Unsavoury Spread
Some say it really is a beast,
This extract made from brewer’s yeast,
And yet, to me, it is a feast
to celebrate.
The name is French – it is ‘marmite’,
At any meal it is a treat,
What’s more it never can be beat,
so on I prate.
Sustaining troops through two world wars,
Or family snacks with you and yours,
It’s lunch or picnics out of doors
or after eight.
Its viscous texture, brown and thick
Can cause some people to feel sick –
For me it’s nectar, just a lick
will captivate.
On bread or toast with cheese or jam,
With chicken, beef or finest ham,
Or even with that dreadful spam –
to elevate !
No marmalade or jam on bread,
Nor clover honey, thickly spread
Can better that of which you’ve read,
which is “my mate”.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
