Quotes about delicious, page 5
Delicious Solitude
O' What a throbbing attitude,
For my delicious solitude.
For on the grass yet greenly still,
And in the gardens of the hill.
Shall I go about it all,
I'm neither tall nor am I small.
And with the same distrust in eyes,
I cannot even take long sighs.
I have to try and try again.
To make one shiny ray to ten.
Up the mountain of success,
I will go- whatever distress
To seek the glory of my might,
And burn a candle in the night.
To learn and rise no matter what,
To study and sense what nature taught.
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poem by Osama Waqar
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Delicious Chocolate Cove
Now these folks know how to live
I wish I’d been there when
Chocolate poured from a fountain
With the perfect kind of blend
Yes, delicious little morsels
You can poke right on a stick
All you have to do, my friend
Is submerge whatever you pick
Strawberries so fresh and juicy
Pineapple so sweet as well
They’d slide them very carefully
Under chocolate as it fell
No matter what the occasion
These folks know how to eat
Long wonderful tables of food
Anything you might seek
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poem by Marilyn Lott
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Alankar(Decor) -87
A Recipe(Uneven Couplet) -
The uneven couplet is paired lines of different length
rhymed or unrhymed, metered or unmetered.
A Recipe
That you would relish I'm sure
This recipe try it with pleasure
Clean the insight in time sufficient
Wash off anger, enmity and hate
Put the mind on the burning heart
Put in the thoughts all to melt
Ladle in between a large of intellect
Stir in hope a heapful amount
Let all blend with a bliss intent
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poem by Indira Renganathan
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I Don't Understand You At All
I don't understand you at all.
What has the tightening of my belt,
Have to do with the feeding of my gluttony?
Everywhere I look...
You Tease me with greed.
You offer my imagination,
A choice of varieties.
Even with my attempts to diet,
There are an array of them...
From which you bombard me to pick.
And no matter which one I select...
You create another method,
You say is more delicious.
I don't understand you at all.
What has the tightening of my belt,
Have to do with the feeding of my gluttony?
Everywhere I look...
You Tease me with greed.
You offer my imagination,
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pigeons Cooing When They Do
Pigeons cooing when they do,
A cooing begun.
As they strut after flying...
Or sit and stare with a sitting done.
They seem to fly around in packs,
To peck and pick in shifts.
Until someone begins to eat,
A delicious 'anything' pigeons seek...
With probing beaks.
Then other pigeons dropp in flocks,
From places suspicious.
While peacocking around,
Scouting out for something dished.
Like some popcorn or peanuts.
Or crumbs from crackers and/or bread.
To feed in a cooing...
As if a drooling done is did.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Father's Tale
I had a recent re-encounter with 'The Nightingale'.
Coleridge considered calling it 'A Father's Tale'.
It was one of those still, dark, quiet, balmy nights.
Three thoughtful friends sat on a mossy bridge near Nether Stowy,
Somerset.
A nightingale began to sing.
Sam thought of melancholy,
Of sorrow not suited to this song,
Of poets diluted by books and balls,
Of Nature's eternality,
Of how a poem should add to all of Nature's loveliness,
And be loved, like Nature itself is loved.
He crafted such a poem.
With delicious notes
He describes wild grove
And delicious music of birds.
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poem by Douglas Scotney
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Drop Your Buns Aunt Betty
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And that package on your back.
We ate your baked cookies,
And they went rather fast.
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
We know they are delicious
Since they're made with cinnamon.
We're not a bit suspicious
Of the love that's in them.
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And grab a little snack and relax.
You owe us that!
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And that package on your back.
We ate your baked cookies,
And they went rather fast.
Drop your buns Aunt Betty.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Don't Risk Your Biscuits
Don't risk your biscuits.
Keep those biscuits mystic.
If they're found delicious,
Keep the people licking their lips.
Do not risk those biscuits,
For suggestions or tips.
From others who just want them to be,
Buttered and split!
When you took them out the oven,
You knew then the flavor would...
Bring joy to some.
Like no others had done.
And when they jellied up those biscuits,
With a favorite beverage...
A stirring had begun.
Making your biscuits their number one.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Whomever' The WHO May Be
Who me?
I never thought I was the cheese.
Whether cheddared or sharp.
OR flavored filled crisp dipped chips...
Thick or thin and delicious.
I don't know 'who' to thank...
But I've never been into it.
Getting an attention done,
For something I love...
Makes to me no sense.
Even if it is,
Something I have experienced.
Nor have I ever thought of myself as a brick,
Firmly placed...
To be consider as a piece of a cornerstone that fits.
Who me?
I'm not seeking to be perfect.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Never Too Late
You want to make me believe...
That everything you've ever done,
Was for me.
But...
All I've ever seen,
Was you take the seat of the pilot.
And...
I was in the cabin being the cleanup boy.
You want to make me believe...
That everything you've ever done,
Was for me.
But...
All I've ever seen,
Was you take the seat of the pilot.
And...
I was in the cabin being the cleanup boy.
You want to make me believe...
You would be there to have my back,
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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