"curds" poems
I watch the prom Dance,
In an awkward stance,
my friends walk in with dates,
and the excitement Abates.
Alone in a corner,
I mope like a mourner,
With no partner to dance with,
No gentleman to prance with.
Amidst the mirth and cheers,
My eyes fill up with tears.
I rush out into the open air,
And by Jove! I see Voltaire!
With his satirical charms,
He draws me in his arms.
As I sway to the beats,
I'm waltzing with Keats.
Causing my funny bone to arouse,
Enters P.G. Wodehouse!
Using nonchalant wittiness,
He acknowledges my prettiness.
And then walks in Shakespeare,
Who wipes away my tear,
And my senses curdle like curds,
As he showers me with words.
While I repress the excited child,
I'm swaying with Oscar Wilde.
I'm rendered helplessly mute,
With his phrases so astute.
With a proposal so verse-y,
I'm serenaded by Shelly B. Percy.
And before this fantasy can spoil,
I fox trot with Conan Doyle.
And thus literally seduced,
into putty I'm reduced.
I am platonic-ally smitten,
By the genius of what they've written.
The dating circus can’t make me cry,
because a host of paramours have I.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
Little Miss Muffet
Sits not on a tuffet
But on a Le Corbusier chair.
Curds and whey
Are not for her
As she is a vegan
And rarely eats between meals.
Along comes Spiderman,
Sits down on a sedan
And questions her
On all things entomological
And graphic novels.
And do you know what?
She is not afraid at all!
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
Sun up till sun down
Trapped in a perpetual frown
Moon comes then she goes
Drops free fall from my nose
Waking hours in the daylight
Aimless motions; clumsy, puppet-like
Waking hours in the night
Uncomfortable in my own skin and psych
Sleeplessness be my companion
Restlessness be my actions
Despondence be my demon
Crest fallen be my reason
Frantically sifting through my head
Vertically upright or supine in bed
Compartmentalising might be key
To fend off self inflicted insanity
Desperation hangs overhead; ripe and bruised
Excuses upon excuses ridiculously overused
Furiously typing before my mind curds
Hopes of finding peace in these unspoken words
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 10:45 PM UTC
It took just a few Leaves for me to see
The Wondrous Promise this Scribbler can do
My Kababayan: This Deep Legacy,
Honouring our Flag with Pen and Ink-Blue
But my, dear M'am! Such very Spicy Words,
Great enough to keep my Eyes glued to Browse
And Characters - Freaks Alive! Well that curds
Such Vain Trumpets most of Us do Live out
Now the Bubble breaks; And the West will know
That even from the Pearl, English is You
My Box-of-Thanks, sealed and delivered with Bow
Springs the Jack in Celebration of Youth.
My only Concern, I should have bought One
Let me end my Shift; And my Suweldo come.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:34 AM UTC
Gender ******
truth pretender
parents send her
life defender
he's a ******
slimy maggot
feeling ragged
bag and tag it
hurting words
spitting herds
cheezy curds
stupid nerds
mental case
dizzy space
ugly face
**** my race
Time to kneel
grab a feel
scary tweel
innocence steal
Eat a steak
garden rake
veggie snake
life forsake
Not pretend
we defend
savior send
the end
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 11:58 AM UTC
In Spain -
where cheese-making stretches back
to centuries
is a medium sized lump of
Sweet ******* Christ
blessed is the ******
whose womb merited to carry
our small herd of
hand-milked cows
providing milk, cheese, butter, and ice
and to Christians,
the lamb is the symbol of when
the pope and all the christian leadership
will be succeeded by
Moo Jesus
The Good Shepard draws not milk
not liquid from his sheep
but
an overview over Greek pagan
and Christian pastoral deities
then Christ went and
made the exorcism and
he sold in town all his
rriegitha cheese, his curds, his milk
I mentioned that The Green Sheep
had an ad coming out
in the body and blood of Christ
how could the shepherds resist
the temptation?
