It Will Be There
No need for one to digest,
What is yet ready for one to order
From a selective menu.
When the appetite begins to crave...
The serving will be just as fresh,
The moment one gets it to devour.
Why sour one's taste,
For something that will sit on a plate...
Untouched without an interest,
To sample what is offered.
It will be there!
Whenever one comes,
And is prepared to indulge.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Are You Ready?
Are you ready?
Action boy now
Action girl now
Be prepared to climb another mountain
Are you ready?
Action boy now
Action girl now
Be prepared to swim across the ocean
Are you ready?
Be prepared
To fill you plate
Be prepared
Dont hesitate
Be prepared
For a great big bust
Be prepared
To do what you must
Be prepared
To take a hit
Be prepared
To go for it
Be prepared
For a sneak attack
Be prepared
Just dont look back
They say, where theres a will theres a way
Weve heard, these are the things that they say
So.
Reach out for that big fat star
Stick to the groove
And go real far
Outrun the ones who steal the abar (? ? )
Are you ready?
Action boy now
Action girl now
Be prepared to blast into the future
Action boy now
Action girl now
Be prepared to rearrange the picture
Are you ready?
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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B.y.o.b.
When trust has been destroyed...
Who is going to ensure,
Appetizers on a menu...
Suit the taste,
Of guests
Others feel compelled to keep eyes on?
Someone served is going to get a chill first.
And a bill left to be paid,
By the one least prepared to receive unexpected stares.
And an appetite for what has been ordered,
Gone!
Some folks are not into false presentations.
Or the smell of sour cuisine.
Leaving those unaware of what is going on behind the scenes...
Realizing these types of functions,
Are better left 'boo-fayed' and dysfunctional!
With no one to feel they have to 'eat' what they do not like!
Bring what they wish to be dished.
And...
*B.Y.O.B.
'Bring-your -own-bodyguard'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Keep Your Wishes Superlicious
Keep your wishes 'superlicious'
And keep your worth
Above the dirt.
Do not haste
To crave the taste of greatness!
Throw sour grapes away.
Unless you are using them,
For a display...
To convey what is not on your menu,
Today!
Keep your wishes 'superlicious'
And keep your worth,
Above the dirt.
You deserve a plate spiced with life!
Toss away the bitterness...
And turn up your inner light!
Keep your wishes 'superlicious'...
No matter who chooses,
To use or abuse you...
With a fading delight to backbite!
Keep your wishes 'superlicious'...
And your life one that excites!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sautéed In Fiasco
Simmering and sautéed in fiasco,
This chef finds himself...
Blending a mix the patrons have nixed!
Overheated in a kitchen,
With a haste that loses taste.
And a flair that has been wasted,
On those baited to sip!
They split in droves...
And leave him this tip:
'This feast you prepared,
For us to eat...
Continues to sour
The air on the streets!
The menu was fabulous.
One we all thought we would like!
But you have shown you're a flapjack king...
With promises of pheasant to delight!
You offered us substance,
And we have waited too long for that!
Your skills are based on delusion...
Infusing hors d'oeuvres served in crap!
We can no longer wait for more,
We are sealing your doors...
With you entrapped!
Nothing you have done has pleased anyone.
We want our money back,
Before the others come...
And burn down your shack! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Until You've Had Enough
Seeking elsewhere to get your peace?
And finding it difficult to find any,
Wherever you go just to sample a taste of it...
As if to treat?
Do you believe it to be on a menu?
Or laid to spread on a buffet,
Already prepared to feast upon and eat...
Until you've had enough,
To exit from it to leave.
As long as you keep those thoughts alive,
You'll never discover a peace inside.
As long as you keep those thoughts alive,
You'll always be denying life and from it hiding.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fussy About Food
I’ve always been really fussy about what I eat,
But I’ll tolerate most foods, if the cook cheats!
It really depends on how a food has been cooked,
Whether or not, it has a place in my good books.
Examples of my some of my most hated foods,
Are sliced roast beef and apples that are stewed.
I’ll eat beef that’s been minced up into a pie,
And apples diced into a crumble are also fine.
Fresh coriander leaves, I definitely will not touch,
But cooked in a curry, I don’t mind them so much.
On potatoes that have been boiled, I’m not that keen,
But eating mashed potato or chips, I can be often seen.
Egg and cress sandwiches, by me, are never approached,
But I love eggs that are hard boiled, fried or even poached.
I dislike the taste of carrots that have been picked fresh,
But with the taste of tinned carrots, I’m really impressed.
I’m not so keen on either petit pois or garden peas,
But with the taste of mushy peas, I’m very pleased.
