Benny the sad dog
artichokes, peas, carrots,
but no meat
for this sad dog to eat
Benny dreamed
many a dream
of being free from his owner
He could smell him from here
Extreme Body Odor!
Benny needed a plan
a plan to get away
of getting LOOSE
and catching the tail end of a Caboose
Benny would be free
free he would be
to hunt and eat his own prey
that would be the day!
Benny could not wait
wait to open this crate
to get out and be free
but what is that did he see
Benny saw the lock was not locked
he was completely shocked
how it could be unlocked
all he needs is the front door unblocked
Benny's owner was standing by the door
the door that led outdoors
The owner was talking to the UPS man
now was the time to execute this plan
Benny the dog made his way through
through the unassuming two
The two gave chase
trying to match Benny's pace
Benny passed this street
and passed that street
until he saw a squirl
Benny began to quarrel
Benny gave his owner enough time
time to catch him on 3rd and Pine
Benny's hopes were now dashed
dashed and fed with potatoes of mashed
Yeasty with a cornmealed bottom
The sun-dried tomato's and sundried
Red bell peppers called me
The parmesaned and garlic crust
topped with olives, anchovies, and
Onions
the queint essential of elegance
refined by the knead of belonging
Bacon wrapped artichokes
With a hint of lemon
Mozzarella browned to create a
delicate longing of satisfaction.
Basil, oregano, and olive oil
Enough to tease. Just enough
to taunt. Pleasing and exciting
the palettes and taste buds!
The leaves refuse to give way.
I peel them one by one,
dragging my teeth across their edges,
slurping, tasting the work
required to get to a heart.
Lights are glowing gently
The curtains have been drawn
The radio plays softly
An old, well loved song
The summer night is calm
With the moon on the rise
Racoons head for the corn
Much to no one's surprise
Darkness coats the hillside
Cattle have settled down
Village streets are emptied
'Till morning comes around
A new day approaches
Sun will rise in the east
Towns and farms grow active
As daylight is increased
Swimming pool is open
Picnics are in the plans
All the white skinned children
Are working on their tans
Life keeps rolling along
Through all the summer days
Young kids hit fishing holes
Farmers round up the strays
Woman start preserving
From artichokes to plums
Will be food a' plenty
When the hard winter comes
Soon baseball and swimming
Gives way to football games
Then there is harvesting
Between the autumn rains
Kids will return to school
For studies and class plays
And all will tell stories
About their summer days
Just about to launch a new career
Or maybe I should call it a hobby
Dani Spies has certainly caught my attention
With her mouth watering recipes
And easy step-by-step videos to help us along
I'm drooling all over the keyboard as I type
I'm always game to try something new
The payoff at the end is the ultimate reward
Now I hear some of you saying...
“Are you nutso!!! Aren't you kinda old
To be firing off in a new direction?”
My answer to that is, “I ain't dead am I?
I'm always ready for a new challenge!”
And boy, what a rewarding hobby... yum, yum!!!
I'll keep you posted as to how much weight I gain
(ie. One of the annoying side effects!)
Wish me luck all you nice people!
Next I'll have a show on PBS entitled
“Old Chefs Never Die
They Just Choke On Their Artichokes”
“Let not your heart be troubled” is fine advice
For celery, artichokes, and very elusive mice,
But in today’s troubled world it will not suffice
For thinking people!
“Don’t Worry, Be Happy!” is a mantra superb
When all’s right with the world, it’s a good blurb,
But the situation right now causes much perturb
For thinking people!
written March 14, 2022
"Holy is the heart that repent of sins faults
Righteous is the one that overcomes
Passions fly social butterfly
Hearts that float artichokes
Grimace pains dirty rain
Apocalyptic grounds remains
These are the ends of times
it's time to unwind
Remembering first we are not cursed
Why? Holy is the heart that repents sins faults, just saying"
Amen!
9/8/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
Listen up people, gonna finally let you in
On my unfailing method of keeping trim
Starve all day long
Cept for dandelions from the lawn
In a yucky stew filled with artichokes to the brim
A Pensioner
An octogenarian - he moved to the retirement home
which promised all-year sun, blue sky, and sedate sea.
