Best Bagel Poems
O delicacy born of
some cow's milk and dough
when toasted for breakfast
how I love you so
Whether topped with onions
or sesame seeds
or nothing at all
you fill all my needs
With texture from Heaven
the crunch and the cream
Mere toast cannot rival
this flavorful dream
Compared to your shapely
and sensuous curves
I'd never look twice
at a tray of hors d'oeuvres
You've stolen my heart
by now you must know
O bagel with cream cheese
how I love you so
© Mike Wise
6-5-23
YOUR MORNING BAGEL Doylestown PA
Consider this, as buds break out on trees
not yet a leaf, the sight that no one sees
as walking through the borough mesmerized
past ancient mansions seen, not realized.
Through early morning air, our sence of smell
arouses to a bagels morning bell;
it tells us to awake, this is a day
we gain another try to make our way.
Past tiny shops of books and pottery
of artists who record what used to be
and at sidewalk cafes, we take a pause
considering what's real, or never was.
We hear the groan of traffic come alive;
the buzzing of our time and constant hive;
but who can see the budding of the tree
that's made for us to always never see?
Consider this, of time we've none to spare
to capture in our heart the birthing there;
no longer for a blinking of the eye;
what time has brought along, too soon will die.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
bagels and cream cheese
the best breakfast on the run
for work and pleasure
With walker support he enters the door
He’s there every day, from 10 to 4.
Orders coffee and bagel’d cream-cheese
Then sits there for hours with hands on his knees.
He sits near the window and watches his past
Within his mind as old shadows cast
His vague recollections of sweet reverie
Which only his fading memories see
A smile now and then becomes his vaccine
Against reality’s attempt on the scene
To interrupt the flow of the past
Which for decades he worked to amass.
Loneliness he constantly wears as a coat
His only companion: memories remote.
So … solemnly, quietly he spends his days
He rewinds his memories into replays
Aged and wrinkled thin hands so frail
Around 4 o’clock his walker assail
Again he shuffles out the front door
Tomorrow … he’ll return, and be there once more.
By Elton Camp
Old Bubba had spent his life in the hills
Plain food and drink from whiskey stills
So to the big city he decided he’d go
For about other things he’d like to know
He spent the night at the local YMCA
For breakfast, to a café the next day
Soon, Bubba had a bagel on his plate
Because, on the menu, it looked great
He tried to take a bite and then to cut
“Man, thet’s shore a sorry donut!”
“I never seen one thet hard and tough.”
Bubba began to chew and had enough
To the waitress, he began to bawl
“This thang ain’t go no taste at all.”
“I see why city folks air sick an’ pale.
Th’ Devil made this donut down in hale.”
So Bubba quickly packed up his gear
“I hate sich food so I’ll git out of here!”
So back to his home in the hills he fled
“Don’t never go there,” to all he said
“Fer I jest half to tell ye th’ truth
On a donut I almost broke my tooth.”
YOUR MORNING BAGEL Doylestown PA
Consider this, as buds break out on trees
not yet a leaf, the sight that no one sees
as walking through the borough mesmerized
past ancient mansions seen, not realized.
Through early morning air, our sence of smell
arouses to a bagels morning bell;
it tells us to awake, this is a day
we gain another try to make our way.
Past tiny shops of books and pottery
of artists who record what used to be,
and at sidewalk cafes, we take a pause
considering what's real, or never was.
We hear the groan of traffic come alive;
the buzzing of our time and constant hive;
but who can see the budding of the tree
that's made for us to always never see?
Consider this, of time we've none to spare
to capture in our heart the birthing there;
no longer for a blinking of the eye;
what time has brought along, too soon will die.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
A bagel sounding foreign underwhelmingly impresses.
The thought of something different only bores.
Until you take the bite into this tasty composition
and everything you want in bagels yours.
The sour flavour fills your mouth
to sweetness for the tongue.
Saliva churning out in pulp
to leave your mouth as mung.
A basted bagel bright in shine
to make you feel complete.
To wash it down with cup of tea
and make it seem the treat.
A final gulp to say that's good.
and wish you had some more.
With thoughts of doing it over again
for one more chance to gore.
