"zesty" poems
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.
Mar 21, 2010
Mar 21, 2010 at 7:44 PM UTC
╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ'✿⊱╮
Golden, crisp, buttery base
cups the lemon curd,
creamy, zesty-sweet and rich
silken on my tongue
Fluffy flower-crown
tips soft-brown
Hmm!
╰⊰✿⊱╮
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 12:00 PM UTC
To Two Nonnas
@2007 Linda Barrett
We can't afford to go to Italy
So you both bring it to us
We hear in the music of your names,
each syllable coming from your mouths,
vocal chords and tongues
that dance fast Italian tarantellas
from your shared cubicle
You both should have been sisters
Born on the same month
And sailed into America
on the same ship.
You bring us Italy
through your cooking:
olive oil drenched cole slaw
made zesty with ground pepper and salt,
amaretto cookies placed on our desks
deep fried calamari rings
at the Willow Grove Bennigan's
and Italian restaurants
in a Maple Glen shopping center.
You both embrace us
with still strong Nonna arms
and crochet bright pink baby clothes
for expecting employees.
On the weekends,
you become bocce ball champs
in Montgomery County
where Italian is still spoken,
To uphold up the old country's heritage
This poem comes out
from our love to you
because just by being our friends
we want to save all our pennies
to see what Italy is really like.
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC
Laboriously beleaguering hypercritically meticulous hypotaxis apomixis strive
Rainbow mare aura roan exude emote derive
Syntactical propinquity habitation harbinger harangue stoic hive
Colloquialism vernaculars prurient adage jargon idiom clichés jive
Mirador bartizan panorama stalwart bastion bulwark tableau live
Canny cleaver crafty cunning furtive sneaky stealthy connive
Poignant cogent piquant ephemeral effulgence temporal refraction arrive
Paradoxical dichotomy greaves gauntlets gamut catalyst abstracts survive
Hectic mayhem , proximity parameter perimeter peripherals , annihilate rive
Zingy zesty zany zenithal azimuth entity zeal alive
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
I Love Pie & You Sweetie Pie!
I Love Pie & You Sweetie Pie
Love pumpkin pie its so good
Awe taste just like it should
Love lemon pie with a
touch of ****
Love it deep down in my
heart
I love jello pie it's
so sweet
The way it wiggles
it's so neat!
Love pie of banana cream
And chocolate is my dream
I love blueberry too
It's so good & blue
I love BlackBerry too awe
so sweet and black
Pick em right off the vines
and put em in a sack
I love apple pie topped
with cheese
Oh and make that a scoop
of val ice cream please
Oh and also the Apple Dutch
Oh how I love it so much!
Custard Boston and
Zesty Lime,
Whip Cream Humble and
Rhubarb all the time!
Quick Set Frozen Cream
Pie and Oreo Cookie Crust
Sweet Tatter and Velvet
Turtle Now that's a must!
But my favorite pie
of all is true
That's my favorite pie
"Sweetie Pie" it's you!
WrittenBy:BarbieKirk
11-24-14 5:09am
www.allpoetry.com/RainbowBlessings
© Barbie Kirk . All rights reserved, 16 hours ago
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 10:45 PM UTC
Why oh why do I love pie?
The ABCs of it and
the LMNO-Pie of it
A Apple Pie
B Boston cream Pie
C Cherry Pie
D Dutch Apple Pie
E Equation Pie 3.14
F Fruit Pie
G Grandma's Gooseberry Pie
H Humble Pie
I Ice Cream Pie
J Jell-O Pudding Pie
K Kidney Pie
L Lemon Meringue Pie
M Moon Pie
N Nutty Pecan Pie
O Oreo Cookie Crust Pie
P Pud'nin Pie
Q Quick Set Frozen Cream Pie
R Rhubarb Pie
S Sweet Tater Pie
T Tuxedo Pie
U Upside Down Pineapple Pie
V Velvet Truffle Pie
W Whip Cream Pie
X PIE IN THE FACE
Y Yummy Pie
Z Zesty Lemon/Lime Pie
Now you have the XYZ of it
and the PIE of it
Why oh why do you love Pie?