A grey, balding, and stooped figure,
his gait is far from firm as he walks.
Panoramic vistas, crushed-cardboard like hills,
frame the backdrop to his daily meanderings.
His dim and distorted memories mimic
the surrounding mountain range, hazily silhouetted against
the sparse, cloud-strewn sky.
A startled hare darts across the gravelly lane,
to join a squad of exuberant fellows, charging headlong
into the shrub, tails held high – quick flashes of white.
Transfixed, he stops to admire the moor-hen crossing his path,
her brood of chicks faithfully following in line.
The pomegranate grove sheds overripe fruit,
sighs with relief, longing for hibernation.
Artichokes, green and bright, proudly claim eagerness to be picked
to make room for a different crop.
Rebirth and renewal, the pattern of seasons,
calibrate the remaining years, (months and days), for this old man.
Smelly zucchini
Disappears like Houdini
Only this
And crawfish
And my mind straight to potatoes
As I'm stepping on tomatoes
I discovered artichokes
Swallowing carp fish bones makes my throat hurt
I wash it down with muddy dirt
Cycling stewing over beef steak
I tripped a d fell off tossed salad
You warned me about the salad hoax
As I know plummet puke and throw up close out my throat Take this eggplant
and let us out of my heart
Succumb so-so I vent sour salad
5/28/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
I parked along the side of the road
where the shoulder turned to gravel.
I left my cardoor open, thinking I’d only be a moment.
Into the golden weeds I trudged
to find my favorite flower.
Bull thistle bloomed
violet,
jewels aloft on green scepters,
as rich as Sappho’s hair,
as rare as royal Phoenecian robes dyed with conch,
long stems twinkling with acid, as green as the intellect.
I will have a garden of thistles,
a court of purple pixies, prickly sprites that know all the names of the wind.
They will surround artichokes that bloom,
great aubergine tassels
that hold back the great curtain of soil.
I continued through the grass,
burs clinging to my pants like dreams,
the musical warning of the open door
fading in the distance.
March 20, 2020
Wild Country Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
Avid anteaters ate artichokes
Blossoming beyond barley’s beauty,
Classic chews can clearly
Deny delivering dangerous dangling dates
Evening eggplants enormous evolved ecstatic
Ferocious fig fritters furthering Frito’s finesse.
Galloping gingerbread giants gobbling goats gelatin,
Hurrying heavily handsome hindquarters
Imagining illustriously ignorant
Jealous juried jams
Killing king’s kiwi kingdoms.
Lazy llamas laughed lightly
Making monster muffins melt
Near Neville Nettle’s nearest nutty nerves.
Opulent Ostrich ostracizes olive oils,
Putting putrid previewing pastries past
Quality quizzing quails'
Ridiculously rancid roasts
Seriously swimming sideways since strawberries
Traveled toward tender turkey talk,
Undermining understudy’s uninteresting
Very vivacious vixen’s vigorously vain vixens
Who will work wonders when
‘xtra ‘xtravagant ‘xtrapolations
Yell, yowl, yippee yelping
Zeroing zealous zealots’ zesty zeal.
Preparing stuffed artichokes
My mom's recipe
Breadcrumbs, garlic, salami
Stuff (ALL) the leaves
Steam them on low heat
Three-four hours
Eat!
Took knowledge in a logical way
Took out books starting with "A"
After a few months and a week
Wasn't even close to the "B's"
But I could tell you anything you wanted to know about aardvarks and artichokes
But I kept at it figurin I'll get there
Sat so long wore a hole in my chair
My beard grew longer couldn't stop to shave
And as it grayed I was near the end of the "A's"
Couldn't wait to learn all about buttered beans and brussel sprouts
Well look back now I think I should've
Started at age four then maybe I would've
Been to the "D's" before I died
But in the "C's" I learned how to cry
Cultivate cucumbers correctly create conversations continuously colloquially called chewing cud
I learned all about alliteration ages ago
Listen up people, gonna finally let you in
On my unfailing method of keeping trim
Starve all day long
Cept for dandelions from my lawn
In a yucky stew filled with artichokes to the brim
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