Best Brisket Poems
Anchored by its feet hangs the carcass
Butcher removes brisket and strings it
Chuck steak diced for stews and pies
Dark well matured silverside rests
Entrails give the dogs a royal feast
Flank minced for spaghetti bolognese
Gullet chopped into stock pot simmers
Hanging meat swings as the butcher works
Icy still from the blast chiller
Juicy steaks thickly cut are parcelled up
Kebabs skewered, placed on display
Loin of beef neatly lined up
Minced steak patties for burgers
Neck used in both stock pot and stew
Offal set aside for pate and pies
Perfectly roasted beef ready to carve
Quick flash fry of rib eye seals in juices
Rump not too trimmed dribbles on grill
Sirloin anointed by a king sizzling
Tongue gently braised in gravy or stock
Utensils casting shadows on the wall
Venison from red deer's makes tasty things
Wing rib rubbed with hot spices waits
Xhosa cattle graze in pastures green
Yellowed meats set aside for soup
Zibeline hides scrapped and cured, nailed up
8/27/2015
contest Any Poem written in August
Where
art though
my pretty
BBQ face?
I long for you, my beef brisket beauty!
My smokin hot habanero pepper,
burn me with love!
No need to
wipe the
sweat…
Sauce
on your
face and you
couldn’t care less.
I am so in love with food, and with you.
July 18th, 2016
The maiden was carrying a basket
it was full of sweet flowers for market
once she got there she places a blanket
then lays the bunches around a casket
A toff came along and got one for Ascot
he doffed his hat showing a crew cut
the fabric of his trousers was tricot
made up fashionably in cross cut
He invites her to join him at Ascot
leading her down to a leafy short cut
intentions clear he opens his tricot
so she made good use of hidden off cut
Flees from situation most delicate
to get involved much too intricate
after all you must follow etiquette
to remain in the temple's syndicate
Collecting up her flowers and basket
she made her way home out of the market
she wrote never again in triplicate
as her cat came over to affricate
She sat down to a dinner of brisket
followed by a nice tasty biscuit
getting it down, she cleaned the musket
finishes day ironing her weskit
~~~~~~
affricate means to rub up against
Tricot is a fabric or material
weskit is a word for waistcoat usually very ornate
You'll smack your lips, at his silver side
Our beefy lad will cure your ham
His tender loins, are worth your coins
And if you ask, he'll stuff your lamb
I tell no fibs, you'll love his ribs
It ain't no joke, his crackly pork
Worth every pound, his piece of round
No crumbly biscuit, beats his brisket
Like chocolate drops, his porky chops
You cannot beat our Tristans meat
His chunky thighs, don't criticise
His seasoned beef, won't crack your teef (teeth)
I tell no fibs, you'll love his ribs
It ain't no joke, his crackly pork
Worth every pound, his piece of round
No crumbly biscuit, beats his brisket
A butcher always, in the making
But the creme de le creme, of his meaty treats
His able hands, will cure your bacon
He's the nicest guy, you could ever meet
Kokoda Ten Shilling note.........................
Johnno had been out a tracking Japanese , in Kokoda's , misty green...
It was 1942, smell of death, slaughter so obscene.......
Suddenly two Japanese appeared, Don fired and death was there.......
Just pointed the old Tommy gun, two bursts two bodies, yair.....(aussie yeah)
Don checked the Officer first and found a ten bob note....
Invasion money for Australia , in case you didn't know it?.......
Bertie had wounded another Japanese, a big Mongolian type....
He was kneeling saying the Lords prayer, Bertie smashed his skull to tripe....
Brains splattered up Dons back as he found the ten bob note....
And Bertie muttered 'we're here to kill Jap's ' checking the pockets of his coat....
.45 was old Tommy gun, one or two in a Japanese brisket....
And Death appeared as cruel and hard as the Aussie Army biscuit....
After that Don went alone to find the enemy line....
Treading carefully sniffing the breeze, for the hay smell, Jap divine.....
