Word Salad
Like veggie salad tossed here and there
Random words mix up good meaning
Spiced up musings everywhere
The taste of which is quite confusing.
So I looked and read classic poetry
Perchance there find some gourmet score
Hoping my diligence gets the recipe
For the word salad I am looking for.
Salads taste nice with a little dressing
And thrown about words may hit some cue
I guess I could never do salad writing
So I stick to rhyme in the poems I do.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Words As a Salad
Think of my words as a salad.
Sometimes it may nourish...
And sometimes it's not wanted,
Or thought to be valid.
I offer a taste of variety.
I don't expect everything sampled,
To have everyone leave pleased!
I'm a gourmet of sorts one might say.
Not a specialist of one dish...
But a cook of assortments on display.
If something is nibbled,
And the bite is not right...
That is the way I feel,
With my changing appetite!
When I prepare and complete a thought,
Sometimes it is revised...
To surprise,
And compliment others previously brought!
But if a word or two offends a point of view...
I'm not expecting you to sit,
In discomfort as you chew.
Unless something digested,
Adds meaning to your purpose.
As it did for me,
Before I exposed it to you...
Hoping you add dressing,
Delighting while you slurp it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sometimes I Find Poems
Sometimes I find poems
Like they were jewels in the sand
So excellently written
A blessing to read and understand.
Sometimes I find poems
Composed like it was a work of art
The writer weaving word tapestry
As he writes diligently from his heart.
Sometimes I find poems
Laced with just verbal grime
With random musings or lost words
That to read them is a total waste of time.
So to the writers who value the pen
With all respect, I give you my salute
With the hope you keep writing again and again
And to this site your work you contribute!
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Torrents Drenched With Turbinado Sugar
Your lips,
When kisses taste sweetened...
Reminds me,
Of torrents drenched with Turbinado sugar.
Harvested raw and fresh,
From the rich lava whipped grounds...
Found,
On the Islands of Hawaii.
And I yearn to have this melt upon your tongue.
As I enhale deeply the warmth of your breath,
Spiced.
I've used some on the baked chicken.
On the tossed green salad!
Made with Romaine, garden tomatos...
Vadalia onion, mixed peppers, lemon juice and love!
To delight my taste buds,
After my dance inside your inviting mouth.
And rushing to bare us both...
To prepare in our sharing of dessert!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Polk Salad Annie
(words & music by tony joe white)
Some of you all never been down south too much...
I gonna tell you a little story, so youll understand where Im talking about
Down there we have a plant that grows out in the woods and the fields,
And it looks something like a turnip green.
Everybody calls it polk salad. now thats polk salad.
Used to know a girl that lived down there and
Shed go out in the evenings to pick a mess of it...
Carry it home and cook it for supper, cause thats about all they had to eat,
But they did all right.
Down in louisiana
Where the alligators grow so mean
Lived a girl that I swear to the world
Made the alligators look tame
Polk salad annie
gators got your granny
Everybody said it was a shame
For the mama was working on the chain-gang
What a mean, vicious woman
Everyday before suppertime
Shed go down by the truck patch
And pick her a mess of polk salad
And carry it home in a tote sack
Polk salad annie
gators got you granny
Everybody said it was a shame
cause the mama was working on the chain-gang
Whoo, how wretched, dispiteful, straight-razor totin woman,
Lord have mercy.
Sock a little polk salad to him
Yeah, you know what, yeah, yeah
But daddy was a lazy and a no-count
Claimed he had a bad back
All her brothers were fit for
Was stealing watermelons out of my truck
For once polk salad annie
gators got your granny
Everybody said it was a shame
For the mama was working on the chain-gang
Sock a little polk salad to him
You know what meets a meal mention
You sock a little
Hey, hey, hey, yeah, yeah
Chic a bon, chic a bon, chic a bon bon bon bon
Chic a bon, chic a bon, chic a bon bon bon bon
Sock a little polk salad to him
You know what meets a meal mention
Sock a little polk salad to him
You know what meets a meal mention
Chinc, chinc, chinc, chin, ling, ling ling
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Petri-dish
Your love is like salad in a salad Petri-dish,
But, bounded in the myth of paradise! !
However, the pivoting labour of your muse acts like flaccid breasts;
And, tomorrow is the opening of your hot meal to the masses,
For, you are very much noted in this village.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We don't need a melting pot in this country, folks. We need a salad bowl. In a salad bowl, you put in the different things. You want the vegetables - the lettuce, the cucumbers, the onions, the green peppers - to maintain their identity. You appreciate differences.
quote by Jane Elliot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Do Not Read To Dissect a Poem
I do not read to dissect a poem
It's not there for analysis
Although with insight, it can become
A good specimen for diagnosis.
