"seasoning" poems - Hello Poetry

"seasoning" poems

Before long the summer sun will rise in London Like the half of the Ge meets the other half. Like a magic by the Lamp of Aladdin The love flame hidden in the chest lights up! Like a blooming rose in a glowing beam of light, Like a smiling face speaks a gentle word, Like a beautiful sunrise colour in the first light! The summer in London will pop and sizzle We will see a threshold in our land. The rose for a while is tucked away Off the winter and is given to the sun Winter is not forever spring is on the corner Come back in the sun with the early bird Before Cinderella takes on the primrose path. Keeping an eye on a thriller is in the winter’s field Oozy ozone misty land gets a gingerly seasoning What on earth will it strike, will it dish out? Ah, the sun will pop out like a river breeze. Like a southern song singing on a dream scene. a smooth fairy dance facing the Moon a thrill of exposing Stonehenge once and for all a melodious raindrop in the serene pond a butterfly dance on the rose a turned on tall tale of the blue peacock Like a pure belief in heaven without a pinch of salt!

0

Mar 21, 2017

Mar 21, 2017 at 10:37 AM UTC

Summer in London

Before long the summer sun will rise in London Like the half of the Ge meets the other half. Like a magic by the Lamp of Aladdin The love flame hidden in the chest lights up! Like a blooming rose in a glowing beam of light, Like a smiling face speaks a gentle word, Like a beautiful sunrise colour in the first light! The summer in London will pop and sizzle We will see a threshold in our land. The rose for a while is tucked away Off the winter and is given to the sun Winter is not forever spring is on the corner Come back in the sun with the early bird Before Cinderella takes on the primrose path. Keeping an eye on a thriller is in the winter’s field Oozy ozone misty land gets a gingerly seasoning What on earth will it strike, will it dish out? Ah, the sun will pop out like a river breeze. Like a southern song singing on a dream scene. a smooth fairy dance facing the Moon a thrill of exposing Stonehenge once and for all a melodious raindrop in the serene pond a butterfly dance on the rose a turned on tall tale of the blue peacock Like a pure belief in heaven without a pinch of salt!

Continue reading...

*be ever gentle to thy words treat them, your tools, well, cleansing and protecting, wrapping them in cloths of chamois and moleskin that they may be well conditioned and pour forth with a temperament clear and viscous, reflecting their high honors and a noble lineage, they are well-intentioned to exist far longer than your meager temporal life, upon this ever hasty, ever perpetual, orbit give them all respect, their fair due, they are treasure immeasurable, for which you have been granted guardianship, custody received from others to be gifted onwards, yours, but for the duration so oft we trifle words, expel them from the country of our body, without passport and earnestness, as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler, day tourists, to be treated as leavings, refuse for daily discardation, barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance, but leaving not, a mark of distinction more truffle than trifle, find them in the dark forest of your life, use them sparingly, just for soaring, take them from the roots of your trees, shave them with a paring knife, counts them in bites and measure them in grams, even in grains, for words are the seasoning of our lives, agent provacateurs that can modify the moment, bringing out to the fore the flavor of the underlying speak them slow and distinct, for they arrive slow to you, a trickling of refugees for your sheltering, harbor them as full companions, protected by natural law, provision them well, prepared and ever ready for a quick departure, moor them at the embarcadero, for the next restless leg of endlessness, which they themselves will inform you will last longer than eternity, long after there are no humans to speak them*

0

Oct 10, 2015

Oct 10, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC

oh poet! be ever gentle to thy words...

*be ever gentle to thy words treat them, your tools, well, cleansing and protecting, wrapping them in cloths of chamois and moleskin that they may be well conditioned and pour forth with a temperament clear and viscous, reflecting their high honors and a noble lineage, they are well-intentioned to exist far longer than your meager temporal life, upon this ever hasty, ever perpetual, orbit give them all respect, their fair due, they are treasure immeasurable, for which you have been granted guardianship, custody received from others to be gifted onwards, yours, but for the duration so oft we trifle words, expel them from the country of our body, without passport and earnestness, as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler, day tourists, to be treated as leavings, refuse for daily discardation, barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance, but leaving not, a mark of distinction more truffle than trifle, find them in the dark forest of your life, use them sparingly, just for soaring, take them from the roots of your trees, shave them with a paring knife, counts them in bites and measure them in grams, even in grains, for words are the seasoning of our lives, agent provacateurs that can modify the moment, bringing out to the fore the flavor of the underlying speak them slow and distinct, for they arrive slow to you, a trickling of refugees for your sheltering, harbor them as full companions, protected by natural law, provision them well, prepared and ever ready for a quick departure, moor them at the embarcadero, for the next restless leg of endlessness, which they themselves will inform you will last longer than eternity, long after there are no humans to speak them*

Continue reading...

*consciously, willfully, I wish it quietly the Sunday, the sun day, drifts toward, in its natural game, set, overmatched, the foregone conclusion, nightfall diminishment the water songfully swishes, as the tide departs for places unknown, this then, now the only natural authorized aural apparition, the power boats renounce their normal noisy conditioning, honoring their silenced, under-sail brethren, as well as admitting their noises disfigure the fast approaching majesty of the end of our summer seasoning of humanity consciously, willfully, I wish it once again, lush is the quietude,^ now given up, surrendered and surceased to wonder, how come I to write of these moments so oft, thenever-ending quest to re-inscribe it on my sensibilities, in vainglorious hopes that this stamping will last, be the last, see me through the turgid frigidity of my Lucifer life, come the fall, the winter, the early dark, the daylight's brevity, the hurricane season of the mind, that...need I say more? consciously, willfully, I wish it the particular white cloud formation of the moment at hand, shall stay in place, be the capstone of my summer living vision, become permanent part and parcel of the sclera, the white of my eyes, and when I will write, soon enough, my vision white weeping clouded, you will weep knowingly, sympathetically consciously, willfully, I wish for that as well* 8/27/17 6:35pm