Drover Dick wanted a prisoner, to talk of old Tojo...(Colonel Dick Marson)
But they mostly died in a bayonet fight or a bullet made em slow.....
You heard the little rattle as the Japanese loaded a bullet....
And after 5 shots from his Arisaka , fixed bayonet you just knew it....
Bayonet parry or a butt slap, spike him quick as you will....
To spill your blood hes coming, stop the bugger with a 45 cal. pill.....
Don Johnson .written Anzac day 2010...Anzac Day when we remember our war dead...
as Don Johnson of the 2/25th Battalion said of Kokoda the butcher shop.
http://www.scullywag.com/kokoda1942stoush/
If I thought you’d risk it,
I’d offer you brisket,
but since you’re a vegan,
unlike Chrissy Teigen,
would sooner be dead,
here, how ‘bout a Triscuit instead?
KOKODA 1942 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e5VG58ypVuE
BULLANT BITTEN OR SHOT?
Oh yes its very popular to walk the Kokoda Track,
And people by the dozen have done just bloody that,
I you were there in forty two it wasn’t as much fun,
With a hundred weight upon your back and a ten pound threeo gun,
You climbed the golden stairs knee deep in the mud,
The mountains just got higher and the mossies wanted blood,
A little pimple on your leg became an oozing ulcer,
Iodine rag screwed in the wound by some flaming vulture,
The Jap would lay in ambush so you watched the bloody bush,
And you couldn’t stop a watching and no bloody food you wuss?
Then its raining food and ammo bully beef splat up a tree,
Dog biscuits shattered breadcrumbs fill your pocket up for free,
Till they got mouldy,
You’d be alone in the jungle and you would meet a scouting Jap,
He’d fire all his bullets from his Arisaka . Crack,
Then he’d come for you with a bayonet on a rifle at hi port,
And you’d try the bayonet fighting or plonk his brisket sport?
The bloody Diaorea made you weak , no strength in your knees,
The woodpecker is buzzing taking bark off all the trees,
So your eyes are full of bark chips Joes throwing sticks at me ,
And the bulldog ants are biting what an awful place to be,
Choices bitten, shot or clubbed by friendly sticks ?
Stop jumping around you’re drawing the crabs,
Woodpecker hammers my tree,
And the bloody ants are biting,
And I can’t quite bloody see.
Don Johnson
How it was for Don Johnson 2/25th btn Kokoda New Guinea 1942
http://www.scullywag.com/kokoda1942st...
Angered Man Silly Woman Henry Trying to Watch the Superbowl--
See the holding of the man,
I think he's angry at the other man.
He finds it hard to see the pencil,
Overshadowed by the silly hensel.
Who is that loving near the cube?
I think she'd like to eat the eustachian tube.
She is but a bouncy woman,
Admired as she sits upon a noble-shun.
Her glorious car is just a biscuit,
It needs no gas, it runs on brisket.
She's not alone she brings a chocolate,
a broken heart, and lots of anklet.
The man shudders at the popcorn joyful bowl
He want to leave but she wants the remote control.
He’s trying to watch the Super Bowl;
All she wants to do is argue Oh, so;
3/11/19
Written words & arranged music by James Edward Lee Sr 2019©
Girl you begin where I end
Our love is the best kinda blend
I found a place that’ll make you smile
And help us grow a while
It has a white picket fence on the street
That you’ve wanted since you were thirteen
Let’s you and me go live our dreams
And folks there live, love and pray
The same as we do each and every day
But hon, if they call brisket barbeque
Trust me and my love for you
Have faith in me like I know you do
And we’ll more than make it through
It’ll be all we want you’ll see
Let’s you and me go live our dreams
It’s up from Texas in Tennessee
Where folks still smile and say hey
Yeah, family is a few miles
But it’ll help us grow a while
And they all promised to come and see
Their brand new grand babies
Let’s you and me go live our dreams
And folks there live, love and pray
The same as we do each and every day
But hon, if they call brisket barbeque
Trust me and my love for you
Have faith in me like I know you do
And we’ll more than make it through
It’ll be all we want you’ll see
Let’s you and me go live our dreams
See a future with our twins almost two
And our families live close too
And we’re livin’ the life we’ve seen…
Let’s you and me go live our dreams
Have faith in me like I know you do
And we’ll more than make it through
It’ll be all we want you’ll see
Let’s you and me go live our dreams
Yeah, whoa…
Let’s you and me go live our dreams
The world you where born into is burning, Hopkins.
