
eco-warriors
brave the cold
and the discomforts
of inclement weather.
They keep a
watchful eye
over the stale
remains of
Dunkin Donuts,
bagels and
bacon grease
they cleverly
scattered
outside their
deadly bivouac.
These bold ones
eagerly finger the
barrels of their high
powered rifles,
palming the smooth
wooden stocks with
warm naked hands.
They itch to squeeze
the trigger but discipline
and fortitude inform
the vigilance of these
sentinels of sustainability.
They philosophically muse
about restorative balance
and the paradox of killing
in order to survive.
Another day has broken
over the New Jersey Highlands.
The hunt for bear is on.
Let the mammalian cleansing begin.
jbm
Oakland
12/6/10
Music Suggestion: Radiohead, Hunting Bears
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 9:02 AM UTC
The 8 Days of Hanukkah
On the first day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - A Torah portion that I can't read.
On the second day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - Two loaded bagels and a Torah portion that I can't read.
On the third day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - Three spinning dreidls, two loaded bagels, and a Torah portion that I can't read.
On the fourth day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - Four Shabbos goyim, three spinning dreidls, two loaded bagels, and a Torah portion that I can't read.
On the fifth day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - FIVE Maccabeats, four Shabbos goyim, three spinning dreidls, two loaded bagels, and a Torah portion that I can't read.
On the sixth day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - Six mohels brissing, FIVE Maccabeats, four Shabbos goyim, three spinning dreidls, two loaded bagels, and a Torah portion that I can't read.
On the seventh day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - Seven Jews a-kvetching, six mohels brissing, FIVE Maccabeats, four Shabbos goyim, three spinning dreidls, two loaded bagels, and a Torah portion that I can't read.
On the eighth day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - 8 burning candles, seven Jews a-kvetching, six mohels brissing, FIVE Maccabeats, four Shabbos goyim, three spinning dreidls, two loaded bagels, and a Torah portion that I can't read.....
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 5:41 PM UTC
(fictional tale of real beverages)
he sat at table number 9
she chose 10
their eyes never met
but only through the wall wide gilded mirror across the room
he thought her name was Faith
she guessed his was Luke
he took a sip from his mocha massimo every 41 secs
she guessed he was 41, slowly stirring her white-no-sugar earl grey
she wondered if the girl on page three of his 'Sun' was a blond, a brunette or a red head
he wondered what principle she's at in 'Why men love bitches'
they ate lemon and poppy seed muffins with small bites
his lips were firm
hers unable to hold on to the cheery blush lipstick any longer
he thought she was single and had a RSPCA rescued cat called Biscuit
she guessed he was married with three children and a wife called Porscha
she must be driving a Ka
he must be driving a Jag
she waters her plants every Tuesday, goes to pilates classes on Thursday and on Sundays she watches Terms of Endearment in her pink jumper with her friend Chris and a box of tissues
he walks his dog at 7, plays rugby for Long Lane on Saturdays and on Fridays goes for a pint of Guiness with his friend, Joe
he snores/ she sings in the shower
he's a catholic/ she never quite liked Jesus
he hates his wife/ she loves her cookies
they laugh at the old woman shouting at a bus driver in the street and hate gyms, cyclists in Lycra and anything to do with politics
they secretly read Keats, eat onion bagels and tomato soup and listen to Gershwin
*
they never spoke
they never will
because if they would
Faith would never be able to watch Star Wars again and Luke -
Luke would lose his faith in
love at first sight
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 9:52 AM UTC
When Mars attacks
I'll be in Oregon
eating saltines
and everything bagels
washed down
with orange Tang
while you're probed
anally with a green stick
the size and shape
of a bottle of Bud
in downtown Tallahassee.
After the attack
I'll go fishing
in Crater Lake
and catch twelve
rainbow trout
or kokanee salmon
and fillet them
one by one
while you limp
and buy chairs
with extra pads
and change the gauze
at the base
of your ****
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:32 PM UTC
A deep thought?
Or a rhetorical analogy?
I raise my hand to answer
Realizing that no answer is supposed to come out of me
Cookies and milk
A childhood memory
World War II
A part of history
Ice Cream and Bagels
A random combination
The submarine
A scientific invention
A grumbling stomach
It seems im hungry
I turn to ask for food
Realizing my parents are still yelling at me
What a daydream.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
trying not to be subversive
but all I can think about is how those curves bend
feeling hedonistic
Hippie aesthetic contrasting my forlorned apathetic
visage
You've got me pleasure-seeking
Ostentatious displays of intellect
But im feeling decadent
Lay a kiss on my cheek
Soothing lips like lavender and peppermint
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 4:39 PM UTC
When the walls started closing in
and my brain turned to syrup
I slid down into a stupor
My mother makes me strawberry/mango Italian soda
the sluggishness liquefies
my brain becomes active
the bubbles floating my thoughts to the top.