I read to enjoy most poetry
To savor the meanings, perhaps some rhyme
It's like drinking a good cup of coffee
The taste lingers on for a time.
A nice poem may bring me somewhere
To the places that I've never been
Vivid words may paint images there
Showing scenes I have never seen.
Poetry, as an art, is a vehicle
That carries our thoughts and emotions
Like a ship on which we can travel
To a land of unlimited horizons.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Obsession
I have been writing poetry for just over a year;
That I love poetry, I guess, it's perfectly clear.
My output, to date, has been really quite prolific.
I feel pleased with my work, but it's not terrific.
Now is the time for me to make a confession:
For me, poetry has become a bit of an obsession!
Now I find that, sometimes when I speak,
My sentences unintentionally rhyme! Eeek!
My poems total over three hundred in number;
Sometimes, composing them affects my slumber.
Of my poetry, I admit I feel really rather proud,
But I feel way too shy to read them out aloud.
Often, when I'm out walking, or I'm sat on a train,
Ideas will manifest themselves deep in my brain.
I often find myself spending quite some time,
Pondering the two factors of rhythm and rhyme.
My poems all rhyme: I don't write in ‘free verse':
In unrhymed poetry, myself, I just can't immerse.
To me, poetry which rhymes seems more precise:
It has a better finish, and it just sounds, well, nice!
At my poems online, people have been gazing,
But I would disagree that my work is ‘amazing'.
From all over the world, I am quite often sent
From fellow poets, some encouraging comments.
I have chosen some of my poems to put in a book;
My local bookshop is selling it! Please take a look!
I was thrilled when they agreed to sell it in-store;
They sold the entire first batch, and asked for more!
My dream job is to become a really famous writer;
I know it's a tough journey, but I'm a real fighter.
For sitting, writing poetry, I would love to get paid:
Maybe, if I keep plodding onwards, I will one day!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Magic Of Words
I admit to never having read much poetry before,
But now that I’ve started, I’m eager to read more.
I’ve discovered many poems, ones old and new;
There are all sorts: happy ones and sad ones to.
Some poems paint a picture, and are descriptive in their style.
While some are humorous, and are designed to make you smile.
There are also narrative style poems, such as the ‘Goblin Market’ story,
By Christina Rossetti, there are close to five hundred lines, in all their glory.
Alliteration always sounds extremely catchy and really rather nice –
When an initial consonant is sounded, in quick succession, at least twice.
Assonance also often comes in quite handy too,
Especially when the rhyme isn’t quite exactly true.
The addition of onomatopoeia can be a real whiz,
Adding sounds like Crash! Bang! Pop! And Fizz!
I love poems which have a regular rhythm, and which rhyme,
And I try my best to incorporate these factors into poems of mine.
In rhythm and rhyme, myself, I like to try and immerse,
As I have to admit that I’m not a particular fan of free verse.
With poetry, I’m really beginning to get a little bit obsessed.
I change words around, trying to see how they sound the best.
I like to keep my writing quite simple, not complex;
I hate it when words and ideas complicate the text.
I love it when words paint a picture in my inner mind;
When a masterpiece is created, as snapshots are combined.
My mind finds it difficult to process ideas which are too abstract;
I just like simple descriptions and a smattering of interesting facts.
Unless I understand the first few lines, I can get very easily bored,
And from then on, reading the rest of it can become quite a chore.
I’m not keen on poems which, I consider, are way too short,
As they probably haven’t really required that much thought,
And, likewise, I’m not keen on poems which, for me, are too long,
As reading them, can feel like running a twenty six mile marathon.
If I see a word in a poem which I have not previously seen,
I will look it up in a dictionary, to see exactly what it means.
I always enjoy learning the meaning of the odd new word,
But I hate it when there are many, of which, I’ve never heard.
I also like to look words up in a thesaurus to learn,
If I can swap them for an alternative word or term.
Reading and writing poetry can be a real education in themselves.
You pick up books which may have previously been left on the shelf.
If you’re sat concentrating on reading or writing,
Temporary release from problems, is quite inviting.
It can have a very calming affect upon your soul,
When life’s worries and woes have taken their toll.
I don’t know if I’m just going through a phase, or if my obsession will last;
Over the last few months or so, I really have been having an absolute blast!
I’ve felt proud of some of my works - I didn’t think I could do such things,
And I’ve really revelled in the happiness, into my life, which poetry brings.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Written Word Rules!
At the idea of poetry, some people seem to scoff,
As they consider it is an art form only for toffs.
They may think that the concept of poetry is boring,
And that it will leave them fast asleep and snoring.
There are all types of poems: modern and classical.
There’s something for everyone: it’s not boring at all.