0

Aug 29, 2017

Aug 29, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC

the lush peace and quiet of volition, on a Sunday afternoon

*consciously, willfully, I wish it quietly the Sunday, the sun day, drifts toward, in its natural game, set, overmatched, the foregone conclusion, nightfall diminishment the water songfully swishes, as the tide departs for places unknown, this then, now the only natural authorized aural apparition, the power boats renounce their normal noisy conditioning, honoring their silenced, under-sail brethren, as well as admitting their noises disfigure the fast approaching majesty of the end of our summer seasoning of humanity consciously, willfully, I wish it once again, lush is the quietude,^ now given up, surrendered and surceased to wonder, how come I to write of these moments so oft, thenever-ending quest to re-inscribe it on my sensibilities, in vainglorious hopes that this stamping will last, be the last, see me through the turgid frigidity of my Lucifer life, come the fall, the winter, the early dark, the daylight's brevity, the hurricane season of the mind, that...need I say more? consciously, willfully, I wish it the particular white cloud formation of the moment at hand, shall stay in place, be the capstone of my summer living vision, become permanent part and parcel of the sclera, the white of my eyes, and when I will write, soon enough, my vision white weeping clouded, you will weep knowingly, sympathetically consciously, willfully, I wish for that as well* 8/27/17 6:35pm

Continue reading...

I reserved a table for the two of us at the only restaurant in the world that not only offers atmosphere and setting but tone and syntax as well. First some articles for appetizers. They're easiest on my pocket you know. An an, a the, and an a. Let's not even start on the punctuation, I'm treating you to a rather large meal. As large as the entire English language, now back to the articles. Sure these taste like lint but they still taste. Petit fours but there you are. Try to be disinterested or you'll put me off my food. Nouns now. My, what a variety. Bit meaty, eh? These have staying power. They taste like a bit of everywhere, and everyone, and everything. What's that? Surely they're not that bland. Maybe you need some seasoning. "Adjective" comes from the French for "to the word." So exotic aren't they? These really are fantastic. Exquisite, unique, zesty to say the least. You must admit, they make the meal worth it. I hope you're not allergic, I could have sworn I just had something "nutty." Oh, it had nuts "in it"? There must be some prepositions mixed in here. (I'm glad we're getting through these now, I've never been a big fan of them. When I was a kid, I would always push my prepositions to the end of my sentences. You just can't do that in a joint like this, it seems.) Ah finally. The verbs are served. Well-prepared it would seem. Yes, anything you can do to a verb they've done to these. Infinitives (too good to realistically be believed!), gerunds, and participles (No, not particles. But we did have some of those at the Japanese restaurant.) Fairly lean too, as I can't see any auxiliary fat. For some reason those adverbs (just to your left, under that thesaurus) really go well with this. Plus those adjectives from earlier, rather pleasantly. Now a brief selection of conjunctions, but don't ruin yourself. They're not a meal of themselves, just a link to... Oh! Look at those interjections. So delicate, so (Wow!) incisive. I told you to keep your appetite. Well, just try a little of this. Goodness, me! And then everyone proceeds to die from a split infinitive.

0

Mar 21, 2010

Mar 21, 2010 at 7:44 PM UTC

I Eat my Words.

I reserved a table for the two of us at the only restaurant in the world that not only offers atmosphere and setting but tone and syntax as well. First some articles for appetizers. They're easiest on my pocket you know. An an, a the, and an a. Let's not even start on the punctuation, I'm treating you to a rather large meal. As large as the entire English language, now back to the articles. Sure these taste like lint but they still taste. Petit fours but there you are. Try to be disinterested or you'll put me off my food. Nouns now. My, what a variety. Bit meaty, eh? These have staying power. They taste like a bit of everywhere, and everyone, and everything. What's that? Surely they're not that bland. Maybe you need some seasoning. "Adjective" comes from the French for "to the word." So exotic aren't they? These really are fantastic. Exquisite, unique, zesty to say the least. You must admit, they make the meal worth it. I hope you're not allergic, I could have sworn I just had something "nutty." Oh, it had nuts "in it"? There must be some prepositions mixed in here. (I'm glad we're getting through these now, I've never been a big fan of them. When I was a kid, I would always push my prepositions to the end of my sentences. You just can't do that in a joint like this, it seems.) Ah finally. The verbs are served. Well-prepared it would seem. Yes, anything you can do to a verb they've done to these. Infinitives (too good to realistically be believed!), gerunds, and participles (No, not particles. But we did have some of those at the Japanese restaurant.) Fairly lean too, as I can't see any auxiliary fat. For some reason those adverbs (just to your left, under that thesaurus) really go well with this. Plus those adjectives from earlier, rather pleasantly. Now a brief selection of conjunctions, but don't ruin yourself. They're not a meal of themselves, just a link to... Oh! Look at those interjections. So delicate, so (Wow!) incisive. I told you to keep your appetite. Well, just try a little of this. Goodness, me! And then everyone proceeds to die from a split infinitive.

Continue reading...

I sit on the step And draw The cold around me Like a blanket, Savouring the numbness And the heat That begins within. Swallowed by the night Drunk on wine And stars. Hot tears on cold cheeks. Seasoning for Chapped lips Stinging Bringing fresh tears. I take refuge In the silence, Under the gaze of Sympathetic eyes. My friends. My constant companions. Drunk on wine And stars.

0

Nov 19, 2015

Nov 19, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC

On wine and stars

I sit on the step And draw The cold around me Like a blanket, Savouring the numbness And the heat That begins within. Swallowed by the night Drunk on wine And stars. Hot tears on cold cheeks. Seasoning for Chapped lips Stinging Bringing fresh tears. I take refuge In the silence, Under the gaze of Sympathetic eyes. My friends. My constant companions. Drunk on wine And stars.

Continue reading...

