"chewy" poems
This is not a metahpor,
oh no this is so so real,
this is the deliciousness,
oh for my meal,
to consist of the sweet delicacy
Oh I know you know it is true,
Let us fry a koala,
Not make it into stew.
It will be chewy and crunchy,
Oh leave the bones in,
They make the meat more tender,
And toothpicks more fun,
Let your girl make it for you,
And **** you clean while eating.
That is when you've reached heaven,
And the lust and gluttony therein.
If they try to stop you,
From stealing another koala,
Tell them it is your dinner,
And they are making you quite irate.
Beat them in the face,
And shoot their families down,
Nothing must stop you from eating,
Yet another fried koala,
One might even think its fate.
When you **** it out,
Don't fret or moan,
Take it like a man,
And bless the remains,
of the once fried koala,
As you flush it down down down.
Because another lies down under,
To quench your hunger,
Forever.
For Lexi.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
Into a place far away but too familiar,
I push open the rusty purple gates,
Inhale a lungful of the province air,
Kick away blue pebbles on the dusty ground,
And then
Mano my lolo, my tito
Beso my lola, my tita
And give my cousins a nudge on the arm,
A pinch on the cheeks.
I squeeze between four people
In a rickety wooden bench and
Pass around plate after heavy plate.
I fill my banana leaf
With spaghetti too soft too sweet,
Almost like pudding,
With crispy chicken dripping with oil.
I wash it off with a cool glass of gulaman,
Chewy beads and gems in sugary water.
Fathers talk about basketball, boxing, billiards;
Mothers browse through photo albums and magazines;
While we children argue about Superman or Batman.
Our laughter fills the humid air
And goes up, up, up to the ears of the neighbors.
In celebration of the time we have together
And a nice sunny day
We devour our meals
And go ahead and
Climb trees and
Get our faces sticky with sweet fruits,
Lick chocolate ice popsicles,
Chase each other in the weedy playground,
Bike around town,
Pick colorful flowers,
Wrestle with each other,
Play badminton on a windy day,
Scare around chickens and guinea pigs,
And play patintero under the dull orange street lamps.
We nervously creep inside the back door,
All sweaty, bearing bruises and scratches
But still with wide smiles on our faces.
All is futile though.
An angry grandmother awaits,
Scolding us for
Coming home past sunset.
More and more stars glitter the sky
As the night gets deeper and deeper.
The gentle evening breeze whistles a note
As it enters through the window.
The karaoke blasts grating voices
Interrupted by hearty laughter.
Playing cards and corn chips litter the table.
We children exchange jokes and ghost stories.
And then,
We bid our goodbyes,
Sharing hugs and kisses
Stained with discontent and sadness.
Our hearts about to burst
In excitement for the next
Reunion.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 3:56 AM UTC
The chocolate digestive is a marvel of invention
Custard creams are sickly, but worthy of a mention
Shortbread can be gritty, steer clear of the cheap ones
For if you love your biscuits, your pockets must be deep ones
For perfect dunkability, the hobnob leads the field
But prone to going chewy if their packet isn't sealed
Bourbon creams can satisfy when nothing else is offered
Avert your eyes from pretzels, no matter how they're proffered
The lowly Garibaldi is an underrated treasure
A macaroon is excellent for eating at your leisure
Enjoy the home made cookies and the chocolate crispy nests
And save a pack of party rings for fobbing off on guests
But biscuits can be functional, with keen survival craft
A packet of pink wafers can be used to make a raft
Penguins can be hollowed out and used to smuggle crack
And if you throw a ginger nut, you'll always get it back
A Jaffa cake is handy as a snowboard for a spider
And flapjacks are a sustenance and energy provider
Wagon wheels are lethal when they're wielded by a ninja
Brandy snaps cure cancer with a tiny hint of ginger
Experiment with biscuits, they're a versatile thing
Try horizontal dunking or the highland shortbread fling
Keep a packet stashed away for when the end is nigh
And always have the kettle full, and milk in good supply
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
Deep brown color, messy as it’s eaten.
Like something that failed to crunch.
Brittle yet soft, rough and delicate.
It can be fudgy, chewy or cake-like, topped with walnuts or apricot glaze.
A heavy horse failing to hike the high mountain of crisp.
Hard on the outside, but not as taut as chocolate-chip cookies, or M&M;’s,
A fragile strength that breaks with subtle touch.
Smooth and moist inside, melted chocolate held together.
Created solely for a royal’s mouth to taste,
Slowly dissolving, sea foam ****** by the damp sand,
A guilty pleasure I cannot live without.
The brownie becoming a beautiful bouquet blossoming
In my chocolate tinted mouth.
It cures whatever ails you,
The flavor empowering any mist of dullness or bitterness.
