"cashew" poems
A melancholy ***** we came to adore
in mournful tone, finish the tale abruptly
and sob, uncontrollably;
"Memories of my melancholy ******
including "Love in the times of cholera"
are now part of our folklore, this land
of cashew groves and banana plantations
in Indian landscape, far far away from Latin American shores.
Her lascivious days are over
death visits the house of love, blood splattered
and a haunt of dark happenings, that begets children with tails,
shame, honor and secrets creep out of manuscripts.
Gabo is no more, no more"Living to tell the tale"
the Part Two, promised before.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez, after three false starts
goes to his final abode for rest, now.
A coded manuscript, written in
in classical Sanskrit,
(the language of all divine texts
of Indian sages of yore)
scripted by the mysterious gypsy,Melquiades
predicts the wipe out of Buendia clan
of five generations
Torrential rain and deluge engulf Macondo,
ends "One hundred years of solitude".
Gabo you point towards east
what is the answer to the conundrum of Buendias?
In Mexico city
they were preparing to take Gabo to his last ride
to the origin of all magical realism he'd return
In a land far away,
yet exactly the same landscape as Latin Americas
we grieve his death as that of one of our own
Gabo, in past thirty years, you mysteriously taught us
to discern the magical realism of cosmos
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
Mary plants stems of roses
Happy is her sensuous senses.
Rosy roses reddish ,yellow
Dribbling dews on petals glow.
Sandy was her piece of land ,still
Mixing humus made she fertile.
Grow up mango, cashew trees now
Hellish heat around falls low.
All the birdies, human beings with
Rolling breeze’s blessing grew forth.
Nurture Nature for our future
Save our culture agriculture.
Greenery is her granary giving
Honey, money, feeling pleasing.
Waves on beaches softly recede
Crawling ripples crippling proceed.
Do you know? lives here sustain
Only through eternal restrain.
Gain for all lies where interactions
Divine hold our honest actions
=============================
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 10:33 PM UTC
A kilo of fish brinjal pumpkin
Cauliflower raisin and bean
Washing soap and eggs one crate
Need to buy bring from market!
Mustard oil some milk and rice
Cashew nut and a horde of spice
Gourd and potato spinach cabbage
The list is long fills a page!
Feel confused from where to start
How to pile and stack on a cart
Shoeshine cream to adhesive glue
All calculations and maths to do!
Ticked what’s got unticked what’s not
Cash dwindles with much unbought
Trudge back home in sweated daze
She checks items and fumes in rage!
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC
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.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 5:42 PM UTC
Hey, I already told you that you were a little bit crazy.
What did you think—that I was completely nuts?
Come on, Cashew, and shake that walnut-sized brain of
yours, and then we’ll try to put together a decent menu.
Still, I ought to kick you in those itty-bitty sunflower seeds,
those ones that you claim to be your source of protein.
Hey, Macadamia Breath, accidentally lose the ******* hula
dancer and then fire the impending search-and-rescue party!
Your tropical trail mix was no good for each other.
You need a vacation from this deserted island, Captain Crunch.
Go down south and get yourself the businessman’s special.
You know—some old-fashioned brazil nuts.
Yeah, that’s the two-tickets-to-paradise, for sure.
Fool, you really do need to buff up the old almond.
Do I need to open up the **** aluminum lid for you?
You’ve been stuck inside this assorted, mixed can that you
try to refer to as an extra bedroom for nearly nine months.
Get out and take in a little hike and bike
right after you do the wake and bake.
Maybe you should go slow roast yourself at the beach a little.
Why don’t you go to the mountains and try to become one of those
pine nuts that end up in all of those overpriced health cereals?
Hey, Snickers, those dank trees really are beautiful, you know.
Would you quit acting like a frikkin’ flax seed already?
Just admit that it’s almost payday, for criminy sakes!
You pathetic Mister Peanut, you.
Please, Saint Chestnut, give this completely lost consumer strength
from high above store aisle number nine.
Number nine.
Number nine.
Number nine.
Listen to me, Nutt Sack, will you shake those tiny little beer
nuts that no one can seem to stomach anyway?