The lyrics of songs are poems as such;
They often rhyme together very much.
People like to sing along with their favourite songs,
So why does the concept of poetry feel so wrong?
I’ve only started writing poetry in the last few weeks,
And, I have to admit that I thought it was just for geeks.
But, now I can see, that whoever you are,
Everyone has the potential to go really far.
I have to admit, I much prefer
The written, to the spoken word.
At night, I lay awake tossing and turning in bed,
With random thoughts running through my head.
By my pillow, I keep a pen and note pad,
To jot down any thoughts, which I’ve had.
At the top of the page, my thoughts I jot,
And I always plan out a really rough plot.
I like to include words which have a nice ring.
Words, like these, into my poetry, I like to bring.
I continually go through the alphabet time after time,
Searching for useful words which, pretty much, rhyme.
In simple terms, my ideas, I always like to express;
Complicated and fancy words, my mind doesn’t posses.
I’m sat here, writing this poem, on a speeding train,
As thought after thought, floods into my brain.
I’m writing notes on a mini pocket timetable,
In any tiny blank space which is available.
In my handbag, I’ve got no pad, but I’ve got a pen;
My scribbled notes, I just hope I can comprehend.
I really must start carrying a notepad everywhere;
To forget all these thoughts I’ve had, I couldn’t bear.
When I’m thinking of ideas, I just can’t relax;
My mind seems to buzz to the absolute max.
I’m not far now from my final destination,
And the train is due to pull into the station.
On this subject, there’s not much more to be said,
So, I’m now putting this poem well and truly to bed.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Big Or Brief Poetry......!
Big or brief, what is poetry?
Poetry is......
Creating beauty out of blemish,
Making order out of disorder,
Producing meaning out of musical words,
Creating Universal truth out of trivialities,
Arranging points out of less known facts!
Is poetry just making rhythm and rhyme
Without meaning, life, force and taste,
Without free flowing musical words,
Without words of music, beauty, fun?
Poetry is free flowing river of words
With full of images, lively and lovely,
Transporting from this world to that world
Forgetting himself and readers here!
Just end rhyme is not enough to make it so;
Internal rhymes make music in rhythm
Making all enjoy music, meaning and ideas!
Poetry is the medium to say complex things
Not possible to say in other forms of language,
Saying unknown things using known things;
It is sound, substance, message and meaning!
And many more matters to many men in the world!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Being A Poet
I find that I can compose a poem best,
When I am out walking, or am at rest.
When I am lying in my bed at night,
I think about what I am able to write.
Or when I’m out walking, or sat on a train,
Words and ideas, all rush round my brain.
Sometimes, ideas just appear in my head,
Or may be a result of something I’ve read.
At fellow passengers, on a train, I take a look;
Some chatter away, while others read a book.
But, me, I’m sat there, quietly composing verse;
With dozens of ideas, my creative mind bursts.
If I compose lines on my way into town,
I repeat them over, until I write them down;
If they are not written down straightaway,
Around my mind, other thoughts then play.
There are many things which inspire me to write,
Such as animals, the seasons, and the sky at night.
If I try to force ideas, they just do not flow;
The poem itself, I find, just will not grow.
I like to write on a layperson’s level;
In too much information, I do not revel.
Having chosen a decent subject or idea,
I then need to get my brain in to gear.
Of a subject, I like to consider all of the aspects,
But I keep my writing simple; not too complex.
To make a poem rhyme, words I may change,
But I only use words that are within my range.
In using unfamiliar words, I can see no point;
A nice poem, tricky words, can really disjoint.
Words, within my head, I keep batting around,
Until the perfect combination, is finally found.
With poetry, I really love the creative process,
But over time, I’ve become slightly obsessed.
Sometimes I find myself talking in rhyme;
That I am a poet, this must be a sure sign.
Of my finished poems, I often feel proud;
One day, I’ll be brave and read them aloud.
Into my swirling head, ideas continue to pop;
I love writing poetry and never want to stop!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We are beginning to wonder whether a servant girl hasn't the best of it after all. She knows how the salad tastes without the dressing, and she knows how life's lived before it gets to the parlor door.
quote by Djuna Barnes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Fate of Top Poems!
Past poets were remarkable by their poems only;
But present poets are made remarkable by others!
Poetry of the past are no doubt top poems ever;
But poetry of the top are not listed in top poems!
Becoming top poets how can theirs have no place
Among the top poems of the poetry list? I wonder!
Touch stone of the top poems depends on merit
But not by the supports of friends for fun ever!
Poems of lasting value only can become classic;
But poems of no merit also have become classic!
Poetry of the past are romantic and also classic
But poetry of the present are neither but modern!
