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Quatrain Food Poems | Quatrain Poems About Food

These Quatrain Food poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Food. These are the best examples of Quatrain Food poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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My Grammy, smiling so whole Creates the best pecan pies A treat I cannot control, When she plans a big surprise. Those wrinkled, age-old fingers Blend honey and nuts on trays I wonder what secrets lie there, As add-ons pile a display. In the oven, goodies heat Utopia in the making Even young Sis tries to cheat Moving the timer," Oh ring!" On the table, sweet wafts hum Grammy blinks, " Let's dine"; Buttery flavor; yum yum Teeth sink portions all divine! Pasty cheeks lined with syrup All's finished I can't deny Wanting more ; Gram hears my burp "Left some for my Cutie Pie!" Sheri Fresonke Harper's Plentitude Of Pies by nette onclaud 10/16/2014

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Soup Addict

I just can't believe it
I'm addicted to soup
I can't put the spoon down
I continue to scoop

So many flavours
I can't get enough
It's like there's heroin
They put in this stuff

Sure I can quit
Any time I want
But wait a minute
Look at that font

A few more minutes
Perhaps an hour or two
Good thing I kept reading
I got introduced to you

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Is Pizza A Breakfast Food

Is pizza a breakfast food? Damn right it is!
It'll soon be on IHOP's menu
They'll have an item called “Pizza Benedict”
Topped with a sweet syrupy goo!

If you haven't tried it, don't go “eeeew”
It'll put hair on your chest for sure
You ladies will need a depilatory cream
For us guys, it'll add to our allure

Bacon Temptation Omelette's a favourite
But when served on a pizza crust
It'll be one of IHOP's popular items
Pizza flavoured hash browns are a must

There's no accounting for people's tastes
Elsewhere, they must think we're nuts
Pizza is a real staple where we live
Probably why we have such big guts

Is pizza a breakfast food? Damn right it is!
The yummiest breakfast food going
With bacon and eggs and pizza sauce
My love for this dish is overflowing!

©Jack Ellison 2012

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Reservations Please

I'd like to make a reservation please,
A quiet table on Friday at eight.
There will be a total of four that night,
I'm so excited I just can't wait !

You see, some friends I've yet to meet,
Are coming here from distant places.
We're going to talk of many things,
It's going to be a thrill to see their faces.

Do you carry Silver Oak Cabernet,
And what specials might we expect?
They will enjoy the Napa Valley,
Over delicious food we will connect.

I know I do ramble on a bit...
But these are poets from the Soup.
So looking forward to this dinner,
It's going to be such a fun group!

Barbara companions will be

Carolyn Devonshire
Larry Belt
Robert Hinshaw

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The Ice Cream Lesson

Vigus and I were childhood buddies
who ventured to make some ice cream
It was to be our special creation
that would be a dish most supreme

We got some sand from the sand heap
and sifted it with a fine mesh wire
to give the dish a fine consistency
so its quality would be superior

We crumbled up some dried dirt
and pounded it with a hammer
then sifted it with the wire mesh
and made chocolate talcum powder

We mixed these ingredients in a tin
using a piece of stick as a stirrer
and blended them for quite a while
until there was a uniform texture

Vigus continued the stirring 
while I added the water
until the mix was nice and firm
and chocolate brown in colour

Now who would taste it first
we both said to each other
After thinking for a while I said
I believe I have the answer

I said let's ask Greedy Mackie
who was quite a beggar
always sponging off our snacks
in a  very shameless manner

We asked Mackie to join us 
and I got a piece of candy
Vigus stirred it in the mix
in the full view of Mackie

While Vigus stirred in the candy
We raved how sweet the dish would be
Then we asked who would taste it first
saying that person would be lucky

I suppose Mackie's thoughts 
could only focus on the candy
When we asked the question
he raised his hand and cried "ME"

We gave him a spoonful of the dish
which he put it in his mouth greedily
Vigus and I watched most intensely
to see what his reaction would be

Mackie bolted for the water tap
spitting most profusely
I guess he learned a lesson that day
that he should not be so greedy

Vigus, Mackie and I were about 7 years old


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Eggs, Eggs, Glorious Eggs

Eggs, eggs, glorious eggs I could eat 'em three time a day Scrambled, poached or sunny side up I love 'em any old way Eggs, eggs, glorious eggs Like a yummy egg salad sandwich Devilled eggs, I could eat by the dozen I'll even try one from an ostrich Eggs, eggs, glorious eggs Now to some, this may sound icky At times I'll add a raw one to my cereal That's probably not for the finicky Eggs, eggs, glorious eggs I'm aware of a most recent recall Detected a trace of salmonella poisoning Now that won't deter me at all Eggs, eggs, glorious eggs Just keep eating 'em, don't have a choice A day without these delightful wee treasures Is the pits, no chance to rejoice © Jack Ellison 2012

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In The Kitchen with Commas

Sweet tooth calling, kitchen beckons to me
Decisions, decisions, what should I make
Pies, cookies, pudding , all good possibilities
They sound swell, but I choose chocolate cake

Checking for ingredients, I have them all
Chocolate, eggs, baking powder, salt and flour
Mix them together as the recipe directs
Patience! patience, should be ready in an hour

For the Comma Fun contest...

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Eating Tacos

Ever try eating a Soft Taco Supreme And not appear like a glutton With stuff squirting out all over yourself Down to your old bellybutton It's all about this amazing experience Wouldn't be as enjoyable without it So forget about all those damn cleaning bills They're part of the joyous trip As you chomp away with gay abandon The messier the better, for sure Without the mess, you ain't no aficionado Just someone trying to act mature Acting prim and proper when eating a taco Has never been part of the scene So dig right in, the messier the better Be a proud taco eating machine © Jack Ellison 2014

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Cream Puffs, Pies, And Chocolate Brownies

Cream puffs, pies, and chocolate brownies Should surely be banned from the planet They have no real value, no redeeming factor We stuff our faces like gannets Moms always says, “Johnie's got a sweet tooth” So when he chows down like a pig It gives him the okay to eat gobs of this stuff Till he no longer can dance a jig Now there ain't nuttin' bad 'bout being obese Some very famous people are blimps Won't name them here for the fear of a lawsuit It would leave me tattered and limp But cream puffs, pies, and chocolate brownies Are delicious morning, noon, and night For breakfast, lunch, or important meetings They're evil but such a delight! © Jack Ellison 2013

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Butterflies and Honey Bees

In the meadow, weeds flowering
By a cluster of old shade trees
Make a lovely scene attracting
Some butterflies and honey bees

Butterflies sipping each flower
Flit happily from bloom to bloom
Flaunting their wings of gossamer
Giving each other lots of room

Several colours of the rainbow
Painted on their gossamer wings
Put on a brilliant colour show
Such a happy feeling it brings

Bees also join in the feasting
Imbibing each flower's nectar
Doing so with joyful humming
In their role as honey maker

Weed flowers are in Nature's brood
Springing up where ever they please
They assist in providing food
For butterflies and honey bees

