Eating Sandwich
she handed me
a sandwich
with tomato
and mayonnaise
filling
she sits beside me
we have hot coffee
and a view of the
sea
a fading sun
some seagulls
homing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Sandwich
as you take that sandwich
i remember 1971
the ham, and mayonnaise
the purple sliced onions
and cucumber
that you slip between
a big sandwich which you
say is too delicious
that is not how i saw it in the 70's
you were too young then
to know the connotation of the word
or the metaphor of being sandwiched
between two warring forces
who wanted to win by killing each other
they were all civilians mind you
sandwiched between the armed and dangerous government
and the armed and more dangerous rebels
the ham, and mayonnaise
the purple sliced onions
and cucumber
that you slip between
a big sandwich which you
say is too delicious
in the 70's they were not delicious at all
they were maimed, and bloody, killed on the streets
and public plazas bombed and brains scattered
on the hot cemented pavements
people kept in hog wires and secret
detention places
brothers all but so insensitive to the
the roots of humanity
Cains and Abels
the ham, and mayonnaise
the purple sliced onions
and cucumber
that you slip between
a big sandwich which you
say is too delicious
when all i need is simply a bitter tasting coffee
without the sugar and cream
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Selective Dieting
Yes, I admit...
I live where some,
Could not quietly sit...
Without having themselves medicated.
And I love the ambiance,
Of what had been once called a ghetto.
Where people like me,
Feel quite comfortable and free to be...
With a socializing done with neighbors I know.
While those 'existing' in sprawling suburban divisions,
Pretend with their mounting debt...
They enjoy living lives they do not regret!
And I enjoy making a sandwich materialized,
Out of thin air!
That's my response to the few I have visited there!
How they manage to do it?
By means of selective dieting!
Hey...
That's what I'm told.
So I go with what I know!
Although...
I want the taste of real mayonnaise and tomato,
On any whole wheat sandwich I make!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Writing In A Way
writing in a way is like
taking a spoon of mayonnaise
and you brush it on one side
of a sandwich
and you take another
clean sandwich and you
join them together
into one edible sandwich
to fill your empty stomach
and then you
regret having done such
a meaningless routine
when you could have
talked instead to a friend
waiting for you at the
porch of your house
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One of my favorite things is mayonnaise and I have to tell you that. I love mayonnaise, but I don't eat it any more. If I do I put light mayonnaise on it, which I know is still not good but it's a lot better than the other one and I don't eat it that much.
quote by Mike Ditka
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big Tomato Meets Big Toe
Little did Big Tomato know,
she would meet Mr. Big Toe.
She did not know that Big Toe
had a radio show.
The radio show was called
“Big Toe Wants To Know”
Big Tomato walked through the door, ,
knowing she had an interview at 4.
Waiting in the lobby remembering what to say,
she bumped into doll Melodie Mezoree’.
“Wow, it’s Melodie Mezoree’ how are you today? ”
“Oh great nice to see you Big Tomato,
I was just on the radio show! ”
Big Tomato replied, “I will talk about how I can fly-
how I can fly way up in the sky.”
Then Big Toe walked in,
he was happy to see Big Tomato with a grin.
Both of them shook hands,
and Big Tomato talked and sang,
on the mic behind the stand.
It was Big Tomato’s big day,
every child listened to what she had to say.
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Big Tomato Meets Big Toe
Little did Big Tomato know,
she would meet Mr. Big Toe.
She did not know that Big Toe
had a radio show.
The radio show was called
“Big Toe Wants To Know”
Big Tomato walked through the door, ,
knowing she had an interview at 4.
Waiting in the lobby remembering what to say,
she bumped into doll Melodie Mezoree’.
“Wow, it’s Melodie Mezoree’ how are you today? ”
“Oh great nice to see you Big Tomato,
I was just on the radio show! ”
Big Tomato replied, “I will talk about how I can fly-
how I can fly way up in the sky.”
Then Big Toe walked in,
he was happy to see Big Tomato with a grin.
