"panini" poems
shared portions:
two straws in one
glass
a panini split in
(even) halves
one bowl of soup
twice as many spoons
smooth butter finely spread
over generous slices of bread
(still warm)
all begins
the moment one
of us says
"hi"
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 4:17 PM UTC
A title, from the "Best of the Alternative Press"
After reading
I realize I'm not a woman after all
She can talk about the cruel things
men do to women
**** and ******
Then discuss draperies
in the next breath
how to organize your closet
Female Genital Mutilation in Africa
and her favorite appliance:
a Panini maker
I am supposed to rush into my kitchen
to make sure I have the same brand
"She understands how much women care about their houses"
I look around
I am happy here but
A new cake of soap doesn't send a thrill through my body
A fresh towel doesn't make me ******
I could make a grilled cheese sandwich
The way my ancestors, male and female have done
In a skillet with bread and cheese
If I squish it it, it becomes Panini
I check the mirror
I'm naked, and I see
I am a woman
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 9:39 PM UTC
This meal will be magic
worldwide skills, are no sort of tragic
for starters may I suggest
the spinach dip, you put to the test
Broccoli cheddar chowder
to help you recoup
but served with pit
I'd choose Mock Turtle soup
It's what mock turtle soup is made from
So your hungry?
But would never eat a horse
let me enlighten thee main course
It'll keep you lookin great, in your bikini
Its the sauteed jack, pita panini
Yet wait just a second
don't be so quick to cruise
for dessert your spirit will vigor
for my strawberry mousse
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 11:06 PM UTC
Her mocha sits across from my chai latte, milk and cinnamon under angel white foam shied by that coarse, mud brown elixr of caffeine and antioxidants. Her panini steams trails of chicken and grilled tomato through the air while my coconut and raspberry cake slice sits dense on the plate while I stab at it with a plastic fork; she stirs her drink with a partially engulfed spoon between sips. She texts her friends on the latest Apple extortion and I write jilted thoughts on the word processor of a smartphone that struggles to squeeze into the back pocket of my nameless jeans. The sugar clings to my throat as she fills hers with Silk Cut cigarette smoke. How do you read between these lines?
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 10:25 AM UTC
I'm a ciabatta, fresh and nice
Hot, pleasant, with a lovely spice
I'm to die for, a mouthwatering vault
Though, some take me with a grain of salt
I'm not your ordinary loaf of bread
"You're an odd bun," society said
Though every recipe has a flaw
Those flaws still make people awe
They're what make me who I am
A little over spicy but sweet like jam
I'm my own recipe, which I uniquely cook
With imperfections that are easy to overlook
Try to break me for my mess-ups; laugh
But remember, broken loaves are still tasty aff c:
Every slice a perfect dedication to the whole
It's natural, built into my beautiful soul
With lovely curves raised to imperfect perfection
An aura that fills the room in every direction
A welcoming presence that invites everyone
Come and gather, we'll all have fun!
I'm a hearty bun with a heart of bread
A soft and warm one that leaves love in its stead
I love making friends, they fill me with glee
But you're special, so you can call me Panini 🥪
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
First toes, then knees absorbing,
Lap, lapping.
Arms in motion,
hands still gripping as I stoop and
my board finds her ocean cradle.
Hands on deck.
Wade out, shuffle smooth as
my cool clear sanity rises up from
the earth and caresses my chest, wet.
Toes and arms again
but this time shoulders too
and I am up, out, on
laying on.
Pressed panini --
cool cheese wedge melting into steaming cut.
But peel kneel bend branch
and in a moment I am
so UP
reaching up, balancing up, up, up,
then scoop, paddle plunging
gurgling slurp of drink rattles chest.
Water for this thirst.
Cold compress for the earth.
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 3:01 PM UTC
cab cunningham tenía cincuenta años y un ciruelo
cuando descubrió la maldad
los ojos se le pusieron verdes la boca gris y azul alternativamente
daba señales como al empezar el día
eso no es todo:
del vientre le empezaron a subir vientos que lo hacían volar
y girar alrededor del planeta y de su casa
como un alma maldita o en pena que trabajara a todo tren
¡oh! cab cunningham no se hacía ninguna ilusión
con lágrimas secas regaba el ciruelo
que florecía de espaldas al asunto
peleando con los pájaros que lo venían a romper
eso daba música que cab cunningham escuchaba a la tarde a modo de consuelo
entre ciruelo y pájaros había una especie de tratado o misión
y prolongaban temores ruidos
miedos luchas elecciones furias
"¡oh cab!" solía decir cab
"he aquí que las casualidades que organizan tu cuerpo
son como los monos santos de Panini
caprichosos y verdaderos tristes"
decía cab cunningham y más
"oh carbono y nitrógeno detenidos por mí" decía
"¿oro serán ahora que termine? ¿adónde
irán ustedes huesos
o carne sangre ojo perfil dientes que era?"