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Waves of cinnamon thrill my childhood senses down Eastwood’s stall for pancake’s fluffy batter browned choco bits riding on syrup’s edges and frothy heap of whipped cream topped on platter Grandma’s chirped voice begins to dance in my head her sunlit eyes egging me for rounds of treat. Visions of youth bring me to days, warmly fed, I end the meal pining for her cherished feast. © Sara Kendrick’s A Pleasant Childhood Memory

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SOFT-BOILED EGGS My mother was a single parent Who worked her fingers to the bone. She worked long hours morn 'til eve Then dragged her weary body home. She fed me every morn before she left A soft-boiled egg with toast and jam. I wasn't really hungry, a little thing was I, I'd've been content with just the toast and jam. Every morning once she left for work, I'd run across the kitchen floor And throw those eggs right o'er the fence In to the yard next door. Then one day the neighbour happened by And chatted to my mother. In her hands she held five eggs, A dreadful sight for poor dear mother. My mother pulled her hair out, She wrung her hands and begged, "What WILL you eat, my child?!" "Well, not those runny soft-boiled eggs." I said. c ELR 2013

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Supersize me, Honey, with extra mayo on everything;
But hey, make it a diet coke please  -  
Keeping fit these days. . . . skiing tomorrow  - just the thing:
Chair lift up 6000 feet, gravity pulls me down with ease.

Drive four blocks to the gym, twenty minutes in sauna;
Relax with latte lite in café at the fitness club.
Stroll in the park, admire flora and fauna  -
Then couple of beers with the guys in the pub

Jump in the golf buggy now, we’ll play several rounds.
Big into football too, saw the Bears take the pennant last year.
Vibro-belt strips off those unwanted pounds :
Makes just enough room for pizza and beer.

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Pet Sit Panics

Not My “Buddy”

When my friend Nancy moved to a new apartment
For the remainder of her Senior year
Her doggone dog “Buddy” was not allowed
As she asked for my help, I was moved by her tears

A tiny brown mutt who wore a red bandana
Was not a visitor I wanted to take in
But she thought her dog was the top banana
To ease Nancy’s concerns, I finally took him

He was supposed to come with food and instructions
Never before had I provided for a dog’s care
But when Nancy drove up and Buddy arrived at my house
His food and care guide had vanished in thin air

My cats were upset, hid under the couch and bed
As Buddy sniffed around the house for playmates
I called Nancy when Buddy tore up my new rug
She said he was lonely and just needed a date

Nancy suggested I take him on car trips
Buddy fancied himself to be a world traveler
But dog smells linger and I gave him no rides
So he found vengeance by climbing into a sewer

The nine-month school year lingered forever
By now my cats had taken to escaping in trees
When June finally came, I couldn’t wait to say goodbye
But that’s when Nancy sobbed and moaned, “Oh, pretty please.”

Her mother didn’t want Buddy at her house either
And Nancy asked me to keep him all summer
When I replied, “No, he needs to spend time with you”
I quickly lost my best friend, what a bummer!

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Green striped globe, trailing vine,
Your glories I relate;
Summer fruit, taste divine,
You grow in southern states.

Thick, heavy rind confines
The richness we await
Sweetened by hot sunshine,
Red joy upon my plate.

To choose well I refine
The skills which help equate
What hides in green shrine--
Pick best one in the crate.

Yellow belly--one sign,
A hollow thump will rate,
Sweet watermelon, mine,
"Best one I ever ate!"

July 9, 2014

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The Running of the Bowls

On Sundays my big family loved TV
for Disney and Bonanza. Mom would pop
delicious smelling popcorn, buttery,
and once I start to eat it, I can’t stop!

It never seemed enough when Mom got done
with popping our best snack food, and since our goal
was not to miss the shows, how fast we'd run
during the commercials to refill each bowl!

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Toaster Strudel Trochee

<                                       Toaster Strudel - Trochee

                                        I just crave toaster strudel
                                        Piping hot pastry
                                        Cool icing so can doodle
                                        Kellogg's bakery

                                        So get to popping me one 
                                        Time to used noodle
                                        Pop tarts boring just no fun
                                        Choose toaster strudel

Meter: 7/5/7/5 
Rhyme Scheme: a/b/c/b or a/b/a/b

The meter is trochee, which means alternating stressed and unstressed beats in each line, with each line beginning and ending in a stressed syllable. This is a simple lyrical type little poem, so rhymes will be basic, nothing fancy. The poem itself should give a description of something of interest to the poet and often the meter lends itself to humor, much as a limerick does. There is not a set number of these quatrain type stanzas, but a typical 7/5 Trochee would consist of two quatrains, with the second stanza serving to tie up the idea presented in the first stanza.

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Wary of Snakes and Possums

Five free range chickens surviving earth’s natural selection...
Spring flowers began to emerge while “Hefei” and hens explored.
Wary of snakes and possums, they moved about with caution.
Hunting, pecking and scratching, together in one accord -

One hen snuck into a pitched tent to lay her lovely eggs.
Behind some plants over wintered in a place nice and warm.
With shattered wing and broken shells, she felt survival plagues.
She emerged escaping death this time, enduring deform.

A few days later, she was gone, feathers strewn about.
One hen, then, another hid…sitting on precious eggs.
Within a month, the strutting rooster crowed his prideful shout.
Nineteen little chicks scurried out close to two hens legs.

ã June 7, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest:  Eggs, but NO epulaeryus
Sponsored by: Black Eyed Susan

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Song To Mother Earth

Mother Earth spinning on your centre
while revolving around Father Sun
making day and night on your surface
and the different seasons every one  

Your flesh provides the vital substance
on which trees, plants and grasses feed
and become food for birds and animals
who partake of them as they need

Some of those birds and animals 
feed others higher in the food chain
and become part of the eco cycle
which continues full circle again

All living things decay when they die
and return to you dearest mother 
to become substance that feeds plant life
and start off a new eco chapter 

Rain and snow from the sky bring water
that feeds the lakes, seas and rivers
which have a food chain of their own
among all their different creatures

Water from the sea becomes vapour
and rises as a cloud formation 
which precipitates as rain and snow
and water after condensation

Sun and Earth combine in harmony
doing so since before our birth
Thank you for feeding all living things
Our dearest blessed Mother Earth

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Diet starts Monday

Time to change myself once more
It's my mantra every Sunday
Be good with food and have less wine
This always starts on Monday

Commence with gentle exercise
And eat a smaller ration
By Tuesday this is going well
I'm full of strength and passion

It's Wednesday I am feeling weak
I want to drink some claret
I tell myself to carry on
So instead I eat a carrot

I put myself to bed that night
Hoping not to suffer
Tomorrow is another day
Of course I'll be much tougher

By Thursday I am back on track
I'm feeling rather dandy
I force myself to eat less snacks
And have a little brandy

By Friday it is getting tough
I'm feeling so much weaker
I pour a glass of cold crisp wine
And then fill another beaker

Come Saturday I am off the plan
I've gelled into my sofa
I fill my face with tasty treats
And turn in to a loafer

The sabbath day I carry on
I may as well keep eating 
Hereafter I will start again
And do it without cheating

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Peggy Ann

I knew a girl named Peggy Ann
Who turned three shades of mean
Whenever she saw vegetables
With any hint of green.