Forgetting about everything, as he mixed the batter
Creating the perfect combination of smoothness, sweetness,
And the creamy after-taste.
Our favorite thing to bake together.
Friday evening we scurried to the kitchen, creating our own baking contest.
His hazel eyes, swirling with the batter poured in circles,
His lips, whistling to the beautiful sight of brownies, plumping as they bake.
Days later, we would come back to that kitchen,
With the scent of freshly baked brownies still lingering in the air.
We would look at each other’s deep brown eyes
Like the brownies we baked and enjoyed together.
His lips, a wallop of sweetness.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
It looks soft
chewy and gooey
Ahh the smell
It smells like Heaven
yum the taste
so cheesy and chewy.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
Now, the truth
Luke & Leia is this love
Thank God not the wrong kind
Siblings apart since birth
Together till the end of time
Darth vader concious
Dark, evil, twisted
Luring Luke innocent
No Luke! Don't do it!
Doesn't matter he's your Dad
Doesn't matter how sad
He doesn't give a hoot
Who on earth he shoots
Stormtrooper beware
Puppet of your master
You will be beaten big time
By a gorgeous little Ewok
Chewy & Han
You are the man
Milenium shoots them all
You saved the day
Kept Darth vader at bay
You saved our heros
Wicked
Poor Han solid
In some ungodly squalor
Not the nicest end
Certainly not Han Solo's plan
Geez George ... really ...
Tin & metal
R2, See threepio
Nitter natter chatter
Lots of friendly banter
Cuter than buttons
You just wanna hug em
Jedi Knight Yoda
Played his part of course
Strong in force
He helped the cause
Although he has passed over
Goodness wins in the end
Good force takes the flag
Mighty, Epic, Timeless
And gloriously mad
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 3:46 AM UTC
╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ '✿⊱╮
Slim, flavoured meringue cookies
Smooth top, chewy mid
Petite, but perfectly round
Filled with buttercream
Ribbon-soft in mouth
Take two bites
Yum!
╰⊰✿⊱╮
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
jamie taught us salt,
nigella, the art of the beef stew
cake boss, the art of chocolate fondant,
the mafia
so rich and chewy
mafia,
the true american dream
richness and trophies and abraham
the mob engulfs the flames of life.
Nigel asleep in his room
sound, it wakes him
Nigel, he says
remember the naked chef
remember him
forever
Nigel goes downstairs
pours a glass of milk
grabs a cupcake
one boxed
he cries a tear of shame
as he remembers
Jamie Oliver
his queen
his Kingsley
his Oakley
his larry
his life
was a box of chocolate
he grabbed the caramel
but was greedy and seized the brie also
it was a sad day
as Nigel fell
off the cliff of life
into a hovel of doom...
the mob,
Nigel,
all attached
no way out
Brie
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 8:46 PM UTC
This poem is called I think oreos might be better then ***
Even though that's not what the titled said
smooth and crunchy
chewy too
grind your teeth back and forth
eat that oreo
munch munch munch
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 12:19 AM UTC
crunchy, buttery,soft, chewy.
popcorn, popcorn oh how i love my popcorn.
happy it makes me to hear it pop, pop,pop
the smell of it wafts around me it makes me scream with delight.
popcorn, popcorn oh how i love my dear popcorn.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC
“- Bacon sammich -”
Ahhh, liddle green apple 'pon my plate,
**** you ain't ever gonna satiate
my hunger, lust, for something more,
bacon sammich,,you know the score,
Home made bread, cut nice n thick,
full fat butter, ooh yea, that's the trick !
streaky bacon, with chewy rind
just cut off, from a pig's behind,
Fry it up, with a liddle oil
but steady now, or it'll spoil,
not too crisp, n not too brown
coz it's a little rough, when going down,
n to top it off, it's best of course
to maybe add, a splash 'o sauce,
So alas liddle apple, 'pon my plate
I'm afraid for you, the bins your fate,
at the risk of a liddle wife's disquiet
it's a bacon sammich,,,,,fuck the diet.
Alan nettleton.