First of all, they are becoming way too stale just sitting around here,
so if you continue to wait any longer, they will petrify—and then we
will eventually be forced to call you teeth-breaking Corn Nuts!
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
let's talk about his
peanut butter thighs
and his cashew eyes
his cloaked voice that
floods me when he
speaks, and his
big hands and thin
fingers. Let's talk about
all of his parts that make
him whole and makes
my eggplant legs go
bump bump
in the night.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
Did you know? Cashew nuts grow on flowers,
and they grow one at a time.
Think of the distance between railway tracks:
this traces back to ancient Rome.
To know the true energy of the sun: imagine it
covered all over with postage stamps,
each square inch a bomb,
each exploding with power only comparable
to explosions in Hiroshima. Energy like that.
Think of this: how time once was unknowable
for being different to everyone, until trains began
and the post began arriving on time.
Did you know? Facts are enough to make a poem.
Where do poems grow? Do they come one at a time?
When did poems first set down their tracks?
What is the power of a poem? Does it explode?
Are poems different to everyone? Will we ever know?
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 6:31 AM UTC
I reach out to hold beard of this old man,
On balcony edge he makes me stand.
"It's scary Grandpa, don't leave my hand."
"Worry not my child, won't let you fall on this land."
Sparrows chirping as we feed them sprout,
Flying here and there, I laugh out loud.
Pointing to the sky, "Look at that white cloud."
I learned so quick, he felt so proud.
Bought me different chocolates every night,
I'd sit eating happily, enjoying every bite.
Pretty dress, like a fairy, wings he made me wear,
"Look at me now, I can fly, I swear!"
"This is our stable," I point to the grass
Grandpa carried me on his back at last.
Like a horse, he'd ride smoothly on the floor
Five year old rider, shouting "Off to the door!"
Toys on the table, every day a few,
Puppies and bears all red, yellow and blue,
Tricycle and tents, small pillow fights,
Without his kiss, I wouldn't sleep at night.
We stole cashew nuts, while grandma prayed,
Ate them quick, before her eyebrows raised.
Small trips around the city in our car,
So many stories and learnings he'd shower.
Clapped at my dance moves to every song,
Scolded me for everything I'd do wrong.
Fell on my ankle, losing his balance once,
Couldn't walk that day, but I loved him, I'd pounce
We get a call, a call late at night,
My parents pack bags, rush to the airport flight.
Silence hurt every now and then,
Mom and dad didn't know where to begin.
"Grandma, say something!" But she doesn't
He was here and then he wasn't?
So much more to play, and so little time?
I shed tear every time I remember his rhymes
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 8:35 AM UTC
i am an apricot,
dried and vacuum-packed amongst chunks of cashew nuts and *************
i am a cigarette,
wrinkled and cracked with ashes so rank and how the wind whispers my bones away.
i am a stick of magnesium
extingushed halfway -
and i will never burn again
for you have swallowed my spark.
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 3:06 PM UTC
*trees, trees and plants
we see them with trunks round
Love them, laugh with them
cos you may not see them
all years, always a -round*
Trees, trees
they have no fingers
Oh, but they’ve got many rings;
and they still get on the internet
by logging in
Tulips grow on your face
and if you plant kisses
you get another two lips;
the cucumber goes mad
cos it’s in a pickle;
the mushroom is always invited to parties
cos he’s a fungi
and the dog loves the tree
cos they both have bark;
while the frog’s favorite flower
is the croak-us;
the elephant, on the other hand,
I mean on the other trunk,
loves squash;
and while the fruit
comes from a fruit tree
the chicken comes
from a poul-tree
*trees, trees and plants
we see them with trunks round
Love them, laugh with them
cos you may not see them
all years, always a-round*
the nut sneezes: "Cashew!"
And the lemon is sick
and the kind neighbors
give it lemon-aid;
the tomato turns red
cos it sees the salad dressing;
and baby corn says to mama corn:
"Where’s pop?"
and you humans
if you reach out with your hands
you can fit a palm tree in;
and knock! knock!
who’s there?