It's big and Ugly and smells like diesel exhaust.
Literally, because the hospital Insurance sent us to is on an i-95 off ramp
Just north of the South Carolina/Georgia Line.
You where born during an episode of House Hunters,
Two days after i lost a rigged BBQ Cookoff,
Our Brisket game was solid.
The world you where born into is not fair,
and your daddy is the poor son of a rich man.
I tricked your mother with my manners and air conditioning,
and here we are.
The Doctor asked the nurse if she had Ham at thanksgiving dinner, the nurse told him ham and turkey and told your mom to push....
You came out eyes wide open and on the TV two people from Charlotte found the perfect granite countertops.
You where the type of perfect that turns words into sparks and smoke.
Your mother holds you to her chest and you look me right in the eye. I cry like the second runner up in a high school beauty contest.
The day you where born the world continued to burn.
Texas-style juicy brisket
grilled, smoked, keep meat moist.
Amazing Ribs and baked beans.
Potato salad
Ice cold beer and pop
drinks of choice
Yum!
6/28/2022
7/5/7/5/5/3/1
Whats Cooking On The Grill This Summer Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: M. L. Kiser
Buy a challah - make it round.
Cook some kasha - lightly browned.
Bake a brisket, with a mound
Of onions on the top.
Lots of vino to be downed.
Honey cakes to add a pound.
Hugs and wishes to abound
And smiles that never stop.
Hear the shofar's plaintive sound.
Links to childhood somehow found.
Ready now - we're New Year bound -
New sins to which we'll cop!
(Rosh Hashanah is the Jewish New Year,
where whatever sins you've committed
in the past year are erased.)
Come friend, let’s go to where it all began:
Where you eased the heart ache and eased the pain.
The window’s warm light, embering darkness.
The intoxicating sawdust sets the scene:
In succulent reds, butchers dress
With neat laced mince-trays trimmed by hedging green.
Strangers inveigled into its warm light,
All seduced by the still unravishing flesh.
All Senses aroused with intense delight
As dulled minds were made alive and fresh.
Mondays were butchery days, dreaming of distant lands:
Slicing, sawing and cutting endlessly.
A bitter chill froze fingers and clenched hands.
Huge frozen livers numbed limbs tremblingly.
Your verse learned by heart pulsed through each red vein
As winter’s blackness cloaked the shop.
The brisket bones snapped and cracked like dry cane,
You in shadows hid, but whispered at each chop.
As lambs were routinely quartered and hung,
You were the voice that would never cease;
A poetic and melodious tongue
That among the strain and grind was at ease.
As blood red blocks were scrubbed with metal teeth,
My light spirit, you were my scarlet pain.
Buried deep, a green and living wreath,
You were beauty in a joyous refrain.
The steep hill now drags home with black tarmac.
Even here fever and cold pinch and sneeze,
As the path is pebbled by winter rain,
I dream of Grecian art as my balls freeze.
The soup's too hot, honey
and my drink's too cold
The lettuce is wilted
the avocado's old
The soup took forever
though the potatoes are still hard
The brisket cooked so long
it's completely charred ...
It's alright, dear, a master chef you're not
but you ARE the loveliest wife
And in case you doubt me for a second
I'm taking you out to dinner
~ every night of our married life
Here A Brisket And There A Bracket
Briskets and brackets can be high or low;
Or else you may either win, place or show;
In a contest,
To be best,
And do better higher and faster must go.
Jim Horn
#4450