Both of them shook hands,
and Big Tomato talked and sang,
on the mic behind the stand.
It was Big Tomato’s big day,
every child listened to what she had to say.
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Coffee!
Coffee beans all ground up,
Coffee in my favourite cup,
Coffee black, coffee white,
Coffee dark, coffee light,
Coffee right, to start the day,
Coffee at work, coffee at play,
Coffee midday, coffee at night,
Coffee to sober, coffee to excite,
Coffee weak, coffee strong,
But maybe instead some Lapsang Souchong! ! ! !
TEA! ! ! ! !
poem by Ernestine Northover
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I Like Tomato Sauce
i like tomato sauce
and so i keep lots of
and different kinds of
tomato sauces inside
the ref and when i open
it one night i thought
tomato sauce are also
water and i am in a trance
of some sort or something
i drink tomato sauce
and i remember you:
saucy, so saucy
i thought i am floating
in the river filled with
tomato sauce, yes,
my point is: be proud
i always think of you.
saucy, yes, so saucy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Recipe For A Hippopotamus Sandwich
A hippo sandwich is easy to make.
All you do is simply take
One slice of bread,
One slice of cake,
Some mayonnaise
One onion ring,
One hippopotamus
One piece of string,
A dash of pepper -
That ought to do it.
And now comes the problem…
Biting into it!
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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When this girl at the museum asked me who I liked better, Monet or Manet, I said, 'I like mayonnaise.' She just stared at me, so I said it again, louder. Then she left. I guess she went to try to find some mayonnaise for me.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poke Chop Sandwich
(about lightnin hopkins drummer who used to keep a porkchop sandwich on his floor tom, for snacking during the breaks. recorded with hopkins drummer, spider, present in the studio.)
Poke
Better watch that
Poke chop sandwichwaitin in th? sack
Ridin a tom tom, a double fat back
Got my poke chop sandwich? /p>
Layin on da drum
Poke chop greazyIm gonna get some
Get some a? dat poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Yeah yeah twenty five
Louisiana back beat and th? texas bop
Do a hollywood shuffle jes? cant top it
New york turn around and
Th? london stomp
African good luck combination
I know that ya want
Poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Poke chop
Double poke chop sandwich
Play on
Spider & lightnin hopkins got
Th? big bad beat
Aint no question what they gonna eat
Spider wanna a bottle,
Lightnin? wanna a can
Theyll take in a bucket
cause they dam well can
A poke chop
A poke at dat chop
Cut dat poke chope
Poke chop sandwich
Feel like, I feel like a poke chop sandwich
Give me dat sandwich in wax paper
Pork chop sandwich
song performed by by ZZ Top
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What If I Have Only One Arm?
if i have only one arm left
i still take the pleasure of using to the utmost
the remaining arm
i will take my coffee one at a time
open a jar with sugar
take a spoonful
and take the cup
and pour hot water there
i prefer the right arm
rather than the left
if one arm be lost.
just that, i am right handed
and you are left handed
we still complement each other and that
is the most important thing that
can happen to me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Microwave Oven
breakfast
microwaved
sandwich and
coffee. it is
flat like
sylvia.
plath, sick
genius.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Am At Work
won't you believe it
i am in the middle of my work
and in between
i type some words,
which i may call
a poem, like this one
those that see me
do not realize this
poetry is in between
our dull moments
poetry is an insertion
of our routine
poetry is not bread
it is the cheese
the ham
the mayonnaise
the pickle or the
lettuce in between
the slices of
sandwich
poetry is what goes
in the middle of meaningless
endeavors
poetry is unprofessionalism
defrauding the employer
with his paid hours
this it. The fool has not
notice.
this fool.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Girl Will Kiss Me
Deserted by love
In the summertime,
I walk by the river
And speak to seagulls
And feed them my sandwich.
I used to worship the dawn,
But now, I awake alone
In a dreamless home.
I fantasize a departure
To an exotic place
Where I’ll have a new
And lovelier face.
