"cameo" poems
*i think, you should stop going to italy, for one, oh **** me, keep going on hedonist piss-fuck fests to places like mallorca, but stop going to italy, you're making my stomach ache from laughter, with what you come back with, the so-called "innovations"; somehow i'd just poach my cauliflower, and drizzle it with fried breadcrumbs, and serve it as a side-dish to fried eggs (2), and some tatties; for goodness sake, even cauliflower cream soup makes more sense, garnished with some fried chorizo!*
first it was avocado on toast...
who the **** puts avocado on bread?
i can imagine putting it in pasta...
but on bread?
hey, what the **** does
the acronym f.a.d. mean?
i don't know, and i won't google it...
o.k. avocado on toast...
nothing near guacamole,
but fair enough...
but what i discovered... pushes
the button where i turn into a fox laughter
(fuchslachen) -
i couldn't stop...
you can find it in the weekend
section of the saturday times newspaper...
written by nicola m.
cauliflower and mozzarella pizza...
you have to be ******** me...
cauliflower? on pizza?
one of my housemates at university told
me an anecdote:
i was in a restaurant once,
and asked for a pizza with no cheese...
he continued:
and then the head chef came out and
asked me... are you, insane?!
a bit like: bread... but no butter?
and i thought i was insane eating a watermelon
today, whole,
the red pulp, and the outer layers including
the skin included, allowing myself
a gorilla imitation cameo gimmick...
but i thought i was mad...
but there's avocado on toast...
and now... cauliflower on pizza...
it's a ******* side-dish!
wait, don't tell me... you're going to put
some potatoes onto the pizza the next frizz
comes along... right?
how about beetroot?
thankfully, if i have some
wacky ideas in terms of culinary escapades,
they happen, drunk, after 12a.m.,
and i'm the scientist, and the experimental rabbit
2-in-1...
a newspaper column?
apparently, you get one, putting avocado
on toast...
or cauliflower on a pi-zzzzz-ah...
to be honest, even though i haven't tried it,
grilled aubergines on a pizza could work...
the toast? marmite and cheddar...
english people should stop glorifying holidays
in italy... they're ****** cooks...
an italian would just look at
a pizza with cauliflower and say: cosa?
i'd suggest heading to scotland first,
and picking up the vibes from some haggis.
**** me...
avocado on toast...
caulifower on a pizza?!
now i can die happy, 'appy,
clapping: encore!
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 2:54 PM UTC
From out the dragging vastness of the sea,
Wave-fettered, bound in sinuous, seaweed strands,
He toils toward the rounding beach, and stands
One moment, white and dripping, silently,
Cut like a cameo in lazuli,
Then falls, betrayed by shifting shells, and lands
Prone in the jeering water, and his hands
Clutch for support where no support can be.
So up, and down, and forward, inch by inch,
He gains upon the shore, where poppies glow
And sandflies dance their little lives away.
The ******* waves ****** and tighter clinch
The weeds about him, but the land-winds blow,
And in the sky there blooms the sun of May.
4.7k
Stark in freezing winter air
Deeply orange, clustered there,
Rich shades in a cameo
Of black and white in frozen snow.
ROSE HIPS IN THE MORNING LIGHT
Shining warmly, softly bright.
Wicked thorns, the stems, adorn
***** frost, on the buds, is borne
Atop the ancient root in soil
Where beetle gnaw and earthworm roil.
Marshalg
Exhaling in the frozen air
24 June 2011
Inspired by Patrick Wakefeild's delightful "When I have been a Rose"
Jun 23, 2011
Jun 23, 2011 at 1:03 PM UTC
High ground
I concede to you
in the disproportion of a time allotted to you
for the choice of robe to grace
a glorified cameo around your flesh
like a sheet designated for an overthrowing
in an honorary statue's unveiling
Liturgy is looming in the bathroom
already hot-boxed in the metal waterfall's
mist of moisture and the mountain range of bubbles
I have settled comfortably into in wait
High ground
awaits your hallowed prance
into the concealed languish of your man's
dangling imagination
I salute you with incentive
through a lowering of eyes made necessary
by your towering above my horizontal soak
I'm beseeching you to wield royal sway
over the humility of my reclined posture
with the hidden scepter of your body
fated to dictate the pace of my
anticipated knighting
The gentle thud of fabric on linoleum
incites a turning of my head to take in
the litany of parts available to my
frenetic feels and jumbled focus
Stationary in your naked smile of proximity
you extend to me excessive time to entertain options
as I coat myself in lukewarm opportunities
and rise to meet you for a bathing in my excess wetness
I accelerate my exit to negate the bubbled tribuataries
sliding to the floor to meet the remnants of your mystery
The wall is cold and you protrude
haplessly to meet the rapid chilling of my undried frame
Warmth is of the essence
Fingers split your hair in celebration
of our uniform heights and I feel you slouch
signalling our first hint of friction
and a twitch in my diviner of your cradle of essential warmth
Do you realize you now rescind creative license?
