"zucchini" poems
No sprouted wheat and soya shoots
And Brussels in a cake,
Carrot straw and spinach raw,
(Today, I need a steak).
Not thick brown rice and rice pilaw
Or mushrooms creamed on toast,
Turnips mashed and parsnips hashed,
(I'm dreaming of a roast).
Health-food folks around the world
Are thinned by anxious zeal,
They look for help in seafood kelp
(I count on breaded veal).
No smoking signs, raw mustard greens,
Zucchini by the ton,
Uncooked kale and bodies frail
Are sure to make me run
to
***** of pork and chicken thighs
And standing rib, so prime,
Pork chops brown and fresh ground round
(I crave them all the time).
Irish stews and boiled corned beef
and hot dogs by the scores,
or any place that saves a space
For smoking carnivores.
21.8k
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.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 4:28 AM UTC
The way fig flesh
Folds itself
into each hour,
its skin rubbed
from gray to
purple, bitten into
yellow prickled with
gold seeds stuck
to your lips. It’s
late, maybe midnight
or two we’re not sure
as our feet trip
over stone streets and
we bid the other
buona notte.
I am hungry and
very much wanting
*** Instead
I sauté the
zucchini blossoms
my host mom
bought all’mercado.
and in her kitchen
I lick
the mouth of the
olive oil bottle as
the petals pucker
in her cast iron
pan and then with
a whisper of salt
they are burning
my mouth as I
pluck
each
from the pan, oil
dripping down my
wrists and after I
am still hungry
and very much
wanting ***
but I decide
it’s enough
to have figs and
zucchini blossoms
and I go to bed,
my mouth tasting
something
like a melody.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
ARTICHOKES are very nice roasted with pine nuts
Who likes BANANA cream pie?
They say that eating CARROTS improves your eye sight
Along the river Nile there are many DATE palms
ELDERBERRIES make a flavorsome wine
Piths from a FIG can easily get stuck between your teeth
Nape tape and shape all rhyme with GRAPE
HORSERADISH has a hot tangy taste
ICE-PLANT is a much used vegetable in Chinese cookery
The oil extract from JUNIPER BERRIES produces quine
My sister likes KALE steamed with lemon rind
It is so nice to munch on a LETTUCE leaf
MANDARINS are presently plentiful at the green grocer's
NEEPS can be mashed or left whole
On a hot summer day chilled ORANGE juice goes down well
Has anyone got a good PUMPKIN scone recipe?
Lashings of QUINCE jam were spread on my toast
The lady next door grows RHUBARB
SPINACH gave Popeye much strength
Smothering sausages in TOMATO sauce is sensational
UGLI is a member of the citrus family
In New Orleans you'll find fresh VELVET BEANS
WATERCRESS salad is so easy to prepare
XIGUA is a type of WATERMELON
YAMS are a staple of the New Guinean diet
ZUCCHINI bread is delicious fair
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
Giovanni the Pizza Guy (Pronounce "a" as "uh")
Giovanni,you make a de savory tomato
and de thicka white creamy alfredo
you are a de pizza guy, amor'e
Si', I make a de homemade paste
she's a richer for you taste
and that's a part of my story.
I make a de pizza pie
I make a it to please
you wanna de pepperoni
or you wanna de plain cheese ?
I am a you waiter I take a you order
when you food-she a comes
she make a you mouth water
I make a de perfect pizza
in me you should a trust
you wanna de thicka or de thinna crispy crust?
I can make a spagetti or make a zucchini
butta for you , I make a linguine
I can make a de sauce red
I can make a it white
after you taste-you wanna more bite
I make a de spagetti -she's a made a with love
I cook a real slow you order ahead ;
or you take a to go.
I putta de stuff on de top
I give a you wine or a some pop
Uno momento, will you please
I must a cut a de cheese
I am a you pizza guy to make a you pizza pie
Why must a you stay a at home
when a you can a dine a in a Rome ?
I save a you a table
I tell a you a fable
I fill a you pants
I make a you dance
I make a de sauce thick
I make a de sauce thin
I make a you laugh
I make a you grin !
Si', Please a come a back ; see a Giovanni again!
CHOW FOR NOW, BELLISIMA !
Nov 26, 2010
Nov 26, 2010 at 2:45 PM UTC
I'm Bailey.
I sometimes forget to recycle.
I'm from singing camels and trigonometry.
From soap bubbles and yellow scarves, Irish hymns and Zucchini the ferret,
piano keys, bluebonnet seeds, and DO NOT ENTER signs.