*"Leaf – yeah, just leaf me alone;
enough of your silly jokes"*
Trees, trees and plants
we see them with trunks round
Love them, laugh with them
Cos you may not see them
All years, always a -round
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 9:29 AM UTC
CASHEW NUTS EATEN, BY AN OPEN FIRE
It's air in motion, the sound too soft to the ears and appealing to the senses.
The air so crisp, dust-filled and ice cold
The moon-lit skies, looking like the red night goblin was about to shower bars of chocolate and descend with his wrapped toys.
Some sweet jazz christmas music was playing in the background, Nat King Cole for sure.
From the old turntable came the music. Well mixed with the breeze thus presenting a never-before heard rendition of the song playing.
Once again the breeze blew heavily.
Trying to have its way with the open fire, burning some metres away from the large hut.
Earlier in the week, the cold North East wind had brought along some wild fire.
One happy family was sitting around the fire.
A man in turban and his wife with their handsome boy and cute little girl.
All dressed in warm woolly glittering sweaters and thick trousers.
They were all engrossed in what the father of the house was saying. And almost forgetting the wild fire had made them homeless. They had to settle for the large abandoned hut.
In between, they seemed to be chewing something.
Of course roasted nuts from cashew in a flat plate. All they had left to eat.
Father downing some fairly warm wine as he spoke.
He was telling them tales/legends of christmas and santa from all over the world.
Even the chewing horse relaxing next to the family, was enjoying the story-telling session.
Father closed his story book.
Together the whole family made and sang a remix of 'the christmas song' replacing the first line with 'Cashew nuts, eaten by an open fire'
Half way through the song.
They heard a loud bang close to their hut, something had landed in front of their hut.
It was a large box filled with swiss chocolate, other yummies, gifts for the whole family and most of all, a map telling them about a place of hope along the West.
On the right-hand side of the box was a large label with the words 'From Santa with love'.
The family, now relieved from the sudden heart-pounding sound and excited by the arrival of the gifts, cheerfully and gratefully started their song all over. This time it sounded like a 'reprise/outro' to an epic album.
This was the night before christmas and Harmattan just got serious.
Happy Christmas!
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 2:23 AM UTC
Thor is a place with birds in a pond.
Many birds; some small, some blonde
Few birds come as the seasons demand.
Come and visit Thor with Sanket to remand
All the known and unknown birds beyond.
Thor is a place with birds in a pond.
Let it be cashew or nut or almond,
Bring any thing for birds with monde
And see many types of birds beyond
The island, colours that birds donned.
Thor is a place with birds in a pond.
Few birds are black, and few blonde;
Canteen ready with food on demand,
Garden with plants having leaves frond,
Pond with birds different on demand.
Thor is a place with birds in a pond.
Security guards allow us, on demand,
To take cameras to view and shoot monde
Of varied birds here and beyond.
So, visit Thor with Pari Style in a pond.
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 7:42 AM UTC
While i was learning to savour the new taste of cashew and walnut in the autumn of that year
you were learning to eat the bones of your neighbours' dog as you fled from an earth gone moist
the leaves of war were torn from the jungle as a cavalry of shrapnel burnt away the air
you were learning to hold your breath while i was doing the same in a suburban swimming pool
when the dust of your family filled the lids of your eyes
being left to see for yourself held quite a different meaning
while your skin seared from the heat of warfire
i was feeling the warmth of a shopping centre in winter
when you went without feet, a landmine exploding your underneath world underneath
i sprained an ankle at basketball
the words of an american god spat forth from an automatic weapon
and you saw the tongues of the lamb inviting you to feast in a foreign language
and while i drew in crayon on the kindergarten wall
you were drawn in the crosshairs just before the smell of cordite
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC
Like a perfectly squared puzzle piece -
Life is the bane of my existence.
I don't know, diary,
I've been touched by morbidity.
I am not getting this 'life' thing right,
My grips are tight and things slip
Anger comes from places unheard of,
Slightest hells are the shells of explosions
Am I even a person?
When I don't own enough to feel my very presence
Am I even a person?
When whatever emerges from me is obsolete
I am the sole cashew hiding in a bar of chocolate;
The behavioural tick that picks on unsteady nerves
And so the question remains;
Slices my veins as it takes the reins of my sleep
Am I even:
A person?