Or have you filled the snare of your intentions?
Now your balance shivers in the mercy
of my curled leg of leverage
and an coiled arm collecting your ambrosial attributes
like an ice cream scoop
Uniform heights allowing eye contact
makes optional the visual acknowledgment
of my elastic hunting in the smooth field of your breast
with a dancing thumb
I connect and latch onto what is now
our binding axis and shuffle eye contact
with the universal rhythm of a pelvic power ballad
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
[by Edna St. Vincent Millay]
Forever over now, forever, forever gone
That day. Clear and diminished like a scene
Carven in Cameo, the lighthouse, and the cove between
The sandy cliffs, and the boat drawn up on the beach;
And the long skirt of a lady innocent and young,
Her hand resting on her ***** her head hung;
And the figure of a man in earnest speech.
Clear and diminished like a scene cut in cameo
The lighthouse, and the boat on the beach, and the two shapes
Of the woman and the man; lost like the lost day
Are the words that passed, and the pain,-discarded, cut away
From the stone, as from the memory the heat of the tears escapes.
O troubled forms, O early love unfortunate and hard,
Time has estranged you into a jewel cold and pure;
From the action of the waves and from the action of sorrow forever secure,
White against a ruddy cliff you stand, chalcedony on sard.
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
Growing up as a guy I have something to admit
Its that theres so many girls that i'll never forget
So i'll jump right in and go right from the start
and tell you about all these girls that have affected my heart
So lets start with the As there is two that first come to mind
and thats Ambrea and Ashley, their each one of a kind
Now those are my sisters so their first to be said
but lets continue on to who else pops in my head
lets see...there's 2 Ashley As, but only one Ashley G
can't forget Amanda K, or all 7 Amys
There are so many As that we'd have to stay way long
let me wrap it up quick with the cutest one "akon"
You should see all these B's their so pretty it scares me
theres Beth and theres B thou, theres Bee and B. Barry
In the C's we have Crepeele with her pretty long blonde hur
and then we have Cameo, thats right, Mama Burr
On to the Ds they would never be meana
theres danielle carey, and then there is dreena
though im sure there are Es-Hs to do
i'm skipping to Js starting with J. Gubbes
Janelle, Jolene, or Jocelyn B.
Jordan, and Jen, and Jill L. you see
Jamie, and jasmine, or J. Allen
Jaylene, and Jessica, and then jen again
Oh God now the Ks, not sure where to begin...
I'll start with the departed R.I.P. Kristin
On to the girls that are more than alive,
Lets take, Keilyn, Kayla, and Karmen on a test drive
Three other K's must get named out for sure
And that's Kaley, Kansas, and Kristjana Schure
Two Girls in the Ls that are way way to awesome
And thats Lauren Borsheim, and of course, Laura Klassen
On to the Ms there is no time to spare
Just one, Maryke, and she cuts my hair
...I'm just kidding MOM you know your up there!
We do have an N there's nothing to fear
Her name is Niki, she lives in Red Deer
No Os, or Ps, or Qs to discuss
we'll move on to R's cause this next ones a must
Rachael K the Australian Wonder
Rebecca's art is so good she draws lightning and thunder
Theres a couple of shellys, and Sam 1 and 2
Tara looks like a model, and Tia does too
Don't know any Us, the Vs go in order
Vanessa M, V. Young, and VJ the reporter
If your name wasn't mentioned no need to be sour
this poem was rushed, took me less than an hour
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 10:04 PM UTC
I squint just right
And capture a memory almost forgotten
Jars of fruit and honey fresh from hives
Filling shelves in old smokehouse
Home-made butter and molasses
In her kitchen
Waiting to smother
Biscuits warming
On black cast iron wood-stove
Boxes of buttons
An old cameo
Split wood in corner
Old sleepy dog on porch
The house on the hill
Where Mom's Granny rocked
r ~ 16Feb14
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
Enchanted I
by a Lianasidhe
Caught like a fish
upon a lure of bonnie smiles;
Bewitched by all her craft
that ever before me stands.
Enchanted I
by two deep pools of blue
and hair, gold and Ivory entwined,
by cameo silk, moon glossed skin
fragrant, warm, inviting
evoking the tempest of my passion.