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC
As a footnote, I’ve always held a certain regard for those plentiful fruits. Raspberries. Small and juicy and sweet. Quick and easy.
Now, it’s apples on the other hand I heavily despise.
To eat an apple is to make a commitment. Society generally frowns upon those who eat half an apple, just to toss out the rest. And most people are not exactly bargaining for your leftovers once they’re brown and teeth marked. Apple eating is a long and rigorous ordeal. Halfway through, the raw parts begin to stain or dry and when you’re finally finished, you’ve still got to deal with that core and the skin that’s stuck in your teeth. Herein, apples and commitments become synonymous. Convenience, the antonym.
Raspberries, however, are miniature, and zesty, and only last for a matter of seconds.
Not unlike ideal high school relationships.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 9:07 PM UTC
spice
he
wanted
a
little
spice
just
a
little
would
be
so
nice
the tangy spice
he could savour
oh how he craved
its zesty flavour
every day
he yearned to taste
the spice's zing
of it he'd
waste not
a thing
bliss found
in the spice
she'd give
this small sample
his reason
to live
spice
he
wanted
a
little
spice
just
a
little
would
be
so
nice
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 7:14 AM UTC
Powdered sugar mountains
Snowing with sweet
Delectable dunes
Infused insects
Pureed peaks
Zesty zeolites
Caramelized clouds
and Sauteed Sunshine
These are a few of my favorite things.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 3:37 AM UTC
Bouncing, boundless butterflies,
Bouncing in the balmy breeze,
Bouncing in the boundless skies,
Bounce between the brown-barked trees,
Bounce on by the bumble bees.
Buzzing, zipping bumble bees,
Buzzing in the zesty skies,
Buzzing in the zesty breeze,
Buzz into the butterflies—
Bumping—making butterbees.
^ ^
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 2:02 PM UTC
Oh won't you butter my squash?
Clean my seeds
Like the sins of my past
The baked passion inside
The oven racks
Racks
Racks
Stack the inner radiance
And peal me
The smooth orange paste
Will feel really zesty
Stay here on my cutting board
Send knives of kisses
Be merciless inside the sink
Blinking boiling stink
And watch as I eat your intestines
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 10:41 AM UTC
Sweetness fills my senses
As my tongue rolls around you
Savouring your taste
Transforming
As my mouth gently engulfs your contours
*******
Relishing every second until
Finally reaching your zesty finish
(C) Pixievic 2016
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 8:02 PM UTC
Golden words penned long ago
when I was young and zesty
occupied with lofty things
perhaps a lot less testy.
That which clouds my vision
tragic losses which destroyed
sweet perceptions
dark deceptions
left me underjoyed.
Of boyfriends unattainable
rejection would then smite
the hope of finding love,
which left me
just a bit uptight.
in the stretch to earn a living
well my boss is kind of rough
In trying to say something nice I'm on ice
cuz she's hard-headed, driving, and tough.
The high cost of living and then there's the tax
puts a strain on my old bank account
but that backbiting backriding queen battleaxe
can jump from the ground to the mount.
and every day's the same old thing
like a hamster on the wheel
the same old thing is looking old
and I’m feeling cold as steel.
but still I ignore the passing of time
and balance hard work with clean fun
and believing that this is as good as it gets
I'll settle for less than the one.
seeking distraction from everything dull
and attracted to that which you are
I read self help books while you eats what I cooks
and you're lost in the Harper's Bazaar.
My cellulite was ill replete
and disappointments grew
and long before the smog moved in
it choked the thrill from you.
and out of this stress comes the need to digress
so we sleep and we play and we drink
and we drain our desires and ***** up our wires
and leave our *** life on the brink.
Simple amusements, the clutter of things
common to man and his beast
from the pretense of knowledge and so many things
to the Thanksgiving holiday feast.