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC
He spent hours bending himself
Shape shifting through the night
Before finding the image
Stooping all over his hands, lost over his spectacles
Neck pains. The musty apartment is lit
By a kerosene lamp that's
Fixed upon the book shelf in the corner.
It has no lampshade
Its high brown orange casts headaches
And proves rotting plaster.
He is saved by dawn blue
Dawn blue for ****** eyes
Rags hang around in groups.
A cashew waits before the trash bin
Books lay around, spines exposed
Sleep would muster new strength, no loss.
Good grains, a few oats, high oats.
He feels his oats,
Bent over his work
Why sleep now?
He'll eat a can of corn
If he can get away
But who has time for lighting a gas stove when there's work
The work is his gas stove
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 9:49 AM UTC
#*The seven year old twins of my friend,
A boy and a girl
On a visit to their Aunt’s place in South Goa
The village scenic and beautiful
The roads covered in dust from the red soil
Lined by Cashew and mango trees
The children at their Aunt’s countryside villa, happy, stood at the gate
A beautiful moment captured in the lens,
by their mother
The two with looking eyes searching for playmates their age
A moment so precious to be savoured for long*#
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 11:03 AM UTC
nothing much happened today
no great calamity, no suprising visitor
the cornflakes dried to a cement like
consistency in the chipped blue bowl
the tuxedo rex vomited on the newly bought
home beautiful magazine..
my heart beat at a lazy 74 beats per minute
when i checked after my nana nap
my bad ankle creaked and twinged
reminding me to get the towels in
before it rained
I made a wonderful chicken cashew curry
for dinner, but fogot to buy naan bread
and yogurt to accompany it..
I kissed the god boy goodnight,
then read two chapters of Harry Potter aloud
as the tuxedo rex, watched me, from the windowsill
marked some essays of dubious quality,
was given a shoulder massage,
by my agong surfer dude,
that led to much greater intimacies
no, nothing much happened today
yet it was fufilling, upon looking back
it had rhythm and purpose
turned the cogs of my world
it was the miles between the milestones
that often go unrecorded
and as I sit in the almost dark of the moon
I do believe it was one of the best days of my life
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 6:42 PM UTC
I cannot eat Asian food
or pork. Or rice.
I don't know why.
The other night I went to a hibachi grill with my friend and his mother and I thought that although I probably wouldn't eat anything I would be fine.
See.I thought I had gotten past the past.
I used to hold my breath when my mom picked up cashew and sweet and sour chicken. I barely breathed the whole way home. I covered up my straw so that the smell wouldn't infuse my soda pop. I state outside until I was positive that all of it was gone.
At the hibachi grill I got pasta. No rice. I had veggies.
They started out giving us salad. I could barely eat it but I was fine. I was fine.
Then they started cooking.
And in my head I heard it.
You won't leave this table until its gone. Stir fry.
My second family once made me feel so insuperior that I don't know how much worse it could get. I sat there.
He put the food on my playe and I cursed and I implored myself.
I ate one noodle.
But those voices. The flashbacks.
I am not good enough.
I cut my noodles onto more pieces than there are people in Japan.
I almost leaped from my seat. They were screaming. Why can't I just eat the ********* food.
Bathroom
Panic attack
Compose myself
Return
I'm fine but they know its a lie.
And so I am so sorry Karen.and I am so sorry everyone because I realized something that night.
I may not have your eating disorder. I don't feel fat and I don't throw up.
But that night I had an eating disorder. And I could barely stand the voices the pressure the memories the hate.
You are amazing. Every day feeling souch pain with food. You are my hero.
I forced myself to swallow one noodle but you make a choice daily to do so much more.
I think I have a price of the puzzle. I don't pretend to understand. But now I know.