Enchanted I
By some form of witchcraft
Spun by forces beyond my depth
and I like a fly to the web,
helplessly await to be devoured
consumed spirit, flesh and body.
Enchanted I
by what work of Gods' involved
to send swiftly that ancient arrow
that flies from cupids bow so straight
to engulf the beats of this heart,
draining the soul drop by drop
till all that is me within her dwells.
Enchanted forever,
Enchanted to you.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 24, 2011
Mar 24, 2011 at 1:45 PM UTC
I carry a backpack full of note books and my violin everyday to school
I carry a softball glove and a bat and the fear that I’ll have to use them again
I carry a flannel and apple scented lotion because it reminds me of her grace
and how I’ll never get to see her
I carry a cameo about my neck and they story I’ll never know behind it.
I carry sheet music and my drama script because I’ve yet to see those change.
I carry a friend who loves me and a friend who hates me and sometimes I don’t know which one I’m talking to
I carry two silver cups which are the only honour to my name
I carry the name of a boy who loved me, but I didn’t love him back
I carry old Latin books and the love I threw away
I carry music that I want to learn but will never have the time to
I carry audition results that made me lock myself in my room
I carry the lies upon lies that I told so I wouldn’t be disappointment
I carry my grades and the B that cast me from my parent’s grace
I carry a vase that I dropped and didn’t mind when the glass cut my feet
I carry scars from softball and how I was used as a punching bag and a pawn because I wouldn’t cry
I carry the love of a friend that I only knew for a week and the friendship that I wish I could still show her.I hope she sees this and I hope she knows that I could never hate her and was just too much of a coward to answer that message.
I carry the thought that she hates me now
I carry tears cried in my closet after I couldn’t figure out how to format a chemistry paper and wishing I would just die
I carry the humiliation I felt when all my friends got A’s on that paper and I barely managed a C
I carry the knowledge that one of my favorite teachers thinks I lied on a vocab quiz to gain half a point.
I carry the Wuthering Heights paper and how I worked so ******* hard to be .6 points away from an A.
I carry Linton’s fear and the knowledge that I was .6 points away from getting people to believe that our pain mattered.
I carry the fear that my best friend, the girl I love, is going to **** herself
and I’ll be left with old texts, a letter, and scars that will never heal
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 1:10 AM UTC
well it was the alternative to gregory isaac’s night nurse... but then the bouncer on the catwalk with flares... skidding up on a rhyme and cooling it with an edge of the appropriately cut fashion... chased it.
innit kamikaze (rap’s shortchange in shaken pears
for martini bond and chanced cockney slang in shakespeare,
all 90’s groove though)
lyric’o gangsters
in the mollusk slush
two’s up freed
with the sly sly s.o.s. sloth
chinning up to the chariots of nero’s double for portrait:
naa na na na na na na na na na na na na naa,
naa na na na na na na na na na na na na naa
(i miscounted... didn't i?) -
where kurt cobian’s yeah yeah yeah used to be
along with r.e.m.’s cowboy astronaut.
come mike jagger with me the liszt skeleton
of b & w’s worth of crescendos tipping lazy waitresses
with a toreador’s worth of breezy napkins folded, flapped and sneezed into -
i’ll be dumping my shadow into splits for extras to boot frying it in
the hiroshima of paparazzi’s blinking.
failures are worth other people’s success when playing the lyre to a burn out of capitals:
anyway, edinburgh is the ultimate cameo in the literary bloodline
begot by paris for the 20th century ultimatum of identity scripted.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
They threw boulders at glass house and roasted marshmallows AT the cookouts. MEDIUM RARE.
The troglodets, they put on a.show, sang four part harmony in the round in open air.
Fred Flinstone dropped in for a cameo and Barney held the door.
the show went over pretty well.
To three or four encores or more
I dont know who sent in the clowns
But slapstick ruled the day.
The animal act was
Kind of wack
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 2:55 AM UTC
A
cameo in my story
Hard to be wiped off
No matter how toxic she was
'cause some stains are bound to stick
Oct 12, 2022
Oct 12, 2022 at 4:35 AM UTC
( I am Happy to announce the publication of my new poetry book: 108 Bhakti Kisses, The Ecstatic Poetry of a Modern Day Gopi by Sonya Ki Tomlinson available on Amazon
http://amzn.com/0984787216)
Happy and Holy Holidays
108 bhakti kisses
Courting Your adoring feet
108 Names of God
adorn the temple gates
where I kneel close to
Your precious Feet
108 Crystal mala beads
poised like stars passing
one by one over my fingers
tiny bridges across
an immense and luminous expanse
Infinite frontier
The Soul returning to its Source
offspring of Light
I look to the Heavens
my sustenance
thunderheads, distant mist
solitary black cameo shape
of a bird soaring swiftly
vanishes into
ballooning, billowing
blue wilderness of Your eyes
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 1:25 PM UTC
It’s a funny thing
a single song
can send me
back into
my memory.