From salt.
I'm the color of hosed off sidewalk chalk.
I'm all summer in a day.
I'm a conglomeration of artistic thoughts that make me look more profound than I actually am.
I'm your infinite playlist.
I'm from elephant necklaces and rosemary bushes
from high-heeled taps and Camelot
threadless socks, shopping carts, and impromptu salons.
I'm the fifth ninja turtle.
I live where you laugh so hard you cry.
I'm from carrots and ranch.
I'm a happy cow from California, a fortune cookie with your enchilada, a drill team skirt over marching uniforms.
I'm from unfinished crossword puzzles and forgotten dead languages
from pixie dust and snapcracklepop
from actually-it's-pronounced's, because-i-said-so's, and that's-not-my-name's.
I am Nancy Drew with a Peter Pan complex.
I come from honeysuckle candles and sunroofs of pickup trucks
broken-down fences and peach salsa
the second you step onstage.
I'm from in between.
I'm Bailey.
I don't drive the speed limit.
And I'm from you.
Dec 22, 2009
Dec 22, 2009 at 6:08 PM UTC
i never understood the phrase
home is where the heart is
until i was shaking on the floor of
my hospital room and it was nothing
but walls
and even when i found the energy to
decorate with cliché little things
like fairy lights, posters, my
skeletal “art”
i felt the room swallow me whole
until i was nothing but a grain of sand
my new roommate was a wrinkly zucchini-girl
and i tried not to speak to her
but we heard each other cry in the night
and we never said a word
but i could feel her eyes on me
a girl down the hall
heard me talking about my addiction and
she told me she would pray for me
later that day she pushed me
into a wall and pressed her
lips against mine
then told me i was tempting her,
i was a sin
just waiting to happen
so i sat in the dark outside her room every
night before i went to sleep
and sometimes she would
come out
and hold my hands
and tell me she loved me
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 12:52 AM UTC
Zinging the zen-zone I was in
A zany request zig-zagged my way.
Princess Zinnia from the Zuider-Zee
Required a zippy line or two
To paint the zeitgeist of our times.
With the strength of a Zamboni-
With the power of a Zeus-
And an uncommon zeal I set out
To zap the doubt that slowed me.
With the flair of a Florenz Ziegfeld
And his zoftig choir of beauties,
I morphed into a zealot
Gamboling in the zephyrs
That wafted in from Zurich and Zaire,
Not to mention Zanzibar.
I felt like a Zacharias
When my zealous work went bust.
The writing turned into a zonk-
The accolades were zilch.
I felt like I’d been zippered up
Like a zebra in a zoo.
I lost my zest for going on
And slopped around in old Zoris,
Listening to zydeco’s beat
And feeling like a zit.
But then the Zodiac-
My zinging-singing sign
Came to my rescue
And I was marching off to Zion.
I was one wowie-zowie-zucchini
As I zipped across the pages
And zoomed from one idea
To an even zippier one.
So here, Sunprincess, is your verse
I’ve used up every letter zee
And gone from very bad to worse
But of this challenge, I am free.
ljm
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC
July rain
in a year of drought
as I plant peas
in the new garden
I have spent months
building in
expectation.
The sky has been quiet
and I have been thinking
peas
and maybe the zucchini
will bring change
and blessing.
I dreamed last night
of my parents’ new home–
the one they inhabited
when they left me
behind on earth.
This new soil is
yielding such discovery.
What else, I wonder,
should be planted?
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 10:41 PM UTC
There once was a fight on my plate
In front of my face while I ate
The Broccoli on the left picked up its Spear
And stabbed the Corn on the right, right in the Ear
The Avocado Artichoked the Zucchini
Before the Pepper rang the Bell on that meanie
The Onion went to Bed on the Lettuce and cried
Afraid that the Beets on the side were all Red cause they died
The Okra came in and slimed the whole affair
While the Yams slammed and Squashed the Cauliflower
The Peas ended up with Black Eyes
Next to the Potatoes that were mashed up and fried
The Cabbage brought it all to a head
Which Steamed the Asparagus with all that was said
There once was a fight on my plate
In front of my face while I ate
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 8:54 AM UTC
Zzzzz
Zzzzz
-Zzzzz
Zzzzz
Zz...
(???)
Zoe?
-Zzzzz
Zzzzz
Zoe??
-Zzzzz
Zzzzz
ZOE!!!
-Zz...!
Zane?
'Za,
Zucchini,
Zinfandel?
-Zzzzz
Zoe!
-Zz...
Zane?!
'Za,
Zucchini,
Zinfandel?
-Zaxby's
Zalad
Zaxby's
Zalad?
-Zzzzz
Zzzzz
ZOE!
-Zz...!
Zane?!
Zaxby's
Zalad???
(???)
Zoe,
Zaxby's
Zalad?
-'Za,
Zucchini,
Zinfandel
Zzzzz
Zzzzz
-Zane?
© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Jan 4, 2020
Jan 4, 2020 at 12:02 PM UTC
All of life,
everything we shall ever know
is found within the gardens
Pulling weeds and the cover crop
*** them under or pulling them up
I never remember
The soil crumbling between my fingers
Perfect for planting
All is hope and promises
The gardens are a cycle
You've have to add excrement to begin again
The seeds are sewn, the starts transplanted
Water slightly pooled, dripping down into
the rich dark soil
A red worm winds its way down
Life begins again
Vulnerable
The light of the sun, so warming
Cosmic love radiated our way
Life is an urge, it finds its way
The lettuce, the tomatoes, the zucchini, the artichoke, the cauliflower, the raspberries,
a blue berry or two
Medicinal herbs, oregano, cilantro, too
Fruitful youth
A flower is a plant with a hardon
The juices running right down my face
Taste
Nourishment
It feels like total summer forever
But football and school come every September
The days get shorter
The plants turn yellow and brown
Outgrow themselves
Wither and die
Purgatory lives,
along come the cover crops and weeds
In winter all just try to survive
The garden know its limits
It knows what being is all about
All of life, everything we shall ever know
Is found within the gardens.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 10:56 PM UTC
We used to eat zucchini
fried and hot
with ranch from the packet.
I know that now.
I learned to eat the smallest ones first
because they wouldn't burn my mouth
The large ones burned like nothing I remembered before
I opened my mouth and blew out.
I think you taught me that.
We were at a park then
I think there was a bench at the top of a hill
It had a path up to it,
Packed earth or stone...
It was a dream till now.
We ate but it was late
there wasn't much time to play
I asked you something hard, maybe about mom
I think it was about you
I don't know what you said
but it wasn't satisfying.
I thought that day was a dream, for years.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
step 1:
random-add everyone you see
without liking any of their poetry
to get follow-backs for free
step 2:
make your poem trendy
usually about love
heartbreak, loneliness,
lust, or whatever has the most hashtags these days
step 3:
speaking of hashtags
make sure to sprinkle your poem
with as much hashtags as possible
(don't even think about if they're related
or not)
#love #trending #anoerxia
*** #death #zucchini
step 4:
if you're running out of ideas
grab something mildly poetic from a song
shake it up a little
and trim it down to about ten words
step 5:
don't forget to make your poem short
because people don't have the attention span
to complete anything these da
step 6:
watch the view numbers come rolling in
and count them like money
congratulations!
you win nothing.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
how on earth
could steaming squash and Brussel sprouts
be as good as Doritos and a soft serve swirl…
sure, I desire to be a healthy old man
but my taste buds wish me dead at 45
they long for sweet wheat and extra large
portions of meat
indiscrete feedings at fried food buffets
all the while maintaining the look of a fella
only slightly over-weight
…..still, I feel poorly
headaches and joint pain
racing brain and an inability to refrain
from the foods that are doing this to me
I never thought after conquering
8 years of ****** addiction
and 15 years a tobacco ******
that candy bars would be my greatest foe
forget candy bars
let’s talk bread….
loaves of sourdough golden roasted
rye to die for
and cinnamon…rolls,
banana or zucchini
sprinkled on toast with a touch of sugar …
it is no wonder I am larger than need be
the BMI calculator says I am 84 pounds
from defeating obesity
so much for my professional lineman physique –
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC
Gone to the market
lost in the vegetable aisle
carrots, onions, zucchini
if this was him, then this is
you
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 8:36 PM UTC
He insists
preparing his zucchini
paying adequate attention
becoming a cook-off
looking forward to the tiramisu
the event drastically physical
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 7:02 PM UTC
My mother decided not to fight with the Earth anymore
While she wanted zucchini she let the blueberries grow.
She parked her little trailer by the trees and closed the door
I guess my mother decided not to fight with anyone anymore.
"Just what I needed" she proclaimed as she showed me around
her little trailer in the woods, wheels already sinking in the ground
A sink, a table, two coffee cups, a bed
and almost enough room to stand without hitting your head
on a three acre plot with a five bedroom home...
My mother decided not to fight with that house anymore.
