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Swede Poem
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Steak pies is my favourite to eat with vegetables for dinner
With succulent pastry which couldn't be thinner
Meat and gravy are cooked in unison
Making this pie a lip smacking tasty one
Dessert what more could I ask for, I love
a Bramley Apple pie cooked with a clove
The flavour is one to die for,
With lovely creamy custard, over it pour
Now it's nearly supper time what pie takes the lead
Nothing more than a Cornish pasty its a nearly pie indeed
Inside some tiny cubes of potatoes and swede mixed with onion and meat
Looks longingly at the clock, is it time yet for this treat
Goes to bed repleted, full of pasty and such
Dreams of pies and pasties, would think i've had enough.
Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2014
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Swede Poem
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I SHUDDER TO THINK
I shudder to think about the way
Some vegetables are abused every day -
With physical and psychological slights
In gross violation of their vegetable rights.
Handicapped vegetables have no chance to fight back
Like eyeless potatoes - poor blind mites,
And baby carrots , aaw! Or peas-in-a-pod,
Eaten before they’re even born and take a breath.
Imagine those frantic runnerbeans
Desperately trying to escape.
No surprise that peas are strained.
My over-tired mum used to say, “Oh, I’m shredded.”
So I understand how tired shredded-cabbage must feel.
What about the potatoes who diced with death and lost?
Jerusalem Artichokes - “chokes” is horrible!
Why not “Jerusalem Passes Aways” ?
And ”Squash” ! - Please speak more politely:
What a way to go - we should say “Press Lightly”.
No wonder some clean-living veg are angry :
Parsnip - an angry snip from parson or clergy;
Swede resembling a tall blond person, Stockholm based;
With horrid ethnic humour ( bad taste)
Like sauerkraut (also bad taste)
(So-called humour about a surly German).
Look at insults basd on vegetables for a human -
“The IQ of a cabbage.” What ethnicity insults !
I’m sorry for tomatoes - all this veg talk results
In them being called a vegetable dish
It’s like calling Scots people English.
Sheer vegetable racism is the worst. Mixed potato and carrot salad?
Not in apartheid South Africa – their salad had to be pallid.
Oh yes some veg are spoiled like children :
Coddled cauliflower warmed in milk ; then
Brazed egg-plants (please call snobby ones aubergines)
Suntanned slowly at their leisure;
And butter (not margarine) beans cooked with pleasure.
It’s too horrible entirely, the abuse is complete
I’ll stop being vegetarian, and start eating meat.
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2010
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Swede Poem
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Tonight there is a match on telly
The lads are coming round
most of them are married
So my home is to be the neutral ground .
If any of their wives ring
I'm to pretend that I am deaf
and they've all elected me to be
head barman and chef.
I've got Guinness and lager
A crate or two of Yorkshire ale
Newcastle brown and bitter
So the booze just cannot fail .
I've made three lovely shepherds pies
but I asked the lads which veg I should use
I've just been reading their replies
Now I'm totally confused .
One lad doesn't like cabbage
Another doesn't like swede
and it seems broccoli and cauliflower
are members of a dying breed .
The veg that the lads want
From all the replies I've seen
are lots of French fried onions
and cans of Heinz baked beans .
12 drunken farting Yorkies
My house would smell like an old cess pit
So they'll get what their given
They can take it or leave it .
Lemon sole for starters
Chocolate cheesecake for dessert
and if I get a single complaint
I'll kick them where it hurts.
Copyright © DARREN WATSON | Year Posted 2014
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Swede Poem
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he think he is cool
eating all that food
with hois blue swede shoes
he was on the news
singing and playing the blue
eatting is his hobbies toy
hes a well dress
FAT BOY
Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2012
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Swede Poem
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She stays awake for hours, cutting Xs in the sprouts,
Then peels all the tatties, a ton or thereabouts,
Slicing and dicing parsnips is next up in the plan,
Chops up carrots and a swede, and put them in a pan,
Mixes up her sage and onion and stuffs it in the bird,
Along with some pork sausage meat that’s been pre-prepared,
She takes apart the oven, to fit the turkey in,
Hangs it up with bits of string, there’s no room in the tin,
Wraps sausages in bacon, in case they catch a chill,
But makes sure they‘re all cooked thoroughly, so the family won’t get ill,
Cooks the bird for hours, while the table’s being laid,
With all the finest crockery (and some of lower grade),
Makes space around the table, brings in extra chairs,
Adorns the place with candles and other Christmas wares,
Lays out a Christmas cracker in everybody’s place,
Complete with rather tacky joke, no doubt of a straight face,
And brings out all the condiments, the pickles and the sauce,
The salt and pepper, the mustard and radish known as “horse”,
Next she makes the starter, the simplest course by far,
A cocktail made up of prawns and a sauce out of a jar.