3-2-2017 (unknown date of origin) Something's wrong... you don't belong here. I said, looking down at the pineapple on my pizza. I said, looking down at the ketchup on my macaroni. I said, looking down at the cream of mushroom soup on my meatloaf. He said, looking down at me and my boyfriend, holding hands in public. Like I'm a creep. I'm a ****** What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. You see there's these things that we learn at the dinner table. When we're kids we have certain items served to us on our plates. Whatever doesn't end up there, isn't a part of the discussion. After all, they say if you don't have a seat at the table, you are likely to be on the menu. So, when ****** orientation and gender identity aren't seated at the table of childhood, they get served for the first time in unexpected places. Like an avante garde celebrity chef's designer meal, prepared for critiques by the food bloggers. They get served in college classroom debates or in dorm rooms with freshman roommates. They're on the menu in in some movies but served with a side of stereotypes and silly trope toppings. They get grinded into glitter dust sprinkled on the annual PRIDE Parades like an overly salty seasoning mix. They're on the menu in workplace diversity trainings, but too little too late - they get lost in the marginalized buffet. They get served at the oppression Olympics, or actually at the Olympics unwillingly by a journalist who only pretends to eat a well-balanced diet, but really has LGBT food allergies, if you know what I mean. In reality, these should be staple dishes consumed by commoners, consumed by you and me, consumed by children along with their healthy daily dose of broccoli and cauliflower, squash and zucchini, even eggplant. They should be in every ******* cookbook with pictures and all different kinds of recipes! I want every child to have gay on their dinner plate, lesbian lunch, gender nonconforming on the brunch menu, and bisexual breakfast. And everything in between in the queer spectrum served during snack breaks. I want every child to look down at their plate and see pineapple pizza and say, gee that looks great! I love all of the pizza toppings, no matter whether gay or nay. ... except for anchovies, of course.

0

Mar 2, 2017

Mar 2, 2017 at 4:28 AM UTC

Pineapple Pizza

3-2-2017 (unknown date of origin) Something's wrong... you don't belong here. I said, looking down at the pineapple on my pizza. I said, looking down at the ketchup on my macaroni. I said, looking down at the cream of mushroom soup on my meatloaf. He said, looking down at me and my boyfriend, holding hands in public. Like I'm a creep. I'm a ****** What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. You see there's these things that we learn at the dinner table. When we're kids we have certain items served to us on our plates. Whatever doesn't end up there, isn't a part of the discussion. After all, they say if you don't have a seat at the table, you are likely to be on the menu. So, when ****** orientation and gender identity aren't seated at the table of childhood, they get served for the first time in unexpected places. Like an avante garde celebrity chef's designer meal, prepared for critiques by the food bloggers. They get served in college classroom debates or in dorm rooms with freshman roommates. They're on the menu in in some movies but served with a side of stereotypes and silly trope toppings. They get grinded into glitter dust sprinkled on the annual PRIDE Parades like an overly salty seasoning mix. They're on the menu in workplace diversity trainings, but too little too late - they get lost in the marginalized buffet. They get served at the oppression Olympics, or actually at the Olympics unwillingly by a journalist who only pretends to eat a well-balanced diet, but really has LGBT food allergies, if you know what I mean. In reality, these should be staple dishes consumed by commoners, consumed by you and me, consumed by children along with their healthy daily dose of broccoli and cauliflower, squash and zucchini, even eggplant. They should be in every ******* cookbook with pictures and all different kinds of recipes! I want every child to have gay on their dinner plate, lesbian lunch, gender nonconforming on the brunch menu, and bisexual breakfast. And everything in between in the queer spectrum served during snack breaks. I want every child to look down at their plate and see pineapple pizza and say, gee that looks great! I love all of the pizza toppings, no matter whether gay or nay. ... except for anchovies, of course.

Continue reading...

You warmth slips past my eager lips as I take you in, Your fall spice tickles my senses as I sigh, falling into the joy of our annual ceremony. I am not alone in my adoration of you, but I do not grow jealous as others call your name, Rather I find a sort of community in our shared appreciation, Like a perfect song you were meant for the world, not one, Yet each of us singular in the definition of our experience with you. And so I wet my lips, again tasting the hint of a memory of your last kiss, I prepare to brave that soft beacon hill of whipped cream topped with a seasoning so familiar yet unknown.

0

Sep 23, 2014

Sep 23, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC

Odd to Pumpkin Spice Latte

You warmth slips past my eager lips as I take you in, Your fall spice tickles my senses as I sigh, falling into the joy of our annual ceremony. I am not alone in my adoration of you, but I do not grow jealous as others call your name, Rather I find a sort of community in our shared appreciation, Like a perfect song you were meant for the world, not one, Yet each of us singular in the definition of our experience with you. And so I wet my lips, again tasting the hint of a memory of your last kiss, I prepare to brave that soft beacon hill of whipped cream topped with a seasoning so familiar yet unknown.

Continue reading...

Fresh out of the oven! It tastes so good when it comes out so fresh. Just a little bit of seasoning, And it will be tasting so good! It is the besta pizza in the world! Come on down and taste the besta pizza in the world right here! You look so tasty, You look so **** tasty. I want to put you in my mouth, Because you look so tasty! You look so god **** tasty! I lift you carefully up to my quivering lip. Water cracks through my concealed ravinous face. I wrap my mouth around you, and bite into an explosion of flavor! It is the besta pizza! Come get it while it is hot! I like to play dominoes on pizza, it is the besta. It gives it so much more flavor.

0

Mar 3, 2019

Mar 3, 2019 at 7:39 PM UTC

MisfitOfSociety

Dominoes On Pizza

Fresh out of the oven! It tastes so good when it comes out so fresh. Just a little bit of seasoning, And it will be tasting so good! It is the besta pizza in the world! Come on down and taste the besta pizza in the world right here! You look so tasty, You look so **** tasty. I want to put you in my mouth, Because you look so tasty! You look so god **** tasty! I lift you carefully up to my quivering lip. Water cracks through my concealed ravinous face. I wrap my mouth around you, and bite into an explosion of flavor! It is the besta pizza! Come get it while it is hot! I like to play dominoes on pizza, it is the besta. It gives it so much more flavor.