"No shoes allowed," if one of the two rules of the trailer
Because my mother decided she's not gonna sweep anymore
She left home with her baby and boyfriend
in a school bus I wouldn't doubt he stole.
(My mother decided she wasn't gonna fight with her mother anymore.)
And when that wasn't working, she went off on her own.
Her son was the only man she'd fight for.
She married my father because;
"he just wouldn't leave me alone."
My mother decided not to fight it anymore
She fought for her house, her kids and she swore
she'd fight to the death if someone tried to take that from her.
Fought she did, fiercely or quietly
she did what she needed to.
How did my mother always know what to do?
One night we snuck out in the darkness
we left home for somewhere new.
She dressed us up in dresses and we drove and we drove
My mother decided we weren't going to church anymore.
We'd go to prison to see my father even though she was told
if we didn't we'd have a beach house in Jersey, everything paid for.
Because of her I know my father and love him unconditionally
Maybe my mother decided she wasn't going to keep that from me.
Because of her I know my siblings, doesn't sound like a choice
But my mother decided no one was going to separate us.
My mother decided not to fight with the Earth anymore.
She let's the weeds grow taller in the front yard, it doesn't bother her.
She'll pull them out by the roots when they're ready to go.
My mother knows what's worth fighting and fighting for.
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 4:17 PM UTC
Snow piles up against the walls, but thin clothes are all they wear
As the boy gardens within the greenhouses behind the school,
Red, bright tomatoes slipping out of his fingers, and popping into his mouth
That grins at the bursts of sweetness.
Inches from him, the man by one month pretends not to glance his way
Instead shifting through the bristling leaves to claim breakfast’s zucchini.
He would complain at the theft if the tomatoes weren’t everywhere
Making bland meals of packaged rice and canned beans a savory impossibility.
It isn’t like little indulgence will take away all of the red little briberies,
The secret keys to a reluctant community spreading its arms wide months after the pair stumbled in.
The man scowls, and the boy glances up
Not hiding his interest like his companion.
The solution to anger is always tomatoes,
So the next slip of fingers is against the man’s lips
As he bites down, the sweetness pops away mild irritation in the flavor of surprise.
Neither gives in to smiles, but their shoulders brush more than once as the tension seeps out with the heat into the snow.
Aug 11, 2019
Aug 11, 2019 at 1:18 PM UTC
fingers ice cold
identity pinned on arbitrary digits
spilling the rotten flowers from her insides
counting pumps of panic juice
one, two, three. not enough.
she scrubs until her hands are red and raw.
four, five, six. they're not clean enough just yet.
waking up freezing and covered in sweat,
voice filling up volumes,
feeling every person who has ever
touched her skin.
sitting and shaking in spanish class,
quietly looking up the number of sleeping pills she needs
to get into her wretched body
in order to disappear forever.
craving the feeling of the cold blade on her hot skin
the red ribbons erupting onto her sheets
blinding anger, sadness, grief turns to
physical pain
staring at "severely underweight bmi" girls
scribbling on her injured wrist what she needs
to get to that point. she's almost there.
**** yourself. **** yourself. **** yourself, she writes.
**** yourself. **** yourself. **** yourself. **** yourself.
one day, she breaks,
dying a thousand deaths as sirens wail
peeling the tape off the IV they attached to her vein
hearing her mother cry
liver damage. severe blood loss. hallucinations. stitches necessary. psych ward? she's convulsing. must be in shock.
finding herself surrounded by broken girls and boys
in a white-walled facility
made for lunatics, just like her.
smiling through session after session until they say,
she's ready.
scraping through as she plans
how to keep the dead flowers just for herself.
months later, finding herself
in another home for lunatics
tiny quiet shaking girls just like her
being fed sugar water through her nose
on her eighth day, saying
a single first word to her therapist.
okay.
sharing a room with a wrinkly zucchini of a girl
turning pink and crying when
the soft soul walks in the room,
finally giving her a beautiful flower to hold.
all her hidden blossoms spilling out of her chest
ugly, shameful plants finally revealed
for the first time in many moons,
she's no longer ashamed of them.
falling in love with the girl two doors over,
erupting into giggles
sneaking around the milieu wearing
rose coloured-glasses,
fingers intertwined.
sitting in a circle of winter girls,
our flowers resting on our laps,
our fingers warmed by
the touch of one another.
Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 11:49 AM UTC
Whether to have dessert
Is not even a question.
Not to indulge in sweets?
Don’t even make that suggestion.
