Watering Weeds
A column of cocoa
encased in a cup
waiting for someone
to sip it all up.
The cup we don't swallow
yet, were it not there,
to get at the cocoa
we'd be licking the chair.
Because of the spoon,
the soup travels through space
and finds its way safely
to a hole in our face.
MORAL: Just because
it looks non-essential,
that doesn't mean
it's a weed.
poem by Brian Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Animal Crackers
Animal crackers and cocoa to drink,
That is the finest of suppers I think;
When I'm grown up and can have what I please
I think I shall always insist upon these.
What do YOU choose when you're offered a treat?
When Mother says, 'What would you like best to eat?'
Is it waffles and syrup, or cinnamon toast?
It's cocoa and animals that I love most!
The kitchen's the cosiest place that I know;
The kettle is singing, the stove is aglow,
And there in the twilight, how jolly to see
The cocoa and animals waiting for me.
Daddy and Mother dine later in state,
With Mary to cook for them, Susan to wait;
But they don't have nearly as much fun as I
Who eat in the kitchen with Nurse standing by;
And Daddy once said, he would like to be me
Having cocoa and animals once more for tea.
poem by Christopher Morley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Globalized Chocolates!
Extracted from the seeds of tropical climate,
Unearthed the remnants of sweet beverage,
The drink of Natives for many thousand years,
Imported to the Europe as cocoa seeds and solids,
When the dark cocoa solid and cocoa butter,
Emulsified with white milk, the recipe found,
In the continent of Europe, but in South America,
Natives were slaughtered, their notes burned,
Their temples, culture and identity ruined,
Their women were separated and raped,
The chocolate was born in the continent of white,
where white, dark and mixed chocolates are sold,
recipe exported to every nook and corner of the world,
the globalization of a commodity before the chips.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The Song of Right and Wrong
Feast on wine or fast on water
And your honour shall stand sure,
God Almighty's son and daughter
He the valiant, she the pure;
If an angel out of heaven
Brings you other things to drink,
Thank him for his kind attentions,
Go and pour them down the sink.
Tea is like the East he grows in,
A great yellow Mandarin
With urbanity of manner
And unconsciousness of sin;
All the women, like a harem,
At his pig-tail troop along;
And, like all the East he grows in,
He is Poison when he's strong.
Tea, although an Oriental,
Is a gentleman at least;
Cocoa is a cad and coward,
Cocoa is a vulgar beast,
Cocoa is a dull, disloyal,
Lying, crawling cad and clown,
And may very well be grateful
To the fool that takes him down.
As for all the windy waters,
They were rained like tempests down
When good drink had been dishonoured
By the tipplers of the town;
When red wine had brought red ruin
And the death-dance of our times,
Heaven sent us Soda Water
As a torment for our crimes.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Song of Right and Wrong
Feast on wine or fast on water
And your honour shall stand sure,
God Almighty's son and daughter
He the valiant, she the pure;
If an angel out of heaven
Brings you other things to drink,
Thank him for his kind attentions,
Go and pour them down the sink.
Tea is like the East he grows in,
A great yellow Mandarin
With urbanity of manner
And unconsciousness of sin;
All the women, like a harem,
At his pig-tail troop along;
And, like all the East he grows in,
He is Poison when he's strong.
Tea, although an Oriental,
Is a gentleman at least;
Cocoa is a cad and coward,
Cocoa is a vulgar beast,
Cocoa is a dull, disloyal,
Lying, crawling cad and clown,
And may very well be grateful
To the fool that takes him down.
As for all the windy waters,
They were rained like tempests down
When good drink had been dishonoured
By the tipplers of the town;
When red wine had brought red ruin
And the death-dance of our times,
Heaven sent us Soda Water
As a torment for our crimes.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chocolate to Die For *aka* Willy Wonka’s Woeful Ways of Weeping
Vincent Smith II died yesterday,
Of a most peculiar way.
He was temporary worker loading cocoa in the Cocoa Service Plant in Camden,
New Jersey.
It was plain to see,
He was quite content working at a chocolate factory.
Vince thought there was nothing to worry about safety,
-nothing- made him quit-
living.
For he fell into a vat of chocolate.
Vince’s fellow workers tried to save him,
Drowning by chocolate was to be induced.
And to top it off,
-the agitator that mixes the mix,
Hit Vince’s head and unfortunately made his breathing body nix.
I wonder if the government would do recall on this batch of chocolate that was produced.
