Is a dessert costing twenty-five grand what you want?
You can find it in a Manhattan Upper East Side restaurant.
Made with twenty-one types of chocolate and sprinkled gold leaf,
this decadent frozen mousse is something beyond belief.
It comes in a twenty-three carat diamond-encrusted gold dish.
If you found Aladdin’s lamp, would eating this be your wish?
This would be something to brag about and quite nice.
However, the restaurant has been closed due to cockroaches and mice.
From a news story found on AOL.com
This was written a few years ago. The restaurant has reopened since.
I Was Heartily Welcomed… As I Sat At Your Table
By: Carol, Sara, Carolyn, Dane Anne, Moses, and Abel
Tim, Leon, John, Michael, Jim and Yoni
Deborah, Krista, Adeleke and Charlie
… James, The (Two) Ruben(s) and (The Quik-Composer) Raul
… and Many, Many More, I Love to Hear At Dinner-Call !
The PoetrySoup …
… It Has Member – Mushrooms
Chew and Chat Lunchrooms
Delectable Hors d'oeuvre
Every Ear-Full… Heard
Every Mouthful… Taste
Spoonful of Gourmet Grace
Voila’ Words, Don’t Waste
Simmer-Slow and Baste’
In Dug-up, Sweet Potatoes
Ripe Food for Thought Tomatoes
And Onions, That Will Make You Cry
Artichokes and Lemons that Squeeze – ‘til You Die
Garlic and Oregano Are Just Some Suggestions
And Here’s Some Mint… for Your Digestion
Parsley to Parley and Jive-Chives, Just Keep Stirring
But There’s No Clam Chowder, Shrimp, or Herring
A Dash of This… A Dash of That Seasoning
A Pinch of That and Sprinkle This Reasoning…
On The Side with the Mustard and Relish, so Fresh
Are the Cucumber-Contest and Radish Requests
And I Can’t Forgo the Tongue-in-Cheek Puns…
Your Laughter is Passed Around, like Hot-Buttered Buns !
… Poets … Are Proverbial Peas In The Pod
The Harvesters of Herbs-Heard, in The Garden of God
so... Salt and Pepper to Your Superb Style
Did You Say Cheese, Please ?... ( Full Mouth Smile !)
There’s Hot Chicken Broth, When You Are Cold
Everybody Knows… Its Good For The Soul
And All That’s On The Human Menu… It’s In There !
… Even A Mother’s … Tenderized Care
Like Campbell’s Brand… Its Umm… Umm… Good !
The Aspire – Asparagus, I Took… I Understood
So, PoetrySoup’s Cupboard is Never Bare
And There Ain’t No Bones, No Medium, Just Rare
And On The Star-Burner… Is The Savory Meat
So… Grab A Heartbeat-Bowl… and Bona Petit’…
Yes, Thank You, PoetrySoup
(You’re Up There with MoonBee’s FruitLoops !)
It Has Been A Pleasure Getting To Know You All
Thru Your Beautiful Expressions, Coming Straight
From Your Warm and Welcoming Hearts
God Bless You......
Freshly baked every morning,
Even at noon and in the evening,
In different shapes and colors-
Some dense, some light
Some like desert manna
Some flat, some leavened
Some long and whole
Or sliced in small pieces
Some cooled, some hot
So soft and then some hard
With such Heavenly aromas
Served at the Master's Table
Of chairs, booths, benches
And cushions for tired knees,
Healing is the children's bread.
They hunger no more for worldy feasts.
Even their dogs eat the fallen crumbs,
Sometimes portions from their hands;
As the children drink Living Water,
They thirst no more for bitter fountains
And sources of a soul's diseases.
On earth the Master tabernacles
With us for many days of Heaven.
Within without we are healed
And given our daily bread.
I drank of your beauty
Sweet and velvety smooth
Your substance makes me tingle inside
Down to my very finger tips
You sparkle in the light
I caress, and you bubble in delight
You make me carefree
Down to the depth of my soul
Appearing red , full of passion
Or pale, as cool as a crystal stream
You make me happy
As I delve into your sweetness
You come to me each evening
To warm my heart
And together we will dine
With you, my fine bottle of wine.
A true story.
Here I was,
23 or 24...