May 8, 2010
May 8, 2010 at 8:22 AM UTC
Gummy bear, gummy bear
soft and sweet
chewy and yummy
fun to eat
just so cute
all different colors
put them in your mouth
its like a rainbow thunder
cherry, berry, apple and peach
i love them all
give me more to eat
one at a time
they all go away
before you know it
your left with an empty bag
and a very sad face
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC
The Marshmallows decided to have a top Party
Dressed gaily in white, pink, red, green and yellow
They mingled and floated around looking arty-farty
We're going to dance in town not partying in a garage
And guess what, We won't invite Toffee he's not like us
Go melt and burn says Toffee with rightful disdain
who wants to party with a bunch of soft silly buffoons
Overblown and presumptuous you lot melt in the rain
Nothing to you all but egging and hot air you poltroon
Who wants to dance with mixed up softies with no brains
I am Toffee hot and hard and always ready for the bite
You can't lick me in a hurry and I take a while to crack
I am brown with brawn and brains and ready to fight
Got rhythm with the moves, tastes and flavours top whack
Not some boring twirls or stumps gathered together tight
Come try me if you dare and see me squash you down flat
I'll go into you hard your softness yielding like knife on butter
Can marsh you with my strength till you're nothing but mellow
Or stick to your puffy wooly state and squeeze you still flatter
Till you beg and squeal your surrender showing you're shallow
I am not like you and don't think, see, look or taste like you
I am brown and sweet, hard and chewy and I really don't care
For emulsified vain brainless no substance marshmallow tools
Who can only be brave and big when all packed together like
So go party and kid yourselves softies I don't party with fools
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 8:34 AM UTC
Chilly autumn mornings-
Kitchen tiles cold on my feet,
Baking bread and butter fill the air with laughs,
A recipe my grandma knew by heart,
Measured in pinches and handfuls,
Started before the sun had it's first cup of Joe,
I would sit by the heat vent,
With a blanket she knitted,
And try to warm up,
Gnawing on cinnamon rolls made from extra dough,
Chewy, unglazed, rich and tasty,
She taught me to love the art.
Aug 29, 2020
Aug 29, 2020 at 8:33 PM UTC
hands- ruff, hard
see- colors, half, suger
smell- good, sweet
hear- nothing
taste- chewy, cherry, orange, grap
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
oh little macaroon
with your shell of beaten egg whites
sweet swiss meringue buttercream filling peeks out of your sides
but still trying to hides it’s saccharine form
oh little macaroon
with your bright pink composure
you're perfect with no air pockets
sometimes you can be filled with savory chocolate
oh little macaroon
i don't know what to do with you
your so cute sitting there
without a care
i don't want to eat you up!
oh little macaroon
your smell has gotten the better of me
im so sorry!
i nibble your edge with a bit of regret
i've loved you since the moment we meet
and im sorry it must end
BUT I'M HUNGRY!
oh little macaroon
please forgive me for biting down on you
your crisp shell gives way to soft and chewy texture i've been craving all day
sweet artificial strawberry taste does not take hast to fill my mouth
without a doubt
this delightful creamy taste will stain the roof of my mouth with a rose tint
oh little macaroon
what's it like in my tummy?
just so you know you were oh so yummy!
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC
Can anarchy have empathy?
Yes, in our land of Aussies,
We say no wucking furries,
Always more snags on the barbie,
Still listen to a bit of Acca Dacca,
More burgers and fries from Maccas,
Frocked up in trackie dakkies,
Yes, it's the land of Aussies,
Our form of anarchy has empathy!
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 2:37 AM UTC
Take me up. Let the devil take me up, like the morning when we left ourselves. The ides are upon our lives, maybe backstabbing partners really won't pay the bills. The irreverent god, the irrelevant clause that speaks too soon, comes upon the midnight waning sky. Like the moonful of ham in the stock of the flesh, second helpings because I could not resist.
Pick me up. Pick me up. Like a devil born again in the flesh. Your womb is a rotten tomb of forced reclusion, I'm wide awake before I can even sleep. The Time, our heaven is pyre, we're in it now like you thought it had been. But the flesh never whispers when I tried to break it in, it only clung to me like pre-used clothing.
Write it up, tomorrow we make Japan. Tomorrow, the island is our vesper. Your nine lives have come, and you'd decided to trade all of your needs to please me. We intertwined into an elusive butterfly, you're dead inside my beak, chewy, squishy, crunchy meat. You're eleven but you've never tasted better.
Your lies are so stupid, I had to have you in supine. I had to lie to myself to placate me. I survived by being a witness to a life. A dusky, grayish shadow four feet yonder.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 2:29 AM UTC
some might call them
mongolian dumplings;
i just call them home;
chewy chow mein, bean spraut
nervous system geography;
oh but aren't you a home away
from home? so welcome,
to be adequately attired..
jolly gee... i better put on my
cowboy hat & shoes as to
just prove the chance of doing a rodeo!
well, you know how the english
just love to talk about travelling to las vegas
and... kentucky... for that juggled fried chicken...
mm yum! i better have me a spare
clown with those wagon tires!
no... wait... israel's coming! dicta dicta,
a non-existent Judah!
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
Its all cool beans and sour grapes,
Grandma left behind a lot.
"Its not enough to make the month",
But famines worse than
Not enough.
Fuzzy kinescope flashes
Of stone soup,
Beefy greens,
Leafy trees,
And
Chewy allusion.