The family then all piles in, and argues over seats,
The children are already full of chocolates and treats,
Grandmother is mumbling, “Kids should be seen not heard”,
Meanwhile back in the kitchen Mum’s wrestling with the bird,
She tries to carve up slices, but ends up with turkey chunks,
While Dad and Gramps have become a pair of Christmas drunks,
They start an argument about which wine goes with the meat,
And restless children run around, not staying in their seat,
Mother tries to keep her calm and bravely soldiers on,
But the roasties are all blackened and the sprouts are over done,
Mum enters the dining room looking very puffed,
She throws the turkey down and shouts ,“There you go! Get stuffed!”
18th November 2012
Copyright © Sharon Smith | Year Posted 2012
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Swede Poem
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Vegetables are so versatile I use them every day
Such lovely shapes and colours, they are so bright and gay
I always use them in my cooking
Or eat then raw when no one is looking
What is there not to love about the humble carrot?
I peel it tenderly, chop it up and feed it to my parrot
Broccoli it always gets my pulse racing
When it’s steaming in the pan, round my kitchen I am pacing
Potatoes are so wonderful in every shape and style
Boiled, baked, mashed and roast, so totally versatile
I’ve just discovered butternut squash and make a tasty soup
I bake it first and boil it, its taste makes me cheer and whoop
Mushrooms are my favourites I would eat them all the time
Sauted, raw or stuffed with cheese they really are divine
Tomatoes are so colourful and full of lycopene
Its hidden away inside them and it is never seen
Brussel sprouts you either love or hate
But no Christmas dinner is complete without them on your plate
Parsips and turnips are not my favourite food
I will eat them occasionally, when I am in the mood
My love of veg will never fade
I buy organic that have never been sprayed
Vegetables really are so good for us
My family eat them without any fuss
The humble pea is the love of our life
If they are not on the plate I’d not be a good wife
Swede and carrots mashed together
I eat it with ground black pepper
My ode to veg I think is fine
I want them to be my Valentine
They help to keep us strong and healthy
With veg in our lives we are truly wealthy
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014
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Swede Poem
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Vegetables
A huddle of potatoes on a plate
Called to the beans, “You're late, you're late.”
As all the peas hopped round about.
While a lonely carrot waltzed a sprout,
Then the beans came one by one,
Eager to frolic and join the fun.
A baritone artichoke sang a song
As a lively aubergine danced along.
Until a parsnip and a swede
Gave the call, “It’s time to feed”.
Then a fork and a spoon
Slowly came into the room.
A giant cavern opened wide
And all the vegetables danced inside.
Barry Stebbings
8/4/2016
Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2016
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Swede Poem
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The square root of sixteen is four
The veg root of turnip is swede
The tooth root of dentist is pain
The route we must take is misspelled
The root of each line is a "the"
3rd January 2017
Copyright © Mark Martin | Year Posted 2017
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Swede Poem
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Interior
The glass shades hang on chains
A thin glowing light begins to fill
Creating shadows in the room
Across the pictures on the wall
Weddings of children flown
How lonely now you have become
The needles click against the clock
Your concentration is complete
Lips deployed to count the loops
Tight as your corner where
Your chair is drawn to feel the heat
Sharp sparks spit from the fuel
You collected from the beach,
The widow and her pram of coal
A circumstance that feels so cruel
And hope seems out of reach.
The smell of bacon penetrates
The air still cold with winter breath
A permanence in spite of death
The sandwich that is breakfast
The swede the leek the carrot
The bones of homemade broth.
