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
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
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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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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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Why?
Unaccountably, while I was making a liverwurst sandwich
(with mustard and cornichons on rye)
the poem took a dive
off the countertop, I don't know why,
onto the floor and burst into words
which can be either blunt or sharp, God knows.
There was nothing to do
but vacuum it up
eat the sandwich and, and,
put on shoes.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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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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Peanut-Butter Sandwich
I'll sing you a poem of a silly young king
Who played with the world at the end of a string,
But he only loved one single thing—
And that was just a peanut-butter sandwich.
His scepter and his royal gowns,
His regal throne and golden crowns
Were brown and sticky from the mounds
And drippings from each peanut-butter sandwich.
His subjects all were silly fools
For he had passed a royal rule
That all that they could learn in school
Was how to make a peanut-butter sandwich.
He would not eat his sovereign steak,
He scorned his soup and kingly cake,
And told his courtly cook to bake
An extra-sticky peanut-butter sandwich.
And then one day he took a bit
And started chewing with delight,
But found his mouth was stuck quite tight
From that last bite of peanut-butter sandwich.
His brother pulled, his sister pried,
The wizard pushed, his mother cried,
'My boy's committed suicide
From eating his last peanut-butter sandwich!'
The dentist came, and the royal doc.
The royal plumber banged and knocked,
But still those jaws stayed tightly locked.
Oh darn that sticky peanut-butter sandwich!
The carpenter, he tried with pliers,
The telephone man tried with wires,
The firemen, they tried with fire,
But couldn't melt that peanut-butter sandwich.
With ropes and pulleys, drills and coil,
With steam and lubricating oil—
For twenty years of tears and toil—
They fought that awful peanut-butter sandwich.
Then all his royal subjects came.
They hooked his jaws with grapplin' chains
And pulled both ways with might and main
Against that stubborn peanut-butter sandwich.
Each man and woman, girl and boy
Put down their ploughs and pots and toys
And pulled until kerack! Oh, joy—
They broke right through that peanut-butter sandwich
A puff of dust, a screech, a squeak—
The king's jaw opened with a creak.
And then in voice so faint and weak—
The first words that they heard him speak
Were, 'How about a peanut-butter sandwich?'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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A Canary, And Peanut Butter, And Jelly, Sandwitch.
I once ate a sandwich made of peanut-butter and jelly...
This sandwich, by someone, tasted quite rotten, and smelly.
Into my stomach, uneasily, it went down...
To my face, was sadly, put a frown.
I went to the hospital to have my stomach pumped, where I met a sailor...
Who obviously, had a bad tailor.
You might say, 'that this lad, was a seaman'...
But-for the Navy, he worked, and so-he was no, free man.
This seaman, could not swim...
You might say 'that he joined, on a whim'.
This non-swimming seaman, had a cat...
That was known by all, to eat mice, dogs, or even a bat.
One day this cat, ate a bat, that was owned by a witch...
This witch, got quite angry, at the cat that ate her bat, and
was acting like, a ticked off, bitch.
This witch, turned this cat, into a canary...
How frightening to this canary, this seemed as scary.
Now, this canary, bird...
Got eaten by another cat, and now, was nothing more,
than a rug stained, cat-splattered, turd.
poem by Michael Gale
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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
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The Song Of The Sandwich
We
met at night in the season's hight,
Mid revel and mirth and song.
I looked in your eye with a mute, mute cry,
As you elbowed your way through the throng.
Alone in that crowd of men who bowed,
And flattered, and flirted around,
Your quick thought guessed the woe in my breast,
And you sprang to my side with a bound.
In a whisper as faint as a south wind's plaint,
I murmured my need to you.
'A sandwich!' I wailed, then your strong eye quailed,
For oh! they were thin and few.
And about them hustled and pushed and tussled,
A score of desperate men.
But you drew your breath, and you hissed ''Sdeath!'
And then you turned back again.
'Ladye!' you cried with haughty pride,
While your dark eye flashed on me,
'If I risk my life in yon seething strife
What shall my guerdon be?'
'May I hope for a line that shall be all mine,
A song by the world unheard?
From rivals detested, shall the sandwich be wrested,
If thou wilt but say the word.'
'If you reach that goal, I vow by my soul,
(I spoke in a desperate tone)
And I live till that time, I will write you a rhyme,
A rhyme to be all your own.'
'Nay more, if you try, and in warfare die,
As sometimes befalls the brave,
In lines of glory I'll wreathe your story
And lay them upon your grave.'