In pies and pasties, I hate to have a filling of cheese,
But I’ll devour a slice of cheese on toast with ease.
I’ve been a fussy eater pretty much all of my life,
And, caused my mother much trouble and strife.
When I was small, I often left much of my dinner.
My mum often worried that I would get thinner.
Like many other children, my main course
Often ended up, smeared with tomato sauce.
The enjoyment of a meal, this often improved,
And frayed tempers were also often soothed.
If there was a certain food, which I did really hate,
My mum would still insist putting it upon my plate.
Even with it on my plate, I still didn’t like the taste,
So that particular food would inevitably go to waste.
As I’ve got older, I’ve acquired an improved appetite,
Much to my mother’s extreme relief, and total delight.
Now, as an adult, my dinner plate is often cleaned,
And, hardly ever is a single morsel left, to be seen.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Referees?
I don't know if I am ready or not.
And what would I not be ready for...
If I were to be ready?
And then there are those,
Who say they're always prepared.
If it doesn't come,
Whatever they are prepared for...
What would be the purpose to stay prepared?
'Just in case! '
Just in case?
Just in case of what?
Someone discovering,
They are a descendant of Mother Goose?
And the shoe they all lived in...
Was found to sit on an oil field?
And they have inherited wealth?
I don't know if I am ready or not.
And what would I not be ready for...
If I were to be ready?
I was told as a child to always do my best.
Because you never know...
What's going to happen.
And have clean underwear on!
The clean underwear I understand.
The rest of that I don't!
What's going to happen?
An 'accident'?
Well...
There goes the clean underwear theory!
What would be the purpose to stay prepared?
For whose benefit?
And when you are ready to deliver...
Will what you have prepared,
Be suitable for anyone's taste that is declared?
Suppose you know you have been ready.
And 'they' don't care how much you 'suppose'.
Who referees?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No One Is Left to Please You Like That
It's too late to have explanations,
Bared and on the table.
That was done when you said you had no appetite.
But I watched you reach for dessert.
And you had no problem...
Feeding yourself with sweets.
And now you wish for a dish of reality?
Small enough...
So you can pucker up and peck,
For the taste of it to please!
This is not off a menu to be requested.
Or is there anyone here,
Waiting for you to digest it!
This is it as it is...
Whether or not you accept it that way.
And scratched is the soft music,
With a candelabra displayed.
And the candles were plastic.
Not waxed as you requested for your charade...
You wished to parade with serenade.
No one is left to please you like that.
Not here!
Only truth is served.
Deserving of it or not.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leave Something to Nibble
Know you are deserving...
And you will be served!
If you wish to have dessert,
Select it with much verve.
Don't hesitate to enjoy,
Any leftovers on your plate.
You have already seasoned your dish,
And prepared it to your personal taste!
Relish this at your desire!
Knowing your request,
Has inspired the best of tests!
And motivated to satiate,
Those desires awaiting...
But not to consume,
Or indulge to excess!
Leave something to nibble.
Delight...
Between stops for rest!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Digestive Darkness And Light
life is a mixture of light, darkness and truth
but are you digested on them?
digest what you see
digest what you feel
digest what you smell
digest what you touch
digest what you eat
digest what you think
digest what you speak
and you will be a truth by yoursekf
but but but but but but but but but
NEVER DIGEST YOUR DREAM
Love and Its Desserts
There was before me
the carefully prepared plate
the feast of feasts
and she said
'this is my love.'
The dessert was
jubilant
and she took
from the oven
pie after pie
and I ate.
But how to say
that Love's Substitute
is not the meal I eat
nor are the biscuits
the Love I crave
even tho it's the
love she's got to give.
If the Love Train passes
in this night
who to say where
those passing trains
will curve back
and meet
at some future point?
She says I can only give
you the love I have to give
and I say but I need the love
I need to have.
Try as I may
dinner is good
but I'll not be able to see
that it is love of which I dreamed
even though it is the love you
have to give.
So loving her as I do
I eat
too much
and see her love
grow
each year
around my waist.
But that is the measure
of how we take the love
sometimes offered
even if it is not the love
of which we've dreamed.
If perfect love
would come along
maybe I'd not be worthy
even as I crave
its perfect tones.
So perhaps
I'll substitute
her deserts
with a hand-feeding
of celery sticks
and love-making
in the afternoon.
Humm,
does that work?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Upon the Table of Fulfilled Wishes
Teach me not to nibble and feed,
On an appetite of my own selfish needs.
I am seeking a new diet,
That inspires a fresh insight.
With a brightness that incites,
A joyous excitement.
Teach me to appreciate all that I am.
Help me reach out to others...