When my vision is narrowed
and the fire is lit within
burning the inside's out
pass me some of that pop
and its the little things that matter
Observant servant to the soul
Not even owning your own body
glitch glitch glitch
all over my face
can't say a word without a fight
stuck in my head, can't get out
Maybe if I keep talking the words
will sometimes maybe came come from my mouth
My thoughts suffocating me
My head aches
Please please no more
I want to step out
looking outside the bagel shop
calmed my mind
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
I.
Sunday mornings in Vancouver
even pigeons sleep in till 10 A.M.
Undaunted, I walk down Granville shortly before 8
seeking lox bagels with capers, red onions and cream cheese,
two breve lattes, and a newspaper. In truth,
panhandlers on the corner of Robson
have far greater chance of scoring.
An unexpectedly sunny February morn
suffices to spur me on. I am attuned to all vibration.
Breath of the awakening city
exhales manna upon the shop awnings.
Bagels rendered superfluous,
I scarf images instead ---
trolley buses, an umbrella shop, falafel stands ---
delicious Canadian visual cuisine.
II.
Vancouver is a nymph. Of that I'm sure.
I hear flirtatious giggles trill
from darkened alleys between hotels.
Spotted her once across the street on Dunsmuir,
seated on a walk bench reading a Margaret Atwood novel.
Bus passed between us and she vanished.
Caught a later glimpse through the window
of a walk-up dim sum restaurant in Chinatown.
Flew the stairs, only to find an empty table and
discarded napkin smudged with candy pink lipstick.
She watches me.
III.
Turns out there are no Sunday morning papers in Vancouver,
but I locate the bagels and espresso backtracking on Helmcken.
The barista smiles as I approach, sets down her Atwood novel.
I leave a Toonie in gratuity.
B.C. wind pushes hard on my turned back,
as I rush our breakfast back to the Executive.
A nymph goes roller-blading by toward False Creek.
The Gastown Steam Clock whistles that it's 10 A.M.
A flock of pigeons lifts in flight.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 2:04 PM UTC
fill my lungs with smoke
I light cigarettes,
in hopes that i will forget you.
i cant
I light cigarettes,
in hopes that the smoke will wash away your scent.
spices and vanilla
I light cigarettes,
in hopes that i will forget how you tasted.
coffee and bagels
I light cigarettes,
in hopes that the fires i start will burn a hole in my memory so i can forget the colour of your eyes, or how they gleamed like sapphires.
i still see the sapphires
And the truth is,
i cannot forget you,
Or how you smelled like spices and vanilla,
Or how every morning when i kissed you and you’d taste like the bagels and coffee that you had,
Or how your eyes are the centre of my universe, and how they glimmer like distant stars a million light years away.
These cigarettes are not enough,
they do not intoxicate me as much as my thoughts of you do.
And even if i tried to drown myself in the deepest oceans,
or if i tried to throw myself off the highest buildings,
i will never, never, be able to forget you.
fill my lungs with smoke
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 10:01 AM UTC
There will always be an Autumn spat
where the cat foils the dormouse
and the Annual taster chocolate box
arrives as nonchalant
as the mysterious sender.
Sometimes I wish we were boxing hares
to really celebrate an outlet for renewed anger.
Munching on my bagels, i feel a pang of Hypocrisy.
I run fickle, planning out the chequered
season.