And now we're blown out, you lie and I shout
there's a palpable distance that's haunted
I long for the day when you'd hold me and say
that I'm the THE ONE you've always wanted.
But now mediocre, you opt to play poker
and run with a sweatpool of stink
and hoping to find something good on the street
in the morning you feel like a fink.
Left to your own devices
sleeping soundly, your heart's one desire
for passion it waits, while the office debates
and will do so until you expire.
Displacing my anger I'm less satisfied
and will never see straight, as you'll see
my own crooked finger was put through the wringer
and now it points straight back at me.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
Job searches getting me down
I wait a few days and build up expectations of a keyword,
only to be hit with my inexperience in strange computer programs
Secret knowledge, have the behind the curtain research consultants
No one wants to understand a fleeting past
It’s all about what’s profit present
an internet job board is a long look at the priorities of this nouveau world "culture"
The top jobs are in marketing,
turning spy loot into algorithms that explain to magistrates how
the top brands can stay above the clouds
It’s the only way they can look down
My college has a vapid radio commercial
advertising zesty summer programs
- and I thought my prestigious public college
was above that
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
A clay *** holds your happiness.
It's halfway tall,
reaching up to your thigh,
Narrow, blown up in the middle, narrow.
Simple lid with a spherical dot for fingers to grasp,
and a black drawn line
that curls from base to lip,
and over.
Insides encumbered by sweet darkness,
shaded glory,
because outside,
gleaming.
Spiraled gold that must have dribbled off the sun's ice cream cone
leaked through the bottom where the end had broken
and flavor escaped
to land on your mirthful urn.
Blue so clear,
the sky surely lost a piece of itself
as a crack appeared
and a fragment cascaded downward
to shatter along your pleasant chalice.
And in between,
are lines of green
that could have only originated
on pinewood trees
in a forest so dark
that monsters beware.
Bordering a little town
where children played
and only truth was called,
never dare.
Because there is red on your delighted decanter.
Spattered droplets
of coagulated sparks.
Jaded needles saturated,
with pine fresh essence
emanating from your zesty flagon.
And a single spot,
Barren.
Bereft of treasure.
Parted from cerulean.
Robbed of Viridian.
And severed in the roots of a blushing Amaryllis.
Occupying there,
a white blemish,
a shape of infinite corners
immaculately defined
and so small,
you will never find it on the canister
that harbors your smile.
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
Ambiguous altered awareness
Beginning brought back
Calm close connection
Dreamy delicious desires
Ethereal essence ebbing
Fingers for feasting
Giving gentle goodness
Heavenly heart harnessed
Ideal images imagined
Joyous juicy juxtaposition
Kaleidoscope kisses kept
Lasting lucid lust
Muted memories meshed
Nuzzling nearly ****
Outright open offerings
Pure pleasure passed
Quality quickly quested
Raw rapture revealed
Softly sung song
Thoughtful tender touch
Unique understanding unveiled
Virtuous verbal velvet
Wanting, why wait?
X-otic X-citment X-plored
Yearning yeses yielded
Zealous zesty zeal
I’m addicted to you……
Sep 1, 2010
Sep 1, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
Golden words penned long ago
when I was young and zesty
occupied with lofty things
perhaps a lot less testy.
That which clouds my vision
tragic losses which destroyed
sweet perceptions
dark deceptions
left me underjoyed.
Of boyfriends unattainable
rejection would then smite
the hope of finding love,
which left me
just a bit uptight.
in the stretch to earn a living
well my boss is kind of rough
In trying to say something nice I'm on ice
'cause she's hard-headed, driving, and tough.
The high cost of living and then there's the tax
puts a strain on my old bank account
but that backbiting back-riding queen battleaxe
can jump from the ground to the mount.
and every day's the same old thing
like a hamster on the wheel
the same old thing is looking old
and I’m feeling cold as steel.
but still I ignore the passing of time
and balance hard work with clean fun
and believing that this is as good as it gets
I'll settle for less than the one.
seeking distraction from everything dull
and attracted to that which you are
I read self help books while you eats what I cooks
and you're lost in the Harper's Bazaar.