A girl will kiss me
Who doesn’t intend
To make me cry.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Filling Up With Heaven
Once there was a vision
Once there was a glow
Once there was a certainty
No chance could overthrow
Hope was scorched by summer
Crushed and beaten down
Once there was a winner
Now there was a clown
Without you life had seemed so
But now im
Filling up with heaven
Without you life had
Seemed so hostile
Filling up with heaven
But maybe with you its all worthwhile
Now Im filling up with heaven
No baby no baby no baby no
Filling up
No baby no baby baby baby no
Filling up
No baby no baby no baby no
No baby no baby baby baby no
All the fortune that my
Luck had brought
It couldnt even make me smile
Without you life had seemed so
A lonely hideaway my last resort
All achievement infantile
Now im
Filling up with heaven
Without you life had
Seemed so hostile
Filling up with heaven
But maybe with you its all worthwhile
Hey hey hey
As the years had passed by
I became more cynical
All the magic had died
My existence clinical
Ow ow ow ow
But now im
Filling up with heaven
Down down
Down down
Filling up
Without you life had
Seemed so hostile
Down down
Down down
Hey hey hey hey
Filling up with heaven
But maybe with you its all worthwhile
Woah woah woah woah
Now im
Filling up with heaven
Without you life had
Seemed so hostile
Down down
Down down
Filling up filling up
Filling up with heaven
But maybe with you its all worthwhile
Ow ow ow ow ow
Woah woah woah
Now im
Filling up with heaven
Without you life had seemed so
Hostile
Down down
Down down
Filling up with heaven
But maybe with you its all worthwhile
Hey hey hey hey
Without you life had
Seemed so hostile
Down down
Down down
Filling up
But maybe with you its all worthwhile
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So in our pride we ordered for breakfast an omelet, toast and coffee and what has just arrived is a tomato salad with onions, a dish of pickles, a big slice of watermelon and two bottles of cream soda.
quote by John Steinbeck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Do You Wish To Start Act Two?
Often brought to the edge,
By an overheard interpretation....
Taken out of context.
Only to be asked to be forgiven,
Again...
For a misunderstanding,
Another did attempt to prevent.
Often brought to the edge,
By something thought said...
But wasn't.
And when one stood on the ledge,
Prepared to jump from it...
Fraught with guilt feelings,
Felt...
From being often the cause,
Of a once solid relationship...
To slump into deep distrust.
The one accused dares to budge to intervene.
But makes a sandwich to munch...
Instead.
While listening to threats of a following through,
To jump as a drama addict promises to do...
A sandwich was made,
Using pickles, lettuce, tomato and mayo.
With a touch of marmalade on whole wheat bread.
'Aren't you going to do anything?
I said I was sorry.
What is it that you want me to prove? '
~I'm waiting for you to prove to me,
Just how sorry you are?
You've taken it this far!
And...
Maybe for reasons to satisfy your own insecurities.
I can come to close the window?
So as to not have you blame your decision on me.
I've already suggested that we should talk about it.
So prove to me...
How do you wish to start Act Two?
With a climbing inside to talk?
OR with a swan dive?
Either way...
I've ended catering to your nonsense.
Do whatever you choose.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Winning Philosophy
when life handed me
sour lemons
I made lemonade
when life handed me
sour grapes
I made rich red wine
when life was a dangerous
roller coaster
I refused to get on for the ride
when life offered
a shit sandwich
I refused to eat it
did not the great
philosophers
promote positive
states of mental being?
did not the great
philosophers
promote moderation
balance self denial?
happiness is a question of choice
choose wisely live in rewards of wisdom
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Treasure
When colour goes home into the eyes,
And lights that shine are shut again,
With dancing girls and sweet birds' cries
Behind the gateways of the brain;
And that no-place which gave them birth, shall close
The rainbow and the rose:-
Still may Time hold some golden space
Where I'll unpack that scented store
Of song and flower and sky and face,
And count, and touch, and turn them o'er,
Musing upon them; as a mother, who
Has watched her children all the rich day through,
Sits, quiet-handed, in the fading light,
When children sleep, ere night.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1914)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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