I was refusing the sacraments
mysticism is cheese
Christ is cheese
better still,
mountains of cheese!
Is your cheese killing the planet?
The Wedding of the Dead:
Celebration and Restraint
Christ stopped at Ebola
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
I know a guy,
he is a friend.
Whom the cops often have to,
apprehend.
He used to do
some crazy ****
But now he doesn't do most of it.
I know you are thinking,
who is this man.
He is a friend who drives a van.
Although not to pick up kids with treats,
he uses his ride to satisfy his needs.
Which includes dolphin collecting,
live or dead,
he's always selecting.
Vaping real hard
every single day,
is how he spends,
his hard worked pay.
His job is selling,
illegal pelts
of rare albino beavers.
He sets up traps
and waits in the bushes
with an over sized cleaver.
Stalking and waiting for the perfect catch,
he watches the ****** closely.
And right as it comes into reach,
he slits the baby's throat boldly. (baby ****** not a real baby.)
My friend makes his way to the flee market,
where he sells the pelts.
He greets his customers happily,
as the beavers hang from his belt.
Blood on his hands and pride in his eyes,
he knows he's got a great prize.
The money rolls in,
and he know it is true,
that night he will party
until his lungs are blue,
(due to the fat rips he'll be vaping)
On the weekends when he's not working,
he hops into his van,
and drives to the border,
to make sure no illegals are lurking.
Loving his country with deep passion,
my friend protects us,
with the guns he has stashed in. (his van.)
After his duty is fulfilled,
he spends the rest of his time,
all alone,
drinking gallons
of acetone.
Then in the big city
he streaks for hours,
with bags of broken glass,
that he likes to devour.
I totally agree,
my friend is insane,
and on his family,
his acts cause great pain.
Although,
he treats his slaves
with a lot of respect,
and he gives porridge to the
needy and other rejects.
He's better than me,
because I like to suffocate,
small injured birds.
And barge into restaurants,
to steal cheese curds.
But my friend is the best,
friend he can be,
as I described in this poem,
that you can see.
Unless you are blind or stupid,
or don't have anyone to read you this,
just know that my friend,
has your children in his shed,
and they'll sadly be missed.
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 4:23 PM UTC
Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
Take from the dresser of deal,
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her ***** feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
4.3k
If Jesus had a casino
I'd be a holy roller
Swag, swag
Swag
Got so much cheddar
I be making cheese curds
Praise be to the based god
Yung trap lord
Action Bronson
The holy trinity
SSwag od
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
--To C. M.
Fountains that frisk and sprinkle
The moss they overspill;
Pools that the breezes crinkle;
The wheel beside the mill,
With its wet, weedy frill;
Wind-shadows in the wheat;
A water-cart in the street;
The fringe of foam that girds
An islet's ferneries;
A green sky's minor thirds--
To live, I think of these!
Of ice and glass the ******
Pellucid, silver-shrill;
Peaches without a wrinkle;
Cherries and snow at will,
From china bowls that fill
The senses with a sweet
Incuriousness of heat;
A melon's dripping sherds;
Cream-clotted strawberries;
Dusk dairies set with curds--
To live, I think of these!
Vale-lily and periwinkle;
Wet stone-crop on the sill;
The look of leaves a-twinkle
With windlets clear and still;
The feel of a forest rill
That wimples fresh and fleet
About one's naked feet;
The muzzles of drinking herds;
Lush flags and bulrushes;
The chirp of rain-bound birds--
To live, I think of these!
Envoy
Dark aisles, new packs of cards,
Mermaidens' tails, cool swards,
Dawn dews and starlit seas,
White marbles, whiter words--
To live, I think of these!
3.9k
Peasant clothes and peasant shoes,
Hardly bathed and poorly used.
Resting in coal and eating curds,
All she had left were her learned words.
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 5:01 AM UTC
I do not swear because I am
A sweet and sober guy;
I cannot vent a single ****
However hard I try.
And in viruperative way,
Though I recall it well,
I never, never, never say
A naughty word like hell.