My cellulite was ill replete
and disappointments grew
and long before the smog moved in
it choked the thrill from you.
and out of this stress comes the need to digress
so we sleep and we play and we drink
and we drain our desires and ***** up our wires
and leave our *** life on the brink.
Simple amusements, the clutter of things
common to man and his beast
from the pretense of knowledge and so many things
to the Thanksgiving holiday feast.
And now we're blown out, you lie and I shout
there's a palpable distance that's haunted
I long for the day that you'll hold me and say
I was always the THE ONE that you wanted.
But now mediocre, you opt to play poker
and run with a sweat-pool of stink
and hoping to find something good on the street
in the morning you feel like a fink.
Left to your own devices
sleeping soundly, your heart's one desire
for passion it waits, while the office debates
and will do so until you expire.
Displacing my anger I'm less satisfied
and will never see straight, as you'll see
my own crooked finger was put through the wringer
and now it points straight back at me.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 2:54 PM UTC
The young poetess^ writes:
*Sitting on the edge of brilliance,
that cuts my youthful pride to shreds,
are the verbal shards of bards,
poets, beyond my experience.
Expelling their lifeblood,
I can, but only,
place my hands upon
their open wounds
murmuring hopeful platitudes,
praying that their blood spilled,
is not their excellence drained,
their wisdom wasted and stained!*
The old hoary replies:
Wishful thirsty drinkers
from the cups of youth are we.
We 'presumed' ancient bards
have lived to regret the
burden of our accumulations,
the weightiness of our pages,
owning insights, steeped,
fermented, wine-to-vinegar,
spoiled by age, time-wasted.
Our words, product of visions
grown dim and simp,
under no duress,
we-eager confess!
Better poets were we,
when possessed of
blood hotter, skin smoother,
brow clearer, innocent of fear!
Your eager cuts run
zesty red and freely,
Ours, clotted ones,
anemic, yellowed from
the curse of the boundaries
of too much experience,
purchased pricey rules,
murderers of our uninhibited courage.
You cogitate with
passions unlined, unruled.
We shuffle, bemoan
our drizzling days,
waiting for relief,
and yet, rue
our inevitable conclusion.
We curse our fate, our slow dissolution.
You bless the opportunistic rising sun,
enervated by energies unbounded,
You animate for answers, solutions!
We sit caned and quiet, acidic,
damning Solomon and his caustic words -
There is nothing new under the sun.
Perhaps we know a word or two more than you.
Gladly we'd trade that for youthful hands
that pray, point and scribe, with the eagerness
that sets words upon paper of spirits enflamed!
Time, our master, has shred our writs to pieces,
yet, you young poetess, greet the morn, confident, saying
today I will give birth to the first of many, masterpieces.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
I love to spread
my plum sauce
on your
**** nectarines,
mix it up,
sift
& fold,
then taste
the hot-combination
of our zesty ingredients.
Such bold
raw-flavors
never grow old.
I am sold on the menu
& crave your appetite,
you are a connoisseur,
demure,
soft & pretty.