Bathing in your memory
Like a honey moor.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 3:24 AM UTC
Sitting in the after-sun of a chair freshly rained on
Just starting to dry
Wet jeans, who cares, it's nice out
I'm going to read about Odysseus
And all his series of unfortunate events.
I was at the part in the underworld where
all the souls are drinking the blood offering and
giving their past-life histories
When I heard a crinkling,
And peering under the table, saw
a red squirrel (the kind only those who hate non-native species can truly dislike with a passion)
shuffling a cumbersome
brown candy, a milky way
in his handsome claws,
Whiskers twitching as he munched,
Like bouncing eyebrows,
Stuck with
Strands of chewy caramel.
He clutched at his high-calorie treasure,
spitting out gold and silver foil,
black, beady eyes, glistening greedily
as if to say "My precious"
Till he snatches up the last crumble
of chocolate.
I've sat watching-still so long
He approaches my foot
At which I call him a fat little squirrel
And he runs off, indignant
Leaving behind,
His
Desecrated Christmas package.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 6:07 PM UTC
Summer gets darker,
Sun begins to fade,
Our lives get more wise, through the dances of autumns haze.
Leaves fall off and a charmed aroma of sweet cider symphonies come down the trees unto hearts that bleed.
Enjoy the rich colors autumn brings, deep burgundy red, grape purple, golden bronze and chocolate sweetness floats into the air of a summoned season that we call Fall.
Delicious treats on our tongue touched pallets,
soft, warm, chewy cinnamon buns, red stains covering our lips from that glass bitten candy apple we bought at the fair. Smells of apple cider and maple syrup and our lovers kiss that is smooth like a pumpkin spice dream when my chap stick smothers your face in such delightful ways.
Sep 15, 2020
Sep 15, 2020 at 10:16 PM UTC
The eye was hurt plenty of times before.
In a hollow filled with nice things,
they overflowed, no one was a baby to a right hand.
In the other hand, field of moms trying so desperately to avoid babies,
moms setting all toilets and fingers as contraception,
moms anxious about boys and suspicious about girls.
Boys apparently had those pregnancy machines and girls were the neutral side,
boys just had to plant smarty seed to see what number would show in girls' innocent tummy.
Boys grow as engineers and the engines often roar like crazy,
though it is now different from what I was taught about girls.
-----------
-----------
Skin was just some other walls,
but, really, skin is marshmallow
even the softest tongue can destroy.
You know, tummy
isn't that really innocent either.
Tummy was a determined sister in a dim church,
tummy was mother mary and holy spirit,
tummy was not an apetite for what wasn't in the tabernacle.
Tummy now has cracked her shell, so I see inside,
apparently tummy has some other things beside a fertile empty land.
The gases and the blood are in different tunnels, though
there is something else about miss tummy womb.
She isn't at all neutral, she isn't at all an item of the season.
She softens every time it rains, she makes
her own weather in her own territory.
I now know, neutral was only the word stuck between scared parents' teeth,
neutral was only the gift we didn't know was a troll,
neutral was only a paradox in the most destructive way possible.
-----------
-----------
Careful with essentially hurtful words, we
sweat, with perfect heat,
as the skins melt into one giant chewy lump.
What I didn't know about skin was
that girls had skin too,
girls just were not in their element back then;
I think girls with metallic things were sinners just a little bit too checkmate,
I think girls were housewives just a little bit too godlike.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 7:09 AM UTC
Sit back, relax, these cravings make this couch feel like rehab
out of reach of my stash, feel like I'm crashin' but I already crashed
been here since work an' I can't feel my feet, crap!
Sit up, and remember everything that you tried to keep from thinkin' of
your account, the amount, dropping like doves
in these times of war, no heroes just ****** nerdin' out on the game of life
trying step it up on the score boards, tryin' ta live like lords in this world
that has no law, why not be an outlaw, tough cuffed, straight jaw
dealin' out pain like a war god, Kratos, dime bags is small tomatos
when you could push yayo, one call to my man and I could get a crateful.
****** if I ain't a salesman, slanging nuns chewy doobies on the side, call me satan
and I'm the king of this world, it's hell, try escapin', I could have it
in the palm a' my hand if I made a move but then I gotta choose, play my luck
trust my ******* gut to keep from getting cut, like it's my only homie but he only knows
me cause I was pushing dro with the stonies.
I don't want a knife in my back, a run in with the feds or getting popped by the caps
tryin' ta dodge traps laid by cats that is jealous of my stacks,
I want a paradise where we all make racks, blast our music, blaze it fat, and all rap
sleep with both eyes closed, no need to watch our back,
too bad we were born in a world ruled by cash,
ain't never gonna have a globe like that...
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 10:58 PM UTC