7-9-09
poem by Joe Rosochacki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dr. Flash Hour
Horses from Egypt,
Of the prophecy and the love of your muse;
But the cocoa of Ghana is what you need today,
For i am about to tell you a story on this love!
She went to her own country like the royal bounty,
And the forest of Lebanon was exposed;
But i will present to you meat or vegetables at your request,
For Dr. Flash Hour is here with us tonight.
Dr. Flash Hour,
I am lovely and you've got the night;
And i will spread out my wings of love to learn how to fly away with you,
Because i can't easily forget how you taught me how to ride on the horse of Egypt.
My love is with you but the cocoa of Ghana is what you need on this love,
And i am ever ready to present my love along to satisfy you!
For the your sweet muse is like a country with a royal bounty.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Tashi
Eat it all and eat it raw!
And, drink it hot like a cocoa drink;
For, i need you to satisfy my icy world with your love.
Of the gold vest hanging in your room,
With the status of puberty to develop your regular spot;
For, it is time for the bathroom!
However, your mother didn't tell you the truth.
You are now a grown up lady with your date of birth,
But you are like the Easter Bunny!
However, your mother didn't tell you the truth;
And, time will surely call on you one day.
Tashi! !
Eat it all and eat it raw;
And like the bushman with a meat at hand,
But, time will surely call on you one day.
Brush up on your Biology to take a stand on this issue!
For, you now have this muse of love at hand;
But eat it all and eat it raw! !
And like the hot cocoa drink in the land of your muse.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.
quote by Terry Pratchett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Francisca
Who has bewitched you that,
You would not obey the truth?
It is like a deep black hole;
What is it?
When the birds were singing,
I did hear of our name.
What is life?
Have ypou suffered so much for nothing? ! !
There is something, if you eat you will die;
But from the same thing,
If you don't eat you will die as well.
To the land of timber,
To the land of cocoa,
To the land of bananas,
To the land of plantain,
You are facless and expected to see through the window.
Where are you Francisca?
How is life moving on with you over there?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Chocolate look
Chocolate look
Cocoa lips
I saw Nile in your eyes
Standing at the subway!
poem by Framarz Bagheri
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Meola
Of the tools from Africa and of the minds of the other world,
Drying up my Cocoa Beans in my village to share my views;
For you are the August Lady who paid ma a visit in August and,
I will never forget that date of the sweet love that we shared.
The African Rhythms,
And of the music of love to share at times;
But, the 'Chop-Bars' do wait for us in the Townships.
Meola! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
You are on the coastal lines of Africa to share my love;
For there are much fish for you my love,
And it is like the words of my ancestors to teach you my love.
Of yesterday's rain,
And of the love that we share around today like the waters;
For you are all that i have at hand, Meola.
Should not the shepard feed the flock? !
For the entrance of your tent is very wet to let me in,
Because the rain is still falling.
There lie the rhythms and,
There lie the hopes and dreams;
For i am drying up my Cocoa Beans in my village for you,
And hope to see you soon after all these years.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Dotty and Willy.
Dotty screws the pen lid,
puts the pen down, folds
her hands in her lap. Willy
has finished his poem, he
is now silent, his muse has
gone. She watches as her
brother sits back in his chair,
pushes his fingers through his
dark hair and sighs. That makes
her almost cry, that poet muse
going like that, him sitting there,
face empty, sighs leaving him
instead of words. Tonight she
will enter it all in her journal,
after cocoa and a biscuit and
Willy's kiss and him gone off
to bed, humming to himself.
She will sit by lamplight, take
out her pen, and write on the
clean page, how he wrote,
what he wrote, the words,
the muse, the leaving of him.
She will leave out the kiss,
the embrace, the seeing each
other face to face. Willy hates
writing things down, he just likes
to sit when the words come and
he can speak them and let Dotty
write the words in the air floating
there. He gets up from his chair,
paces the room, his hands behind
his back, his words gone, his mood
dark, becoming black. Dotty looks
at her hands, entwines her fingers,
makes a church, makes a steeple,
looks inside, sees ink stained people.
poem by Terry Collett
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One spoon of soup in need has more value than a pot of soup when we have an abundance of food.
You've Got A Job
You've got a job to do but, others do not;
You've got some food to eat!
But, others do not;
For, not everybody who dies is buried ina casket! !
Because, one man's cocoa is full in a basket and,
Another man's is empty.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I was wrong: So what. todays idiocy
I say that it’s impossible.