To awaken that view,
Enabling them to see 'that' within them too!
If you've come to teach me greed.
Teach me to crave the gluttony of happiness.
Teach me to instruct others...
Deception is not a taste,
To welcome with an invitation...
At this grand feast to take place!
Teach me not to nibble and feed,
On an appetite of my own selfish needs.
Teach me to know that my happiness and joy...
Can only be fed,
If others are encouraged to also share.
Bringing with them a dish...
To spread upon the table of fulfilled wishes,
In this season of blessings to caress!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With A Rating To Leave
Why come to sit down at a table,
On a daily and regular basis...
With nothing brought to offer or share,
To equal or compare...
To that which has been prepared.
With a glaring at the setting to closely inspect,
As if to ensure a quality with standards...
Has been appropriately met.
Then with a nibble to finish and eat to complete,
All that has been served to digest.
Only to complain about those conversations,
Not suitable to meet your standards or taste...
You seem to regret.
And with a rating to leave,
You believe could and should be more impressive.
And yet,
When tomorrow comes...
You will be the first to arrive,
Again!
To judge, evaluate and not speak.
As if to imply the menu does not satisfy.
With a rating to leave to denote your presence.
Or a lack of it there to participate and engage.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There and Fresh to Pick
Colorful petals bright and scented.
And bend I do as if to bow.
Sniffing to enjoy the flowers blooming,
Shifting as the wisps of crisp air lifts.
With all that buds in Spring too.
Coming as it does to call upon my senses.
Prepared to accept the grandeur,
Of this 'dispensement'.
In view and under a cloudless sky.
I drive beyond my own expectations.
To dive right into a grove of ripened gladness...
Savored to taste from the panoramic serving of it.
There and fresh to pick...
And within my reach with an ease presented,
As dawn awakens to lift the dew...
This morning,
Upon my attentive sight.
And it feels good!
With each moment of this day,
I've already declared mine.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When an Interest Begins to Wane
When an interest begins to wane.
As if a weeding from a flowered crop...
Suddenly stops,
An attention given.
This is noticed as a harvest,
Drops its flourishing known.
And the one who daily nourished it...
Finds a more suitable taste to explore.
A task addressed and once adored.
When an interest begins to wane.
And a welcomed rain,
Now pours to go ignored...
To drown what fed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Prefers Pears
Apples may be the fruit of choice.
But the chef says he prefers pears in his kitchen.
'Are you ready to order?
Or would you rather find a more suitable view?
The chef wouldn't mind at all!
Afterall...
How did you know we were here?
Someone made to you
Our menu clear!
If not by taste...
Certainly by a choice that was voiced?
Quality here is our adventure.
With a hint of heat to leave you moist! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only You Made Your Own Selections
You don't like the way that was said?
Too tart.
Too bitter.
Too direct.
Stick around.
That was only the tip of the iceberg,
Floating around without exposing depth.
From that set you inspect.
Continue if you wish,
To get even more upset.
And since you are seeking that which to dislike...
But somehow delight in the inviting of it.
Trust me...
What comes is going to feed your negative appetite.
To bite, chew and digest as you despise.
Think of it as dessert that pops your eyes.
Since from that menu...
Only you made your own selections.
There are others I would suggest,
But you are the keeper of your own requests.
So...
Enjoy!
And if you wish to annoy...
Keep that to yourself.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everything The Others Ate Had Been Great
When will I ever write 'something' you like?
Probably never.
Since you seek to have your appetite pleased...
And I will never cater to those who player hate.
'Who said I player hated? '
You had no problem eating,
Everything I prepared and dished upon your plate.
Until someone mentioned that I was the cook.
And everything the others ate had been great.
Up until 'then' you munched and grinned.
And then when my name was mentioned...
You proceeded to whip out,
A pad and pen!
'Who said I player hated?
I just happened to have lost my appetite.
It had nothing to do with you beaming,
Or the fact you appeared to block out my light! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never Be Permitted to Sit or Take a Sniff
Some are selected to see and digest.
While others believe,
They are here to correct what's on the menu.
To decide what they will be served next.
And if the taste is not to their liking,
They rally to hire a new cook.
With a loud protest.
Instead of accepting,
They are powerless to elect...
What has been chosen to be most effective.
And not debated,
To be inspected as wished...
By those who will never be permitted,
To sit or take a sniff in the kitchen!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With All That There Is Given
With all that there is given,
I can not digest...
To say I fully comprehend,
Before beginning...
Again to want more.
And with wishes not to be ignored,
While biting too much not to chew...
To appreciate and savor a flavor,
I am without patience to taste...
Just a piece of that which is offered.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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