Me & you
never fight the menu,
our culinary arts
are exquisite
& delicious,
so scrumptious,
they're sacred,
obviously
made in Heaven.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 6:51 AM UTC
His awesome silence
Allays the soul
His beautiful silence
Blesses our spirit
His calm silence
Comforts our heart
His deafening silence
Dramatises His presence
His eloquent silence
Eludes all words
His frequent silence
Finalizes all questions
His glorious presence
Gratifies the senses
His Holy silence
Hushes our being
His incredible silence
Illuminates our minds
His judicious silence
Judges all matters
His kingly silence
Kindles a flame
His long silence
Lingers all night
His mysterious silence
Mystifies His aura
His necessary silence
Negates all doubts
His outstanding silence
Outdoes our interference
His peaceful silence
Precedes all victories
His quick silence
Questions our motives
His royal silence
Restores the poor
His sudden silence
Surprises the proud
His tangible silence
Touches the searching
His unique silence
Unravels all misconceptions
His voiceless silence
Visits the hasty
His wonderful silence
Washes all fears
His X-ray silence
X-irradiates our consciences
His yuletide silence
Yields to reflection
His zesty silence
Zooms into prosperity
Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 12:37 PM UTC
Fall is the most beautiful time of the year for me, with its blushing
Apples and fruitful trees dressed in zesty rubious healthy leaves with
Luminous fruit hanging off its stems, like galas, granny smiths, and fuji
Leaves of multi colored sunburnt shades of yellow, gold and brown
Inside the orchard, ladders, bushels, straw hats and farmer pant- grins
No better place to be then underneath an Autumn tree when every
Golden leaf shimmer-shimmies before swiveling down at your feet
Leaves that dance and shuffle-shake before landing in your hands
Earthing to the ground covering you with giant leafy dry crispy limbs
Arrest the night, stop the moon, hold the stars, its time to listen to the
Voices of the night, the falling leaves have their sorrowful story to tell
Ease into their season with a quiet soul. Help them say goodbye to the
Summer. After all it is the season of Autumn, a time for falling leaves.
September 27, 2021
Sep 30, 2021
Sep 30, 2021 at 9:36 PM UTC
woman emerges naked & pregnant
from the dense brush, starts eating;
goes into labor, shouts out, what're
u, writing a book! thinking her mate
has come face-to-face w/ his maker;
she squats & taking deep breaths lets
the load drop screaming & crying;
he's no prophet, he's constipated &
looking about for something to read;
woman walks off along the beach; its
warm waves lapping beneath a zesty
orange sky, feeding the tasty juice
from the coiled umbilical to the infant;
the man finally gets a clue but by
now, the woman is gone; it's getting
late & it's time to hunt; it's easier to
feed one than three; meanwhile, the
woman finds a camp of mothers &
children, washes herself & the child;
sits down for a hot meal & is offered
a safe place to sleep beside the fire,
the little creature at her breast; man,
finding a like-minded troop of savages,
excitedly tells them of the creature
w/ three heads & a mouth between it's
legs leaving out that he ****** it until
he got to know them better; noticing
two men holding hands & thinking
he must've taken a really wrong turn
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 8:25 AM UTC
Fill my craving with your zesty rind
In the mist of my longing, come splashing
Ingest my inn with your piquant smiles
Will you rain like dew for my pipe is parched?
Drizzle my windows with decorative light and
Melt your *** in that multihued bend
Be my condiment in this insipid snack
But preserve your liquiscent state
No! Not in the canister
Who says this dye belongs to Freud?
After you entice my eyes and tongue.
Then citrus filled my air now back to stanza one.
Feb 7, 2012
Feb 7, 2012 at 7:16 PM UTC
The Boy
“A superb young boy and a dismal excuse for a man,” said the pastor.
“A stupid baby, my stupid baby,” his mother wept.
“A handsome neighbor and a charming thief,” whispered Mary-Jane.
“A sheepish grin and lips fresh with duplicity,” wrote the poet.
“A savvy talker amongst witless pawns,” smirked his presence.
“I’m okay,” he lied one last time.
His absence was the last to leave, and it laughed, it laughed.
The Lie
To his mouth it was zesty sweet, like lemonade on a steaming summer’s day.
To his ears, it was funny little fact or a joke, a twisted truth.
But to his mother’s it was a headliner..
Mary-Jane’s thought it was a haunting reality..
At least until the last time they ignored his cries, declined the truth but swallowed the lies.
The Cry
On Monday they heard it all the way down the block.
On Tuesday it only reached the half-point.
On Wednesday only the neighbors heard.
On Thursday it didn’t leave the house.
On Friday it had no time to leave his mouth.
The Wolf
The wolf belched and slipped backed into the forest.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC