Mistress of deception,
as in victual monogamy.
A deceit of one’s perception,
without an irksome homily.
Mushrooms drop into a pot,
with peppers, once pureed.
Zucchini dance as they are tossed
amidst confetti of celery seed.
Onions sing out with Garlic,
part of the tomato cabaret.
They drop, sway, and frolic,
below the leaves of dried up bay.
A precipitation of spices,
fine herbs and hot chilies.
If omitted a possible crisis,
like the heel of Achilles.
Then a most decisive stroke,
wheat pasta hits the stage.
With every furtive jab and poke…
Spaghetti is still the rage!
Ode to the farmer
We depend on your livestock
We're very grateful
The incredible superpower
of the aroma of bacon frying
And the pungent scent
of fresh brewed coffee…
To me, this shouts out
It has the power to move
The most sleepy persons
The power to lift leaden eyelids
The ability to make frowns
Turn to smiles and evoke memories
Of timeworn kitchen tables
And chipped coffee cups
And cold linoleum floors
No more or less
It’s parents and grandparents
Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall
And yet all it truly is
Is a bit of aromatic vapor
Just bacon frying
Oh frankfurter, grilled up with bun,
How dost these words make spirits run?
Thy rich aroma summons me
To hot dog stands most frequently.
Though price may change from Queens to Rome,
Thy cost is low right near my home;
With skin as red as true love’s lips,
That tastes so good with Coke and chips.
I pileth on thy meat for thrills,
Some onion, slaw and kosher dills;
But better taste there’s none to find,
Than Georgia hots with tender rind.
To eat thee fried with bacon spear
While taste buds strike yon stratosphere;
Or joined with home-cooked chili cheese -
No man alive resisteth these.
For every time my mouth doth bite
Thy juicy shank, my heart takes flight;
While flavors springeth up inside,
As hunger pangs are satisfied.
And with each savory succulent joy,
My mind drifts back, when I’m a boy -
To that first bite my taste wouldst spark,
While watching baseball in the park.
Copyright - By Paul Ray
It’s that time of year again...
When family and friends gather together..
To share and give thanks for all that they treasure..
The young and the old, the tall and the small..
The Vegans and the Carnivores, come one come all...
There are dishes of tradition, like Turkey and stuffing..
Mashed potatoes, gravy, and cranberry muffins..
Green Bean casserole, and corn soufflé...
Are just some of the dishes of the day....
And of course a relish tray to take off the edge...
With that awesome Spinach dip in Pumpernickel bread...
So many desserts at this time of year...
But the favorite of all , synonymous of the Fall..
Is that Jack’O ‘Lantern, orange Gourd.....
known as Pumpkin Pie...
As the children play a game of touch football...
Something that is 24-7 on this day in Fall..
As Grandpa sits in the afternoon sun...
Remembering back ..when he was young...
Then the words of “ Let’s eat “ fills the air...
And everyone sits down in their chair..
Who wants the first slice ? Dark meat or White ?
Grandpa asks...then proceeds to take the first bite..
Everyone fills their plate, till it can’t hold no more...
Yet some go back, for more and more....
Finally everyone is full...can’t eat another bite..
Till the smell of fresh coffee brings on a plight...
Aahh dessert ..and the best part of all....
“ PUMPKIN PIE “ !!!! ....It appears was a "Majority Call"...
This is “ my “ favorite time of the year....
When you mention "MY" name, everyone gives a cheer !!!
So without further adieu ...Grandpa picks up the knife...
As I am the “ MAJORITY CALL “ and receive the first slice....
The green cuisine will make you lean.
Like Jeanne, Christine, or age eighteen.
Sardines, soybeans, along with greens
Will help you fit in smaller jeans.
The diet scene, you've seen umpteen!
You've worked out on the green machine.
Being lean they say is supreme.
Like if you are a strong marine.
Or when he rubs on your sunscreen.
But if you're fat and seem obscene,
Be sure to wear a hat that's green.
The color green is so serene.
And sparkles in the sunlight's sheen.