Bibb lettuce made her curl her toes;
String beans made her lips purse.
Cooked broccoli just grossed her out
And peas were even worse.

No matter what her mother served
Upon her dinner plate,
Poor Peggy Ann would start a fuss
That ended with debate.

She’d whine and whimper all the time
For something else to eat,
So she was given some dessert
Which changed her back to sweet.

And after weeks and weeks of this,
She started to fill out.
Then as the months began to mound
Sweet Peggy Ann grew stout.

When she got too big for the house,
They moved her to the barn,
Along side of the wooly sheep
Where she could spin some yarn.

And when she turned too sickening sweet,
The sheep were kind of glad.
Her own stench sweetened up the joint-
It wasn’t all that baaaaad!

By Susan Burd © 2011

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Chocolaty Conversation

Chocolate is nasty
Chocolate is sin
It is insipid
It’ll do me in

Chocolate is yucky
Chocolate is vile
It makes me happy
But just for a while!

Chocolate is poison
Chocolate is pain
First I was sexy
Now big as a train!

“Chocolate, I hate you
Chocolate, you suck
I used to be sleek
Now a waddling duck!

Chocolate, be banished
Chocolaty sweets….
It’s because of YOU
I’ll soon take up two seats!

Chocolate, release me
Chocolate….DON’T YOU DARE! 
Life can be bitter
I need you….be there!

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Thursdays Recalled By the Family's French Fry Girl

The number of us children growing up was eight. Each Thursday night was special, for our Dad got paid, and we would eagerly and hungrily await his bringing Henry’s fries and burgers home. Hurray! We weren’t allowed to pick and choose; we had to take two burgers each with “everything” and one bag of fries. While we grabbed our own allotment, happy to partake, Jenny scraped off from her burgers -onions she despised! Dori chewed so slowly, from her we all would steal. The baby, Theadora, just sat there and played with her food. I was strange and always made this deal: Both my burgers for two brothers’ French fries I would trade. And so the number of my French fries always came to three. Even with no burgers, I loved each Thursday night. for the Henry’s fast food and time with family. Oh, to go back to those days with loved ones in my sight!
*Henry's Hamburgers was the name of a fast food place in my hometown For Paula Swanson's "Traditions" Poetry Contest

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Christmas madness

Twas a few days before Christmas, shoppers
dazed and bewildered, wandered through the store
selecting groceries from off the shelves,
paying for purchases, minds are elsewhere.
In quick succession, three people stepped out
there in front of my cart - could not stop quick
so each  was hit gently, not one was hurt
just dumbfounded why I ran into them!

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Redeye Gravy

Now sits the redeye gravy in the pan
It certainly is not at all like jam
Mom made it years ago  for her man
Fry some country ham, pour  coffee bam

Never knew why it was called redeye
Then my grandson informed me just why
Men who had been out late had bleareye
Who looked like they had been drip-dry

I always thought that it was because
It had dark red color from drippings
In my home it  got an applause
I thought that it was God's blessings

I learned my husband doesn't like it
My grandson doesn't like redeye gravy
When I make it only make a bit
Always redeye gravy left heavy

Today decided to place on grits
Feed to the cats see if they like it
Now cat is running around won't sit
I guess that caffeine gave them lift

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It's a short fat sub that I'll grab to bite
Where the juice runs down my gums
As the flavour pools upon my tongue
and my grip becomes all thumbs

And I start to chew while breaking peppers
As the juice explodes and cools
While the taste seems strong and lasts forever
that my corner lips still drools

With a bun made warm to comfort me
Squeezed firmly in my gums
Then ripped and torn for pleasure
While the table fills with crumbs

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Sally's Brown Fried Rice

The small rice is the only rice
Sally had me know.
Convinced there were two sizes.
Higher price and low.

Relieved and then excited.
Realising I'd get more.
Forgetting my own diet.
To calling it a chore.

A lot of rice seemed fine to me.
The price would stay the same.
I'd eat a little more today
despite the weight I'd gain.

The bites all feeling tiny.
Each swallow weighing down.
A stomach that's expanding
where grunts are left to drown.

So Sally what's your secret?
Tell me what you've learned.
You say a drop of oil
and nothing has been burned.

Sally's Brown Fried Rice.
Something that she's earned.

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Donut People

                    Donut People

Not all donut people are large or police or thieves
Nor are they thin, eating only greens and leaves and vitamins
Or exercising on the side of reasons muscularity
All this takes time to digest of course

Another hole, another donut down
Finding the criminal intent within is not a sin
Each and every calorie must be accounted for
According to health reports and other sources

Sugar particles find their way to court
Another bite out of crime….(but what about the obvious holes in this story?)
Public opinion is all about perception and what went down
All energy and money spent takes time to digest as well

To track down lost donuts, confections imperfections
Bring it to just desserts and deliciousness of justice
Our dedicated police will not sleep on just one donut
Their job has just begun

All citizens of our fine town
Can rest assured…. (So let them sleep)
Why!...Some of my best friends are donuts…(the mayor shouts.)
There is nothing wrong with that  

Knowing one is out there unconsumed….
Leaves donut people too confused
Children are donut people too
They eat them all, run back for more….Poof!.....They’re gone

Confectioner’s confess and conjecture 
Did girls and boys steal or simply borrow them?
Dusting off sweet powder and tiny prints of suspects
Leads to one conclusion 

Convictions are in order for any one large or small…mostly small
When donut snatchers perpetrate such crimes
Donut people have their rights to eat in peace
Protected from crumby children who steal their treats 

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Dear Diary

           Dear Diary

Dear diary, you know I love you so
And treasure your pages
I never lied to you as that would be fallacious 
And not in keeping with the full disclosure laws in Europe 

At first I confused you with dairy products
And would leave grass in your pages to eat late at night
While I masturbated over cartoon shows
Waiting for you to moo 

I guess that was wrong and I was young 
You were simply a book and not there to judge me
Or book me and put me in jail
Forgive me diary as I forgive you for missing pages…By the way….

What happened to June 3rd. 2004 pages?... Remember?...
I was quite explicit in writing several pages on the subject of
An orgy in Atlantic City with show girls, under the boardwalk 
Involving fruits, vegetables and assorted live action toys

Dear diary, I must confess, I also thought you were diarrhea
Kept you by the toilet and treated you like a guest
One last question Mr. or Mrs. Diary or whatever the case might be
Are you mute?  I never hear from you… I guess that’s good dear diary

                                                             5/16/14 Dear Diary Contest

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The Line


Patiently they stand in a line
As it stretches a block or more
For the food doled out to homeless,
To the old, the young and the poor.

I wonder how each came to be 
In that line that moves so slow.
Each person has his own story
Thought it’s one we may never know.

One perhaps a hard working man
With good job for whole adult life.
Who lost  his job in recession.
He can’t care for children and wife.

Medicine costs have been so high
For the old man who has been ill.
He and his wife have no money
To buy food their hunger to still.

There may have been a disaster
That brought some to this sorry state.
Many are only a pay check away
From suffering very same fate.

I hope when elections are over 
It matters not which side has won,
The congressmen will remember
There is a big job to be done.

Hunger in America should
Be first on the list not the last.
Long lines waiting for donated food
Must soon be a shame of the past.

For Paula Swanson's "Line" contest
5th place

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Sweet Addiction

I prowl the aisles of the grocery store,
hunting for some sumptuous treats
To get that sugar fix I'm aching for,
such sweet suduction, it can't be beat.

I find candy coated crunchies,
sweet kisses, candybars galore.
All the goods to sate my munchies,
yet I still want so much more.

With a dark addiction for these sweets,
I'd gladly be a gun for hire.
A cocoa ganster from Hershey Street,
with my own Rich Chocolate Empire!

TLH   ©   07-26-2012

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Estephania was the Spanish horse,
with a chestnut coat and mane   
and a lighter long tail...and she ate
alfalfa for strong teeth and bones.

She was domesticated, losing her liberty
and neighing she showed keen ability:
to spot dangers on a perilous path...
Estefania even stopped for a stranded cat.

In summertime she fed mostly on grass,
but bees stung her many times to protest,
and struggling to get them off her tail...
she hit a shrilling raven in the head.

And feeling sorry for the dying bird wincing, 
Estefania licked his semi-open
him a little comfort as he folded his wings;
and whinnying she wept a river of tears.

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I'm Eating My Way Through The Fridge, Tra-La

I'm eating my way through the fridge, tra-la!
I'm eating my way through the fridge
Do I feel a little bit guilty about it?
Maybe a bit more than a smidge

Someone's got to get rid of this stuff
It's been here for more than a week
The plastic containers are starting to bulge
Don't dare lift their lids for a peek

Saw a big bunch of week old burritos
Get up and start dancing around
Thought I could hear a Mariachi band 
It was a faint, almost inaudible sound

The vegetable bin was rockin' with laughter
As a tomato all mushy and ripe
Was cuddling up to a overripe cucc
That smelled like an old guttersnipe

All in all the scene wasn't pleasant
Next time we'll try eating faster
Before the office for the environment
Declares an ecological disaster

I'm eating my way through the fridge, tra-la!
It's a service I provide for my country
And Greenpeace is actually thinking
Of naming a ship after me!

© Jack Ellison 2012

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Bubble 'n Squeak

Is there anything finer than mashed potatoes Mixed with cabbage, a mountain of joy Scrumptious with globs of bad-for-you butter And sprinkled with parsley, oh boy! Constantly dream bout this scrumptious delight Sure sends me to the moon with glee Don't need no ham or carrot and pea medley Just blobs of butter if you please Don't want none of that Beef Wellington stuff That fine old English tradition With boiled potatoes oh how uninspiring Gonna pass it with your permission Good old “bubble 'n squeak” is what they call it Can't think of another dish finer Just a simple old guy with a simple old taste A down to earth kind of a diner So serving me that stuff for brekkie, or din-din Guaranties my friendship for life With enormous globs of bad-for-you butter Just a fork, no need for a knife! © Jack Ellison 2013

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Chocolate-Coated Memories

Chocolate-coated memories of my morning meal fill my bowl to the top. I could get not get enough of the sweetest children's breakfast cereal. I was more than crazy for my delicious "puffs". My mother will confirm my cocoa obsession. I dug in only after the milk turned chocolaty. Yes, two boxes were always in my possession. How ever did I escape childhood obesity? for A Pleasant Childhood Memory Contest (Sara Kendrick)

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Jars Full of Summer

Marching across my pantry shelf
Jars filled with summer's bounty sweet
Jams and jellies, and all kinds of fruit
But much more than just a savory treat 

The effort to reap nature's gifts
Something so satisfying for me
Appreciating all the earth gives
Food and satisfaction, nearly free


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A Thanksgiving Wish

I wish I could sit ‘round the corner,
And take in all of the clamor;
I’d hear laughter and conversations,
I would hear what really matters!

I would hear dear familiar voices,
Distinctive laughs I would know right away.
Dinnerware clanging with silverware,
And the smells of Thanksgiving Day!!!

I would thank my God for family,
Both at home and those miles away.
If I could just sit ‘round the corner,
That would be a spectacular day.

What you have, when gathered together,
Is a gift every heart longs to share.
The gift of just loving each other,
And the prize of each person that’s there.

Though I’m not sitting there ‘round the corner,
My heart is most certainly there.
My love, adoration and thankfulness,
Is in spirit, at everyone’s chair.

I love you dear family, and send my best wishes:
For holiday health, wealth and mirth.
Tis Thanksgiving Day! Thank God for right now!
It’s the best seat to have on the earth. 

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Uninvited Guests

Early this morning, I found,
much to my chagrin,
the flowers in my garden
were as if they’d never been.

Bitten off above the soil,
green stubs left aground.
Mad enough to spit nails,
I fussed and stomped around.

It was easy to discover,
who the culprits were.
They left telling evidence
indented in the dirt there.

Their hoof prints tracked
all around the flowerbed;
no blossoms for my soul today,
food in their stomachs instead.

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In Defense Of The Rain

Some folks like to complain
And are very fickle
They fume when rain is falling
And fret at a mere drizzle

Wild birds and animals
They all need the rain
Which gives them water
For their lives to sustain

The plants and the trees
And all the lovely flowers
For them to grow and flourish
They also need the showers

The food crops that are grown
To provide food for us all
Each of them would perish
If the rain did not fall

So please think of these things
Before you start complaining
And creating a lot of fuss
The next time rain is falling

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Gransmother's Legacy, Number 2

On a trip to Grandmother's, 
we'd hear Mother say,
"Your next botany lesson 
will soon be on its way."

A visit invariably meant 
an immediate tour of her garden,
while the roast in the oven 
began to shrivel and harden.

Our stomachs would growl, 
our patience would wane,
as she spoke each plant's
 history and worth again.

A friend questions
 my knowledge of flowers.
Stomachache returns briefly,
 recalling all those hours.

Slowly, awareness dawns 
of my grandmother's legacy;
a love for earth's harvest 
stems from the gift she gave. 
Her words wash over me, 
the scene before me transposes,
as her voice again expounds
 the virtue and fragrance of

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Chicken Balls

Chicken balls are round with batter.
They often come with rice.
Most dab them in dipping sauce
of sweet and sour twice.

Craving leads to biting them
which fills your mouth with flavour.
All of the expressions made
will prove they're food you favour.

Second comes the rice you shovel
with a plastic fork.
Falling to the side of it
while lifting like a dork.

Balls and rice the perfect pair.
Both shoved in your mouth.
Mixing with the flavour there
and swallowing it south.

Napkins for your chicken balls
wipe a nobel sauce.
Thrown in a fortune cookie
added by the boss.

Love of Chinese chicken balls
spead the world round.
Shared with all our neighbours
in sauce that flavour's drowned.

