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"yumm" poems
Much fruit from the Poet tree Today Yumm Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis
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Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 9:35 AM UTC
Much Fruit
Making a meal is like making love, At the beginning, its all about preparation, Getting the right ingredients, finding the right temperature, And of course, one must love the meal one is about to "make". And away you go, mixing up the wet and dry pieces, Stirring them together until a stiff dough is formed, The aromas tickle the nose, the taste of sweet and salt, just right, The quickening of movement when everything begins to cook at the same time, The heart starts pounding as boiling bubbles satisfy our senses, A frenzied rush to get everything on the plate at the same time, A sudden rush of staem, noise, maybe a little burn or two?, Then everything just kinda comes together, and the food is taken off the boil, simmering slowly to a warm glow,,, mmmmmmmm yumm. (c) [email protected] 2010
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Jan 21, 2010
Jan 21, 2010 at 4:35 AM UTC
The Love Of Food
Tick tock This stupid clock Tortoise hands running by the seconds 158 days still too long 18 here I come Candles already know the wish I'm going to make Cake is cutting itself Eating it will be no problem Ice cream cake from Dairy Queen Yumm ;) 158 days and counting down Waiting to hear the BOOM 18 makes when the door hits the ground Screeching of car tires Sirens blaring behind me Across sixteen states Cops singing their song Bad Boys Bad Boys Whatcha Gunna Do When They Come For You I'll press the pedal through the metal Let the world choke on my dust 158 days & counting down Catch me on the news You'll never hear from me again A ghost will be pushing that 454
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Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
158 Days & Counting Down
~~~ Traditions lead to streets of dream to scant abodes beneath the green So tiny small 'neath gardens tall with russet stacked above them all ~ Their chimneys waft of fire's stoke the meek step forth though bashful folk The pitter pat of little feet arise the length of Little Street ~ They take my hand as pipers chant descend the street with river's dance Around about the dancers croon to every home I'm blessed ... buffoon ~ Tranquil glade amongst the heather sparks ignite the moods in feather Flames leap forth as cauldrons coddle tubers roast as whispers twaddle Pipes I fill and pints I swallow Tip 'em Back their chant seems hollow ~ Breaking bread their stew yumm - titious though in my head their brew grows vicious ~ Little Street a fading glow still ... I was little once you know The shutters close the visions wane their magic carves my hiking cane Another day another plane the child inside asleep again ~~~
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Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
Return to Little Street
The moment right before. That's THE moment. What it's all about. Will I? Won't I? I know I will. The breath in, deep Before the leap! Darkness. Falling, aaah; splash! Pop. Glug glug, gulp; yumm! Vasoconstriction and focus. Followed immediately by Vasodilation and calm.
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Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 9:16 PM UTC
BEFORE
You know what I love about taking a road trip to LA? Looking out of the window Watching as the miles and miles of hills overlap one another Seeing the neat rows Hundreds of them Each field a new shape Each a new fruit I love rolling down the window The breeze whipping my hair around Too lazy and too care free to tie it up Letting that earthy smell fill up the car Realizing I need a new playlist Stashing my favorite candy in the back, yumm But what I love the most about it all? Knowing that after those 6 hours have stretched 5 hours too long... (you always said I had the patience of a 5 year old) I can at least comfortably have a spot on your bed
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Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
It's worth it