Vinegar that is too sour even taints the glass it's kept in.
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Ghazal 119
I don't need
a companion who is
nasty sad and sour
the one who is
like a grave
dark depressing and bitter
a sweetheart is a mirror
a friend a delicious cake
it isn't worth spending
an hour with anyone else
a companion who is
in love only with the self
has five distinct characters
stone hearted
unsure of every step
lazy and disinterested
keeping a poisonous face
the more this companion waits around
the more bitter everything will get
just like a vinegar
getting more sour with time
enough is said about
sour and bitter faces
a heart filled with desire for
sweetness and tender souls
must not waste itself with unsavory matters
The Fortune Teller
An old crow
looked deeply
into...
a sour girl’s
empty Coca Cola glass.
To
read
her
story
still foaming.
If you marry
in middle age;
froth
told patterned;
within chipped glass.
When tired
of living alone;
when even
unable to live;
with sour self anymore.
Then
you will
rash reluctantly marry.
Your choice to chose
is not your own.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Crisp Haiku
crisp haiku
like potato chips for sale:
saintly salt and vinegar
a multi-pack rady salted romance
or this symphony of sour cream and chives
for god's sake
she's crazy for
chicken
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The star of oil and vinegar and the oil and vinegar of the stars.
quote by Paul Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When No One Is Watching
i like it when you stop working
when no one is watching,
i guess you are just being true to yourself
alone, you are lazy.
alone, you are thinking
what to do next with a broken heart
alone, you embrace the truth
of this endless pain that you have inflicted upon yourself
accept things now
alone, alone must you be till the end of your life
till someone comes again and watches you
wearing that smile, sour as vinegar.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Glass War
Glass war, glass war, glass war, glass war, it's a glass war
Glass war, glass war, it's a glass war
Glass war, glass war
It's a glass war
Cause you can see right through the poisen
It's a glass war
Cause we all know the activeties
It's a glass war
Cause it's made of smoke and mirrors
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
Cause only poor men are dyin in the
Gas war
Cause we know why it was started
It's an ass war
Cause the president's an asshole
It's an ass war
It's a glass war
It's a gas war
Cause the starters are all victims of the
Glass war
The slogan men were starters of the
Last war
Now the southern men are starters of the
Glass war
It's a Glass War
It's a Glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Nocturne
Black nocturne
The vacuum that confiscates
The entirety of the city
That was incinerated
By the flames of incarcerated
Musings
Black nocturne,
You are an omen.
A shattered glass,
A howling moon,
A glass house on fire,
A submerged knight
On a grotesque chariot.
Black nocturne,
You are the fire
In the shriveled waters.
You are the air
That shrills the eviscerated
Noon time breath.
You are the water
That taints the fire cerulean
You are the blundering monsoon
That splinters me.
poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
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Simplifying Life
back to the basics now
when it is hard soften it
when is dry
wet it
when it is too hot
wait
when it is bland
put a little salt
or a pinch of sugar
if you want it a little bit sweet
or sour
then use a little vinegar
or
add some drops of lemon
a cube of seasoning
or to appease the tongue
put the black pepper
or the chili sauce
when things are frozen
thaw it
it is just like life
when things get rough
my dear
be tough
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Do I Really Need?
upon a dining table
i too, ask myself,
what do i really need?
one fried dried fish
a cup of steamed brown rice
a pinch of salt
five drops of coconut vinegar
a glass of water
and then the much needed
rest for the night
& with you
my bare hands
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ode to A Sour Pickle
Ode to a sour pickle,
To pucker up your puss.
Lay down a shiny nickel,
Come on, don't be a wuss.
The heck with kosher dills,
And sweet little pickles too.
It's sour pickles for your gills,
Can't take a thing in lieu.
A big ole sour pickle,
Will bring on a grimace.
Where they're concerned I'm fickle,
Please bear me no malice.
12/23/10 Alton Texas
poem by by unknown author
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To His Peculiar Friend, Mr John Wicks
Since shed or cottage I have none,
I sing the more, that thou hast one;
To whose glad threshold, and free door
I may a Poet come, though poor;
And eat with thee a savoury bit,
Paying but common thanks for it.