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Pumpkin Pulp

Pumpkin Pulp a hunger real.
Toothless meal a vomit fill.
Rumpy flesh to hold the meal.
Tasty strands of flavour seal.

Pits of seeds for spitting out.
White tidbits all hard and stout.
Strands of web to reach the heart.
Spirits strong where pressures part.

Fetch the scoop to scoop out goop.
Scrape the wall and cause it droop.
Oust the pulp on old newpapers.
Save the seeds to fry in vapours.

Pumpkins lit and glowing lanterns.
Angled eyes shine light in patterns.
Flickered smiles from waxy wicks.
Labotomys, the night of tricks.

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Black-eyed Peas and Hog Jowl

Black-eyed peas and hog jowl
That's what my grandma said.
Ham or bacon, but never foul.
And don't forget cornbread.

People up North may eat sauerkraut.
But in the South we eat collard greens.
The young and old, without a doubt
Know what this lucky meal means.

The more beans you eat
The more luck and good cheer,
A 365 bean gastric-atomic feat…
Tooting beans we all welcome the year.

Each in the family fully stuffing his face,
The well wishes soon squeak their way out.
Some of us eat at a very fast pace.
Then, “Happy New Year and Good Luck!” we all shout.

© January 5, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen

Written for the Poetry Soup Member Contest:  Good Luck Meal 
Sponsored by Russell Sivey

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Spotted Dick

In England it has achieved fame.
Dried currants dot this steamed pudding.
“Spotted Dick” is this dessert’s name.
So few Yanks have heard of this thing.

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The Quakers, being religiously persecuted, set sail from expatriated England;
they were the first settlers to reach the shore of New England: a free land!
Later the Puritans came and settled in other eastern, bustling colonies
seeking the same religious freedom, but their urge was stronger than dreams.

Many moved westward on foot, on horseback and on overloaded wagons...
exploring the American wilderness plundered by indigenous Indians;
they searched for grassland everywhere, to let their cattle roam and graze;
first they built wooden shacks on vast, lush prairies full of Queen Ann's Lace. 

And out of this American westward expansion, came the fearless pioneers,
who sought gold mines...despite the wild cowboys causing troubles
with heavy drinking and desire for unscrupulous women, seeking money and pleasure, 
who served them more whisky and lured them to a room with a demeaning measure.

Beyond the Rocky Mountains' and the Appalachians Mountains' skies,
these diligent pioneers obtained wealth with sweat and sacrifices...
changing and shaping the wild landscapes of arable land,
avoiding the drudgery of getting stuck in mud and sand.

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Cherry Jello

I have a passion for cherry Jello
Can't ever get enough
With large amounts of Reddi Wip
Oh what glorious stuff

When I dream it's not about girlies
With flowing flaxen hair
Well okay maybe once in a while
If they have a nice derriere

You surely are starting to realize
My taste has changed quite a bit
So now it's satisfying my jelly belly
With a passionate cherry fix

For a bowl of that yummy Royal Treat
To the ends of the earth I'd go
Seeking that wiggily jiggily delight
That glorious treat of old

© Jack Ellison 2012

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My Special Meal

Familiar aroma oozes from the fry pan,
Secretion of enzymes makes me lick my lips,
Fried plantain and Jollof rice I love more than Dan,
Mum knows how to spice it well before she sleeps.

I rushed down to the kitchen without waiting,
I can`t miss my sumptuous rice after a game,
Mum sent me out to shower or I get nothing,
Fidgeting;hoping the quantity will be the same.

Contest:"A pleasant childhood Memory" sponsored by Sara Kendrick

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Hailed through the ages as the staff of life,
It takes many forms in each town and fief.
There's white bread and brown bread, biscuits and scones,
And hoe cakes and muffins, crescents and corn pone.

When setting a table, with china, replete,
Without buns or rolls it's just not complete.
The main dish is scrumptious, the side dishes fine,
But the meal is a bust without bread of some kind;

And when a young man is seeking a wife,
If she can't make a biscuit there's gonna be strife;
So when it's all finished and all's done and said,
Please pass the biscuits, it ain't supper 'thout bread.

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A May day delight

If we go into the woods today
along the path where bluebells sway,
'neath cool beechwood shade
to our secret ever glade;
Salad and cooked meats to eat,
champagne for this treat,
we'll read,paint or write
of this May day delight

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South to North

eggs and grits squash and shrimp cocktail
is what I ate living down South
living here had some lobster tail
sadly there’s no grits for my mouth

dad reminded me that for years
he was a Rebel to the bone
besides the South he loved his beer
and down South eateries he own

but when he died he had nothing
I was with him on his birthday
happy Birthday I did not sing
Not knowing that’s his last birthday

y wive's from the South
a great cook as well
great squash to my mouth
we're both living well

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Clumps Of Dead Grass

Eating a bowl of Post Shredded Wheat Is like eating big clumps of dead grass Now I know why horsies simply can't wait For the time between meals to pass We feed 'em this stuff to reward these guys Has anyone asked them their thoughts? Might be surprised at the answer you'd get “We'd rather be eating smelly socks” Someone once said many decades ago It will give your kiddies strong bones So we feed 'em these horrible clumps of dead grass It's why they can't wait to leave home Don't be fooled by this marketing ploy It's the cheapest damn stuff they can find It grows in the field almost everywhere you look They must think we don't have a mind Post Shredded Wheat, what horrible stuff It's not fit for human consumption Please sign my petition to ban it forever Absolutely no value, my assumption! © Jack Ellison 2013

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Resourceful Mama

A little whiff of cinnamon
is quite enough to make me cry,
to think I never more will taste
Mama's delicious sweet milk pie.

Made from her love and little else,
she could bake the delightful treat.
A great chef who's lacking nothing
would find her milk pie hard to beat.

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Pinching Napkins

I'm shuffling trays of food
and placing them up front.
I'm spilling on the way
in stains I'll later hunt.

I'm ever pinching napkins
and wiping spots of sauce.
Forever wiping up them
so later I can toss.

I've piled the garbage higher
with sweet and sour rags.
Left scrunched into a bow
to finish them of drags.

I'll order in more napkins
to later fill the rack.
But first I'll make some more sauce.
A dish from Sally Trac.