Continue reading...

I want two bottle nutella I want three pack of skittles I want two Pepsi I want fried chicken with cajun seasoning I want lasagna Mostly i want foods

0

Jan 3, 2015

Jan 3, 2015 at 9:27 PM UTC

thewomanyouleftbehind

I want two bottle nutella I want three pack of skittles I want two Pepsi I want fried chicken with cajun seasoning I want lasagna Mostly i want foods

Continue reading...

inspired by https://hellopoetry.com/poem/5120189/love-cannot-be-controlled-or-confined/ <> Love is Meant…… and there, I stop… <> nnnnyup; continuing on, this phrase a self~sufficiency, is it not? no conditional clause, dangling particle, no conjunction peg upon to hang your wintered hat, no adjacent adjective for summer's ending sadness, no preposition to lead us to sunny places, where we search more for nouns and pronouns, or to project/protect, in adjectives to clothe our irrationality in logic-e, logic to define, logic to confine, illogically love permits one to say to another human, you mine, hu-mine, [an aside: "you mine,' (really?)] a preposterous prepositional insanity notion, that needs no explication, love is meant, love is meant, love is mean, dream & yet, meant! stadium sized. concert hall big, mini pup tent, love is clean+dirty s i m u l t a n e o u s l y don't you see the self~sufficiency in that? yet you still seek definition, reasoning, seasoning, love is meant to-be bent irregular straightaway, love is meant, to be/not, cold 'n bot, silly hot, lover is inert, hurt, ert,(1) love is every point of, of a sword's length hilt & blade, yet ironic, the tip alone is a self sufficient ***** to be full~on damaging enough to **** to fully comprehend, that love is meant needs no further modifying defying pointless phrasal modification of explanation… s u n d a y (if the week did not commence with a sunday, hu-mans would have needed to create one, to understand, love is meant) 4:39am Sun Aug 10 Twenty Twenty Fidelio (5) in a new york city frame of mine

0

Aug 17, 2025

Aug 17, 2025 at 8:06 AM UTC

A Sunday Declaration: Love is Meant...

inspired by https://hellopoetry.com/poem/5120189/love-cannot-be-controlled-or-confined/ <> Love is Meant…… and there, I stop… <> nnnnyup; continuing on, this phrase a self~sufficiency, is it not? no conditional clause, dangling particle, no conjunction peg upon to hang your wintered hat, no adjacent adjective for summer's ending sadness, no preposition to lead us to sunny places, where we search more for nouns and pronouns, or to project/protect, in adjectives to clothe our irrationality in logic-e, logic to define, logic to confine, illogically love permits one to say to another human, you mine, hu-mine, [an aside: "you mine,' (really?)] a preposterous prepositional insanity notion, that needs no explication, love is meant, love is meant, love is mean, dream & yet, meant! stadium sized. concert hall big, mini pup tent, love is clean+dirty s i m u l t a n e o u s l y don't you see the self~sufficiency in that? yet you still seek definition, reasoning, seasoning, love is meant to-be bent irregular straightaway, love is meant, to be/not, cold 'n bot, silly hot, lover is inert, hurt, ert,(1) love is every point of, of a sword's length hilt & blade, yet ironic, the tip alone is a self sufficient ***** to be full~on damaging enough to **** to fully comprehend, that love is meant needs no further modifying defying pointless phrasal modification of explanation… s u n d a y (if the week did not commence with a sunday, hu-mans would have needed to create one, to understand, love is meant) 4:39am Sun Aug 10 Twenty Twenty Fidelio (5) in a new york city frame of mine

Continue reading...

Come, have a seat here Join my picnic by the hills of despair Watch the gentle waves of tragedy slowly silently roll onto the sea of tranquility Would you like a cup of sadness? you can add a spoonful of hope that might carry all that bitterness down the slippery slope Or would you rather a sip of ignorance this time hope you should cheat Pass along the seasoning of confidence which is just as saccharine sweet May I offer you a plate of loneliness? But make sure to drown that in time ’cause we all know that time can heal everything, oh yes how divine! If you find loneliness becoming tasteless Here, try some soft-baked sarcasm infused with aged enthusiasm with a heavy dose of doubt If the flavour isn’t enough than try a new diversion maybe a pinch of hostility or a light dressing of suspicion? Whichever you prefer you better make your decision When you really need a change try some passive aggressive conceit then add fate into the mix Of course! We know how it tends to dismiss the pungent smell of amusement the fragrant taste of love Oh how it reminds you of innocence or even the lack thereof Do you really have to go? Please do join me again this solitary life gets tedious So promise me you’ll come visit when you need someone to wake you from the beautiful lies they spin when they almost seem to convince you that's when you’ll come again I insist.

0

Jan 21, 2015

Jan 21, 2015 at 2:26 AM UTC

A Picnic with Reality

Come, have a seat here Join my picnic by the hills of despair Watch the gentle waves of tragedy slowly silently roll onto the sea of tranquility Would you like a cup of sadness? you can add a spoonful of hope that might carry all that bitterness down the slippery slope Or would you rather a sip of ignorance this time hope you should cheat Pass along the seasoning of confidence which is just as saccharine sweet May I offer you a plate of loneliness? But make sure to drown that in time ’cause we all know that time can heal everything, oh yes how divine! If you find loneliness becoming tasteless Here, try some soft-baked sarcasm infused with aged enthusiasm with a heavy dose of doubt If the flavour isn’t enough than try a new diversion maybe a pinch of hostility or a light dressing of suspicion? Whichever you prefer you better make your decision When you really need a change try some passive aggressive conceit then add fate into the mix Of course! We know how it tends to dismiss the pungent smell of amusement the fragrant taste of love Oh how it reminds you of innocence or even the lack thereof Do you really have to go? Please do join me again this solitary life gets tedious So promise me you’ll come visit when you need someone to wake you from the beautiful lies they spin when they almost seem to convince you that's when you’ll come again I insist.