To rouse my wrath you need not try,
I'm milder than a lamb;
However you may rile me I
Refuse to say: ******
In circumstances fury-fraught
My tongue is always civil,
And though you goad me I will not
Consign you to the divvle.
An no, I never, never swear;
Profanity don't pay;
To cuss won't get you anywhere,
(And neither will to pray.)
And so all blasphemy I stem.
When milk of kindness curds:
But though I never utter them -
Gosh! how I know the words.
3.3k
This is an ode for chicks who tough it,
About an empowered Little Miss Muffet,
Sitting alone there on her tuffet,
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her,
Or was he a predator?
What was he after her for?
So, she said to the spider,
Who sat down beside her,
"Rak off, hairy legs!
Don't even beg!
Less is more, less is more,
P.O.Q. , you naughty predator!"
And she ate her own curds and whey!
Empowering Miss Muffets these days,
Hopefully, us old bags do say......
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
Rose Red's hair is brown as fur
and shines in firelight as she prepares
supper of honey and apples, curds and whey,
for the bear, and leaves it ready
on the hearth-stone.
Rose White's grey eyes
look into the dark forest.
Rose Red's cheeks are burning,
sign of her ardent, joyful
compassionate heart.
Rose White is pale,
turning away when she hears
the bear's paw on the latch.
When he enters, there is
frost on his fur,
he draws near to the fire
giving off sparks.
Rose Red catches the scent of the forest,
of mushrooms, of rosin.
Together Rose Red and Rose White
sing to the bear;
it is a cradle song, a loom song,
a song about marriage, about
a pilgrimage to the mountains
long ago.
Raised on an elbow,
the bear stretched on the hearth
nods and hums; soon he sighs
and puts down his head.
He sleeps; the Roses
bank the fire.
Sunk in the clouds of their feather bed
they prepare to dream.
Rose Red in a cave that smells of honey
dreams she is combing the fur of her cubs
with a golden comb.
Rose White is lying awake.
Rose White shall marry the bear's brother.
Shall he too
when the time is ripe,
step from the bear's hide?
Is that other, her bridegroom,
here in the room?
3.1k
Each has meaning to one or all of us
personally
all i learned of these
i read as i grew
these fun loving rhymes
have some meaning or other
so i put these up
to bring out the childish side!!
:) <3 :) <3 :) <3 :) <3 :) <3 :) <3 :) <3
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
When the blazing sun is gone,
When the nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
Then the traveller in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark,
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.
In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye,
Till the sun is in the sky.
As your bright and tiny spark,
Lights the traveller in the dark.
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
How I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
How I wonder what you are.
How I wonder what you are.
Jack be Nimble
Jack be Nimble
Jack, be nimble,
Jack, be quick,
Jack, jump over
The candlestick. Jack jumped high
Jack jumped low
Jack jumped over
and burned his toe.
Do You Know The Muffin Man
Do you know the Muffin Man,
The Muffin Man,
The Muffin Man?
Do you know the Muffin Man
Who lives in Drury Lane?
Yes, I know the Muffin Man,
The Muffin Man,
The Muffin Man.
Yes, I know the Muffin Man
Who lives in Drury Lane.
Humpty Dumpty
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again.
Hush Little Baby
Hush, little baby, don't say a word,
Mama's going to buy you
a mockingbird.
And if that mockingbird won't sing,
Mama's going to buy you
a diamond ring.
And if that diamond ring turns brass,
Mama's going to buy you
a looking glass.
And if that looking glass gets broke,
Mama's going to buy you a billy goat.
And if that billy goat won't pull,
Mama's going to buy you
a cart and bull.
And if that cart and bull turn over,
Mama's going to buy you
a dog named Rover.
And if that dog named Rover
won't bark,
Mama's going to buy you
a horse and cart.
And if that horse and cart fall down,
You'll still be the sweetest
little baby in town.