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A Colourful Old Gal

Why do grey skies make us so blue Well, we don't literally turn blue It's describes the sad mood it creates Leaving us sombre and we brood The big yellow sun make everyone smile We delight at the green of the hills Old Mother Earth is a colourful old gal She can change our outlook at will Brown is surely not one of our favourites Reminds us of you know what The colour purple acts much like blue In a sad situation we're caught Black surely has a negative connotation Reminds us of funerals and death The colour white has the opposite effect But ghosts can take away our breath All things considered we need these colours Can you imagine if bananas were pink Lavender corn sure wouldn't be appealing I'd swear off certain foods methinks! © Jack Ellison 2013

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I really look forward to brekkie each morning It's my favourite meal of the day Chickens, without doubt, are my favourite creatures Laying eggs by the dozen without pay But I don't want 'em to think they're irreplaceable Their heads will get too big for the coop They're bound to wind up when their laying's done In a bowl of scrumptious chicken soup Piggies really shouldn't get too complacent either There's only one reason for their existence The chopping block is their final destination Unless the farmer, they can outdistance Hey you Mr. Spud, don't think you're superior Your days are numbered for sure Those hash browns with gravy are a real favourite With onions and just a scent of manure Holy cadoodle! I'm drooling in my PJs My age apparently doesn't matter The thought of all those yummy brekkie goodies Can still make my heart go pitter patter © Jack Ellison 2012

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Bottled Piss

There is no way I would buy beer, none of the brands that are brewed here. How can you drink any of this? American beer, bottled piss. I’ll list any domestic brand It’s so easy to understand It’s gassy, yellow, and tasteless. American beer, bottled piss. They don’t care any way it’s brewed Companies are selfish and rude. Do you think they care about this? American beer, bottled piss. From Prohibition, to today, no change; it’s always been that way. This is nothing to reminisce. American beer, bottled piss. In Germany, or Vietnam, none will sell; they don’t give a damn. They just won’t buy any of this! American beer, bottled piss. If you’re here, or you’re over there, wherever you are, they don’t care. There is nothing here I would miss. American beer, bottled piss. No one gets much for their money. I’ll show you where it’s not sunny. Here is my ass for you to kiss. American beer, bottled piss.

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How Much Sugar

In your coffee and your tea,
how much sugar do you take?
You have enough I see
to bake yourself a cake.

What I have noticed as of late,
you pack it in quite easily.
That’s a lot of carbohydrate.
Do you add it for the energy?

What about the taste?
Isn’t it way too sweet?
It almost seems a waste.
That excess you should delete.

You are worried about your weight.
Here is one thing you should do:
Reduce intake of carbohydrate,
and your worry will be through.

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A Bitter Brew

Thirst creeps over an exhausted soul, 
Staring at a bottle of madness. 
Labeled insanity's origin, 
A mixture of flavors so callous. 

Bitter undertones brewed deep within, 
Hatred harmoniously ferments. 
A dash of anxiety mixed in, 
A pinch of disdain to complement. 

Anxious fingers crack open a brew, 
A refreshingly cold hiss escapes. 
Eyes widen, dry lips happily curl, 
A vile tendency perpetuates. 

One sip of this evil elixir, 
Releases the demons deep within, 
Corrupting a once innocent heart, 
Let delinquent decisions begin.

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A Weird Thought

Are there vegan alligators?
I hesitate to think;
For if a gator lived that life,
What would he eat and drink?
I'm not against the idea
Despite it being new,
But would a vegan gator eat
Raw chicken, or tofu?

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Never stood still on battling ground,
watch the vicious and villainous carnage,
and not fight with true courage...
to increase the sword clanking sound.

Never been humiliated by slandering words not timely, 
my silence banished them as they picked up velocity;
I did nothing to vindicate my anger with visceral grief...
and today my memory still evokes that encounter too brief.  

Never are valorous men nailed to an undeserved cross,
making those nails penetrate their hands and feet,
no guilt is ever found in them, innocence is their plea;
but the loud, infuriated voices still demand their death.

Never withheld feelings of compassion,
and put a distance between myself and them,
poverty was caused by those who greedly governed;
why blame the common people for a corrupt institution?

Never looked away when the smallest hands 
reached out through profound silence, and in those youngsters faces
anyone could see their misery and sense their desperation arise;
they had needs, not wants like we have, when their food and water were scarce.

Never broke any law of the land, but abode by it
with a good character and willingness to spread peace,
not rebelling and causing damage to property and harming citizens;
in any civilized country violence doesn't solve anything, it only hardens the hatred.

Never got drunk or smoked marijuana to avoid the ugliness of reality, 
although peer pressure was there and by pushing it away, I resisted it;
it cost me their friendship;  and looking back, I am glad I kept my dignity... 
and who needs friends like that, when they lead you down the wrong path?     

Never cursed God for the ills of others impinged on me,
and for the misfortunes I endured for endless years without a shout;
my tongue always hollowed His holy name...knowing that
He had put me to the test, and in due time He would have blessed me.

Never planned revenge on anyone who had conspired against me,
this conscience was spotless and no action was needed by me;
if I had retaliated, they would have rejoiced and responded with laughter;
a fox is known for its slickness, and my instinct was alike it, if not better. 

Never allowed doubt, or foolishness to contradict what was beautifully created,
the cooling breeze on steaming days, the pouring rain for a rich harvest,
the brilliant sunshine to make everything grow:  from trees to grass;
and in the fluffy snow...I saw my purity and the peacefulness of winter so revered. 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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There Tim Hortons

There a myriad of seats
that welcome you to sit.
There tables shining clean
meant to serve you for a bit.

There are monitors showing pictures
with their drinks hot and cold
There is food like their sandwiches
Some in zesty and in bold.

There are dozens of their donuts.
Many muffins and breads.
There are soups and their chili
served with butter and spreads.

There is coffee of all kinds.
Flavored hot, flavored cold.
There are some come with ice.
Some are mixed; so I'm told.

There are things of importants
in the Tim Horton's claim.
There servers work with them
in bringing them fame.

There a sign says Tim Horton's
all bright with it's pride.
There workers even brighter
at the counter inside.

There a team of Tim Horton's
that's thoughtful and wise.
There me as their customer
with praise and apprise.

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Late Eggrolls

It's late for an eggroll
but it's Sally's best time.
It's dry but it's tasty
and Sally; her dime.

It's perched in it's baggie:
white with a fold.
A sleeve for a napkin,
grease covered and bold.

The weight of a dove.
It airs to the table.
A fragrance of oil.
A crust for it's gable.

A sauce made of plums.
My eggroll for dipping.
The puddle soaked baggie.
A sauce wiped and dripping.

A bite for the senses.
My heart stopped to savour.
A dance of my tongue
and thanks for the flavor.

A gift from dear Sally.
This eggroll she pittied.
Without asking money,
my thanks that I'm pritheed.

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Pier Twelve Memories

I have memories of pier twelve
Right at the Norfolk Naval Base
Those memories I’ll never shelve
McDonald’s’ there to feed my face

I stood some sentry watches there
As my sister was in port too
During winter there is cold air
Without ID you won’t come through

I’ll never forget last time there
With my walker saw the Nimitz
And with a shipmate things to share
Today my life has some limits

Can’t run like I did back then
I drank and smoked much more too
Back then the ship was all men
Some say co-ed ships are true

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I may look very naive and vulnerable,
hiding the pangs of my distress so well,
looking normal and walking too brisk...
only when God is walking down my path.

I seem to look away and shun the troubles,
but inside I am hurting like anybody else,
who dreams of a coming universal peace...
only when God is walking down my path. 

I nourish my body and thank my Creator
for every slice of bread and drink of water,
the essential things that not everyone has...
only when God is walking down my path.

Since my birth, I have been sheltered by a roof top,
feeling no rain, hearing no wind, bearing no bitter cold;
blessings are added daily, not taken away by wrath,
all this is possible...only when God is walking down my path.