nunca se supo adónde fueron o
qué fue de la congoja de cab cunningham los viernes por la tarde
cuando era hermoso y parecía encenderse
bajo el cielo imparcial
pero se supo lo siguiente:
toda la biología atada por cab cunningham
crepitó libre cuando murió
y áhi el ciruelo se detuvo
nunca más trabajó con los pájaros
nunca más hizo ruido, ciruelito
819
Why is it you choose to only yell at me
How come when Something goes wrong Im the only one your blind eyes can see
I mean ya it was me but only to a certain degree
You talk to them
but to me u act beastly
You say I can talk freely
But then stop me in my tracks saying u disagree
You throw my will around like a frisbee
And when I react you say "woah calm down love take a knee"
You love to preach how I can be "anything I wanna be"
Yet when I tell you
you act as if your the referee
Calling me back to reality
You cook me on the stove like I'm a panini
And yes that maybe have been a hyperbole
But It's like I'm trying to live my life without a short coming
And your killing me slowly
ur like a ***
In fact it feels like I'm throwing a party
But you don't like it so ur knocking on my door like ur the l.a.p.d
I'm Tryna rid u of my life a.s.ap
But I mean hey ur my parents and I'm and only fifteen
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 12:40 PM UTC
Domino’s as their fingers,
the numbers
eating from the menu,
squares and rounds
enjoined but not sequential
In the Jazzy Cat Café
(tail curled in my mouth)
You weren't there
The sun had dried all the tomato’s,
I was calling you unanswered
missing the rythmn of your character, and
how you reached me with each impulsive smile
remembering earlier how...
we’d climbed eleven steps to your apartment,
and entered not really sure of where to next...
In another room;
(wooden floored)
was stored a blackboard menu,
a hostess said her welcome
in the way that Sultans sometimes spin
I asked for panini without the mayo
the waiter stirred the perrier
the singer sang without destination
and implied no journey
I heard her song and
watched her lips
missing
all the ways
that you might sing
MChallis © 2015
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 6:21 AM UTC
quisiera saber por qué
en medio del amor a veces oigo
cómo un cuervo le dice a un hombre que
quiere verlo por un asunto importante
el cuervo se llama Laghupatanaka y
en el libro primero del Panchatantra se cuenta
que puede hacer casamiento y amistad entre iguales
pero no entre la comida y quien se la come
un *** se comió a Panini autor del cálculo diferencial
un elefante mató a Jaimini inventor del ciclotrón
un monstruo marino devoró a Pingala que conocía la electrónica
qué valen las virtudes para las bestias hambrientas
tampoco vale creer en las promesas
del enemigo, de la policía del gobierno del patrón
el rebaño sigue al elefante porque le tiene confianza
el *** es el rey del bosque pero nadie lo corteja
tampoco sé por qué estas reflexiones
caen como la nieve en Charing Cross donde te amo
y me hundo en ti como en un río
de ambrosías y leche y miel y te amo
no sé qué pasará con mis despojos pero
ellos se irán fuertemente marcados por
los días que me amaste y
la tristeza de ciertos pensamientos
624
We once owned a little mutt named Genie
on occasion we called her Genie Panini
we tried not to feed her table scraps n' stuff
but then again, I had her heart on my cuff
so once in a while, we gave her little bits
to keep at bay her continuous barking fits
Each night hubby would eat a bowl of cheerio
while watching T.V. or listening to the stereo
Genie watched intently eyes peeled to the bowl
the ritual worked well, for she never stole
he gave her 1, there was nothing she could do
so she crunched it while she lay beside his shoe
One day hubby went to answer the door and left
Genie hopped on the couch and left him bereft
she ate all the cheerios but she did leave him one
when he returned he saw an empty bowl no fun
He'd been outsmarted by a funny little Shih Tzu
with Pomeranian smack, who knew what to do.
Moral of the story: Never trust a dog, when it comes to food.
Feb. 7, 2021
Feb 7, 2021
Feb 7, 2021 at 8:04 AM UTC
We kissed,
Eyes closed, latticed arms’ unfurl,
Approaching was our bus.
Boarded, we three now parted,
Me with her,
She without the two of us.
Separated never astray,
Love’s pull,
Fills the silence when she’s away.
Strong our woven lace.
Shadows cast from above pass along the avenue in our wake,
Reminiscing the memories previously endured
When we three picnicked under the allure
Of ancient lovers’ shaded embrace.
In a garden encased
By braided weeping ficuses
When raindrops fell, not all could we forsake.
Dew searching to quench dryness
Single drops escaped the umbrellaing trees’ clutch.
Our shared meals together,
Seasoned by myths and tears from laughter
Nice to be under the influence of another who too, expresses such,
Impromptu panini, zagara scented beer, people watching, colored by wondrous smells
Palermitano street food; a one of kind cultural meld..
Buon pranzo to all, may yours be the same,
Each day a new life experience to share and claim.
PFL
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 10:26 AM UTC