Classed an "Executive"
NYC Dept Store Chain,
"Executive" label meant
I could work overtime
For one half of my normal salary...
But a fool sees stars
Where he should see crime
Promoted "Furniture Buyer"....
Big Ticket spot....
They seemed out to prove
Smart I was not.
Big Furniture Market,
High Point, N.C.,
Invited out to dinner,
By big shot vendor....
Oh...whoop, whoop, yea!
Of course, my stuffy boss
In the next chair
At this odd restaurant...
"The Factory" it's name,
After that night,
I was never looked at the same....
Big shot, Big City....
It wasn't pretty....
The menu did start
Entrees priced more
Than my annual salary
And I'm confused
There's a boiler next to me!
So this Big City Buyer,
In his $99.00 suit
Ordered a shrimp cocktail,
Oh, what a hoot!
Like Studio 54
I had no idea
What I was in for!
Got my shrimp cocktail,
Oh, I do love my shrimp!
But the lemon wedge,
Was wrapped up
My mind now a' crimp
In this decorative yellow stuff,
All fit with a bow....
How do I open it, I wondered...
I wanted to know...
But I'm a Big Shot NYC Buyer,
Sure, I've seen it all....
How dare these dumb hicks...
Have such a gall!!
I took my fork,
I took my knike....
I started trying to open
This thing like....
It meant my very life!
I was struggling,
And frustrated and mad
Got some of the weirdest looks
I ever have had...
These Carolina Hicks...
Out to make a fool of me...
Slowly I realized
Everyone looking at me...
My boss's eyes swollen
How dumb his young buyer
Should be in a cornfield
And call himself "Town Crier"
Eventually I learned....
This stuff was called
Ridiculous I thought...
No cheddar or swiss
Like this had I ever bought...
In silence I remained
Through the rest of my meal....
To me the biggest embarrassment
To me the biggest deal....
Big City Hot Shot Buyer...
Dumb as a farm hand.....
Put in a Manhattan restaurant...
Without but a strand....
Of what was, what wasn't
Of how, and of why...
All I wanted to do
Is to crawl under a rock
(This is true!!!)
where the black white shadows
pond and melt
flutters around the
of her neck line.
with a syllabically thick accent
as if cold were a ham-fisted lug
emerging from the
yawning dark mouth
of the cabin behind her
pressing his hands
with the grip
of a dying man
bracing his last breath
My nightmare is so tangible...so vividly I dream,
The dream, it feels so true to me...reality it seems.
Exhaust and smoke are all I breathe...the air is full of smog...
The job I do is thankless toil, but I work it like a dog.
There's mercury in the fish I eat...there're toxins in my food...
And drugs, they are a constant scourge...myriads for every mood.
Bipolar is my government...a house divided 'tis...
And corporations drive both sides...in the pockets of "Big Biz".
The icecaps, they are melting...the sea is rising, too.
Pandas, condors, polar bears -- empty cages at the zoo.
My money ne'er seems quite enough...I'm always out of cash...
My freedom fled when I wed my bride...(live I under the lash).
"Entertainment"? Reality TV...maybe some vampire shows...
Or idjits becoming household names for being beachfront "ho's".
People clamor "climate change" from the seats of S.U.V.'s,
And bitter news on the honey front...what's killing all the bees?
Politicians spending more...we go deeper in the red.
Opinions dressed as "news" abound...is journalism dead?
Cell phones are ubiquitous...conversation's endangered now...
And "Kardashians" are famous girls..but who knows why or how?
How strange my twisted psyche is t'make real what must be fake...
Now'f only I could find some way to get myself to wake.
Written on November 27th, 2012
By Daniel Beus (Rebel Sun)
For days at a time there is nothing to eat,
There is no where to sleep.
Hunger is a social condition.
It is a horrible physical way of living.
It leads to malnutrition, famine, and starvation.
It is a plaque and epidemic in poor nations.
First off there is so many children and adults with improper diets or nutrition.
Hunger affects about a sixth of the world's total population.
Why can't we get together, and try to feed the poor,
If we all came together as a whole we can do more.
Let's pray poverty away
We have to make this dark cloud of hunger into a brighter day.
Due to hunger more than 1 die each second.