I was given a loving mother who cared for my daily needs 
watched me grow and I spiritually grew to praise Him in my hymns; 
and her unforgettable and soft words still echo, as when I knelt down and wept,
not making me stray from my course...only when God walked down my path. 

I have been fortunate enough to have lived and survived
this long and witnessed may events that have shaped
a changing world in constant turmoil, unwilling to get rid of ugly hate;
I feel very sound and safe...only when God is walking down my path.

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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a pinch of civil seasoning

back at the Arab Spring
and now a Wall Street Fall
citizens of foundering faith
just wanna change it all

believing in a higher purpose
is passing the way of the horse
power to too few, or many, versus
the prospect of anarchy, of course

can an untouchable or a herder
share with a CEO or Senator
can a cashier and a shop helper
turn from a debtor to a creditor

can people be allowed a chance
to live small lives in big places
without losing the race in advance
beaten and broken, hopes displaced

i mean, we all need to eat to live
the emaciated and the obese, both
there's enough Mother Earth to give
every human some economic growth

but economic growth must be balanced
with growth of spirits' understanding
lest our hearts' remorse need be penanced
for greed blinded with misunderstanding 

if i want to break that monied broker,
one of the few to own the power
am i any better a worthy life-maker
than him within his baubled bower

civility begins with our forgiveness
of others, and harder, of ourselves
for the deep greed and covetiveness
that all carry within their cells

summer was hot and so too our passions
lest we suffer the winter of our discontent
let's follow our better desires with actions
to say what we mean, then live our intent

with some sage wisdom and a bit of thyme
we might be able to curry some favor
twixt one 'n' other's condiments sublime
'n' cook up a society we can equally savor

© Goode Guy 2011-10-03

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Tea Time

Earl Grey with burgemont
Cream and sugar  please
Steeped in water piping hot
Calms the ill at ease

Sweet aroma fills the nose
Taste buds jump with glee
Hear the kettle as she blows
Tea time now for me.


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Green peas and all kinds of beans
are split open to release their seeds,
like those peas in a green pod,
that mother cooked in a huge pot!

One of my dad's friends who wore a veteran's brooch, 
would shamelessly cheat to get a delicious split-pea soup;
mom didn't know he was a cheater, and surely would have hit him
with the wooden dough roller when he peaked with a grim!   

And mom slowly stirred the vegetable soup,
she used to say, " The longer it cooks, the better it tastes! '
And my mouth was drooling to taste those soft peas...
that I took out of the seeds' casings without miscue! 

Mother rushed in the kitchen with a roar of an enraged lion,
" That idiot is playing no fair game! He is a menace to all!
And he passes glasses of brandy to get everybody drunk! " 
" He wants to win no matter what the cost...oh, clever maven! "

The split-pea soup steams like a hot volcano erupting,
the cover of the pot blows off, " What a mess on my stove! " mom  screams...
" It's all his fault that I am in this state! " she continues yelling...
" I still hear his big mouth mocking...wait 'till I have finished cooking these peas! "

Entered in Nathan's Laccese contest, " Two peas in a pod " 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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Potbelly was the pride of the wealthy,
the fatter they looked, the richer they were presumed;
now days the rich have found the source of energy...
by staying in shape and looking haggard.

Rampant obesity is a real problem for the common people,
and when it comes to eating habits, they're pound foolish:
obsessed with a fat cuisine:  tasty, elaborate and incorrigible....
and without the aesthetic concern, they try every alluring dish.

In the palaces of the gentry many paintings displayed chubby
Kings and Queens flashing their stubborn, monarch attitude,
while the lower class was deprived of delicacies and envied their posture...
little they they know that the gentility's haute cuisine was extremely unhealthy.

Recently the U S Congress banned fast-food restaurants
from using high fat products like cheap cooking oils and lards,
to promote good health nationwide: hoping the public would be alerted and heed...
overweight people can't lead a healthy lifestyle, and we all see their suffering indeed. 

Are you willing to make that overdue resolution and lose weight, not
for the society's sake, but for your own heartiness?,
Your well-being is very essential to your state of happiness...
why is a toned body more agile and vigorous than a flabby one?

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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I strive to save money for my brunch,
which is derived from my lunch,
It is a late breakfast,
which is earlier than my normal lunch.

In order to conserve some pounds,
I consume it to cover much grounds,
Very soon my energy shall be launched,
After taking my palatable brunch.

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What 3 sins seem to cause most evil in the world

Dishonesty and
They are therefore to be carefully avoided at all times


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tongue ode

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

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When you go out to eat 
what do you like to taste?
Polish, Italian, German, Greek, and American
or fast foods made in haste?

I get into Chinese food
from Canton Noodles to Szechuan Steak.
Dim Sum, Spring Rolls, Sweet Sour Duck and more...
Often, I won't even take a break.

Everyone has their favorite Chinese place
where the food is strange, but Oh So Good!
We often find that singular dish
that puts our taste buds in the mood.

I know of just such a place...
Where the food is served with care.
The portions are so big as well,
You'll only finish - If you dare.

Those little white cartons that you take home
are good for another meal or two.
Or if you get the munchies in the middle of the night
they are there, waiting for you.

I won't tell you the name you see
because "Each to their own" , they say.
But, if you're 50 miles northwest of Chicago,
You're going the right way.

Just a little place in a small town...
It's been around for 45 years.
But the cuisine is diverse and tasty,
Eating the chili peppers can always bring tears.

Even if you can't get out here,
I'm sure you've found one you like.
Next time you order Moo Shoo Pork,
Remember, to get to mine will be a hike.

I know I didn't give the name,
It's my little game you see...
But, I gave you a hint in the title,
If you figure it out...what a "Smartie" you will be.

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Youth seemed an eternal joy
for a gorgeous and happy boy...
no worries over necessities,
with desires without sequence.

The fear of dying was far from pondering,
only beautiful days ahead for the youngest heart....
longing for a tenderness other teenagers never sought,
and sometimes sleeping away the afternoons was invigorating. 

Like glass sheding water, his soul was pure and epic
and he never shook his fist to seek revenge;
he never shillied to shin a tall tree with panic...
always used pragmatism whenever on perilous edge.

He lives miserably, living on a day-to-day existence,
but the fear of dying is to exemplify weakness,
not to exert himself and to better before he hits dead-end;
yesterday God was his sunrise, now that light is glimmering instead.

He justifies his misfortunes with an inadequate story,
while his friends enjoy a happy life, he frolics like a sky-lark 
feeding on what people discard in a garbage pail daily...
and weeps occasionaly, instead of coming out of the  dark.