Every tiny bite you take. Every time you say no to the toilet you are my hero. And when you fall. You are still my hero.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 3:13 AM UTC
*A cashew-nut
she pressed between my lips
slumberous awestruck
I chewed it
groping for her hands in the dark
if she really was there
or I was dream living
why should a woman
in the middle of night
press a cashew-nut
moist and warm
between my lips
was she hungry herself
hypoglycemic
picking them in despair
popping one betwixt my lips
or is it the one
I popped through hers
last evening
misdirected
without my knowing it
found the vertical lip
betwixt her swells
till she felt the *****
when loosened her robes
and it stirred in her
a long forgotten spark
so she came back
in the middle of night
for me to chew
the re-popped cashew-nut
slumberous awestruck!*
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 3:32 AM UTC
Made of peanuts I feared the hand that searched for me so adamantly.
Watching the strange horror across agonized faces.
The bitter crunch of teeth.
The dissipation of silent screams.
Why not the cashew beside me.
All he does is laugh,
I blame the commercial for all of this, at least he got to keep his shell.
This totally wasn't what I had in mind when I said I'd meet you halfway.
Paralyzed in fear I sat.
Watching this hand pat all around me.
A total invasion of privacy.
Rattling what sanity I had left.
Sometimes it feels like I'm losing my mind.
Trapped in an empty container with nowhere to go.
Of all days why couldn't you rinse your mouth with something else.
Finally finding that annoying cashew,
If I could close my eyes and pretend it was all a bad dream.
Sweating inside of these tin walls.
If only I would have known that the world was going to end today.
I'd probably cover myself in chocolate and pretend I was someone else.
I would have hatched the perfect escape plan.
Here's to hoping I get caught in your throat so you'd have no other choice but spit me out.
Stupid Planters peanut guy
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 4:08 PM UTC
Never mind watching your P's and ****** Q's.
There are far more obscenities that anyone can use.
Worse letters than Q or P not meaning to confuse.
Many different meanings something you'll have to choose.
So choose your letters wisely there's some you can reuse
And some that are used for insults or a form of abuse
But it doesn't really bother me so I ain't making an excuse
Just use the ones that come to mind and you cannot ******* lose
So you can **** my big fat 'B's' and I can **** yours too
Fingers up my ******* 'A' something we can both do
I will lick your lovley 'C' and mine is like bamboo
Or maybe its a 'D' in my pocket or is it a canoe
If you squeeze on my two 'N's' similar to cashew
Then i will **** your Salty 'S' or the other avenue
And eat all of that juicy 'J' like a **** barbeque
Making all your 'H's' wet so both can get a *****
Allowing me to enter and 'F' you through and through
Slipping in my big hot 'R' deep inside a fishy stew
******* on your succulent 'T's' but none of them are Blue
Not talking of our feathered friends because that's a different crew
And neither is it other birds not parrots or cuckoos
Its a mound of fleshy 'M's' glands that I would chew
So stick your effing Protocols just stuff them down loo
Use the letters that you wish its your own point of view
Once the eggshells are broken its nothing to undo
And **** all that snobby-ness don't watch your 'P's' and 'Q's'
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 5:37 AM UTC
and if you ever come across me
remember this crooked song
"wild strawberries in the woods
not the only fear at the neighborhood
bad apples, cookie monsters, and crows
cashew farts, peepholes, and human toes
we shall fear not, as of today, as of now
we stop, stand, run, jump, and bow
whatever we need to want to can
whatever we need to want to can"
Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 3:35 AM UTC
/she was my favorite flavored ice cream
full of cashew nuts, marshmallows, chocolate chips, creamy vanilla drizzled with chocolate syrup
and I wanted a spoonful of her goodness/
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 11:03 AM UTC
I feel you slip in beside me
We sleep as two curled
Cashew halves
Sitting inside each other
Naked flesh close, embedded
In a permanence of love.
Love Mary ***
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 7:07 PM UTC
My grandfather loaded his pockets and the squirrels had a feast
He died before I was born so this is family lore
The family of five squirrels who live in a park near me
They are sweet and precious and bother nobody
Rocky is the family acrobat
Three are not named yet
Nutella sat on the side branch like a suspended in motion cartoon character
My bi-weekly leaving of nuts and seeds paid off today
Walking away , she came down to retrieve a cashew and disappeared
Seconds later she appeared and helped herself to a pecan
On a cold morning walk before zoom meetings
She made my day
C@rainbowchaser2021
Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 9:36 AM UTC