Little Miss Muffet
Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey;
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
i’m fighting with gravity
to the death- until my head rests,
empty as my belly
on this false-porcelain floor-
skin waxy as laminate over
these heavy hollow bones
waiting for freedom-
liberation from this sullen casing.
i shake, manic-
blood pressure in the basement,
nauseous from diet pills and anxiety.
jittery, stare at the ceiling-
a spider, stick-limbed, teases me,
but here’s the silver lining:
no curds or whey coating
my shining insides.
i am stronger and brighter than ever
as black swims in my vision-
light-headed from malnutrition,
i wrap fingers around my wrists
to make sure i haven’t escaped my limits.
the mirror doesn’t lie, but it won’t snitch.
we’ll keep this surreptitious.
spilling my bloodred guts, my blood,
won’t make me wither,
and confessing won't save me either.
this red ribbon stays tied around my wrist.
secrets kept keep me stable
clinging to my only success,
self-confidence cellophane-wrapped
in my absence, my transparence.
the whispers don’t mean a thing.
i am frantic on a wire frame,
white noise on parade.
the ground can only hold me for so long.
i'll sprout wings from my ribcage
and float away.
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 7:53 PM UTC
The sun is hiding away from the Moon
The dish found the courage to divorce the spoon
Little Bo Peep is left alone with her sheep
But doesn't know if they are going to stay
Little Miss Muffet is crying into her curds and whey
Jack cheated on Jill
So she pushed him down the hill
The grand old duke heard the news
and locked her up in jail
Humpty Dumpty was having a snooze
Fell off the wall, now can't afford to pay the bail
The Poor old egg is yet to be mended
So the fairytale has ended
Goldylocks accused the bears of being violent
But she's a trespassing theive so the town stayed silent
The wolf got tired of knocking the pigs houses down
So they go to the pub and it's always his round
Some have broken hearts and some are befriended
One things for sure, the fairytale has ended
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 5:34 PM UTC
She puts the Drag in "Drag Queen"
A handbag fiend, full of lipstick
syringes sequins
kleenex and a ***** trick
Metal bells tin rattle
at the edges of her words and white milk curds
--A Cursive of Sensation--
in the girl's bathroom
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
asks "what kind of man are you?"
Marie can throw a stone and always take down two
Mascara leaves ***** streaks
down cotton ball cheeks
sitting on the floor of the stall bang banging her head against the wall
She lets it go again
Nine lives, nine times out of ten
At work, at home
And back to the hospital again
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 10:20 PM UTC
Evil Tales
So you think, you know who I am,
I killed Mary, and ate her little lamb.
I killed Goldilocks and ate the three bears,
then dumped the porridge down the stairs.
I pushed Humpty Dumpty off that wall,
I'm the reason for his great fall.
I'm the one who killed Bambi's mother,
that deer tasted like no other.
I put the poison in Snow White's apple,
the blood from the seven dwarfs,
I put in every red Snapple.
I chopped off all of Rapunzel's hair,
yes I know that wasn't fair.
I'm the father of Cinderella's step sisters,
after midnight I gave her some cold sore blisters.
I put Sleeping Beauty fast asleep,
then ran her over in my new Jeep.
Georgie Porgie kissed the girls and made them cry,
that is the reason, he had to die.
Little Miss Muffet ate her curds and whey,
it was my spider who had a Muffet buffet.
Jack and Jill went up the hill,
I pushed Jack down and gave Jill a thrill.
Little Red Riding Hood went to Grandma's house,
then the big bad Allen pulled up her red blouse.
The Three Little Pigs never had a chance,
I huffed and puffed and ate pork til I **** my pants.
This old man, he played one,
knick, knack, paddy whack,
then my dog ate his thumb,
There was an Old Woman who lived in a shoe,
then one day, I filled it with crazy glue.