Like a knight of old, with an air that was bold,
You turned from my side and went,
Past salad dish, past deviled fish,
Past cake and condiment.
With a step unswerving and a speed deserving
A better reward-alack!
You crossed the room 'neath the red globes' gloom,
Bent on the sandwich's track
My heart stood still in a nameless chill,
As I saw you stride away,
For fair girls' smiles, and punch bowl's wiles,
Both by your roadside lay.
With the fever fire of hunger dire,
I saw you pass them straight,
And I almost wept as your bold hand swept
To the waning sandwich plate.
Then back you came with your cheek aflame,
And the victor's glow in your eye;
Oh! it was grand to see you stand
With the sandwich held on high.
So here and now, I keep my vow;
(Tho' the sandwich is no more)
I would rise from my hearse and write that verse,
If it were not written before.
Envoi
Poet, we know that many men go,
Forth on that self-same track,
With purpose as high, to do or die,
But they bring no sandwich back.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Toe Saga.
Ready for the op' ready to go,
Ring up, its still okay.
Then they say 'No',
'No beds they say'.
Get there, they've got no x-ray, ?
'Oh dear' heard him say.
Go to the anesthetist,
First needle a doubt.
However he did persist,
And knocked me out.!
All done, 'Sandwich, cup of tea, '
'Bloody starving, yes please'I say with glee.
'Something for the pain',
'No'I say but yet again.
Both offers ‘two hours' late,
Tea warm, sandwich dry, pain stoppers had to wait.!
Asked, 'What op' did they do'?
She didn't have a clue! !
Found out next day,
They didn't replace, ‘just took bits away'!
Hope it's been a success,
Got to hope for the best.
Stay clear of those bugs, some gets,
So far no regrets...?
25/04/08
poem by Guy Lipmore
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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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More Time Baby
As I put you in ur cot
please go to sleep if you are not
to hours sleep is all I need
to do some housework & have a feed.
Washing on & dishes done,
Enjoy your sleep little one
I’ll vacuum now & do some dusting
This house is really quite disgusting
If you’ll sleep a little more I should be able to mop the floor.
Now the house is clean & tidy It’s... time to get some food inside me
It is now that you awake I guess that sandwich can stay on the plate
poem by Karen Heeney
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It Was Just A Little While Ago
almost dawn
blackbirds on the telephone wire
waiting
as I eat yesterday's
forgotten sandwich
at 6 a.m.
an a quiet Sunday morning.
one shoe in the corner
standing upright
the other laying on it's
side.
yes, some lives were made to be
wasted.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Get Another Routine
This is the message...
For those still trying,
To get the same tired act together...
Forget it!
Get another routine.
At least one that appears to be,
Something that is consistent...
With the way things are today.
Revisiting yesterday with determination,
Says one thing about those who attempt to do this...
A comfort has been found in the exploration of limitation.
And the growth of technology has already made many victims.
This is the message...
For those still trying,
To get the same tired act together...
Forget it!
Get another routine.
What your ancestors did,
And those before them...
Is not going to spread your mustard.
Or connect you to those hours of tomorrow,
Flashing by your eyes 'today'.
This is the message...
For those still trying,
To get the same tired act together...
Forget it!
Get another routine.
If you are waiting to taste a sandwich wished...
It is recommended you acquire another taste.
Or select something else to nibble.
It would be wise if you tried!
I'm sure your ancestors did this...
Or you would not be here,
Discussing their contributions to your stagnation.
This is the message...
For those still trying,
To get the same tired act together...
Forget it!
Get another routine.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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Enjoy every sandwich.
quote by Warren Zevon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Like To
I like to pull the plug in the tub
Sit and watch the water flow down the drain
I like to, I like to
I like to look at pictures in a book
Never read the writing just put it down
I like to, I like to
Id really like to know
What would you like to do
Id really like to
I like to watch the telly
With the sound turned down
Listen to the stereo
Turn the channels around
I like to, I like to
I like to eat a sandwich with the lot, yum yum
Putting on everything that ve got
I like to, I like to
Id really like to know
What would you like to do
Id really like to
song performed by by Men At Work
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sandwich every bit of criticism between two layers of praise.
quote by Mary Kay Ash
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jig-Saw Puzzle
There's a tramp sittin' on my doorstep
Tryin' to waste his time
With his methylated sandwich
He's a walking clothesline
And here comes the bishop's daughter
On the other side
She looks a trifle jealous
She's been an outcast all her life
Me
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Beggars Banquet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too few people understand a really good sandwich.
quote by James Beard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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