So to eat a plate of food now days is a blessing.
About 750,000 suffer from hunger due to financial restrictions.
So now I ask you how are we Americans living?
But if we were all well-fed,
Let us not forget about the homeless, because half of us go hungry to our beds.
Matthew 5:6 “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be
She smells of stale garbage and wine
Her boots all worn and tattered
Stern-faced and stony eyes
Dressed in a tired ol' mink
She shivers as she takes a rest
From pushing her metal cart
Squeaking and overflowing with
Items reflecting her life
She had been warned twice to move
The choice was not hers to make
Today, like all the others
She will walk ten blocks or so
In hope to find a warmer place
To lay down for the night
Just a corner to rest
Is all she will be needing
She knows this will be over soon
The pain gets worse each day
Yet, her hopes live on for one more day
Her deliverance is on its way!
Loud speech in restaurants is crude
Why are the obnoxious so rude?
Their noise should be banned
This is not a food stand
But a place we pay for the mood
Author's note: My wife and I went out for dinner with friends last night. That was the inspiration for the limerick above. However, this is also an allegory for what is wrong in today's world. There is a critical shortage of consideration for others.
"Oodles of Joy"
In the morning of everyday i
I make a food that's really
Crunch'em, rip'em, and pour'em out
As saliva pools form in my
Put it in the mic for just about
Impatiently watching those
beautiful noodles waiting for
When the time Is up
I Pop it open and take them out
And start shoving "Oodle's of
Noodles" into my mouth.
I do not know?
Needles and strips. Feet that's sore.
Aches and pains. Meters that store.
Numbers go up. Then they go down.
Cookies and pasta and cake all around!
Daily walks. Nutritious food.
Cinnamon helps. Some herbs do.
Fenugreek, bromelain and boswellia stew.
Fish and pumpkin oils fight inflamation in you.
Drink lots of water. Alcohol's taboo.
Loose the smokes. And spare tire to!
Sweating, shaking, tingling lips.
Too much insulin can do all this.
Or don't eat enough or over exercise.
Can knock you right out. Yes even die!
Glucose tabs. Keep close at hand.
Diabetes can be so grand!......
An appetizer is the first part - of a meal
I love soup
And I like - alphabet soup
Such letters make up her eloquent bouquet
And one can’t go past such a delicious repast
Served daily at word restaurant - Poetry Soup
But this is just starters - the first part of the meal
For what comes afters’
Is no mean feast – it is served up with such verve
Your palate will be satiated- on succulent meat
And for dessert - what an amazing array to choose from
A cuisine of cultural delight-you’ll not have enough-
You will always want-more!
©? Brenda V Northeast 10th January 2012
Springtime fills the air,
like laughing gas.
(Or maybe more like whiskey.)
The suburbs are drunk on the nectar of it's dawn.
are starting to dance.
(Or maybe they're just wobbling.)
They vomit whole families onto their lawn.
I watch them the same way dogs watch TV:
Confused and intrigued,
with a slight urge to pee.
The father cuts grass,
like a sleepwalker.
(Or maybe more like a zombie -
Ravenous for cheap beer, instead of brains.)
A six pack later,
he starts washing his car.
(Or watering his driveway.)
He's spreading on wax so he's set when it rains.
The mother kneels in dirt,
tending the garden.
(More like digging in a sandbox.)
Her spade is rusty. (Figuratively, at least.)
A sunset later,
she cooks family dinner.
(Or maybe orders some pizza.)
(If every mouth is fed, she can call it a feast.)
I watch them the same way dogs watch TV.
The son plays war games,
dying for fun.
(Or maybe more for practice.)
He whines about fruit drinks, as well as the heat.
A full pitcher later,
tweaking on sugar,
(Or maybe just corn starch.)
the war escalates, 'til its time to go eat.
The daughter makes a picnic,
inviting her toys.
(Or maybe not.)
(Her plastic spread can only spread so thin!)
After the tea time,
she's off picking flowers.
(Or maybe weeds.)
(As long as they're pretty, there's a vase that they'll fit in.)
They gather, as a family, at the table to say grace.
They hold each others' hands and say, "Amen."
(And proceed to stuff their face.)
The dog sits by the boy -
Loyal and true.