The thoughts that run inside your mind
I could not begin to guess, before this time
Your life not mine, are secrets left untold
The war you fought, your children grown
The depth of love and loss you've known.
Copyright © Michele Beers | Year Posted 2012
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Swede Poem
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When I worked, selling furniture, much expensive, as a Store Manager/Salesman-
(really, the "Manager" title was euphemistic)...
It was easy to get bored....
You can sit in the showroom
for some hours,
And see no one at all...
So when some poor person
did come in...
I tended to want to
compensate....
Not for the customer,
But, for me....
I had over time
developed a talent....
To speak in accents a'plenty
No one would know
just what to expect....
To one, I might be
cockney English
to another a stiff
old German
or a Swede,
Indian,
Jackie Mason style Jewish,
Oh Indian was a favorite
of many... but I did more...
An upper-class
English Lord...
a Brooklynese bable,
a southern drawl...
oh... so many more...
Now sometimes
I'd change from one
to another
in the same conversation'
as it progressed;
whether he bought or not
to me secondary
I had to have my fun!!
Sometimes a customer
would come back
on a later day...
looking for that
Australian guy...
who had helped
them some days before...
I made many many people
laugh, many many a time
I had many other crazy
things I did
You come into
my store,
you won't be bored
nor pressured...
one thing you can be assured.
Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2007
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Swede Poem
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The Race Thing
My ignorance was total, xenophobia in Africa; no, not
white people against black but black on black.
One sided I thought, mostly reading western history
that xenophobia was white against coloured people.
No I’m not shocked if surprised and I do not applaud
but somehow make me finally understand that Africa
has many races and many faces and are as different as
the Portuguese from The Swede, we get that we get
that and when we do xenophobia in Africa too.
No, this knowledge is no getting a white person off
the hook because white anti racism is built on fantasy
that we are so much better than them.
We who invented fascism a fever we now see seeps into
Israel too and make the people there think they are superb.
and have contempt for the rest.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2015
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Swede Poem
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Waiter oh Waiter please do serve me do
I ravage from hunger from hunger I do
To start some spaghetti with fine onion rings
Topped with an apple and some other things
A soft boiled egg balanced on top of a stick
Could you master this neat little trick
Fluffy warm souffle with mustardy cheese
Surrounded by hundreds of fresh garden peas
Pancakes without the warm maple sauce
Bring about thirty I eat like a horse
For main course I desire a chicken complete
Don't kill it or cook it just tie up its feet
Garnished with roast spuds and custardy cream
With mashed carrots and swede a true diners dream
With plenty of gravy baked in a crust
Mixed with raisins and peanuts I think its a must
And finally followed by the sweet I love best
Profiteroles and ice cream in a fresh robins nest
Coated in cucumber and hot orange peel
I trust you will bring me this glorious meal
With lashing of coffee and biscuits and tea
Now hurry now hurry bring this meal to me
My stomach is rumbling like a great prairie beast
In anticipation of this glorious feast
Copyright © john scott | Year Posted 2017
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Swede Poem
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Monkey and Donkeys Tea.
Go ask the monkey what's for tea
and donkey, what he likes to drink?
Narna's on bread with red juice, donkey said
you'll find it all by the sink.
with apples and carrots, turnip and swede
that's all we have, I think.
That's good enough for me
as for the monkey, well there's no need to fuss
for monkey is greedy he's fat and cheeky
and behaves rather naughty you see
What ever you make the monkey will take
as he eats just the same things as me.
Ea-haw!
Copyright © Patricia Lawton | Year Posted 2016
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Swede Poem
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Everyone who has money
should drop it in a vat and
anyone who needs money
should take what they need
a Swede, a Dane and two
Norwegians tell Fred, also an
economist who flew in from Yale.
After a three-day seminar in the
Antarctic, the four men sit down
with tankards of ale, each comfy
in a chaise lounge chair on
an ice floe slowly melting.
Back at Yale, CNN interviews Fred
about his book on the seminar.
The CIA is now investigating.
Donal Mahoney
Copyright © Donal Mahoney | Year Posted 2017
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