I killed Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy,
inside my head is very, very scary.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 2:59 AM UTC
From within a blackened heart
spawns madnesses twisted Invictus,
a severed head sat atop a plinth, filled
with decaying thoughts of cyanide and citrus,
completely crazy, inverted, perverted,
infected with an insanity that dances from the eyes -
pouting lips tempestuous and alluring
from the tip of a tongue he sews insidious lies,
roosting upon the bleeding emotions of others
a vile disassociation sanity can't pertain,
charred lips from suckling the ******* of Hell
the back-broke miracle nature refuses to explain,
exhaling noxious fumes, a pyro-manic incense,
one soul re-arranged, deranged and blisteringly intense;
so much so, it disgusts me beyond words -
so kick the rotten apple,
watch the maggots writhe within thou sour curds.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC
Oh, I love so many peoples' words
They make me feel like I'm not alone
But my own feel like whey and curds
Sometimes good, but usually just fine
To be saved for a sucky nursery rhyme
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey.
The little dog laughed,
"Jack, jump over the candlestick."
Along came a spider,
the cat and the fiddle,
who sat down beside her
and frightened Miss Muffet away.
"Hey, ****** ******
"Yes sir, yes sir."
Jack be nimble
Who lives down the lane.
Baa, baa, black sheep,
Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring,
and one for the little boy
who lives in Drury Lane.
All the king's horses and all the king's men;
To see such sport,
don't say a word.
"Have you any wool?"
"Do you know the Muffin Man?"
"Three bags full."
And if that diamond ring turns brass,
Jack, be quick,
Mama's going to buy you a looking glass.
One for the master,
Mama's going to buy you a mockingbird.
One for the dame,
Mama's going to buy you a billy goat.
Jack jumped high
The cow jumped over the moon.
Jack jumped low
And the dish ran away with the spoon.
Jack be nimble,
Mama's going to buy you a cart and bull.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Jack jumped over and burned his toe.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
And if that horse and cart fall down,
Hush, little baby,
one little Indian boy
couldn't put Humpty together again.
And if that mockingbird won't sing,
ring a ring o' roses,
and if that looking glass gets broke,
you'll still be the sweetest.
Tom, Tom, the piper's son,
did you ever see such a sight in your life,
as three blind mice
stole a pig, and away did run.
And if that billy goat won't pull
a dog named Rover,
see how they run,
they all ran after the farmer's wife,
and Tom was beat.
And if that cart and bull turn over,
and the pig was eat,
and Tom went crying,
Mama's going to buy you
A pocketful of posies.
And if that dog named Rover won't bark
down the street,
One little, two little, three little Indians,
Mama's going to buy you a horse and cart.
Much wants more, and loses all,
little baby in town.
Three blind mice,
who cut off their tails with a carving knife,
see how they run.
We all fall down.
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 8:31 PM UTC
Cheese
Simply fermented
Curds and whey, minus the whey
Fantastic with meat
And fruit
And bread
Creamy, sweet, and soft
Or
Sharp , hard, and strong
Fancy, or plain
Expensive, artisan, specialised
Cheap, processed, conformed
Cheesey, cheesey, cheese
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 7:57 AM UTC
About that starting lineup,
well I think I missed the gun
but just as well
took off for other places~
I longed for mountains majesty
and all those things I hoped to see,
while others stayed
and loved familiar faces.
Some married and they bore their young,
or college-bound for work and fun
or tragedy,
well sometimes God just loses me~
The question of my failure
to connect with just one sailor,
what the heck, but strangely so,
it still amuses me.
I ponder of a hope,
that it's still possible,
within your scope,
and grateful for eleventh hour breakthroughs~
Still don't get what you wrote to me,
I bungled at the spelling bee,
you say the thing I'll get, is what I choose?
My mind it travels to and fro,
the world it feeds the input though,
and we must press the whey out from the curds~
And so I speak in vagaries,
of things to come which I can't see
but speak into reality,
if only by my words.
The power of the word,
to mezmerize and heal the hurt,
your eyes are beautiful
they've looked into my soul~
The wonder of your gaze,
it touches places, Dear,
I'd rather not be writing of,
our love, like epic poetry,
too much to share in whole.
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 9:52 AM UTC