"yogurt" poems
When I can't take the silence anymore
I type my little message,
send it to your cellular device
"Goodnight, sleep well."
When I really want to say
"I love you, sweet dreams."
And a few minutes later you say,
"Oh yeah. Good dreams."
And I want to kiss you,
smile at you, eat frozen raspberry yogurt
with you,
and I can't so
I guess I'll go to sleep.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC
Yogurt.
"I begin the day buying yogurt in a small favorite grocery store."
Not pizza, nor gatorade.
Bananas
although they are imported from afar and grown in monocultures.
Attract fruit flies in August.
Peaches
locally grown with rainwater. I ate all the farmer's peaches alone
stacking them by the railroad tracks.
Water --
rainwater, tap water, distilled water, carbonated water, spring water --
deep gulps, infinite sips.
Nuts
in moderation, or not, unsalted, raw, replacing chips. His bowl
of filberts, almonds, walnuts quiet weekday mornings.
Edible plant parts --
roots, leaves, stems, flowers, fruit, buds. In olive oil
or butter.
Potatoes --
look online how best to prepare. Baked or fried. With a little
fish or meat.
Tea and honey,
play and prayer. Swimming and running,
talking quietly.
Bread?
Bread's possible as the Bible. Each is liable
to bloat us.
Wine and dandelions.
Dandelion wine's Ray Bradbury's story. Cans in a pantry, books on a
shelf
to the end of time.
Pasta
we used to call spaghetti, never noodles. I wonder if I can remember
how to make
grandma's sauce.
Tomatoes --
cherry, grape. Grab God's eye
going by.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
I chose ice-cream
Over yogurt;
Strawberry, vanilla or chocolate.
Each equally without prejudice
Attracted.
The fifteen year old server
Was kinda short;
The vanilla tub had about three scoops
Remaining,
Stacked hidden like frozen snow-balls
As in war games.
His task would have been daunting
And embarassing,
And I, a humanitarian
From higher education,
An altruist from St. Joseph's,
Could not allow it.
The chocolate tub
Was yet covered,
And the sobbing child's cries
Were hardening in my ears
As Dad tried to allay
His chocolate tears,
Applying the five second rule.
I am an empath
By nature and poetry,
So, turning from chocolate,
Left me strawberrry.
Triple scoop too.
I believe
You thought through
Your choices
Like flavors of ice-cream.
Being imaginative,
I do.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 10:30 PM UTC
A message for Elsa
Please won't you be
Won't you be
My hug Bud-ee?
We can hug in the night
And during the day
We are loving friends
And its okay
If you have a boyfriend
We are just hugging anyway
We share a concern
For each other
And to show how
We love one another
In our special way
We love to hug
And this is okay
One hug
Two hugs
Three or Four
We care for
Each other
So much
Let's just hug some more
I'm so huggable
And so are you
Just look at what
These hugs can do
We are laughing
And smiling
Because hugs feel good
You should try hugging to
You really should
Elsa will you forever be
Forever be
My hug buddy?
Would you care
For a fruit bowl
Maybe a yogurt cup?
I'll make some good food
To fill you up
I'm thankful for
The loving comments
You write
And I'm not embarrassed
To say
I think of giving you a hug
When I squeeze my pillow
At night
A warm and caring person
Is what you are
And my how your
Eyes shine
Like the north star
I'm grateful
To have you
As a friend
You are my hug buddy
And my hugs
To you I send
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 11:06 AM UTC
I wake up and eat some eggs, a yogurt, and a few slices of melon
in an attempt to change my life
after all it is that or death
I won't hold my breath
It's a beautiful day to head to the mall
with a friend
I really know where this is going
Hmm
I like that shirt
Oops, this store doesn't offer plus size
On to the next..
I really like these jeans..
Forty five dollars for sizes sixteen and up
What a mess!
Since I refuse to let Lane Bryant **** my wallet in the ***
I decide to head to Barnes and Noble instead
I accidentally bumped into a lady and her baby stroller as I walked past and she mumbled
"Fat ***** under her breath
Yes that's what she said
I didn't even turn my head
Because that's what the lady said
and that's what society says
and instead of trying to explain it's just
easier to walk away
it's the self hatred after I dread
So I buy a whole pizza and eat the entire ******* thing
and it is beyond delicious
though the guilt I feel afterwards wasn't worth it
and vomitting that **** up was viscous
Even when I was a little girl I dreamed of being thin
I dreamed of being a model
I dreamed of having a flat tummy
Just to fit in
I didn't like the belly I had
or the fat in my cheeks
I was the only kid in gym that could never climb the rope
and that began a string of anxiety attacks
that would last for weeks
The doctor calls it insulin resistance
which leaves me with the inability to lose weight
but I shouldn't have to explain to anyone my condition
I just shouldn't have to explain
not to mention the ovarian disease that cripples me to my knees
which so happens to be genetic
and mimics the blood of a diabetic
leaving me incurable
a medical mystery
not to mention infertility
so for me
children are just a dream
Although I tell myself
that I am beautiful
and that I am intelligent
and that I am funny
and that I am a hard worker
and that I am successful
and that I am caring
and that I am loving
and that I am daring
and that I am the best **** friend a person could ever have
To a stranger I'm just a "fat *****
and you know what?