Somewhere
out there
a melody
from a movie
I saw as a kid,
I hear that song
and feel
a tinge of sadness
as tears
threaten
to make
an unwanted
cameo appearance.
The first time
I heard this
I was with
my mother
in a small house
for abused women.
Somewhere
out there
in the past
before
things got
really bad,
they were bad
for her,
but I was ok.
I did not have a clue
what we were
going through.
Later,
the pain
that jaded her
would become
my shadow cloak
to wear,
as I looked
for somewhere
out there
where
I would be free,
from her rage.
I never really
found that place,
but when I hear
that song,
I can recall
my mother
before the fall.
Even at
a cynical
thirty-seven
a small part
of my heart
longs for
the loving mother
that was
somewhere out there
before those bad days.
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 12:26 PM UTC
Around her neck hung a remarkable cameo,
Of a girl who looked quite like herself.
Carved from the most precious of gems,
Her translucent flesh seemed to glow in the sunlight.
Her features were a shinning example of beauty.
Hair was a challenge, yet each of hers were delicate and precisely cut.
There was not a chip or a crack in her smooth face.
She was surely a masterpiece.
And I could say the same for the cameo.
Sep 9, 2011
Sep 9, 2011 at 1:25 PM UTC
takin my life day to day
is really second to second
as the character Wayne
in this movie im filming
i have characters out the ***
full of laughs and tears
from a cast widespread
from my fam to my peers
as the smoke clears i emerge
from the lows to take stage
throw bows and take aim
for my prize waiting for me
the one made by god
no assembly required
to be my leading lady
and rule my loving heart
unlike the others i casted
they were good in some parts
but in the end they couldnt hack it
they got other scenes
the girlfriends and the groupies
two very important troops
taught me how to lie
and point out the truth
on the lighter side of things
lookin higher in my cast and crew
my brothers and sisters
all keep me pullin through
this romantic drama
with words and actions
that spices things up
adding comedy to the equation.
everyone does their own stunts
except the others
i spoke on before
it only happens in *** scenes
so i shouldnt say more
but **** it im grown
in my movie its really my wife
im making scratch and moan
then the other girl re-appears
once the lights come on
and my wife is back
sitting in the Producers chair
waiting till her time
for the shine of my spotlight
from the wedding chimes
till the end credit sign
adding sequels to my life
a little similar but
different from mine
Wayne III and Sydney
will be the first two
those movies will do numbers
ill do a cameo with them too
like Will and Jada
imma have a Wonder Crew
wit uncles and aunties
who will love and cherish
their nieces and nephews
how ever many we have
we dont have a number
all we worried about
is acting this movie out
workin towards the gold
happiness and unity
till were nice and old
and God yells CUT!
our characters will die off
but our story lives for infinity
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 2:57 AM UTC
I pull myself together long enough to put myself together
to altogether get there all alone
I pick myself apart at the party hoping they pick me for the part
nearly departed at the afterparty
upon a platter of platitudes they cast me as myself
I was miscast if you ask me
would have bought a locket if I wanted a cameo
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC
“And only the azure painted sky to shake the rain from its sound,” so the plain falls, opening its mouth through a bed of headstones dotted with the hollowed trunks of magnolias and cedar at afternoon and that cameo of calamansi velour interwoven with the softest glaucous velvet. Inside that whirlpool of sacrosanct textiles a blur, that shocking shrill of coolness catches the skin- this hole-covered schmata oozing cesious acronychal threads pull tight across the hooves, branches, and stream. Only the thin repelling flume of winter’s height eschews this ianthine material over the sinews and map-lined bones. A corpse shortening its gaze, eyes stone-free, empty of nictitation. Nothing stings more than autumn’s filemot sins scraping sideways down a tiled balcony, and the dove’s beg like circus rats, shaped by the finite breaths of decade’s old poetry edging its moods like a bold inflammatory conflagration of the de-evolution. While the fulvous trammeled dirt abounds.
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 4:40 PM UTC
When the door shuts
I'd stare at the mirror
carefully fix my hair
and adjust my collar.
For I want to look good
if you see me through that door.
When it hits fifteen
I'd imagine us greeting
introduce myself to you
and just say hello (it's me!)
For I want to be in your life
even if it's just a cameo.
When it hits fourteen
I'd imagine us talking
me making faces and puns
and you just laughing.
For I want to see you smile
even just for a little while.
