EPCOT

Poetry by Singular Poet

The Amazing Chocolatier

Roald Dahl’s novel and film adaptations (1971 & 2005) and the eccentric Willy Wonka.

Tant à faire. Tant à faire
Does it go where you have vanished
or do you share it with me?
My happiness you take with you;
Along with bubbly hats and eyes.

In springtime, when pretty fish
sing like lovers up the airy mountain.
Sweet songs most interesting and secret.

Your colorful attention I seek.
Come along, look around and view.
We’re going for a great edible
boat ride down the rushing glen.

Midst that which calls upon my
golden names;
Perspiration, electricity, the most
wonderful taste in the world—

We’ll share it!
Whichever squelchy magic happens when;
Cocoa clasps its crunch like the cream
of theombro; cooled in candy nibs that
would never melt, that never lost taste!
How scrumdidilyumptious, how sweet—
from the coated shelves of the nearest;
Run down there!
Owners oohed ‘neath buttered loompa farms; moments of makers and bakers who don’t wait.

We need more deliciousness—
Cookies, canes, cakes and milky beans.
Or a culture of goodness, nestled in
flavoured slabs of delight.
Loved ones— fluffy, furry and all, craved the
snacks; the love of tweeting birds. Birds?
And even more, the coconut, or walnut,
or peanut butter, or nougat?

Well then, we’ll need to make some more;
To tickle the tongue’s heart. From solid to
liquid favs—
Eggs, tricks, treats in bars; desserts, glass recipes as gifts— biscuits specially for you.

Come with me. Make a wish. Count to three.
You’ll be free if you truly wish to be;
I’m giving it to you, yes you;
For so shines a good deed
in a weary world.

 

Coupe des Clubs Champions Européens

“In the end, nothing is like winning. It’s the perception from outside. It’s the joy, the experience, the confidence that your team gets by winning it.
— Tomas Tuchel, Chelsea FC

A star of circles, a jigsaw puzzle here.
A true test of ingenuity, another there;
Marries the murmurs of mastery.

The drawings, scattered around the floors of Berne.
A shiny tile after all; I started thinking about it— the tender touch of terracottas.
We were sitting on that wooden corner
Looking at that thin bowl,
And I said, “The fans would like this!”

So rushed, that white lustrous sheen on a deadline maze—
Assembled greatness of oddly shaped interlocking pieces.
The Champions deserved kilos of silver.

From the hour’s top to the bottom of every piece.
A journey of measured names of champions!
Dribbled dribblers saw her borons resemble
a carat of landlocked jems under crystal suns,
And her borons blown in kisses.

What a feeling it is to see it!
What a feeling it is to touch it!
Lips and palms and fingers; champagne’s gushing jubilance.

What a feeling it is
To hoist it aloft;
En tant que champion!
Oé, Oé, Oé!

A Photo of an Andamanese Woman

A photo which was kept by Nelson Mandela in the early seventies, (which the press at the time thought was Winnie)
It was later given to him on his 86th birthday.

The Bay of Bengal, the Andaman Islands.
Dark and beautiful skin on the ocean sands.
Their journey started back aeons and aeons;
All in the face of challenges like many and any.

I saw a woman,
running effortlessly on the beach.
With a broad smile on her flawless face;
A stunning celebration of life, mirrored by
easing winds.

The photo I took of her for a paper slipped
off our grip,
but later put to good use.
For I had heard that it was framed and given as a gift to a man in a desolate cell
who was in need of a smile of hope.

He kept it in his bookshelf as his little secret
He had surely fallen in love with it,
Like I did. The unexpected is always, always sweeter.

 

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