That makes me really ******* sad
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
This is a poem about love
and sticking your ***** in a dove.
Getting married in a church
of Satan.
I went to dunkin donuts
to get some ******* donuts.
A black man yelled at me
so loud that it made me ***
So I unzipped my pants
and put my ding-dong on a table
then said "beat that ******
and he started beating himself while smoking a black and mild with a KFC bucket in his arms full of cow turds.
(I HATE ******* POETRY)
Poetry is the language of love.
No wonder it's full of ********
Lust is where it's at
when I finger bang your uncle's grandpa's cat.
Randomness is fun
especially when you do crack.
I still ******* hate poetry.
You can **** my 20 foot purple headed yogurt slinger full of tar.
I am Bill Clinton and I approve this message.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
your blood shot eyes
so red and round
their juicy plumpness compels me
to eat my baby tomatoes
the pungent smell
of your ***** second-hand smoke
fills me with desire
for some beef jerky
the sickly sight
of your slimy, greasy hair
leave me desperate with longing
for some succulent string cheese
when you scarf down your food
as if the world was ending
i can feel my partially digested turkey sandwich
make its way back up my throat
and spew out
all over your yogurt
ruining it
calculus.
(co-authored)
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
I pass back and read late at night
write poetry,
eat yogurt, things I had sworn off and return to with ever more vigor
I am caught in an orbit,
the gravitation is just enough to keep me spinning and too much
to let me go free, I fight it,
I fight it with stolen cigarettes and late nights
and tumbling over and over on a golf course
I fight it with drinks by myself and the purchase of ridiculous items
song lyrics composed on the spot and bold winks across the room
smiley faces and pickup lines to people I should not dare
a fantasy of LSD and the hope I'll see a dragon
so I can finally stop dreaming of them.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
the wind is slowly
running throgh the empty diner,
with chairs turned over and
used frozen yogurt machines.
he brought her here,
in this abandoned diner,
so he can show her
everything he stands for and
everything he is.
how he truly feels,
abandoned,
by the world,
by his family,
by her.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
What a face
"Sells"
Abruptly she yells
Matte burning dry
Just try
Too moisten her lips
She's the Red devil
From hell why does her
orange face peel sell?
The right color
a psychic won't tell
Wishing well drenched
He touched my orange juice
"All Frenched"
She loves to slice and
he peels what appeal
orange saffron sauce
One last juicy squirt
divorce
It's time for fresh squeeze
Too frozen concentrate
The happy hour "Orange" feel
no other place like fate
Ten times real
"One" face peel has been
love absorbed
Like lemon meringue
Tainted love
Bitter grind soft butter glove
Do you mind orange flame
(The Spa) sells to be loved
Tra la so kind all Grunge
Going "Wawa" coffee cruel
Other colors haha
Movie set Orange payroll
lounge tease squirt
But destroyed by the evil
spell curse
Summoned on sunburst
But we need the Orange
before the sun comes
Like clones orange, you glad
we have "Green Apple"
phones
One step beyond orange
zones
I don't want to burst your
orange sauce
Grand Marnier starry twist
of orange
Two timing orange yogurt
Taste to tangy it hurt
Hey Yo Orange peel Spa
Still sticks Orange Julius
flirt
O outrageous P pick
What turns us on and gets us sick
Plan your work and work your plan
Never offend her
Let's see the chef make you love her
Creamified dreamlike Whip free
The orange mousse pie
Let me hear it yummy to lie
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 11:43 AM UTC
what I want is a
bowl of yogurt on my skin
that moves when I walk.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 3:07 AM UTC
I pass back and read late at night
write poetry,
eat yogurt, things I had sworn off and return to with ever more vigor
I am caught in an orbit,
the gravitation is just enough to keep me spinning and too much
to let me go free, I fight it,
I fight it with stolen cigarettes and late nights
and tumbling over and over on a golf course
I fight it with drinks by myself and the purchase of ridiculous items
song lyrics composed on the spot and bold winks across the room
smiley faces and pickup lines to people I should not dare
a fantasy of LSD and the hope I'll see a dragon
so I can finally stop dreaming of them.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 11:28 AM UTC
I learned on the Saturday I met you that "love at first sight" is a serious illness.