(Or maybe just hungry.)
He drools as he stares from the corners of his eyes.
he offers to help with the dishes.
(Or maybe he demands it.)
The boy sneaks him a bite. The dog is not surprised.
Bedtime comes soon after.
The kids are sent to brush their teeth.
(Or maybe just to run the sink.)
They put on their jammies, and to bed, they go.
After tucking them in,
the parents watch TV.
(Or maybe they just dream they do,
sleeping in its glow.)
The dog is changing channels,
looking for a better show.
Confused and intrigued,
he pees on the carpet below.
The cars pull up, the doorbell’s rung.
To a hugging welcome, in they come.
With gifts wrapped up and tied with bows
There is warm handshaking, more hello’s.
The men bring in some good red wine
That will go down nicely, when we dine.
We stand, at first, renewing friendship links
While the host is scurrying, pouring drinks.
Then into chairs, we sink to chat
About trips, and kids, and this and that.
Slowly, surely, we all get louder
Telling stories that make us prouder.
The hostess dashes, with some concern,
The oven’s smoking, the food might burn.
Then from the kitchen wafts a gorgeous smell
“The food is ready”, comes a welcome yell
To the table we slowly go.
Each place is marked; a name will show
Each guest where he should sit.
It’s carefully planned for a gourmet hit.
The meal that’s served is fit for a king.
Praise the cook we loudly sing.
The company’s good, with laughter more
Another highlight in memory’s store.
Coffee’s drunk, but they stay awhile.
The friendships great, with plenty a smile..
Time takes its toll, and they start to leave
But when they’re gone, it’s time to grieve.
There’s dirty cutlery, and plates to wash
If I were a Greek, I’d give them a bash.
Next day, of course, the phone line hums
Scores are settled, invites come.
It’s my turn now to enjoy a feast.
If the truth be known.
I’m a Party Beast.
"What's your story?"
"you seem interesting."
I reply, "NOW." (Kwan$aba! Ha! Really,
often people become confused
by such a unique response
not this one...
she's a beauty
shiny minded stone
lives warm under veins
lacks definition of alone
tho solo she stands
tallest green blade
each time the oily blade passes above
she stays the same
tingling pulses exhale her pores
she'd rather sink
than have to think the way of worldly whores
malice skips her
no ripples in the lake
dripping from her face
sunshine slips across tangerine cheeks
gold flows throughout waves
sky clear eyes surprise those
choosing to be consumed
by her entice
hands free of envy
no webs to spin
she will divide you
or silly twisted games
though safe may escape you
baby of zero maybes
as clarity lent us its giant umbrella
her lipstick smacked my tongue
we never looked back
Chef 's Winter dishes are simply delicious, not too much oil or cream.
Rich or plain, taste tested to perfection, tiny portions sometimes steamed
He starts the day with freshly squeezed orange juice,coffee and toast.
And embarks on a fitness journey along the seaside in Adelaide.
Today he is going to create a seafood bisque inspired by his walk.
This morning whilst walking along the beach he noticed the outgoing
Tide and outlet left a long groove with definite honeycombe indentations
snaking parallel to the shore for a distance near a giant swirly starfish.
From an aerial perspective it looked like a Christo dragon , hardened ripples
representing the scales and the sometimes swirling patterns here and there
where the giant Sea-dragon moved, slithered or shifted about in the sand .
The Sea-Dragon must have laid there for some time before he disappeared
as his scales were deeply impressed and clearly embossed in the firm sand.
A clear body of water flowed in the center of this outlet echoing the scales
shimmering and gleaming with sunlight smoothly on the groove's surface.
Upon seeing this ,Chef etched it in his memory and began to mentally gather
ingredients for his creation.How could he give his bisque the dragon flavour?
Grilling the whiting, prawns and scallops with butter laced with honey , chilli,
cardamon + crushed nuts , garlic, a dash of brandy.......
then adding chicken stock , lime , thyme ,cracked pepper , rock sea salt and
finally pureeing the lot with a splash of coconut milk.
Flavors of the sea
Swirl in my mouth
In a tomato sauce
And pasta medley.
I, full of glee.
Music all around me,
Ambience feels so free.
This pub is the place to be.
The food so simply
The clams are shiny
The mussels so salty.