Continue reading...

Poems on a Mirror ~for Glenn Currier~ you don’t know me I don’t know you; poems on a mirror I ken truly well poems on the mirror saved, and then, comme the seasoning of leave-falling, poems dropping and drained...the post-it glue loosened by the daily heat of watery tears, making a space for this one, for you... there are poems and they arrive with fresh arrogance, each an arrow demanding your all as a target regardless of what the shooter really thinks or wants, other than obedient acknowledgment and their self-loving flattery but some render where no rendering should be allowed those are the ones affixed - ones you chose to join the chosen, slapped onto mirrors - so many that they almost cover complete your image from presentation almost only because these poems are yours, you, they’re the truly accurate reflection even if not your words, indeed especially because they’re not yours but they start your day as a poem should and in doing so, become you What a Hall of Fame, to be a poem on Glenn’s Hall of Mirrors go pick the plums...

0

Jul 15, 2018

Jul 15, 2018 at 2:18 PM UTC

Poems on a Mirror

Poems on a Mirror ~for Glenn Currier~ you don’t know me I don’t know you; poems on a mirror I ken truly well poems on the mirror saved, and then, comme the seasoning of leave-falling, poems dropping and drained...the post-it glue loosened by the daily heat of watery tears, making a space for this one, for you... there are poems and they arrive with fresh arrogance, each an arrow demanding your all as a target regardless of what the shooter really thinks or wants, other than obedient acknowledgment and their self-loving flattery but some render where no rendering should be allowed those are the ones affixed - ones you chose to join the chosen, slapped onto mirrors - so many that they almost cover complete your image from presentation almost only because these poems are yours, you, they’re the truly accurate reflection even if not your words, indeed especially because they’re not yours but they start your day as a poem should and in doing so, become you What a Hall of Fame, to be a poem on Glenn’s Hall of Mirrors go pick the plums...

Continue reading...

It isn't difficult to befriend Especially in this virtual/real world A warm smile A simple "hi" A "like" in the social network A "share" of a posting.. Just a spoon of warmth A pinch of freshness A drop of love A bit of seasoning Is all that needed for a Perfect recipe of friendship.. A show of solidarity A mark of respect A word of compassion That is more than enough If we cant even do that much Then what is life for??

0

Aug 2, 2015

Aug 2, 2015 at 9:10 AM UTC

It isn't difficult to befriend Especially in this virtual/real world A warm smile A simple "hi" A "like" in the social network A "share" of a posting.. Just a spoon of warmth A pinch of freshness A drop of love A bit of seasoning Is all that needed for a Perfect recipe of friendship.. A show of solidarity A mark of respect A word of compassion That is more than enough If we cant even do that much Then what is life for??

Continue reading...

Get a big **** of butter throw it in the pan get your Asparagus out cut them fresh, not from a can Simmer them gently use a little pepper the more seasoning makes it taste much better Then put it on a plate just for you and me and see's who's first to run to the bathroom for a *** I watch from across the table is that a tear in your eye or is it a Asparagus stick between your thighs By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris By NeonSolaris © 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

0

Dec 22, 2013

Dec 22, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC

christos-andreas-kourtis

Naughty Asparagus

Get a big **** of butter throw it in the pan get your Asparagus out cut them fresh, not from a can Simmer them gently use a little pepper the more seasoning makes it taste much better Then put it on a plate just for you and me and see's who's first to run to the bathroom for a *** I watch from across the table is that a tear in your eye or is it a Asparagus stick between your thighs By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris By NeonSolaris © 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

Continue reading...

The universe is suede and black pepper-- a subtle aroma like coffee in a cafe. It's accompanied by clean laundry air-drying a few miles away. But when preoccupied with dancing like a blur, it smells like a drunk. Wine is spilled on the laundry. A party consumes the land. The seasoning is mixed into a soup that will never be eaten, because everyone is too busy enjoying themselves too much. The universe's leather shoes are kicked to the wings.

0

Jul 1, 2016

Jul 1, 2016 at 9:58 PM UTC

sarah-sad-matcha

The Calming Scent of the Universe

The universe is suede and black pepper-- a subtle aroma like coffee in a cafe. It's accompanied by clean laundry air-drying a few miles away. But when preoccupied with dancing like a blur, it smells like a drunk. Wine is spilled on the laundry. A party consumes the land. The seasoning is mixed into a soup that will never be eaten, because everyone is too busy enjoying themselves too much. The universe's leather shoes are kicked to the wings.

Continue reading...

*I love standing at the top largest hill of Camp Half-Blood. Watching the greens as the nymph wood dance in the hum of nature. Satyrs seasoning the forest with their magic recipe. I should spend more time, admiring the beauty of the wilds. For ere long, the border won't last long. Barbaric creatures will start to crawl. Demigods will fight, and I'll be there, holding a papyrus like a playwright.* (a.k)

0

Dec 8, 2014

Dec 8, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC

Camp Half-Blood

*I love standing at the top largest hill of Camp Half-Blood. Watching the greens as the nymph wood dance in the hum of nature. Satyrs seasoning the forest with their magic recipe. I should spend more time, admiring the beauty of the wilds. For ere long, the border won't last long. Barbaric creatures will start to crawl. Demigods will fight, and I'll be there, holding a papyrus like a playwright.* (a.k)

Continue reading...

a third-pound of ground beef and a pile of diced ramp bulbs I laced it with steak seasoning rolled in about a handful ain't got no time for fancy buns so I thought that instead of dressing up a masterpiece I'd put it on some bread ...and it was good

0

Apr 21, 2016

Apr 21, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC

colten-sorrells

a third-pound of ground beef and a pile of diced ramp bulbs I laced it with steak seasoning rolled in about a handful ain't got no time for fancy buns so I thought that instead of dressing up a masterpiece I'd put it on some bread ...and it was good

Continue reading...