It infects the body and consumes it whole, leaving nothing but happiness and affection in place of the empty, hopeless shell it once was.
I learned on Tuesday that good music and Star Wars references assist the speeding up process of a first kiss,
And just how good knowing that it would be your last first kiss ever felt.
On Wednesday, I learned how hard it was not to say "I love you" out loud.
Instead, I resorted it to silently mouthing the phrase when your head is turned.
On Thursday, I learned that you like to swirl the New York Cheesecake and Red Velvet Cake flavors of frozen yogurt, just like I do.
It reminded me of the concept of being soulmates. Our secret dance reminded me of a movie from the 1920s. Thank you, Louis Armstrong, and the lake in San Angelo for providing the perfect atmosphere.
I learned on Friday how easy it is to talk to the person you love for seven hours.
I also learned that I don't care how tired I look in the first photograph we took together, because I've been a different person since last Saturday.
On the second Saturday that I met you, I learned how hard it is to watch a movie alone with you while your lips are so close to mine.
I learned a lesson on willpower, and also that it's easier if we watch movies in theaters. But even theaters can't keep us from sneaking kisses every once in a while.
That day I learned how easy it is to dance beautifully with the soulmate you've known only for a week.
I also learned that I'm not the only person who sees the beauty I see when we are together. I glanced over your shoulder during the Jimi Hendrix guitar solo, only to see our group of friends staring at us in awe. It didn't distract me from the butterflies I had from your arm being around me.
Later that same night, I learned how anxious I feel, slipping love notes into your pocket, and saying goodbye, if only for two weeks.
That week, I learned that two Saturdays is all it takes to make you certain of whom you want to spend the rest of your life with.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 11:10 PM UTC
Senior Present
I walked in to the school this morning
To see all of the teachers
Munching and nibbling on food.
I turned down the hallway to be greeted
By a glorious sent that hit my nostrils
I watched as kids floated down the hall way
Towards the smell, they were just out of reach
Of the food, as the smell led them to a closed door
Of the teachers lounge.
Inside were all sorts of candies. There was a candy
Of every type, all shapes and sizes. No one was left
Out every teacher had there favorite kind some ware.
There were cakes and pies,
Fudge and brownies,
Ice cream and frozen yogurt.
There was healthy food
And nut free snacks.
There was lollipops
And twizlers.
It was Halloween all over again,
With a twist of fancy,
It was a dessert buffet
Just for the teachers.
It was a way to thank them for all the
Time they spent teaching us the same thing
To have patience for all the questions, to help us
In till we understood, staying extra hours to help us.
This food display is a thanks to not just the teachers
But to the janitors, the special education helpers
The nurses, librarians, office and consoler office ladies
The police officers and the principal her self.
I thought it would be nice to give you all a special treat
A present, instead a prank, since it is my senior year.
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 8:26 PM UTC
handpicked blueberries in yogurt,
tea on the porch, Ellen,
in desperation to plant a raspberry bush.
jogging through a grasshopper field
holding in screams at the small green chirps
shooting up around my ankles.
grimy trails of sweat, the daddy longlegs
crawling out from under my thigh
the dirt at home under my nails.
nickel-bright stars above
the trees, a cool tress rising,
buzzing in the porch light of
bugs going for our jugulars,
still tight and smooth.
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
We may live in a misogynistic, male dominated world
But hey
At least women have the yogurt
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
"montana-says-yoga-pants-illegal" Look up on Yahoo
we got quite the stash,
under the illegal grass,
in our hidden home,
bring 'em out when
it's just the two of us,
looking to get exercised
o'course we have secret codes,
(yogurt slackers)
never call 'em by their real name
in public,
lest we get sent by drone
to the new
orange and black jail
when we be feeling
risky-frisky,
under our coats
we wear 'em semi-publicly,
but to blend in,
we only buy black,
seeing as we live
in new york seeity,
where we reside,
black be the only
legal color for approved
illegal street walking
never when we travel domestically
in case we get busted,
don't want to face
federal interstate charges
of inciting others to riot sensationally!
this land is not my land,
maybe it is yours,
but if you come alooking
for us, we got a cabin
in the deep words,
where we practice
dress code freedom,
no ties, shirts untucked,
navel (oranges) fully exposed,
button down shirts always unbuttoned,
(my high school days
revolutionary first strike)
hoping to escape
the idiots we
place above us
to "govern"
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC
whenever i feel down, i look on to my favorite things:
angels
books
chocolate
dogs
environment
flowers
guitar
hugs
ivory
juice
kisses
love
mercy
nirvana
oasis
pizza
queens
rocks
sweaters
tea
_
vivaldi
wonderland
x-men
yogurt
zebras
but i'm missing
u
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC
I call last summer
the "Summer of Smoothies"
for the usual ones made of fruit
and for those kind of men,
you know,
the smooth-talking types.