Swirling medley tastes heavenly.
Exquisity in its graceful serendipity.
The smell, the vibe, the colors.
Oh how I love music amongst
All voices of the others.
A night to transform yourself,
and beg without shame.
Pillowcases wear make up-
Wrappers and trinkets.
The Thanksgiving porch:
Mouth with one neglected tooth-
This is the best beer I've ever had.
Yes, The best beer I've ever had.
No beer is really bad, but
This is the best beer I’ve ever had.
Beer’s invention was accidental I’m told.
Something about stored grain and mold.
Before the Sphinx, beer was made and sold;
And at times, more valuable than gold.
Drank my first beer while serving Uncle Sam.
Got drunk on ‘33' in Saigon, Vietnam.
By 19, I was a soldier becoming a man;
So, I drank ‘til I didn’t give a damn.
Since then, I’ve travelled the world all around;
And tasted each brew that I’ve found.
Most are named for people, animals or towns;
And are glorious shades of gold, red or brown.
There are pilsners, lagers and ales
Swilled from bottles, cans, mugs…even pails.
If you want to get drunk, you can’t fail.
Drink too much, you may end up in jail.
Drank Stegmaier in old Scranton town.
Folks bragged it was the "best around“.
I tried their Golden, their Porter, their Brown;
And I must say, their judgement is sound.
In Ireland, the Guinness is Stout.
‘Tis a brew those Micks can’t live without.
In the pubs, they all sing and shout;
Until, eventually, they're all drunken louts.
In old Germany, there are too many to choose.
Every Berg and Stein make their own brews.
I tried each one on the Rhine river cruise.
So many to taste. How could I lose?
I enjoyed Sapporo in Tokyo, Japan;
Served by a Geisha at the wave of my hand.
The Singh Hai in Bangkok was grand,
As was the Ninkasi in ancient Tehran.
Tried a lager called Foster’s down under.
Drank too many. My head pounded like thunder.
They say Foster's once laid Dundee asunder;
But they love it… though you may wonder.
Enjoyed Red Stripe on Jamaican shores
And each one tasted like more.
A local beauty I was hoping to score;
But next morning, my head was so sore.
Henry Hudson’s serves Budweiser Light.
It’s weak, so you can drink it all night.
Yes, it takes quite a bit to get “tight”;
But it’s cheap and that makes it alright.
Yes, beer is a beverage so grand,
One of God's greatest gifts to man.
When life gets too tough to stand,
Just open a chilled bottle or can.
This is the best beer I’ve ever had.
When I arrived I was down and quite sad;
After just two or three, life isn't so bad.
This is the best beer I’ve ever had.
Yes, the best beer I've ever had.
a whole lotta' spoonin'
goin' on in the "Soup"
nosin' around the comment coral
I see love
amongst the group
marriage scent in the air
where it leads...
we shall see
I know some
are dippin' crackers in the "Soup"
but Lawd' knows
IT AIN'T ME!~
passive high sun shade
flawless predatory eyes
a happy hour dive!
I've slurped chili from border-to-border and betwixt the roilin' seas,
In fancy five-star establishments and greasy spoon eateries.
I've sampled some that has caused anxious gastrointestinal uproar,
But I'm a glutton for the stuff and always go back for more!
I'll eat chili with or without beans, it really matters not,
Jes' so there's plenty in the pot and it's rather spicy hot!
I'll even deign to open a can of concentrate in an emergency,
But I much prefer a great chef's favourite and secret recipe!
Many are the chili cook-offs I've sauntered my way through,
Tastin' gawd-awful concoctions, my face turnin' a reddish hue!
Those guys toss things in the pot about which I wouldn't care to know.
Their recipes are closely-held secrets and there ain't no quid pro quo!
Now, usually I can tolerate chili from any hot and spicy batch,
But, boys, I'm here to tell you that today I finally met my match.
Satan himself must have brewed that beastly olio!
I gasped, shed copious tears and my ears assumed a ruddy glow!
I'm told its a social blunder to crumble crackers in your soups,
But what care I? I ain't concerned about jumpin' through no social hoops!
Some of the glares I get from folks are embarrassin'ly chilly!