What is the yardstick to select poems as top ones -
Just support of some but not merit and meaning?
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don’t Wanna Live Forever
I don’t wanna live forever
Even if I could
I eat chocolate every day
As any chocolate lover would
I love my chips and salsa
Of course tomatoes are healthy
Along with all the other veggies
Salsa’s not just for the wealthy
Fried foods – oh, bring ‘em on
Greasy chicken with a crunch
My salad dressing soaks up salads
But there are veggies by the bunch
Okay, so maybe my diet is not
The best of life’s endeavors
But you know what, my friend?
I don’t wanna live forever!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: Future of Poetry
Poems I thought had good rhythm and Rhyme,
And a moral good at the end of each;
Good Poems I thought should the test of time,
And remained well within the masses’ reach.
Poems I thought had nice music in them,
With apt words placed in right place in each case;
It was a time for Poetry’s Anthem;
Alas, the art is in for a rat-race!
Modern Poetry that is being writ,
From Prose is hard to ever from it sift;
Slang, vulgarities somehow find a place;
’Tis doomsday for poetry at this pace!
Turned has the Wheel of Time almost fully;
’Tis time to draw water with the pulley!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Saturday Night in Dill City
We had a night I’d like to tell about
Consisting of an extraordinary meal
The food was simply delicious
With a down-home country feel
The place in which I ordered my food
It was one it’d never have expected
It was at the Fire Extinguisher
I was not even really directed
The food was oh, so scrumptious
Hamburger steak cooked on the grill
Caramelized onions plopped on top
I can taste that flavor still
Crispy fries and freshly made salad
With dressing fit for a king
Perfect for a party
Or out for a Saturday night fling
Yes, we had a wonderful time
If we hadn’t it would have been a pity
But we did find this restaurant on
Saturday night in Dill City
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Most Of The So Called Literary Experts
Most of the so called literary experts are dismissive of rhyme
They say 'tis the poetry of a long gone time
Yet the poets that they laud the poems they do write
Cannot be put to music and are hard to read and recite
The rhymer of today is not looked on as a poet
Or is not seen as one worthy of literary note
By the so called literary experts with literary degrees
Though their judgement on what is or is not poetry not everyone does please
They never will convince the old style rhyme buff
To him or her well written rhyme is not throw away stuff
In well written rhyme are the words to a song
And good rhyming poetry to music belong
Yet the degreed literary experts who on poetry like to have their say
Dismiss rhyming poets and their poetry as of yesterday.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Above the Poets Station
You’re a poet, as they say
All you write is poetically full of art
Wince when you read your stuff
As from literacy you stand apart
Such great depiction, fiction
wordplay and poet structures
Diction, contradiction, dead
good words and writing such as
Ballads, salads and other kinds
of verses with great meaning
Acrostic, Agnostic and all other
words that see you preening
Rhyming, timing and all the stuff
that makes you look artistic
Hard to read and nothing
really makes your stuff simplistic
Excreta, meter, rhyming
All about your brother Peter
Verses with great timing
all with just a single rhyme repeater
Arty words but never farty
Dressed up in a dictionary ‘bonnet’
Time for wordsmith party
Can you find a rhyme for this – yes Sonnet!
Who was it that wandered
all around as lonely as a cloud?
Are clouds lonely? Verily it’s pondered
Do they seek your friendship in a crowd?
I.Q, Haiku, do your readers even like you?
Tanka w****er, you’re so on the ball
So pretentious’ does that saying ever strike you
Jack of all trades master of sod all
You’re a poet, as they say
and all you say is poetically full ofshit
Read up or down, I’m pretty sure
you’ll never find much sense in it
Though some was meant!
poem by Stephen Stirk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Dream.
I drift Yeah ~ ~ ~ ~ drift,
Network at home and abroad to find changed,
Finally came to this piece of land,
This is the poetry of the static earth?
Hoped to write a good poem,
To allow them across the oceans.
They become afraid of heavy stones,
Not sensual in the sink into the sea!
How many years after writing poetry?
This life caught in the areas of poetry,
Poets seem to lose direction.
Not to warble his life sentence,
Poetry is difficult as the expense of my new hand,
He voted Shigao nowhere Monet,
Sometimes, as the water is no longer up,
Poet dead bodies over the sea.
Poems written to a basis
Vernacular into a good poem, rare words,
But thousands of miles seeking Hello,
Poetry does not seek out the words parallelism.
Present the most chaotic poetry,
Have you written in classical Chinese poetry Link old-fashioned,
Vernacular writing to another, then no taste,
But to one day rushed into cloud,
To break the shackles of poetry,
Create a new charm,
Freedom to write my hope,
Unrestricted write a new realm.
poem by Albert Wong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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