Eat: kale, spinach and collard greens
Or buy a great big hat thats green!
© March 1, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: The Colors Have It
Sponsor Russell Sivey
My addiction to Pepsi is a curse
It's bad for my body and for my purse
Limit is one per day
But I have feet of clay
I love the stuff..for better or for worse
for the Beverage contest...glug
Barbara Gorelick 10/27/11
I do not know?
What fool can write about green onions?
Not me, Not me
I'm not a fool you see
Green onions are food
not a poem my friend whose goofy
But I don't mean to be rude
or crude to any dude
who writes about green onions
and not eat for food
So what if I'm rude or crude
to you, foolish dude
I'm not like you, I'm no fool
But a dude who's cool
So don't confuse me with a fool dude
'cause I'm a cool dude
I do not write about green onions
that is you, a fool you see
and a fool you will always be
I do not write about green onions
you see ,you see
Ode To Fish And Chips
So hard to resist if you wanted to try
Fantasies started hours before build to a climax
No one knows but everyone realizes what is to come
Their scent more powerful than any other
It is a power that could never be ignored
Senses expand to take in every experience
Waves of nearly orgasmic energy flows through every cell
Not a word is spoken in expectation of what is to come
Everyone knows and everyone impatiently waits
The sounds of crackling and splashing
Sounds that perk even the worst of imaginations
The heat emitted warms the hearts of young and old
Yet, with that it is the sme lls that drive humans crazy with desire
Suddenly, the ancient wooden doors open
The people push and claw to be the closet to their desire
A smell, a taste, even a look is all they desire
A hand reaches out and, for one person, their life is fulfilled
A bite of their fish and chips
The ones from the small pub prove that the fantasies were true
There is a food of the gods and it is in a small British pub
Down an alley and behind and ancient door
The dream continues
I'm not no Picasso, and I'm not no Poe.
The only thing I need, is a late night woman.
And a whole lot of dough.
Apple and pumpkin, they're a cool kind of pie.
Preferred by me, is ham on rye.
There she was, so sexy and nice.
My late night woman.After striking out twice.
I met her in the bleachers, at a Friday night game.
My apple and pumpkin didn't taste the same.
And my late night woman, wouldn't take the blame.
Then we saw the kicker.Kick the ball so high.
It made us so unhappy.We were about to cry.
Anyways, the whole damn thing, made me drop my
ham on rye..
Humorous Poetry By Kim Robin Edwards
ALL rights reserved..
Marsh mellow peeps
a wonderful treat.
Yellow pink or blue
all of them stick like glue
on easter , christmas or even halloween
I like peeps and pass on jelly beans .
Some have said they can cure the common cold
others say it reminds them of yellow slime mold
what can I say ?
it doesnt matter to me either way
but personally my favorite type is
the ones you put in the microwave oven
and watch as they bubble, pop and fizz
Oh cake you are my biggest
My Most wanton
My most utterly and delightful mistake
You invite my mouth to savour you
After I drool all over you
And I gladly indulge
I live only for a taste of you
You excite my taste buds so well
And fill my heart with joy
It is such a pity
That each bite so perfectly
Plots my ruin
Adding weight to my hips
After passing through my awaiting lips
You make me so plumptous
Oh cake I will always love you
No matter what ills you bring
I will forever sing
Of your taste
And eat another morsel of you
I will never forget
The many flavours you have
That so tingle my tongue
My cravings for you
If I cannot possess you
I will seek you out
Where-ever you may be
And have you
Every crumb of you
Oh Tom, you wonderful Turkey!
Dear departing, Tom!
Each year you bring such
Tryptophan tranquility to
Our over-stimulated brains
That we welcome the stupor
Only your chemistry
Tom, you great big glorious beastie
Ready we are for the feastie
Your plucked body will bring!
Pardon our fowl
Tastes but you know that
Obama will surely pardon one of you!
Hearty appetites will be content with
A cornish game hen
~~~~~~~~~~~~ Entry for Donna Golden's Ode To A Turkey contest ~~~~~
You, Ice Cream, are delicious.
I could eat you every day.
I could eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
I’ll eat you for dessert, too.
I’ll eat you Winter and Summer, Fall and Spring.
Because, you, Ice Cream, are the best.
You can be chocolate, vanilla or more,
I love all of your flavors,
all except peanut butter.
You can be chocolatey and rich
or simple vanilla.
You are cold, sweet and delicious,
thick or thin, but always scrumptious.
Coffee in a cup, makes a cup of coffee;
just as an aroma from within, makes the air,
smell of flowers in the spring
...a sweet thing, like sugar cane is to the tasting,
and the tasting is to stirring the dream,
making flavored coffee
a drink in the morning.
Ode to Rabbie Burns.
. I was up before the dawn,
still half asleep for sure.
I struggled into wellies
and headed for the moor.
The heather smelt so fine,
my Whisky tasted good
as i put away the hip flask
and walked towards the woods.
I went in through the bracken
and quietness was a need.
The search was now in earnest
for this is where they feed.
At first i checked the traps
all empty such a shame.
This Beastie was elusive
would you like to know his name?
He is only found in Scotland
on moors and deep in woods
and sometimes changes colour
depending on his moods.
His diet it is Heather
the purple is the best,
though sometimes he eats Neeps
to farmers he"s a pest.
His legs they number three
he has no grace or poise,
and if theres more than one
they really make a noise.
They taste so good and spicy
with pepper and with salt.
Served up with Tatties and Neeps
washed down with a single malt.
But have you guessed his name,
would you know one face to face.
Robert Burns it was who called him
" Great chieftain o the pudding-race"
Yes it is the Haggis,
let"s all take it in turns
and raise your glass in homage
"Oh heres tae Rabbie Burns"
I do not know?
I do not know?
Thou speak to me
across the room
to make me swoon
Your dulcet tones
Mine ears find sweet
I coyly approach
for you to meet.
I reach mine hand
into thine bags recess
and feel thine soft
and gentle caress
With caution i wrap
my hand around
Your squashy body
True love I've found
I squeeze, I poke
I stretch, I prod
surely you are
a gift from god
Oh bugger this
I want you to know
your too damn yummy
in my mouth you go.
Sizzling and Grizzling
Frying and Boiling
Crispy and crunchy
Gooey and chewy.
Cooked to perfection
Golden brown on each side,
Little pockets of goodness
Placed delicately on a china plate.
Scent so mouth-watering,
Taste that's quite exotic
Texture that is crunchy
Tastes heavenly in my mouth.
Dunked in rich sauce
That is darker than ink
The taste buds dance
As the divine flavor takes over.
Sweet and savory
Bitter and better
Crunchy and soft
Exotic and exquisite.
You are quite a treat
I can't get enough
Of your exotic taste.
Although we all know it,
you can't spell out perfection,
and our stomachs to it we commit,
under our seasoned inspection,
the smell is in the air,
so thick we can almos taste its glory,
O how we try to not stare,
and like a wolf with its quarry,
we leap at it with great joy,
the texture O so splendid,
unmatchable by any false decoy,
the only thing we ever did,
was eat the Crispito.
I doff my fedora to the feller who invented pertater chips!
That genius developed the ideal thingy in which to immerse our dips!
How could we survive sans our weekly fix of Dominoes pizza pie,
Or a half-dozen Dunkin Donuts consumed on the sly?
Ain't nothin' as finger lickin' good as Kentucky Fried, original of course,
Or a Wendy's triple bacon 'burger when you're as famished as a horse!
Ah! The myriad of Mexican fixin's offered by the local Taco Bell!
Chimichangas, burritos, tacos, tostadas and enchiladas as well!
Japanese and Chinese establishments offer mysterious and fancy fare.
Try sushi, octopus, crawfish or deep fried squid if you dare!
If you crave ice cream, cookies or a hunk of cake or such cuisine,
Hie yourself on down the street to the nearest Dairy Queen!
For the hotdog aficionado there are weenie varieties galore;
Foot longs, chilidogs, smothered in sauerkraut and so many more!
Want some scrumptious and satisfying grub that'll fill your belly?
Get a ham on rye, thick salami or a Rueben at the neighborhood deli!
At Dad's BBQ you can order any kind of barbeque with greasy fries.
To top off the pancakes at The Village Inn you can buy chocolate pies!
Doctors and nutritionists would cringe at such a diet of course.
Fiddle faddle! I'll keep on eatin' that stuff with absolutely no remorese!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
I hear you brew
the sounds you make
I love every whistle
How long must it take!
The scent fills the room
In full bloom
As I watch the pot fill
I think as my cup is empty still!
It is time
I fill O’cup
That first sip
it touches my lip
Then my tongue
It’s not just the taste
I know what’s to come
Constrict my vessels
One by one
Warm me up
On cold days
Coffee does so much
With little credit
In many ways
Her skin is like a manuscript
Gone fragile with old age
That crumbles at the slightest touch
Each time you turn the page.
But if you delve below her skin
Prepare to shed a tear
A poignant multi-layered core
Dwells 'neath her thin veneer.
Content to wait on ripening time
She patiently defers
With firm and solid dignity
Until the hour is hers.
Once hunger's longing flame is lit
Her transformation starts
She glows transluscent tenderness
Her essence she imparts.
Her kiss doth linger through the night
Her perfume ere next day
Oh, fragrant onion, thou art beast!
That's all I have to say.
Star of the garden,
A crystalline appearance:
Shining in the earth.
Glossy crystal scales,
Polished platinum goblet:
An edible bulb.
Round bowl of water,
A flask of white flaky skin:
Bitter to the taste.
A heavenly globe,
Garden of onions.
Inspired by Pablo Neruda’s ,
“Ode to the Onion”
Tonight we celebrate and toast
the kindness of our loving host
I do not mean to brag or boast
but we’ll enjoy this yummy roast!
The onions sliced, the mushrooms diced
and thrice the crushed red pepper dashed
inside the oven crust does rise
and crisps and browns upon the racks
Half an hour we do laugh
and drink to our shared memories
no one could feel the moments pass
until we heard the timer beep
The air smells warm! The moment’s nigh!
Let’s slice the pizza into pieces!
Together, let’s enjoy the taste of life
until the light within us ceases!
the tongue is just another muscle
gives strength to what we think
amidst life's daily hustle bustle
helps thoughts to words interlink
so the father with his mother tongue
speaks to progeny generations come
lessons learned to offspring young
good ways to live, his rule of thumb
still would wince at his tongue lashing
flinching, blinking, cowering and meek
if shouted anger from lips came flashing
'stead of old man's jokes, tongue-in-cheek
but before I become too tongue-tied
some tongue twister squarely knotted
I'll place my tongue-in-cheek aside
to address these words I've jotted
and tell of my admiration for tongue
no forked tongue falsehood to relate
some silver tongued notes clearly sung
of glossa tongues and hooks and baits
that lovely lingual muscle hydrostat
can do things fit for moans and groans
I can hint, alluding to this and that
of things we tongue like flesh and bones
I think you'll agree with my observations
presented to you, from my mind sprung
and think of your own tasty applications
many things budding the tip of your tongue
© Goode Guy 2011-07-04
Shaped like a
polar magnetic field
but more greener
with a stub of a stem
let me see here
your name is
Crisp and Tangy
4017, Produce of USA
A fine specimen indeed!
I hope the fruit pickers
didn’t put their
all over your
The rough world’s bruised you
but not enough to save you.
You die tomorrow at sunup.
Larry Rice did something nice
When he made his life a sacrifice
Larry Rice did something right
By turning someone's darkness into light
As I wonder about right and right
I wonder what God did to Larry Rice
And I see visions of the bitterly poor
Those cursing God for being so poor
I see visions of Gods children
without a home, without a coat
without food, without pity
Then I see a vision of God
raising up a man
A man who would turn pity
And then turn repentance
into a gift
to and from God
And not just stop at pity
God did something very nice
When God made Larry Rice