So what! Me worry? I relish crumbled crackers in my chili!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved)
Placed No. 1 in PD's "Soup-Soup-Soup" Contest - March 2012
Placed No. 1 in David Williams' "My Favorite Dish" Contest - Jan 2012
Your presence I feel oh so near, it help me to relieve
some of my fears of all my everyday cares, I feel your
presence eveywhere. Whenever I walk down the street,
I can feel the patter of your feet. I can feel you walking
next to me telling tales of what I mean to you and thinking
about all the things we used to do.
Your presence is so close, it's as if I can smell your fragrance
right under my nose. I am thinking of your smiling face all
next to mines, telling me how you will love me until the
end of time. Your presence is oh so strong and as I travel
throughout this day it lingers on. When I decide to stop and
dine, it's as though I feel your hand right next to mines.
When I sat down to eat, I can see your eyes staring into
mines, and you sitting there sipping on some wine.
Your presence means so much to me and this is the
way I want it to always be, me feeling you and you
feeling me until forever and eternity.
< Driving along in my automobile
Seen homeless man holding sign will work for his meals
Should I stop or should I just Go !
Should I give Or Should I just say hell No !
But what if that was me
Crying out with such pitty
Not knowing where to get next meal
Three kids crying at worn out heels
Cardboard boxes to call our home
Dumpster diving for pieces of foam
Think I'll give him a piece of my pot
Opened wallet and gave him alot
A nice twenty came on out
Wiped out was his sadden pout
Drove by an hour later
Homeless camp wiped off roadmarks slatter
Wonder where dirty Dan had now roamed
Just hope he finds a better suitable home
I do not know?
water melon in my garden
like the sun and moon
steady my hand
tending the weeds
near a row of beans
a far away land
”...it’s not a good time…”
so I wondered
and thought of when
wars are just plays
staged in the hands
of writers like me…
I’d arm the nations
with radish leaves
squash for bullets
that unload seeds
on my jelly spread
I’d share the health
giving lettuce, head…
”... is it a good time now?...”
who wants a cow
in crowded pens
glitters the water
between the corn
I’d sale on ships
into rosebud shores
and i’d grow my fish
in between the stores
”...I’m god in my garden…”
and I divide the rows
soing what suits me
in tomato groves
and near my basil
I’ll build a school
teaching the mint
just how to be cool
and over hear
the potatoes anchor
on stalks of beer
read booms of cheer
...but they say I’m mental.
are sooo good in soup!
I declare are true!
I only cook
When I brew my stew…
and no one regrets
in the garden of Sue.
I was Just
Making sure of you.
raced to beach, parked corvette, sunset glows!
stretched out on soft blanket;allset--doze.
Dr. Ram's Tyburn contest
Went out today for a drive with a friend
We'll go into the hills up to heaven he said,
Round hairpin bends,o'er hill and dale we sped
When I looked down the drop did I dread.
Through villages we sped, though not too fast,
That we couldn't admire the places we passed.
Then by and by we came up to our first stop,
T'was indeed heavenly, A herbalists shop.
We had peppermint tea and carrot cake,
I even got something for my earache.
Pano Akourdhalia was where we stopped,
Carolines Garden, the place where we shopped.
Soon this tranquil rest came to an end,
Off to Polis, we sped with our friend.
Lunch time came and found us there,
In a quaint little cafe behind the town square.
At the Art Cafe where Tina Tamamounas, our hostess,
Our hunger did placate with village salad and lasagne.
Finished off with tea and 'man' coffee and my Cyprus brew,
When hungry, it is a place we highly recommend to you.
The journey home passed without event,
A lovely day out and we all were spent.
My sister sips diet coke
Gets her day going that’s no joke.
It even helps her dream of the Baroque;
Dazzling her eyes while frying her egg yoke.
And folks this is no smoke
It makes her strong as an oak,
While floating like a butterfly stroke
Whenever she drinks her chilled diet coke.
Thanksgiving at the soup kitchen
where everyone has a story,
lives of pain and sorrow
spend the day eating fine food,
comforting friends of the street,
and advising mothers and children
long subjected to abuse.
One sees God in the face of
their neighbor as life's
leftovers of humanity strive for dignity
remembering table manners they
may have learned, passing the food,
not taking too much.