"viand" poems - Hello Poetry

1509 Mine Enemy is growing old— I have at last Revenge— The Palate of the Hate departs— If any would avenge Let him be quick—the Viand flits— It is a faded Meat— Anger as soon as fed is dead— ’Tis starving makes it fat—

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Emily Dickinson

Mine Enemy is growing old—

1509 Mine Enemy is growing old— I have at last Revenge— The Palate of the Hate departs— If any would avenge Let him be quick—the Viand flits— It is a faded Meat— Anger as soon as fed is dead— ’Tis starving makes it fat—

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(my great, great grandfather as told by my mamasita) he came from Calbiga with his Spanish nose tropic’s warmth allowed him to wear but a pair of shorts everyday his shirtlessness revealed smooth, supple, brown skin thick shimmering white hair the only clue to his age without knife or razor his fingers felt his face and tweezered stubble with a pair of empty clam shells he slept on a pillow of hard narrah wood made smooth and shiny by years of use he built his nipa and bamboo house by the shore big, sturdy and strong sheltered at cliff’s foot it withstood every storm high atop the cliff a tree stood tall and huge a prolific garden of crops and flowers grew in the soft filtered light of its canopy cane and banana relinquished skin in strips scraped clean and sun dried woven into harvest and fishing baskets braided into fishing line he cut down only what he needed allowing the plants to thrive long before sustainability was new old folks said that tall and huge tree was a faeries’ castle tending pineapples growing beneath it Apay Bectay heard a voice beckoning her a sweet musical melody in the wind “Bectay…Bectay…” she peered upward to a vision so beguiling a beautiful naked lady sitting high on a limb her skin a pale, pale white her face and smile radiant she stroked her long golden hair with a golden comb as it flowed alive with the breeze she appeared as a mermaid underwater sitting in a sea of swaying green leaves Apay Bectay ran home for fear of enchantment one day, my ears followed a peaceful, playful tune until I came upon Apoy Engo by his front door post improvising on a small yellow flute he had carved by hand a thin, foot long bamboo chute harvested from a nearby grove when the tide was high you could always find him fishing by the house, close to shore rain or shine as long as the sea was calm sitting in his banca slightly stooped patiently awaiting a bite for his viand a woven sun shade hat tied under his chin a picture of serenity accompanied by the soft lapping sea

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Apr 13, 2014

Apr 13, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC

del-maximo

APOY ENGO

(my great, great grandfather as told by my mamasita) he came from Calbiga with his Spanish nose tropic’s warmth allowed him to wear but a pair of shorts everyday his shirtlessness revealed smooth, supple, brown skin thick shimmering white hair the only clue to his age without knife or razor his fingers felt his face and tweezered stubble with a pair of empty clam shells he slept on a pillow of hard narrah wood made smooth and shiny by years of use he built his nipa and bamboo house by the shore big, sturdy and strong sheltered at cliff’s foot it withstood every storm high atop the cliff a tree stood tall and huge a prolific garden of crops and flowers grew in the soft filtered light of its canopy cane and banana relinquished skin in strips scraped clean and sun dried woven into harvest and fishing baskets braided into fishing line he cut down only what he needed allowing the plants to thrive long before sustainability was new old folks said that tall and huge tree was a faeries’ castle tending pineapples growing beneath it Apay Bectay heard a voice beckoning her a sweet musical melody in the wind “Bectay…Bectay…” she peered upward to a vision so beguiling a beautiful naked lady sitting high on a limb her skin a pale, pale white her face and smile radiant she stroked her long golden hair with a golden comb as it flowed alive with the breeze she appeared as a mermaid underwater sitting in a sea of swaying green leaves Apay Bectay ran home for fear of enchantment one day, my ears followed a peaceful, playful tune until I came upon Apoy Engo by his front door post improvising on a small yellow flute he had carved by hand a thin, foot long bamboo chute harvested from a nearby grove when the tide was high you could always find him fishing by the house, close to shore rain or shine as long as the sea was calm sitting in his banca slightly stooped patiently awaiting a bite for his viand a woven sun shade hat tied under his chin a picture of serenity accompanied by the soft lapping sea

69

white roses and Jacob's Coat purple bearded irises and ferns dark red wax begonias scents of night jasmine French lavender antique tea roses loquat, plum, guava and lemon trees all swaying with an ocean breeze casting shadows in the setting sun memories of childhood bamboo and nipa houses coconut groves and fragrant banana witches, faeries and wok-woks a favorite white haired grandfather living off land and sea harvesting root crops and fruit fishing for viand barefoot and ******* sarongs in a private paradise miles from town bonfire festivities tuba wine and drunken salamats an open adoption a house tiled with affluence and visits back home a war's interruption people lost or found married off to life in America lumpia, pancit, beefsteak and beeco spaghetti, burgers, *** roast and pizza dinner's table set for eleven the house on Wagner street the loss of husband and son advancing age and declining health ER's and ICU's a final farewell a garden of children grand children and great grand children branches in Lala's family tree her progeny sprouting roots looking to the future

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Oct 7, 2014

Oct 7, 2014 at 9:56 PM UTC

del-maximo

LALA'S GARDEN

white roses and Jacob's Coat purple bearded irises and ferns dark red wax begonias scents of night jasmine French lavender antique tea roses loquat, plum, guava and lemon trees all swaying with an ocean breeze casting shadows in the setting sun memories of childhood bamboo and nipa houses coconut groves and fragrant banana witches, faeries and wok-woks a favorite white haired grandfather living off land and sea harvesting root crops and fruit fishing for viand barefoot and ******* sarongs in a private paradise miles from town bonfire festivities tuba wine and drunken salamats an open adoption a house tiled with affluence and visits back home a war's interruption people lost or found married off to life in America lumpia, pancit, beefsteak and beeco spaghetti, burgers, *** roast and pizza dinner's table set for eleven the house on Wagner street the loss of husband and son advancing age and declining health ER's and ICU's a final farewell a garden of children grand children and great grand children branches in Lala's family tree her progeny sprouting roots looking to the future

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(tales of my mamasita) after breakfast father would tend his tuba father and mother would then forage the farm for cassava, sweet potatoes, green bananas tarot roots and fruits sometimes harvesting enough for two days while mother prepared lunch father would fish for viand with his fishing net going to the far side of our part of the island or staying not far from the house sometimes big brother and little brother would go with him to carry large baskets for catch father was an artist with his fishing net circular and hand knotted lead pieces sewn to the rim his fishing net was carried folded over his shoulder the tip held in front of him the heavy weighted part hanging behind eyes shaded with hands he searched for schools near the shore in the clear turquoise putting it down on powdery dry sand his fishing net was supported on his forearm grabbing another part with his free hand he would turn and fling his fishing net over the blueness seemingly effortlessly arms stretched skyward his fishing net would expand in mid-air arcing like a geodesic dome hovering like a frisbee floating down to the water in slow motion finally sinking into sea father would wade waist deep stir the fish with his hand then haul his fishing net full of mullets and other small fish we would feast for lunch and dinner with a plentiful catch both father and mother would scale and clean sun dried, smoked or salted preserved for tomorrows everything was cleaned up and put away after lunch siesta time afterwards, mother would do her pottery fix the tree bark for father’s tuba or repair his fishing net using a tatting device father and mother always kept themselves busy never whiling away the time till dark

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Jun 5, 2015

Jun 5, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC

del-maximo

HIS FISHING NET

(tales of my mamasita) after breakfast father would tend his tuba father and mother would then forage the farm for cassava, sweet potatoes, green bananas tarot roots and fruits sometimes harvesting enough for two days while mother prepared lunch father would fish for viand with his fishing net going to the far side of our part of the island or staying not far from the house sometimes big brother and little brother would go with him to carry large baskets for catch father was an artist with his fishing net circular and hand knotted lead pieces sewn to the rim his fishing net was carried folded over his shoulder the tip held in front of him the heavy weighted part hanging behind eyes shaded with hands he searched for schools near the shore in the clear turquoise putting it down on powdery dry sand his fishing net was supported on his forearm grabbing another part with his free hand he would turn and fling his fishing net over the blueness seemingly effortlessly arms stretched skyward his fishing net would expand in mid-air arcing like a geodesic dome hovering like a frisbee floating down to the water in slow motion finally sinking into sea father would wade waist deep stir the fish with his hand then haul his fishing net full of mullets and other small fish we would feast for lunch and dinner with a plentiful catch both father and mother would scale and clean sun dried, smoked or salted preserved for tomorrows everything was cleaned up and put away after lunch siesta time afterwards, mother would do her pottery fix the tree bark for father’s tuba or repair his fishing net using a tatting device father and mother always kept themselves busy never whiling away the time till dark

69

What is war? Is it a soldier dying, or guns, or bombs, or crosses, or weeping mothers, or sport, or patriotism, or valor, or high paying jobs? What is war? Not hell. For that is merely evil. War is worse than evil. It is mind-boggling suicide --mass suicide-- with humankind devouring or trying to devour itself. In vain attemps to assuage some sort of weird, innate (and apparently insatiable) appetite nurtured by our true and beloved God, Mars, we will not settle for less than the "flower of evolution" as the main course, embellished by bountiful side dishes and fanciful shakers filled with the "fruits" of our marvelous hands and big starving brains. How long will we persist in this lethal nonsense? How long before we really believe that salvation lies not in an insane paradox fostered by brute and selfish gluttony, but in the far more "nutritious" and healthful viand in the sadly neglected garden of human compassion and understanding? Considering the status of brotherhood today, possibly too long. By Jack Kervokian

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Mar 31, 2015

Mar 31, 2015 at 7:44 AM UTC

marilia-galvao-1

War

What is war? Is it a soldier dying, or guns, or bombs, or crosses, or weeping mothers, or sport, or patriotism, or valor, or high paying jobs? What is war? Not hell. For that is merely evil. War is worse than evil. It is mind-boggling suicide --mass suicide-- with humankind devouring or trying to devour itself. In vain attemps to assuage some sort of weird, innate (and apparently insatiable) appetite nurtured by our true and beloved God, Mars, we will not settle for less than the "flower of evolution" as the main course, embellished by bountiful side dishes and fanciful shakers filled with the "fruits" of our marvelous hands and big starving brains. How long will we persist in this lethal nonsense? How long before we really believe that salvation lies not in an insane paradox fostered by brute and selfish gluttony, but in the far more "nutritious" and healthful viand in the sadly neglected garden of human compassion and understanding? Considering the status of brotherhood today, possibly too long. By Jack Kervokian

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Aye! Foreign Eye; tooth for a truth! you gnome eyne sane? Troot I owe ewe nah, youths dunno, you fin nah Noll. *** eye us fin nah per se, foe Theo Theo, ewe know O you no, enter ups shun, wot in the hex dies... jest say? Dis' awe beast anaconda sate shun bout Intrusion. O Why? O Why? O Eye, ice bins scratch in at Maya -Maya, day yum eye, forests rail lea bane it she laid lea. Wear Aye, yum Aye, yum Ah! Yea, *** eyes us sane, isis slow ands dims sum. Bess beefs be indy, indy, India, India, Far test fum yore deaf viand as understanding! O My! you oft de deep and of diem, diem... dim niche holes. couldst I ask I such without such plea? Pulleys! Pull East! Scaly wax inner interim oh, honor too, ides doe no, disease? Lo! Land ** Too old geese sirs seize dearth closure mead wits mine ***** eye; and Naughty Wit Stan Ding disown. Yet fervor from mine arenose ol' hail home, I hath ne'er be -admit I to I; and plead to thee, wizened dis' Beseecher's breeching beach! Shea jest dis' a-greased wit who sow error to dew sew... ***** nil eat. And therefore store my old hat lore, as I cast in twos that sea... Aye! thee, Foreign Eye! Truth for a truth, if truth it be, truth tell I, true to thee do I e'er be nah; e'er be I, true to thee from noun on; in air go, did jest *** you ditz dun to me, but now a blind eye a-see a freed bird! - I caste you one lass time in due thus see. Cuss you beast an false eye, my you still dunce see, still blind you be, be dissin' in my sir name an airy way, and mode in air gone come.. a-seaward.

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Mar 25, 2016

Mar 25, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC

jamie-l-cantore

***** One Eye -Pull It Tickle Sat Tire

Aye! Foreign Eye; tooth for a truth! you gnome eyne sane? Troot I owe ewe nah, youths dunno, you fin nah Noll. *** eye us fin nah per se, foe Theo Theo, ewe know O you no, enter ups shun, wot in the hex dies... jest say? Dis' awe beast anaconda sate shun bout Intrusion. O Why? O Why? O Eye, ice bins scratch in at Maya -Maya, day yum eye, forests rail lea bane it she laid lea. Wear Aye, yum Aye, yum Ah! Yea, *** eyes us sane, isis slow ands dims sum. Bess beefs be indy, indy, India, India, Far test fum yore deaf viand as understanding! O My! you oft de deep and of diem, diem... dim niche holes. couldst I ask I such without such plea? Pulleys! Pull East! Scaly wax inner interim oh, honor too, ides doe no, disease? Lo! Land ** Too old geese sirs seize dearth closure mead wits mine ***** eye; and Naughty Wit Stan Ding disown. Yet fervor from mine arenose ol' hail home, I hath ne'er be -admit I to I; and plead to thee, wizened dis' Beseecher's breeching beach! Shea jest dis' a-greased wit who sow error to dew sew... ***** nil eat. And therefore store my old hat lore, as I cast in twos that sea... Aye! thee, Foreign Eye! Truth for a truth, if truth it be, truth tell I, true to thee do I e'er be nah; e'er be I, true to thee from noun on; in air go, did jest *** you ditz dun to me, but now a blind eye a-see a freed bird! - I caste you one lass time in due thus see. Cuss you beast an false eye, my you still dunce see, still blind you be, be dissin' in my sir name an airy way, and mode in air gone come.. a-seaward.

4

I asked for opportunities, They said i should search. I searched in all available channels, They said i should apply. I applied for everything, They said i should be qualified. Then i told them, I am hungry! They promised a viand. I reminded them, Wait, They gave me hope. Everything that had remained, Started overflowing. For the stubbing, Was all over my body.

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May 29, 2020

May 29, 2020 at 1:19 AM UTC

avidace-theophil

Hope That Stubs

I asked for opportunities, They said i should search. I searched in all available channels, They said i should apply. I applied for everything, They said i should be qualified. Then i told them, I am hungry! They promised a viand. I reminded them, Wait, They gave me hope. Everything that had remained, Started overflowing. For the stubbing, Was all over my body.

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