I liked the thick ones,
especially with yogurt as a base
and with some sort of berry.
I would sip them slowly while swinging
my feet off of the old suspension bridge
that stretched wide across the quiet gorge.
I liked the tall ones too
since I never liked dating any of the short ones
who made me feel like
I belonged with that river in South America.
Not tall, dark, and handsome, though.
Tall and nerdy.
But I couldn't tell you why.
Every morning you would run past me
as I day dreamt in the sun on my bridge
and I wondered
why you never changed your route.
Every morning I quietly sipped my smoothie
and hoped that
it was me.
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 3:07 PM UTC
Measuring the passing of time
by the expiration dates on my yogurt.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 6:53 PM UTC
Today my sister treated me
Yogurt topped with fresh strawberries
and chocolate caviar.
We walked in the midday rain
that fell sideways
Shielded ourselves
with her red-and-white polka dot umbrella.
And the line was long
for donuts
Donuts that I
never cared
about.
And she brought
her blueberry-almond
yogurt.
And my strawberry-chocolate caviar
to our small round table.
And the sun suddenly shined
like summer.
And the line outside
was still long.
But the orange balloons
did not pop
under the watchful
donut sun.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 3:41 AM UTC
I learned on the Saturday I met you that "love at first sight" is a serious illness.
It infects the body and consumes it whole, leaving nothing but happiness and affection in place of the empty, hopeless shell it once was.
I learned on Tuesday that good music and Star Wars references assist the speeding up process of a first kiss,
And just how good knowing that it would be your last first kiss ever felt.
On Wednesday, I learned how hard it was not to say "I love you" out loud.
Instead, I resorted it to silently mouthing the phrase when your head is turned.
On Thursday, I learned that you like to swirl the New York Cheesecake and Red Velvet Cake flavors of frozen yogurt, just like I do.
It reminded me of the concept of being soulmates. Our secret dance reminded me of a movie from the 1920s. Thank you, Louis Armstrong, and the lake in San Angelo for providing the perfect atmosphere.
I learned on Friday how easy it is to talk to the person you love for seven hours.
I also learned that I don't care how tired I look in the first photograph we took together, because I've been a different person since last Saturday.
On the second Saturday that I met you, I learned how hard it is to watch a movie alone with you while your lips are so close to mine.
I learned a lesson on willpower, and also that it's easier if we watch movies in theaters. But even theaters can't keep us from sneaking kisses every once in a while.
That day I learned how easy it is to dance beautifully with the soulmate you've known only for a week.
I also learned that I'm not the only person who sees the beauty I see when we are together. I glanced over your shoulder during the Jimi Hendrix guitar solo, only to see our group of friends staring at us in awe. It didn't distract me from the butterflies I had from your arm being around me.
Later that same night, I learned how anxious I feel, slipping love notes into your pocket, and saying goodbye, if only for two weeks.
That week, I learned that two Saturdays is all it takes to make you certain of whom you want to spend the rest of your life with.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 11:10 PM UTC
The officer said it was illegal but I've never been punished thusfar.
I knew it was wrong, but desire consumed me.
I grabbed the man and dragged him into my van.
He screamed and I laughed.
Brutal company.
It was going to hurt, of that I was certain.
His lack of consent did not stop me. I was on a mission, and James Bond always thrives.
I got in and drove as fast and as far as I could.
Speed bumps bring my daughter joy.
She giggles, I smile, he writhes in pain. My smile grows.
A pain bubbles in my clavicle but I digress.
But, I don't digress because it HURT.
I locked the angels in my closet for safe keeping. My mother is proud.
Blood is my favorite accessory. Hashtag period.
My friend always said I was cunning but I never believed her father was a good man.
After all, a good man would never commit such acts.
I threw the empty toilet paper roll at his grave then shouted at his wife's cat.
Meow. Meow, meow. Meow.
It sings the song of the hummingbird so I put it in a collar and walk it to the pound.
The pound sings the song of death, my song.
My student tool box is full of unfortunate goodies, and yes, my English teacher approves.
But I would rather she not. This is my journey, not one I shall share.
I aggressively slap the keys of life, hoping yogurt will seep from the cracks of destiny.
It never does, and I starve.
My granola is friendless.
Life is bitter, like the skin of a plum.
Fierce as a seahorse. But again, I digress.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 10:20 AM UTC