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DIJEH presents 'Poetry Is My Yummy Mummy'Nov 29 '09 Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line POETRY is generally a tasty fine lady to me, so yummy like a chocolate brownie so sexy! She's making herself to tempting by leaving an appetising taste in my mouth!
Greetings, readers, singers, writers, and other members the Epinions consumer site, I proudly bring compliments of the winter season as I enter the territory of POETRY. Let me tell a story of how I magically transformed POETRY from a set of vocabulary into a fine lady. By assembling each line of words like organs making up a human's anatomy, I was able to design '''Poetry's''' body artistically with plenty of intricacy to her facial beauty. I then breathed life into '''Poetry''', successfully making her conscious and when I got to know her better, she was such a gracious lover with a marvellous charisma. Delicious in character, she was alternatively known as yummy mummy to me. More precious than a pot of gold, emitting a colourful rainbow, '''Poetry''' was also a valuable person who chirped with the beautiful voice of a sparrow. We eventually became loving partners, with a nature of supporting each other and living happily ever after as it was written in the scriptures.... ************************************** Poetry is my yummy mummy ************************************** I carry thirteen numbers, counting myself luckier than a regular lottery winner, superstitious, I predict nature of the future like an adventurous soothsayer, I'm a painter with artistic features, designing magic words into a female sculpture, bringing life to her as Poetry, then creating beauty for her stature, this lady is sexy with a lovely texture, people just look at her and ponder, and wonder, whether she will become my next partner, picture your mental imagery, digital photos of me and Poetry you’ll capture, check the chapters in my literature, our story together reads like an adventure, I may lack tenure as a lover, but everyday in future I’ll try harder, to cut words into sculptures for everything I write in my scriptures, merely for Poetry, my lovely cotoneaster who couldn’t be any prettier, with attractive features, better than any expensive, luxury furniture, this lady ain’t just a beautiful flower, she blossoms into a colossal sunflower, like a small daisy that transforms into a larger, colourful aster, looking delightful, Poetry has wonderful perfumery so powerful, I can smell her, she’s edible like vegetables with flavour, I can savour her as a consumer, the experience is incredible in my tongues’ presence, whenever she gets yummier, she’s got delicious roots, luscious fruits or whatever that makes me healthier, on a daily basis, her vocabulary makes my mouth dangerously sweeter, her terminology keeps striking my tongue like Parker pen hitting the paper, I shall refer to Poetry as my ‘yummy mummy’ as long as I’m a writer, I’m recording a diary of the appetizing eye candy that this lady offers, Poetry is my '''yummy mummy''', so delectable, so edible and juicy, she is a tasty fine lady, who is sugary in my mug of coffee, she's feeling smooth and milky on my tongue like Cadbury, gradually melting in my mouth like creamy bars of Galaxy, she likes dribbling into my cup of tea like honey, relaxing my thoughts spiritually, while I am sipping her gently, her effects are combined with caffeine, making my mind alert, watching TV, when my brain is ready to sleep, she's making me mentally drowsy, putting myself into tranquillity, so that I can dream about her pleasantly, that's the opposite of awake like the sedative effects of mandrake, when it is midnight, Poetry turns out the lights, quietly wishing me "Goodnight!” then I am busy sleeping, dreaming about how scrumptious she is to bite, eyeing up her marvelous body, having glorious fantasies about her delicious sight, I saw Poetry as sleeping beauty in the hollow, coloured white by rays of moonlight, yet it's too dark to see her tomorrow at night, with my eyes shut tight, so she gave a rainy cloud to follow, showing me into the morning light, after a stormy night, the colourful rainbow appeared, beautiful and bright, how thoughtful of Poetry to guide me towards the wonderful sunlight, she isn’t just my yummy mummy, so tasty in hindsight, she’s also my fair lady, glossy and shiny to my delight. The hot and sunny day bakes my Poetry into a sexy chocolate brownie, prettier than a fairy cake that makes me swallow her up with gluttony, alternatively, I can bite her Cadbury “Flakes”, then lick her nice and slowly, like a mountainous vanilla that is delicious, luscious and creamy, she kicks my stamina into “Twix” mode, giving me Cadbury’s “Boost” of energy, she is a bright, silky wrapper enveloping white chocolate candy, like duvet covers encasing creamy beddings, keeping my body warm and cosy, her mattress cushions me softly like "Caramel" on a crunchy biscuit layer, she gently strokes my body with her "white chocolate fingers", in "Curly Wurly" fashion, taking it easy like I’m her rich caramel centre, she did it in our romantic adventure on an authentic “Double Decker”, together, Poetry merges with my body, forming a "Cadbury dairy milk wafer", while her marshmallows are tender like pillows that couldn't be any softer, everyday we stay romantic as we stroll on the magic “Milky Way”, our love for each other is spectacular, it’s shinier than stars, sweeter than forty, candy bars, even redder than the planet “Mars”, we float hand-in-hand forever in space, feeling lighter than “Maltesers!” For our cosy dinner on a dreamy day of November, Poetry was doing the funky chicken in the kitchen, then roasting the turkey, seasoning her stuffing heavily and making it ever so yummy, I provided Poetry with the finest cranberry sauce for the best turkey, telling my sweet baby that her cooking is lovely, she offered me her thanksgiving, saying "Thank you honey!" I was stirring the curry with her, making it saucy like its all gravy, tossing vermicelli noodles in woks, stringing them around like spaghetti, Poetry was wholeheartedly impressed with my cooking for her eyes to see, she considered me a contender for “Master chef” on TV, calling my dinner high quality and nicknaming me sugar daddy, this woman flows long like nylon and unwinds along like cotton, her vocabulary goes on and on gracefully like the Never-ending Story! Peace! Written by DJ primo for POETRY / DIJEH's work of art  |
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