When it opens at twelve
into a sea of butterflies my stomach would delve
I'd think of my imperfections
and how pathetic are my obsessions
For I know you won't look at me
even for just a second.
When that door opens
comes a tide of faces
I'd look out for yours
feeling excited and anxious
Will you be there?
Will you come in?
My heart would sink
as the door hits the ground
I keep on doing this
hoping I'd come around
But I didn't; I still yearn for that moment.
I hoped that by staring at your photos
I would get seasoned getting over you
Accept that for us there's no tomorrow
but why am I still drowning in sorrow?
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 1:30 AM UTC
you are the Ambrosia of my mind
the apple of my eye
crisp and Red delicious
a Macintosh in waiting
Granny Smith is exuberant
over our Gala to toast the Empire
I see a Pink Lady in Fuji
Honeycrisp in every way
you are the Envy of Pazzaz
playing Jazz in Cameo at the Braeburn
in front of Lady Alice in Holstein
like a Hidden Rose
though Janagold is **** mixed with sweetness
your Liberty embraces Gravenstein
akin to a Pacific Rose like an Opal
enjoying Winesap instead of Mutsu
Andreas Simic©
Apr 18, 2022
Apr 18, 2022 at 7:05 AM UTC
Being a man's man
I don't wear a locket,
but when I read your poems,
I sense I'm wearing your cameo heart.
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 9:54 PM UTC
Turn the lights down / way down low
Turn up the music / hi as fi can go
All the gang’s here / everyone you know
It’s a crazy scene (hey there just look over your shoulder..)
Get the picture? No, no, no, no … (YES)
Walk a tightrope / your life-sign-line
Such a bright hope / right place, right time
What’s your number? / never you mind
Take a powder (but hang on a minute what’s coming round the corner?)
Have you a future? No, no, no, no … (YES)
Well I’ve been up all night (again?) / Party-time wasting is too much fun
Then I step back thinking of life’s inner meaning and my latest fling
It’s the same old story / all love and glory – It’s a pantomime
If you’re looking for love in a looking-glass world it’s pretty hard to find
Oh mother of pearl I wouldn’t trade you for another girl
Divine intervention – always my intention, so I take my time
I’ve been looking for something I’ve always wanted but was never mine
But now I’ve seen that something just out of reach, glowing very Holy Grail
Oh mother of pearl, lustrous lady of a sacred world
Thus even Zarathustra, another-time-loser, could believe in you
With every goddess a let down, every idol a bring down –
it gets you down…
But the search for perfection, your own predilection
goes on and on and on and on…
Canadian Club love: a place in the country – everyone’s ideal
But you are my favorita,
and a place in your heart, dear makes me feel more real.
Oh mother of pearl – I wouldn’t change you for the whole world
You’re highbrow, holy with lots of soul melancholy shimmering…
Serpentine sleekness was always my weakness; like a simple tune
But no dilettante, filigree fancy, beats the plastic you
Career girl cover, exposed and another slips right into-view
Oh looking for love in a looking glass world is pretty hard for you
Few throwaway kisses, the boomerang misses, spin round and round
Fall on featherbed quilted, faced with silk softly-stuffed eider down
Take refuge in pleasure- just give me your future, we’ll forget your past…
Oh mother of pearl, submarine lover in a shrinking world.
Oh lonely dreamer your choker provokes a picture cameo
Oh mother of pearl, so-so semi-precious in your detached world.
Oh mother of pearl – I wouldn’t trade you for another girl
© E.G. Music Ltd 1973
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 2:17 PM UTC
November began
with stiffened fingers,
a few hazy mornings,
too frail of wrists, and
scrapes from swollen
words on our bare knees—
wearisome evenings hung
in sadness.
For nights at a time
I have been sewing years,
together, in those garnered
boxes full of old photographs
and a bundle of typewriter
letters tied by a single
blue thread.
There is comfort in
heavy coat pockets,
carrying a history of
unsure things, like
tea-stained lace, a
delicate cameo brooch
and a small book of
winter poems.
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 3:32 AM UTC
time has come for dear Hillary
to exit the political stage
her past performances
haven't been well scripted or sage
Americans won't mind at all
if she stays at home with philandering Bill
so she can keep his ever wandering eye
nice and still
Washington needs a true
star contender for a Prez
Hillary is too old to be wearing
the chief's influential fez
most unsuccessful was
her candidature in 2008
Democrats didn't want her
as their first mate
cameo appearances seem to be
more fitting for Hillary
so the American media can give her
a jolly good pillory
the oval office needs no more
corruption lying or deceit
obviating Hillary from the scene
shall be ever so neat
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC