Midnight.....
somewhere
between two half slices
of a bread
a man slips in
with a mayonnaise
in his soul
the two slices close
him in
perfectly to make him
feel
that this is a world
of the burger
comforted
he waits for the other
to take the
best bite
all in his life
he simply
wants to be consumed
by hunger.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Some films are slices of life, mine are slices of cake.
quote by Alfred Hitchcock
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Isn't this what happiness is supposed to feel like?
Running to my happy place
The closest place to 'home'
Life so filled w/ misery
The only thing I've known
So here I am
just you and I
As I take the final strike
Isn't this what happiness is supposed to feel like?
I don't want no one to know our secrete
I won't tell a soul
I'll hide it all
They'll never see it
So now here I go
I give you all of me
& what do I get in return?
Happiness, pure happiness
It's finally my turn
I don't wan't any evidence
No one can see the proof
No one's allowed to know about
what happens between me and you
They'll take you
Imitate you
Try to have you to themselves
But you're mines
only mines..
My only escape from hell
I just don't know how to thank you
I don't know how you learned
I run to you EVERY time
You give me what I deserve
The pain is just so perfect
I control it all
I smile as I watch you
work your way down my arm
Slices here
Slices there
every slice so right
Isn't this what happiness is supposed to feel like?
poem by Vanessa Mercado
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The 'Potato' Poem
I love potatoes chopped up into chunky chips.
I love spicy potato wedges, served up with dips.
I love potato slices which have been fried in a pan:
Of sautéed potatoes, I am the world's biggest fan.
I love potatoes which have been pummelled and bashed
With butter and milk to make a real light, fluffy mash.
Jacket potatoes, I find a bit dry, but with a nice filling
Such as chilli, to give them a try, I am more willing.
With breakfast, I love hash browns or potato cakes,
And I love potatoes mixed up with leeks in a bake.
Crispy, golden potatoes, served up with Sunday roast
Are among the kinds of potato which I love the most.
Mixed in soups and casseroles, I love potatoes diced.
On top on minced beef hotpot, I love potatoes sliced.
Fluffy potato stuffed inside a crispy potato croquette
Is also rather nice, and, for me, it is another safe bet.
I love potatoes cut into crisps: the slices, wafer thin,
And, as a starter, I simply love loaded potato skins:
I do adore a delicious dish of Bombay potato curry:
For me, it is a taste which I won't forget in a hurry.
I like potatoes diced up with creamy mayonnaise,
Served up with salad on really hot summer days.
But I don't like potatoes which have been boiled:
From potatoes, cooked this way, in horror, I recoil.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Half The World
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Half the world hates
What half the world does every day
Half the world waits
While half gets on with it anyway
Half the world lives
Half the world makes
Half the world gives
While the other half takes
Half the world is
Half the world was
Half the world thinks
While the other half does
Half the world talks
With half a mind on what they say
Half the world walks
With half a mind to run away
Half the world lies
Half the world learns
Half the world flies
As half the world turns
Half the world cries
Half the world laughs
Half the world tries
To be the other half
Half of us divided like a torn-up photograph half of us are
Trying to reach the other half
Half the world cares
While half the world is wasting the day
Half the world shares
While half the world is stealing away
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonely Filipinos
Some lonely Filipinos
Working for a living
Read poems of
Happiness
To appease their
Feelings of loneliness
Away from home
Here in a foreign land
At freezing temperatures
They wish for
Sunshine, and blue clouds
White sand beaches
And warm embraces
Of loved ones
Sometimes loneliness
Wins and they look
Inside themselves
Finding certain strengths
In old Molave trees
Flexibilities in green
Pliant bamboos
And sampaguitas scents
Or could be ylang-ylang
Perfume,
Or they resort to food,
Cook the adobo & dinuguan & puto
On wintry days perhaps,
And to really kill
This rampage of boredom
They make thin slices
Of raw mangoes
Dipped in bagoongs,
Black paste of shrimps
The taste lingers
In taste buds and
Tongues start to
Water,
To green slices of raw mangoes
Salivation is easy.
On these thin slices of
Green raw mangoes
Perhaps the Filipino
Forgets what loneliness is all about.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Key To Specimen Slices Of Life
I believe I have not really written yet;
I believe I may not get time chance;
I believe I can; I feel so much unsaid;
I believe in not taking self too seriously;
but writing thoughts expressed perfectly
exactly as perceived in eureka mind's eye;
is key to insight fuse expression;
is key to specimen slices of life;
reality magnified focus perception;
heightened into new concept mind;
reality sliced diced beheld
is touchstone to reality fusion;
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring Sestina
it’s nearly noon and the sun slices
through the thick spring fog, dark
with winter’s gloom, heavy with fatality:
the spent daffodil’s bloom, the cut
tulip whose bulb shrinks into earth,
the dew worm mining to the surface,
the bittersweet-bellied robin surfaces
through cold air, the flight slices
until stick feet meet warm, wet earth
as eyes scan lawns and ditches dark
with winter sleep, the worm cuts
through to the robin’s charge, a fatality
among spring’s chalk marks of fatality
struck against the papery surface
of birch bark, each stain cuts
into the trunk, rips and slices
death as a jagged feature in dark
congealed blood of waking earth,
she is still there, deep in the earth,
calling her children one fatality,
then another, through each dark
season, sinking down from surface,
still air vibrates, incantations slice
through reality, scrape and cut
to the unknown, slash and cut
to another side of the dynamic earth,
the oblivious hyacinth slices
through, refuses to be a fatality
of the season and sings to the surface,
sun shines on the purple florets dark
with pride, ardent hope, like the dark
winter nights that momentarily cut
south past the equator, only to surface
after the humid summer sweat, earth
taking in her own fatality,
battered by tiny atmospheric slices,
dark proud mares issue youth to the earth,
fatalities quickly slip past yawning cuts,
slices of vitality embrace her broad strong surface
(Winner 2005 Carl Sandburg Poetry Contest, Carl Sandburg College, Galesburg Illinois)
poem by Jane L. Carman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So I Happen to Prefer Whole Wheat
Of course I'm sleazy!
Isn't that one of the requirements,
I had to admit to get you to date me?
'But I didn't think you were serious when I asked! '
So when did you take notice of it?
Before or after I began to lick,
The crunchy peanut butter off your nipples.
'Yeah...
But do you think holding them,
Between slices of whole wheat bread...
Really accomplishes anything? '
That's a matter of opinion!
So I happen to prefer whole wheat bread.
What's the problem here?
I was going to use the muffins.
Do you want me to use the muffins?
'I'm sensitive to multi-grain.'
Huh?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Angel of my dreams...
She is close by, I can feel her silent heat,
Her beautiful form pressed against me,
My body trembles at the mere thought of her,
Desire like a razor slices open my soul,
Opening me to her tender embrace,
I am lost in a passionate dream of her,
Each breath ruled by her intoxicating power,
Eyes open, the dream is over, once again she is not here,
And my heart weeps in silent agony for her return...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pagan Moon
Pagan moon,
solid rock, hanging
low in the eastern sky,
southern curve
cleanly slices
through the
silk of night.
But north
of the winking eye
a bite gone
from the lunar pie!
Was it blown away
by some
stiff
solar wind?
or just a snack
eaten by a
famished,
smackin'
dragon?
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Take me home
God take me home.
What is the point of my exitence?
All life has ever thrown at me is pain.
Please take me out of this world.
My life has to end.
As suicide I shall commit.
As pills slide down my throat.
And the razor slices my skin.
All I pray is its the end.
Please take me.
Take my life.
I beg of you.
Let me die.
Dont put me through any more pain.
God let me die.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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The Famine
The famine’s wind has surely blown,
The rabbit looks for carrots sown,
Nothing nothing nothings grown.
The rabbit pauses with paw on cheek,
“This dismal scene inspires me not,
I think I’ll sleep
An’ let the brook babble on,
An’ in my dreams may hunger,
Be be gone.
Sadly in his sleep the rabbit dies
Then consumed by relentless flies.
The sheep dropp in their tracks
The cows are long since gone
The farmer pulls in his belt and
Hopes it’s not in vain
As he waits and waits and waits
And waits
For Rain
poem by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Half The World
Half the world lives,
Half the world makes,
Half the world gives
While the other half takes.
Half the world hates,
Half the world runs away,
Half the world's late,
Half the world praises the day.
Half the world is,
Half the world was,
Half the world thinks,
Half the world does.
Half the world lies,
Half the world burns,
Half the world cries
While the other half turns.
Half the world cares,
Half the world weeps,
Half the world shares,
Half the world keeps.
Half the world sings,
Half the world laughs,
Half the world brings,
Half the world tries to be the other half.
End.
The Widower
it is sad, of course, you lost a wife,
buried her, and now you are still mourning in
black clothes and black pants and black shoes
and even your visions must have been
blackened by such overwhelming sorrow,
how can I comfort you, my friend?
how can I tell you that you are eating some
slices and chunks of sorrow which are poisonous?
try me, listen to me,
I want to lose a wife, I want to lose not just her,
I want to lose myself, I am losing in this war of emotions,
I am not eating chunks and slices of sorrow,
I am being engulfed by this monstrous eclipse,
This total eclipse of my heart, my own darkness
I am digested by this darkness, I am acidified.
So you see, Melvin, my dear friend
there is such thing as a muddier, blacker pasture over here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Carry Emotion Away In Packages
it is not enough artist to suffer mentally
it is not enough artist to suffer physically
painter must sell all his her paintings to feed a soul
musician must sell rhythms life swelling to feed a soul
actor must act character slices audience entices to feed a soul
carry emotion away in packages make up powder scissor refrain
hear morning in voice rhythm challenge winning in work sweat strain
climb mountain moments to heaven felt in artistic inspired domain
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Her Confusion.
The little words, the simple moments, how they bothered.
A family that wasn’t prejudice let out the many slips.
The words that cut the confused kids mind.
That allowed the slices on the skin.
Trying to understand, trying to stay hidden.
Her little secret, her deep wounds,
Words that they let slip, unknowingly affecting.
Quietly hiding her truths away, pretending the boys were cute.
Closing her eyes to the awkward,
Letting the words go on.
She wiped her tears in the bathroom, hid the torn flesh.
Went about her long days, keeping her secret,
As the school days passed, the pills swallowed kept back the pain,
The little words, the little slips,
Digging into a confused kid’s brain
poem by KenZ Lauren
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Life For The Living
A painful memory
of a time gone by
Slices through my mind
Like a fine cheese wire
Reminding me
That life is for the living
poem by Dave Alan Walker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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