--Yet should I chance, my Wicks, to see
An over-leaven look in thee,
To sour the bread, and turn the beer
To an exalted vinegar;
Or should'st thou prize me as a dish
Of thrice-boil'd worts, or third-day's fish,
I'd rather hungry go and come
Than to thy house be burdensome;
Yet, in my depth of grief, I'd be
One that should drop his beads for thee.
poem by Robert Herrick
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an unhappy childhood of this man who names himself 'I'.....
i've seen this picture of you
on that far corner of the world
land of snow and you are inside that very thick
winter clothes
there is that smile in your face
and i am taking a closer look
it is sour.
i know what sour is. I've been one for forty years
wearing that
sour smile, and i have many reasons why a smile must be sour
for forty years
the reasons are sour
very sour
beyond those tastes of a hundred green lemons
or a green mango with some disturbing gums on its mouth
i burned all my pictures in college
except those when i was yet a boy beside my mama and our white dog
i was in grade one and i did not like school and mama forced me into it
i was selling chocolates and i ate them all and mama was mad at me and beat me with a stick
papa did not like me reading books as he does not know how to read
i climb trees and hide on the leaves and read stories
in our dialect and draw some pictures of women without their dresses on
you see i still have this picture of myself riding a carabao and hauling some wood and coconut palms
i take a close look of my own smile, It is very sour
and it tastes like yours, but perhaps mine is the worst
but i am happy now, i know how to suppress sour smiles, i know how to manage and project myself
i smile like a cow now, and laugh like a horse
because all of them are dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Is It That You Like?
don't you like this sweetness
of my words?
you are bored with this sugar
and honey
and cream?
you are afraid you have become
sick of such
sweet tongue
such sweet indulgence?
oh, you want something bitter
something sour now?
some bitter herbs some sour
species of green lemons?
try me,
i am a bitter person
i am the latest delicacy of
all that is sour
and
decomposing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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O Rose Hear These
O Rose, within your folds, you did allow,
Now, that sleeky worm fathomed what you are,
Should sweetly fruits, to you, it would avow,
Know that their juices sour to vinegar;
And mark, that joy often proceeds from pain,
And cups that overflow, would waste the wine,
And gardens grow, with sunshine as with rain,
And most water, the world contains, is brine;
So, when your withered eyes are set to weep,
Weep not, for fact, that all your days are spent,
Rather, rejoice for moments all may keep,
For memories, only in dreams are sent;
......Should mortals ask, why glad though life is brief,
......Say that a brief life got no space for grief.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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Glass Shatters
The glass has a flimsiness, frailty of course,
Do not deceive me with fraudulence or fraud.
Glass shatters from impulses,
Glass has love for the actions,
This glass I hold and dropp reminds.
The frantic wept, as no other weeper,
The fraternity has evaporated,
Never the escapade of shattering glass
Has gone by without returning,
And so the glass has an escapade.
poem by Naveed Akram
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In The Harbour: The Wine Of Jurançon. (From The French Of Charles Coran)
Little sweet wine of Jurançon,
You are dear to my memory still!
With mine host and his merry song,
Under the rose-tree I drank my fill.
Twenty years after, passing that way,
Under the trellis I found again
Mine host, still sitting there au frais,
And singing still the same refrain.
The Jurançon, so fresh and bold,
Treats me as one it used to know;
Souvenirs of the days of old
Already from the bottle flow,
With glass in hand our glances met;
We pledge, we drink. How sour it is
Never Argenteuil piquette
Was to my palate sour as this!
And yet the vintage was good, in sooth;
The self-same juice, the self-same cask!
It was you, O gayety of my youth,
That failed in the autumnal flask!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Vinegar Salt
I...like the things that you hate
And you...hate the things that I like
But it hurts
Honestys your church
But sometimes
Its better to lie
I...am the vinegar and salt
And you...are the oil that dissolves
My frustration
Honestys limitation
But sometimes
Its better to lie
I am the vinegar and salt
And you are the oil that dissolves my frustrations
Limitations
But sometimes...
I dont dare to ask why
song performed by by Hooverphonic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vinegar & Salt
I...like the things that you hate
And you...hate the things that I like
But it hurts
Honesty's your church
But sometimes
It's better to lie
I...am the vinegar and salt
And you...are the oil that dissolves
My frustration
Honesty's limitation
But sometimes
It's better to lie
I am the vinegar and salt
And you are the oil that dissolves my frustrations
Limitations
But sometimes...
I don't dare to ask why
song performed by by Hooverphonic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fruity Taste of Life
Sweet and sour is life
What yours shall be, destiny shall contrive
But dependence on destiny shall decrease
And it will then depend on you, my friend decrees
What say you to that?
What surprise can pull from the hat?
Think of the sweet Tangerine
Perhaps you would, the sour Tamarind
They both spell L-I-F-E
For not even in strife
Shall the sweet in Tangerine
Be comparable to the sour in Tamarind
poem by Maureen Oby Iwueke Gbagir
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