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 8:11 AM UTC
It's a bad day when you can't get Celene Dion out of your head
Titanic was good
It was not that good
I found a dried flower
Buried in Leviticus of my sort of grandma's bible
She must have liked that part
The only quote about Leviticus I've read on the internet is about stoning gay people
I hope she didn't like it that much
I saw a bagel get made
No one has the job of eating the middles out
I'm 23, this was a let down
I still like bagels a lot
I tacked the dry flower on my wall
Above the reminder that it's $3 a day to swim at the public pool in the mornings
I hope it's not a homophobic flower
I hid the bible behind Lauren Conrad's book
Lauren Conrad's book embarrasses me less
My sort of grandma
Is only sort of alive
I often feel that way
I feel most alive while dreaming of the impossible
Realistic dreams lead to disappointment
Outlandish dreams leave little 'remember when’s’'
No one hates themselves for not becoming an astronaut
A lot of people hate themselves for not losing 20lbs
Friendships are often measured in favors
That is all
That was not all
Favors are measured in sacrifices
Favors are not measured in reward
Today is a reflection of not dying yesterday
There is a one in seven chance that today is Friday
And it is imperative that we get down on Friday
Because the anticipation for this weekend is very high
If today is Monday all of that is no longer relevant to our conversation
I am losing weight
As I lose weight more and more fat girls hit on me
I do not like this as much as what I was imagining would happen
I have learned that being funny **** cool
Like I am becoming
Does not mean hot girls will hit on me
It means they will actually think about it before saying no
To supplement my soon to be chiseled physic
I am learning a Jack Johnson song on guitar
This worked for an acquaintance in 2006
Maybe I should learn Colbie Callait instead
The world would be better if schools had better teachers
The world would also be better if high school seniors paid attention to the teachers they already have
I don't know which one is easier to fix
My past seems rosier than my future
Except in the case of February 16th 2007
And now February 16th 2012
Corner buildings and modern light fixtures are my favorite aesthetics
My favorite building has neither of those features
Those features are not that awesome
Dead flowers smell like dead things
To combat this I spray cologne on my grandma's flower
I have never been to a funeral
I wonder if they febreeze the dead people
Or maybe they use Chanel No. 5
This is something I would like to learn more about
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 3:38 AM UTC
market report: spinning on an axis of complexity
phrase captures and enraptures, buried deep in one of the
countless market reports that arrive every minute out of date by the time they press the end/send button but this rises
up from the forged gorge throat and all the rest falls away
spinning on an axis of complexity
sticks like Elmer's glue, white viscous, good for paper & skin,
cause you knew precision revision incision instantaneous,
they are intended for your eyes only, pasted to your eyes,
tinged tongue screaming you man, you poem
there is no
difference, for both at 1:55am
where time is sleep verboten,
when words are blood platelets in a mystery entitled
spinning on an axis of complexity
human must eat
human must work
human must love
human must sort the juggling orbs,
too much new information constant and brain incapacitated
*while falling-spinning
when eyes now fully glued shut by the
complexity of clashing algorithms
writing this market report on the state of me,
the passionate impartial analyst who boldly reveals, he proclaims
he owns stock in himself and issues a
sell recommendation*
the complexity-situation trending signals crash a-coming,
and at 1:59am after composing this hissy fit writ,
he downgrades the official outlook to sell and
lies down on the kitchen floor and laughs
with the angel dudes eating bagels and holding their sides,
cause they have been running a short position up in heaven
6/22/17 2:05am
nyc
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 11:01 PM UTC
Morning
the alarm goes off
I wake up
I turn it off
I go back to sleep
My mom or dad comes in
they wake me back up
I lie in bed
for 10 more minutes
then I get up
I go to the bathroom
and stare at myself in the mirror
I sigh...
I pretend to wash my face
I go back to my room
I stare at my closet
and decide what I'm going to wear
I get dressed
I go down stairs
I eat one of the following items:
oat meal
-Chocolate chip
-Maple brown sugar
-apple cinnamon
Whole wheat bagel with almond butter, peanut butter, cinnamon, and/or jam
cereal if there are any good options
-Peanut butter bumpers
-GOOD granola
-organic chocolate *****
with coconut milk
toast with the same things as bagels
I say good morning to parents
I argue with my sister
I drink my orange juice
eat my vitamins
bring my stuff up to the sink
go up stairs
I lie on my bed
I go into the bathroom
I brush my teeth
I go downstairs
I pack my backpack
I pick out some shoes
I yawn
I go to school
School
I go to advisory
We play cake(a game)
First class
I space out
I draw pictures
unless that class is of the following:
PE
Writing lab (if it's not about grammer or spelling)
Art
Music(Because all the string instruments make it impossible)
I go to math
I get too confused to know what the hell is going on
I go to writing lab
we write and then teacher goes into some speech about commas
I go to french
I have no idea what the teachers talking about
I go to PE
If we aren't playing soccer, basketball, dodgeball, batmitten, capture the flag, or volleyball than I ****
Lunch
Yay!
I eat
I talk
I chill
More classes
Art
I tell my teacher how much I love her outfit
I read the board
and I make art
Music
UGHHHH
THE TEACHER IS SUCH A GRUMP!!!
I listen to her yell at people
I play my instrument
Study
Almost done with school
I finish a bit of homework
Going home (Or going nordic skiing)
I get a snack
I do homework
I have dinner with the family
I do more homework
I get ready for bed
I read
I go to bed
Every day is the same
the weekend is just a bunch of chores
hanging with friends some times
and stay up late watching my favorite shows:
Bones
Glee
CSI NY
CONAN
SNL
Ugh I need a change.
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 1:12 PM UTC