You cannot eat soup with chop sticks
Though it is highly probable.
Someone will try to prove he can.
To demonstrate his cleverness
and show he is a better man.
What will it prove should he succeed?
That I’m mistaken in my view.
I will be happy to concede
.
the victory to some buffoon.
Who can eat soup using chop sticks.
I still prefer to use a spoon.
I think soup should be eaten hot
I do not like cold soup a lot.
20/06/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Hole In My Head
Remember yesterday?
Driving down the M4
The sun lit up your face
Playing all the tunes
Feeling like a child again
The pain has been erased
I feel much better anyhow
Until I see that black cloud
I got a hole in my head
And it's making me sad
Got a hole and the world keeps looking in
Got a hole in my head
And it's making me sad
Got a hole and the world keeps crashing in
Stop looking in
Hide it all away
Keeping your heart inside a box
That no one else can take
Smile it all away
Holding back a thousand lies
But that was yesterday
I love it when she comes around
Until I see that black cloud
I got a hole in my head
And it's making me sad
Got a hole and the world keeps looking in
Got a hole in my head
And it's making me sad
Got a hole and the world keeps crashing in
Got a hole in my head
Got this song in my head
Waiting for the sun to come around
Waiting for the sun to come around
Take another smoke
I though you said you'd given up?
And does your mother know?
Take another rest
Holding out my hand again
I hope that we're still friends
I got a, I got a, I got a, I got a...
I got a hole in my head
And it's making me sad
Got a hole and the world keeps looking in
Got a hole in my head
And it's making me sad
Got a hole and the world keeps crashing in
I got a hole in my head
And it's making me sad
Got a hole and the world keeps looking in
Got a hole in my head
And it's making me sad
Got a hole and the world keeps crashing in
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ambition Bird
So it has come to this
insomnia at 3:15 A.M.,
the clock tolling its engine
like a frog following
a sundial yet having an electric
seizure at the quarter hour.
The business of words keeps me awake.
I am drinking cocoa,
that warm brown mama.
I would like a simple life
yet all night I am laying
poems away in a long box.
It is my immortality box,
my lay-away plan,
my coffin.
All night dark wings
flopping in my heart.
Each an ambition bird.
The bird wants to be dropped
from a high place like Tallahatchie Bridge.
He wants to light a kitchen match
and immolate himself.
He wants to fly into the hand of Michelangelo
anc dome out painted on a ceiling.
He wants to pierce the hornet’s nest
and come out with a long godhead.
He wants to take bread and wine
and bring forth a man happily floating in the Caribbean.
He wants to be pressed out like a key
so he can unlock the Magi.
He wants to take leave among strangers
passing out bits of his heart like hors d’oeuvres.
He wants to die changing his clothes
and bolt for the sun like a diamond.
He wants, I want.
Dear God, wouldn’t it be
good enough to just drink cocoa?
I must get a new bird
and a new immortality box.
There is folly enough inside this one.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Thomas Ross, Jr.
This I saw with my own eyes:
A cliff-swallow
Made her nest in a hole of the high clay-bank
There near Miller's Ford.
But no sooner were the young hatched
Than a snake crawled up to the nest
To devour the brood.
Then the mother swallow with swift flutterings
And shrill cries
Fought at the snake,
Blinding him with the beat of her wings,
Until he, wriggling and rearing his head,
Fell backward down the bank
Into Spoon River and was drowned.
Scarcely an hour passed
Until a shrike
Impaled the mother swallow on a thorn.
As for myself I overcame my lower nature
Only to be destroyed by my brother's ambition.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Black Cold Coffee
Captain midnight and Captain cruise
out on the ocean
like a storm of bad news
it took three monkeys in a plastic mac
to fit inside a paper sack
And they're cooking up an alibi
cooking up some steam
out in the madness
somewhere in Orleans
they had a plan,
they had a plot
beggars and blues was all they got
Black cold coffee
black Irish soup
cold on a silver spoon
she's dancing through hoops
Baby's wishing on a wishing well
she's moving up
and ringing her bell
can't fly to heaven
on a persian rug
so put some coins in the old sailor mug
They travelled up together
from the coast
east of Aldgate
silently like ghosts
they had a scam,
they had a scheme
for drunks and bums counting beans
Black cold coffee
black Irish soup
cold on a silver spoon
she's dancing through hoops
Solo
Black cold coffee
black Irish soup
cold on a silver spoon
she's dancing through hoops
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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