I EAT
AROUND THE HOLE
IN MY BAGEL
SO THAT WHEN
IT'S ALL DONE
THE BAGEL
AND THE HOLE
WITH THE WORLD
WILL BE ONE
Whoever came up with the bagel
was a right-smart clever fellow
His brainstorm surely ranks up there
with taste treats like pudding and jello
For I'd never put toppings on pudding
like lox, tomatoes or cream cheese
And who would think of serving jello
with an assortment of delicacies
So, a doff of the cap and three cheers
for that purely anonymous soul
the centerpiece of whose discovery
was quite an ace in the hole
Lonely bagel
Loneliness bagel
The bagel of loneliness
Togetherness bagel
The bagel of being together
Bagel of belonging
MORNING BAGEL
Consider this, as buds break out on trees
not yet a leaf, the sight that no one sees
as walking through the borough mesmerized
past ancient mansions seen, not realized ;
through early morning air, our sence of smell
arouses to a bagels morning bell,
it tells us to awake, this is a day
we gain another try to make our way
past tiny shops of books and pottery
of artists who record what used to be
and at sidewalk cafes, we take a pause
considering what's real, or never was.
We hear the groan of traffic come alive
the buzzing of our time and constant hive
but who can see the budding of the tree
that's made for us to always never see?
Consider this, of time we've none to spare
to capture in our heart the birthing there
no longer for a blinking of the eye
what time has brought along, too soon will die.
In the early morning, it is a trip worth taking.
I go to the bagel shop just to smell the baking.
Into the water are little rings of yeast-raised dough.
Let them soak a bit, and into the oven they go.
There are plain and seeded with other varieties.
Hot and fresh from the oven, they all easily please.
Bring out the butter, jelly, and don’t forget cream cheese.
Bagels make a great breakfast treat. Everyone agrees.
Toast me a bagel, please.
I've a load of laundry in the wash,
fed the birds and squirrels
watered the garden squash
and now must sweep the floors.
Had my coffee early on
but now my stomach grumbles and burns,
in the middle of my morning yawn
growling for something more as it churns.
A bagel would do me fine
with a little cream cheese spread,
guess it's too early for cheese and wine
to fill in the crevices of air in my head.
Could you do the shopping
start the car and go to the store
i'll stay and do the mopping,
have i ever asked for too much more?
Toast me a bagel, just a wedge
before you head out to the deli,
make it dark and burnt along the edge
with whipped cream cheese and just a hint of jelly.
Here's a tale of a white Chevy Corvair, I car I'll never forget
Repossessed from a gypsy, I'd be willing to bet...
On a cold, snowy winter night, February 1968
This 'bagel' was to drive the gang and me on the interstate
From Chicago, IL to Racine, WI, a basketball game there to play
I groaned to myself: "We'll never get there. No way!"
The tires were bald; both windshields were cracked
I searched in the trunk: neither spare tire nor jack
This junker burned oil something terribly fierce, and the
brakes were suspect, which was probably worse
But we all piled in, eight of us in a car seating five
We were cramped like sardines, more dead than alive
And as soon as we started to pick up some speed
Two floorboards gave way; that's all we didn't need
Gas fumes swirled round our heads, making us light
What with the snow and the cold, the driver couldn't see right
Somehow we piled out at the gym, stumbled onto the court
When our bagel exploded to bits, with lots of smoke and a snort
The game went by in a daze and a haze, as the bagel flamed out
Taking a train home, we cursed that Corvair the whole ride throughout
July 14, 2019
The Old Jalopy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Hooray! Hooray! It’s Bagel Day!
Or so I’ve heard it said,
So substitute a bagel
For some ordinary bread.
Since many so-called “bagels”
Don’t have what it really takes
To be authentic, you may find
You’ve scarfed down lots of fakes.
Do not be fooled by circled dough
Around a center hole.
They must be dense and chewy
Like New York ones – that’s the goal.
Now other places have their fans,
(Hats off to Montreal!)
But some who serve a puffed-up version
Have a lot of gall.
To me, some seeds are needed -
Poppy, sesame and, too,
In pumpernickel, caraway,
And more than just a few.
A bagel’s a delicious treat
So eat it your own way,
But I need no reminding,
For I eat one every day!