If I write a poem about you, Using all the imaginations that roars in my head about us. I fear I'd not just fill a paper, I'd fill my fears. With the drinks of, What if your hands don't end up in mine? Or sadly your heart loses the tune of my voice? What if your lips loses the taste of the words you would have said to me? Or suddenly, your nose can no longer smell the aroma of our love because all seasoning had been stopped? My too much a love, what if your ears gets blocked? And finally your one or two of your knees refuses to get down? I'd just wait! Just wait rather than run into a wrong future. Cause what I have with you is right. I will enjoy my now. Leave the imaginations for fear...? What if I'd just wait. ©️Taw

0

Feb 16, 2021

Feb 16, 2021 at 6:49 AM UTC

I'd just wait, what if?

If I write a poem about you, Using all the imaginations that roars in my head about us. I fear I'd not just fill a paper, I'd fill my fears. With the drinks of, What if your hands don't end up in mine? Or sadly your heart loses the tune of my voice? What if your lips loses the taste of the words you would have said to me? Or suddenly, your nose can no longer smell the aroma of our love because all seasoning had been stopped? My too much a love, what if your ears gets blocked? And finally your one or two of your knees refuses to get down? I'd just wait! Just wait rather than run into a wrong future. Cause what I have with you is right. I will enjoy my now. Leave the imaginations for fear...? What if I'd just wait. ©️Taw

Continue reading...

For any time the urge to wring an autumn gourd, this one's the thing Smashing pumpkins, not so nice but Butternut Squash, an honest vice Long and beige, hard and smooth you'd never guess it's power to sooth that underneath the toughest skin is meat like pumpkin, seeds within A steamy bisque for autumn's chill, peel and chop them as you will Dump them into four cups broth* add apple, pear, or applesauce a cup or two will do just fine and while you stand there, have some wine! sautee onions, a cup and a half dump them in and cry or laugh and now to add your seasoning stuff cumin, curry, nutmeg, Fluff hold the Fluff, that ain't the truth best to pull that old sweet tooth Bisque is savory, better than sweet warms the cockles, heart to feet save your sweets for pumpkin pie the after-apple of your eye Back to seasonings, see above a quarter teaspoon, more with love I add pepper and take a gander some folks call for coriander heat the whole thing to a boil for me, my crock pot's always loyal crock at high, about four hours or low for six, and bring some flowers! And now I'll play a little game change my words to mean the same if cook is butter and ****** is squash then butter dat ****** and ****** dat gnosh when you're hungry, under the wudder ain't nuttin' better 'en butternut chudder add some cream and squash your mash mash your squash and whip your pash I used a blender to make it creamy cooked it down, so thick and steamy add some butter, parsley's fine butternut bisque with bread and wine! Ahhhh!!!!! *chicken broth

0

Nov 4, 2013

Nov 4, 2013 at 6:51 PM UTC

Steaming Butternut Squash Soup or Bisque

For any time the urge to wring an autumn gourd, this one's the thing Smashing pumpkins, not so nice but Butternut Squash, an honest vice Long and beige, hard and smooth you'd never guess it's power to sooth that underneath the toughest skin is meat like pumpkin, seeds within A steamy bisque for autumn's chill, peel and chop them as you will Dump them into four cups broth* add apple, pear, or applesauce a cup or two will do just fine and while you stand there, have some wine! sautee onions, a cup and a half dump them in and cry or laugh and now to add your seasoning stuff cumin, curry, nutmeg, Fluff hold the Fluff, that ain't the truth best to pull that old sweet tooth Bisque is savory, better than sweet warms the cockles, heart to feet save your sweets for pumpkin pie the after-apple of your eye Back to seasonings, see above a quarter teaspoon, more with love I add pepper and take a gander some folks call for coriander heat the whole thing to a boil for me, my crock pot's always loyal crock at high, about four hours or low for six, and bring some flowers! And now I'll play a little game change my words to mean the same if cook is butter and ****** is squash then butter dat ****** and ****** dat gnosh when you're hungry, under the wudder ain't nuttin' better 'en butternut chudder add some cream and squash your mash mash your squash and whip your pash I used a blender to make it creamy cooked it down, so thick and steamy add some butter, parsley's fine butternut bisque with bread and wine! Ahhhh!!!!! *chicken broth

Continue reading...

I love them, They don’t love me. Why would they? They’re hot, Juicy, And delicious, And I’m just… Salty, ******* them down to the bone. Buffalo wings rip up my insides, They’ll inflame my chest and belly, Giving me heartburn, As I power through my consumption of them, And yet I still crave them on a frequent basis, As if I didn’t learn my lesson the last time. Bone in or bone out, It doesn’t really matter at this point, I gave up trying to develop a preference, As I’m committed to my hankering, And seek regular satisfaction, From the sensation and flavor they provide me. Eyes full of tears, I power through the pain, Believing that each and every wing is worth it, Even if I know they don’t agree with me, And know **** well they are not good for me, It’s like hitting yourself in the face, But laughing at the sound it makes. Wings come in all shapes, sizes and flavors, But I choose the buffalo wing every time, For the mere fact that they taste the best, Even if they end up causing the most damage. They don’t even fill me up, But they do make me feel like I’ve had enough. How many buffalo wings would it take, For me to try a new flavor? Is it the saltiness that appeals to me? Is it the spiciness that enslaves me? Is it the drippiness that seduces me? Why not something sweeter, like BBQ, Or savorier like Parmesan Garlic? Why not choose plain old wings, With a little bit of seasoning to keep it interesting? Nope, I’ll always go for the buffalo wing, I’ll always have that craving, Because sometimes, living on the edge, Knowing the risks and going ahead anyway, Makes loving wings all the more worth it, Despite their destructive ways.

0

Oct 30, 2023

Oct 30, 2023 at 8:29 PM UTC

saint_francis422

I love them, They don’t love me. Why would they? They’re hot, Juicy, And delicious, And I’m just… Salty, ******* them down to the bone. Buffalo wings rip up my insides, They’ll inflame my chest and belly, Giving me heartburn, As I power through my consumption of them, And yet I still crave them on a frequent basis, As if I didn’t learn my lesson the last time. Bone in or bone out, It doesn’t really matter at this point, I gave up trying to develop a preference, As I’m committed to my hankering, And seek regular satisfaction, From the sensation and flavor they provide me. Eyes full of tears, I power through the pain, Believing that each and every wing is worth it, Even if I know they don’t agree with me, And know **** well they are not good for me, It’s like hitting yourself in the face, But laughing at the sound it makes. Wings come in all shapes, sizes and flavors, But I choose the buffalo wing every time, For the mere fact that they taste the best, Even if they end up causing the most damage. They don’t even fill me up, But they do make me feel like I’ve had enough. How many buffalo wings would it take, For me to try a new flavor? Is it the saltiness that appeals to me? Is it the spiciness that enslaves me? Is it the drippiness that seduces me? Why not something sweeter, like BBQ, Or savorier like Parmesan Garlic? Why not choose plain old wings, With a little bit of seasoning to keep it interesting? Nope, I’ll always go for the buffalo wing, I’ll always have that craving, Because sometimes, living on the edge, Knowing the risks and going ahead anyway, Makes loving wings all the more worth it, Despite their destructive ways.

Continue reading...

~for Isabel, Alex & Wendy, Theo & Rose~ be reading Whitman and Hafiz, adding some Shelley and Frost, for (no salt) seasoning, might add in a biblical, King Solomon’s be-loved, sugared Song of Songs… won’t need to go far, on my nightstand, search & reach, to love and preach to generations next, a lesson last & simple: read, read, read there by learning, how to first define, then preserve the variety of feelings rising from within! here’s a starter morsel from Walt, sort of a summary of how to do it, all well and proper… poppy ”This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life,. re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.” Walt Whitman Preface to Leaves of Grass, 1855. Walt Whitman, c.1887.

0

Aug 16, 2023

Aug 16, 2023 at 4:08 PM UTC

To my dying day, (Walt & I, in Good Company)

~for Isabel, Alex & Wendy, Theo & Rose~ be reading Whitman and Hafiz, adding some Shelley and Frost, for (no salt) seasoning, might add in a biblical, King Solomon’s be-loved, sugared Song of Songs… won’t need to go far, on my nightstand, search & reach, to love and preach to generations next, a lesson last & simple: read, read, read there by learning, how to first define, then preserve the variety of feelings rising from within! here’s a starter morsel from Walt, sort of a summary of how to do it, all well and proper… poppy ”This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life,. re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.” Walt Whitman Preface to Leaves of Grass, 1855. Walt Whitman, c.1887.

Continue reading...

Like salt from a shaker, she flowed into the room. Sprinkling just a bit too much of herself. Ruining the assumption of true flavor. My taste for the bland is non existent However; I need the seasoning to be just right to taste such a delicate dish. Nothing too over the top, but just right. Lying on the surface, ready, waiting to be devoured. Her mood changed when she saw that I had dropped the napkin, Saw that I bent the fork, dumping it next to the ice and wine. And the waiter; that tight nosed ****** Shrugged and harrumphed his way to the kitchen, Saying there would be no desert. No tasting this night. She thought she had seasoned me well, and left me to bake in the chandeliers and crystal goblets of this place. Alas, she fell short of the recipe, Foreplay burned in an overheated oven. Burnt to a crisp in her little black number, and over salted in the assumption of her come hither look, and my desire or the lack thereof.

0

Jan 3, 2011

Jan 3, 2011 at 8:27 AM UTC

william-b-burkholder

Like salt from a shaker, she flowed into the room. Sprinkling just a bit too much of herself. Ruining the assumption of true flavor. My taste for the bland is non existent However; I need the seasoning to be just right to taste such a delicate dish. Nothing too over the top, but just right. Lying on the surface, ready, waiting to be devoured. Her mood changed when she saw that I had dropped the napkin, Saw that I bent the fork, dumping it next to the ice and wine. And the waiter; that tight nosed ****** Shrugged and harrumphed his way to the kitchen, Saying there would be no desert. No tasting this night. She thought she had seasoned me well, and left me to bake in the chandeliers and crystal goblets of this place. Alas, she fell short of the recipe, Foreplay burned in an overheated oven. Burnt to a crisp in her little black number, and over salted in the assumption of her come hither look, and my desire or the lack thereof.

Continue reading...

Crazy how the new got old so quick Drug dealing is the new entrepreneurship Stripping is the new night shift **** financial aid **** Since they finish college but continue dancing On that ***** pole **** Gay is the new straight Killer cops are the new superman And cop killers the new batman Since when have black lives matter That's old news **** Social media fame is the new news feed And gangster rap beef is the new comedy Kevin Heart is the new Bill without the pill Obama is the new Kennedy not John but Robert Hillary will be the new President But that's just my prediction Even-though 49 percent of me believes a Republican is winning this election Since they are the new donkeys and Democrats the new elephant Orange is the new black? .... wait... Orange is the new black? That's a thing of the past orange been the color for Blacks Poets are the new rappers Rappers are the new fathers **** is the new medicine No need for doctors and nurses Money is the new God Gold chains are the new nooses Since every ***** want one D'usse is the new Hennessey no need for a chase So much new in the world but I'm still the same ol' me Cole is the new Nas Kendrick is the new Em "Drake is the new great Philosopher" But that is in the words of the Bronx borough president Since he is the new ***** of politics But there's only still one Jay-z Ball is the new life and hoes are the new wife's Snitches are the new thugs K2 is the new **** Heroine the new ******* Pills the new crack So much new in the world and I'm still the same ol' me Black will be the new white Peace will be the new war But those are just my predictions Since we lost our self-identity through the modern age of seasoning So much new in the world as I predict I'll stay the same While the environment adapts to me never the other way around I'll forever be me And these voices in my head are just the curse of the talented

0

Sep 16, 2015

Sep 16, 2015 at 7:30 AM UTC

Crazy how the new got old so quick Drug dealing is the new entrepreneurship Stripping is the new night shift **** financial aid **** Since they finish college but continue dancing On that ***** pole **** Gay is the new straight Killer cops are the new superman And cop killers the new batman Since when have black lives matter That's old news **** Social media fame is the new news feed And gangster rap beef is the new comedy Kevin Heart is the new Bill without the pill Obama is the new Kennedy not John but Robert Hillary will be the new President But that's just my prediction Even-though 49 percent of me believes a Republican is winning this election Since they are the new donkeys and Democrats the new elephant Orange is the new black? .... wait... Orange is the new black? That's a thing of the past orange been the color for Blacks Poets are the new rappers Rappers are the new fathers **** is the new medicine No need for doctors and nurses Money is the new God Gold chains are the new nooses Since every ***** want one D'usse is the new Hennessey no need for a chase So much new in the world but I'm still the same ol' me Cole is the new Nas Kendrick is the new Em "Drake is the new great Philosopher" But that is in the words of the Bronx borough president Since he is the new ***** of politics But there's only still one Jay-z Ball is the new life and hoes are the new wife's Snitches are the new thugs K2 is the new **** Heroine the new ******* Pills the new crack So much new in the world and I'm still the same ol' me Black will be the new white Peace will be the new war But those are just my predictions Since we lost our self-identity through the modern age of seasoning So much new in the world as I predict I'll stay the same While the environment adapts to me never the other way around I'll forever be me And these voices in my head are just the curse of the talented

Continue reading...

Grey-Green-Red-Brown Dawn stains right through a.m. sky so the atmosphere looks weird today. The forecast calls for heat again; that silent, seething drum that beats the blood-drenched dollar sky-- beats out a March of Ages-- beats us copper lumps to shape. The shelf we Occupy on this drifting westward continent, constructed from the flesh that fell from our fathers' hands, from the bones of distant lands becomes a dusty storage closet for the corpses of our days Our days--aha. That's supply and demand, kid. What's a life but flesh-time? And what's time if not money? Nothing! Nothing is anything but money. You. Are money. Like time. Sleep well tonight. And set your clock. You gotta work to buy their robots that **** Mid-Eastern skies (and Midwestern ones alike) Sink real slow beneath the surface of that rising ocean of noise-- growing louder--hot air melting ice caps. Watch that boiling, acid ocean roll in on the tide and sink beneath the waves of noise-- of monotone voices-- sawdust seasoning on cardboard-- crying, "These colors don't run!" and, "Stand your ground!" and for fun, when bored, answer the Call of Duty. It's that silent, seething drum beating 'gainst THE TERRORISTS while we deny the summer heat as we sweat in SUPERBOWL SUNDAY dreams, Like it beat against the COMMUNISTS through all our TOP GUN weekends, Like it drums up portraits of vampire fanged IMMIGRANTS and ILLEGALS while we guzzle our BEER and sweat beneath those acne-scarred skies on the FOURTH OF JULY. Sleep well tonight And set your clock. Don't wanna be late for work, to buy their robots that **** Mid-Eastern skies (and Midwestern ones alike). What's that hum outside your window tonight, whirring, buzzing droning beneath the blood-drenched dollar sky?

0

Jul 31, 2014

Jul 31, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC

American Re-Runs

Grey-Green-Red-Brown Dawn stains right through a.m. sky so the atmosphere looks weird today. The forecast calls for heat again; that silent, seething drum that beats the blood-drenched dollar sky-- beats out a March of Ages-- beats us copper lumps to shape. The shelf we Occupy on this drifting westward continent, constructed from the flesh that fell from our fathers' hands, from the bones of distant lands becomes a dusty storage closet for the corpses of our days Our days--aha. That's supply and demand, kid. What's a life but flesh-time? And what's time if not money? Nothing! Nothing is anything but money. You. Are money. Like time. Sleep well tonight. And set your clock. You gotta work to buy their robots that **** Mid-Eastern skies (and Midwestern ones alike) Sink real slow beneath the surface of that rising ocean of noise-- growing louder--hot air melting ice caps. Watch that boiling, acid ocean roll in on the tide and sink beneath the waves of noise-- of monotone voices-- sawdust seasoning on cardboard-- crying, "These colors don't run!" and, "Stand your ground!" and for fun, when bored, answer the Call of Duty. It's that silent, seething drum beating 'gainst THE TERRORISTS while we deny the summer heat as we sweat in SUPERBOWL SUNDAY dreams, Like it beat against the COMMUNISTS through all our TOP GUN weekends, Like it drums up portraits of vampire fanged IMMIGRANTS and ILLEGALS while we guzzle our BEER and sweat beneath those acne-scarred skies on the FOURTH OF JULY. Sleep well tonight And set your clock. Don't wanna be late for work, to buy their robots that **** Mid-Eastern skies (and Midwestern ones alike). What's that hum outside your window tonight, whirring, buzzing droning beneath the blood-drenched dollar sky?

Continue reading...

Instead of the default Top Ramen "seasoning," try: minced Garlic and Onion, Basil, Marjoram, black pepper, ground cayenne, and a hint of parsley and thyme and use sea salt to salinify to taste. Personalized seasonings make all the difference.

0

Feb 24, 2014

Feb 24, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC

Anubis-the-Philosomancer

Think outside the Top Ramen packaging

Instead of the default Top Ramen "seasoning," try: minced Garlic and Onion, Basil, Marjoram, black pepper, ground cayenne, and a hint of parsley and thyme and use sea salt to salinify to taste. Personalized seasonings make all the difference.

Continue reading...