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I am without anything now that I’m not with you
And Lord knows I miss the taste of your smile
I miss a perfectly designed dream come true
Because you made mounting a mountain seem a mild mile

You gave me butterflies and lightning bugs as a gracious gift
Because of you the morning wasn’t agony anymore
It didn’t matter if I worked in the day or the midnight shift
When I returned you would be there with a smile at our door

Ain’t nobody’s business how deeply we loved one another
But they could tell in our eyes and the way we held hands
Ain’t nobody’s business how I loved you, not even my brother
While I kissed you under the elm tree in the peaceful place it now stands

When you used to approach me it would make my heart race
Now that I’m without you I want to know exactly why
And it’s difficult when I need to forget your emphatic embrace
So now you know from whence comes my woeful wish to die
          © 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~

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All kids love  their  mother’s food -
In  the world  no  taste  is finer.
My mum’s cooking wasn’t good -
Basic food for a minor diner.

Her dumpling-soup had no appeal,
Meat was burnt,  vegetables tough.
If  smooth  short  pastry is  ideal 
Her pastry then was long  and rough.

I’ve often had  elegant  food  at Maxime’s
And sometimes in London’s splendour, the  Ritz.
They offer  choux pastry and  bream in soft cream
Or  venison  rare  as my status  befits.

But at home in the dining room   when I can choose
I still love the  tough  little burnt scraps as chews.
Judge not mother’s food by the tasting thereof ;
The pleasure is  saturated  there  in her love .

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Graces in each moment

God doesn't ask much of you
Just cooperate
With each grace
He gives you in each moment


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Eating Mud

I wish I could eat mud,
Though I've not wished it before;
Never again would I hunger,
For I'd have food galore!

I'd have mud pies and mud cakes,
With fresh-whipped clay for icing,
And mud is cheap as dirt today--
Can't argue with that pricing!

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Rain is more than a blessing,
watch it from a window pouring...
birds take a long bath as little springs form;
and kids run outside to get wet and dance in the storm.

Rain is good for every tree, pant and flower,
and on them we daily rely for food and adornment...
plenty of showers in warm spring, thunders in scorching summer;
the happy eyes of farmers love to see it fall on fields for a bountful harvest.

Without rain the earth would be a huge desert,
no plant life would survive in arid soil and the cattle
on prairies would aimlessly roam to find a river for their thirst, 
many will die and the cowboys without their wild horses wouldn't be so festal.

Rain is a source of wealth and more than a blessing, it promises
pretty roses in bloom, abundant fruits on trees and wheat with golden kernels
in the fileds, where those stuffed scarecrows protect them from very hungry ravens;
imagine life without rainfalls, it'll resemble the somber moon with dry valleys and canyons.

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I have many qualities and talents 
that make me popular and likeable for my kindness,
and unpretentious gallantry;
ask me if I'm blue-blooded like the gentry!

I exist for a purpose and I intend reveal my cause;
honesty and shrewdness will guard me against errors...
do weeds grow in a well-maintained and embellished garden?
A grubby garden attracts gloominess, mine appeals to sunshine!

I have traveled down rough and dark roads,
grabbing the attention of bad-wishers,
who handed me gooseberries, not gorse;
it was a clumsy course swarming with rocks and thorns!

I exist for a purpose that puts fear into my unseen enemies,
who grumble and judge more than the-assumed-righteous-ones,
they are obsessed with their perfection and like to impose it on me;
but do they know that I control my destiny by spinning my fortune' wheel?

My belief is not to accept anything of worthless beauty,
I love to hide myself in the grain fields,and shake their stalks...
to celebrate a harvest more bountiful than sunflowers;
and I imagine myself gorging on fresh-baked bread daily!

O golden grains, your seeds satiate many that earn their hard living,
saying grace at God gives them His blessing;
and those hands that cut the husks off are much detested   
by the elite with a feeling of inferiority and a lack of gratitude!

I exist for a purpose to bring glory to the Heavens,
that magnificently dazzle upon me in times of desperate need;
pity is an unacceptable word whenever they attempt to make a deal;
I change no direction and try not to fall into the trap of moral weakness!

 Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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What kind of sin is drunkenness

Deliberate drunkenness, always a mortal sin
If the person is completely deprived of the use of reason by it
But drunkenness is not intended
Or desired may be excused from mortal sin 

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fruit and wheat

this morning as i slowly rouse
i blink my vision to dappled wall
awareness of a hunger to douse
i slowly rise my frame to call

attention to today's mundane task
while equally sunning the wonder
the Sol outside myself to bask
probable late day storms 'n' thunder

the monkey chatters for coffee cup
the cup fragrant and life so sweet
standing still an appetite kicks up
for lasting meal of fruit and wheat

a bunch of grapes be red or white
a slice or two of hearty bread
would make for a repast to delight
and ease stomach into day ahead

if this is the first bite of the day
or of my life, the last meal 
i can't imagine a more satisfying way
to embark in today's events to reveal

© Goode Guy 2011-06-19

true story

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From Mice

We poor little mice,
We like our cheese.
Yet whenever we get some,
You big people freeze;
You say you're allergic,
You say that you'll sneeze.
Just cover your nose
When we get our meals, please.

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What is Gluttony

Gluttony like Greed
Excessive desire of Food or Drink
Part of7 Capital sins or 7 Deadly sins
Jesus Christ requires one to confess

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The way to eat an apricot
Most do it without little thought
But when I ate apricots today
I had so much more to say

It's unique orange has a glow
Makes your eyes twinkle like snow
I guess what I'm trying to explain
Is that when you're eating don't be a pain

Give everything a little thought
When it matters or even not
You have to think from all points
Connect the ends make them joints

You have to know what your in for
Take your time in life's every tour
I walked into the pantry today and sought
Life's little path called apricot

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What is Envy

Envy is feeling sorrow at another’s good fortune and
Joy at the evil which befalls him/her as if
We ourselves were injured by the good and
Benefited by the evil that comes to him/her


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Hot Dog Man

Each day, it is get up before the sun, prepare the cart
Stock until it’s full and it is on with the day.
Mr. Johansson now has his work cut out for him
Selling dirty waters on the corner of 5th and Broadway.

For 34 years now, this has been his trade,
The vendor of food for the passers-by.
He never really made a lot of money it seemed,
But, he still never stopped and I know just why.

His family had all for which they ever asked.
His time, he had given to them with love and ease.
A bank would never know him as a rich man,
But, it’s through family and friends, that he succeeds.

He is a quiet man, just wishing to make his way,
Doing whatever it takes to provide and just get by.
An honorable man, no one could ever deny.
Truly more successful than you or I.

He never asks for help, independence he has.
He, however, is always willing to lend a hand.
If you are ever near the corner of Broadway and 5th,
You better stop and say hi to the hot dog man.

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Sit as a Family

The challenge of a dinner
To sit the family
Is one that’s ever going
Worth it though, you see

For if you come together
To have a daily meal
Conversation then comes in
With lives to be revealed

Share in daily banter
To learn about each day
Values will develop
Help children on their way

So take the time to listen
Make the time to speak
Enforce the time to sit and share
Make family strong, not weak

By enforcing conversation
Your children’s values grow
Share with them your days spent
Teach everything you know

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He eats of flesh so fused with blood
A voracious appetite and not discreet
To kill and rip, to drink, consume,
Is what he does, makes him complete

He hunts and takes, with no regret
He’ll lurk then pounce, to make the kill
Fir him, not sport, not in the least
But all consuming is his thrill