Having no apple pie
Or luscious lemon meringue
Would be a real ******
As we say in slang.
Right out of the oven:
Hot cinnamon rolls...
Or donuts right out of the fryer--
With or without holes...
Crepes filled with strawberries,
With a dollop of whipped cream...
When I talk about sweets,
I never run out of steam.
Don’t forget about cakes,
And anything with custard...
Chocolate in every form...
And--I’m getting flustered--
Fresh homemade cookies
Of any delicious kind...
Chocolate fudge or divinity...
Yikes, I’m losing my mind!
Dessert bars, oh, my goodness,
Chewy, crumbly, flaky...
Banana, zucchini, and pumpkin
Bread—soft and cakey...
Cupcakes topped with thick frosting,
And filled with chocolate ganache...
Creamy Crème brûlée...
Boy, aren’t we getting posh!
A sugary German plum cake,
A Danish butter ring,
And Greek galaktoboureko
Give me a reason to sing!
Chocolate frosted brownies...
Lefse with sugar and butter...
My sweet tooth is growing larger
With every word that I utter.
Some people say that these sweets
Might be the cause of my death.
Then let me be holding a cookie
When I take my last breath!
- by Bob B
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 7:51 AM UTC
Secret thoughts,
Secret thoughts,
I have about,
Those who I adore,
Secret thoughts,
Secret thoughts,
I have wishing,
They loved me more,
Secret poems I've writ
Secret words scribbled on page slips
Wishing they would love me different than they do
And wanting to tell them the secret words
But then they wouldn't be my secret thoughts
Secret thoughts,
I guess I want everyone to puddle
In a pool of loving goo
Around me
To lay on me with the couch
Wanting nothing more
And nothing less than
The couch of rest
Together
Is this just a place where I go to feel lonely
To write my secret thoughts
Isn't it so much better
To love how they love me
To appreciate how they are able to show their love for me
So what if he doesn't love me how I wish he would
Doesn't want me how I wish he would
I feel sexually attracted to anyone I find attractive
So
I don't understand how
Him not loving me
Not wanting me sexually
Means anything other than that I am unattractive to him
I think this is something I will learn
On my own
And I don't think it's something I will ask
I am sinking deeper into the couch
Knowing I need to go put chicken in the oven
And chop up the zucchini
I thought of texting my ex this morning
To see if he would want to go get a coffee
Check in
I can picture him saying, "stop being weird! Just text me"
But it was early and he was probably sleeping
And if I'd texted him maybe he would have followed up
Later in the day
And tried to rain check
But no
I don't want a standing rain check on coffee
With someone I only want to see on random mornings
When Gotye is stuck in my head
I am dancing much more lately
I am glad the other guy left town
It was too much
He was here for too long
I am being more open
To life
To friends
To opportunity
And also to
Energies around me
They are getting in me and on me
And being big and large
And feeling larger than me
And it's hard to feel so stuck up with other people
To feel so affected
To wake up with thoughts
secret thoughts
of someone else's life
Secret thoughts, secret thoughts
The secret thoughts I have about myself
I don't want them to be secret at all.
May 16, 2023
May 16, 2023 at 8:18 PM UTC
I am from a crystalline chandelier
From kit-kats and crayola
I am from the dusty cobwebs in the corners of our house
sad, sweet, smooth
I am from Topaz
an aluminum and fluorine mixture.
I'm from thanksgiving and hope.
From Kerra and Beth
I am from the nervous laughter and card games
From gum rotting in your stomach and shoes changing feet.
I'm from the lack of religion, no Christianity or Buddhism in this house.
I'm from Madison, WI
Oyster Stew, and sauteed zucchini
From the horrendous stories told about my dad. Making him look like the bad guy and vice versa.
The threats of being kicked out, not realizing I'd actually get kicked out.
Under my room, lays the closet. The closet has everything our family represents. From pictures to mementos to journal entries.
I am from these yellowed pictures, pages, and cards.
Rough and smooth somehow.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC
I have liquid in my lungs.
I know this because I can hear it, feel it.
I smell zucchini and cheese and all I want to do it kiss her
And tell her that the teal shirt she wore when we met
Still shows up in my dreams.
Every single day I ache
To call some place up there,
And order an orchid for your door.
I am reminded in my limp and my shrug
That I love you.
I am reminded in the fact that I would be willing to suffer nightmares every single night of my life
If only you slept next to me.
You smell like the woman I want to marry,
And your strong shoulders feel like the ones I want to see every morning
When you sit up on the bed.
I'm willing to go the distance.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC