Best Condiments Poems
Realy, you are a romantic rose with rare radiance, in
fact, you are a fine flower with fair fragrance, always, an
awesome...angel with art allurance, perfectly, a
priceless princess with passion in her pursuance.
To me you are one in a million...
a sweet sister, super star... You storm and stun, faithful,
friendly and free... ful of fun,
charming, cheerful and... Shining like the sun.
Knowing you has been an excelent, extra-ordinary
experience,
intriguing & incredible, you've got an indellible
incense.
Passionate, purposeful & plain, got no pretence. You
are an epitome of exquisite and eternal excellence.
A priceless poetess with lively and lovely lyrics, so
nice.
She wields creative condiments in this poetry pot of
soup... and super spice,
with terrific thrust, theme and tones to make us think
twice.
Happy Birthday to a dazzling dame, whose poetic
prowess can't be plagiarized.
Dedicated to Charmaine Chirop on her birthday, every
May 1st is her day. Wishing you all the best sis!
January is the incunabula of the year
I embrace hugely like my huggable teddy bear
With my new life’s portmanteau inexorably handed over
On that last starry night of a very cold and joyful December
A new portmanteau of life’s flavors and condiments
Portions of joys, pains and many life’s challenges
Mysteriously packed all for me in hope to gird up
To follow whatever roads with valor, love, faith and delight.
I’m eagerly looking forward to what are all in store
Perking up with wonder on a brand new portmanteau as I go aboard
Wanting to share with you whatever great surprises that I may hold
In loving wishes that New Year for you unfolds with moments of gold
Jan. 26, 2015 1.15pm
May I share with you a New Year's poem I wrote last night/early morning. Once again, my warm greetings of belated happy New Year 2015!
In this arid plain of perennial drought,
as I stand transfixed with vexations rising in my spirit
and sadness lying mute as a stone,
I discern, I am alone with none to hold my hand
or share the burden that weighs me down.
Trudging through rugged paths
with my mournful shadow, tottering along,
the past sneers at me, breaking open
bottled up memories- of years spent in unbridled passion,
the smell of cigarettes, ganja and beer
wine and women, bet and gambling,
and the thrill of having won and lost
I used narcotic drugs many and they kept
gnawing into my psyche!
Once I walked with stilted gait
with friends and fans, amid laughter and haste
eager to please and to praise
Inebriated and effervescent were we
Fancied money could buy all we yearned
and turn this Earth-a virtual Paradise
But how swift was the twist of fate!
With no condiments, life suddenly turned bland.
The gorgeous castles I once built, burnt down to cinders
like dry leaves blown by the wind,
Friends, I thought never would desert,
flitted away one by one!
With dejection and despair warping me down
a rabid dog I strayed.
Grew irritable and vicious,
fled away from bond and bondage
spitting the saliva of my angst,I barked… barked at everyone;
“Where did vanish all the fabulous dreams
Whither gone life’s ritzy splendors?
But the wildfire burnt itself down,
now a passive stillness has settled in.
In this inert hush, as I grope,through murky corridors
with the sound of my footsteps falling like a thud,
a single query breaks out from within
‘Where shall I hide unseen
from this horrid loneliness staring me in the eyes?’
Kept in the fridges of
kitchens of my land, the
King of Condiments is
Known to enhance french fries!
Kids at heart love it, so
Kick off your morning with
Ketchup on scrambled eggs!
March 10, 2017 for Pleiades K Contest of Kim Merryman
For there abide beef, pork and chicken
and the greatest of these is bacon
hot sizzling crispy to the tongue
satiating succulently scrumptious bacon.
For bacon curries no favor
plays the field tempts the stoic and saintly
slides into gustatorial beds
romps with tomato and lettuce
hangs out with eggs, hard boiled and soft
mocks the ten condiments
bathes in the sinful seven
is prideful
lusts after
the last greed filled bite
of gluttony
provokes the envy
of slothful
greasy lust.
Ah, bacon
you grease the skids
of dietary destruction
stalk the fat cells
of cellulitic cravings
tempt the tendrils of scent
with your aphrodisial aroma
inducing a pheromonal fling.
Oh bacon
you promiscuous panderer
curvaceous little porker
I believe
I trust
I lust
in and after your truth.
John G. Lawless
©11/2/2019
Sitting on a pew
Grilling and skew
Cravings that streak
Gravy of the mountain peak.
Sauces and condiments laid
Sprinkled, dashed and said
Vegetables, meat and bread
Cooked, baked and knead.
Reserving, consuming energy from tree
Drinking, nibbling like spree.
Waiting for the next bonfire and gaze
Rollicking with charcoal, dust and blaze.
A shooting star from the night so dark
Oozing with smoke and might that spark
Writing your name in the dark board of chart
Weaving canvass in your heart of art.
TRENCHANT WENCH FROM THE UNROMANTIC MIDLANDS
In the pub, I serve out the pints
My comely bosom gives a hint of home
And what men are escaping from – dreary sex
With housewives who scour the sink with vigour
Trim the joint and lard the fowl
Gristles of fat clinging to their knuckles
As the froth of beer clings to men’s beards.
England is a riff between the breakfast table and tea
Where homely condiments drown the flavour
Of each day, and newspapers live on scandal
The seamier the better. It makes the ordinary man
Happier than ever not to be one of the toffs
Glad that she can be had for a song
Save the one that lies buried in her throat.
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
“Who cooks for you?”
asked the Bard.
Who prepares your meal?
Do you sup alone?
Any condiments?
Salt perhaps?
Spices?
What are you hungry for?
What appeals to your taste?
When you rise in the morning,
What do you desire?
Is it even food?
Or do you look to satisfy something else?
For what do you hunger?
But aside from all that
Who cooks for you?
Whatever it is you desire,
wherever you may roam,
Who paved the way?
Who set the table?
Who made it possible for you
to breathe,
to laugh,
to cry,
to despair.
to hope,
to love,
to live,
to die…?
Do you even give a hoot?
Who preparest a table for thee
in the presence of thine enemies?
So the Barred h-owls his haunting cry,
“Who cooks for you?”
A mother that hears the cry of her baby
does not turn deaf ears to show indifference.
A woman prepared for a culinary task,
by all means, gathers the condiments required.
A barricadoed road, however restrictive,
suffices not to keep an incubating hen off her eggs.
A nocturnal darkness does not stand to disorientate
a hand to miss its way to the mouth.
Scavenging any available heaps in sight
reflects the missing of a valuable.
To say today has been a strange day would be an understatement. It started off this morning when I went into the den where our eldest cat, Paint, was meowing up a storm. I petted her head a few times and no joke she keeled over and died right then and there. We were kinda expecting it but damn what a way to start the day.
A few hours later I had an appointment to inspect a truck for a family and nobody speaks English except the kindergartener. I pull up to their house and this yard is a mess. Trash everywhere. I see the truck I needed to inspect parked in the yard and the cutest looking little sleeping puppy curled up next to the front tire and yep you guessed it...I go straight to ’selfie with an unsuspecting dog mode’. Here I am kneeling down trynna get the best angle for the perfect selfie and reach out to pet the pooch and this dog is cold and stiff as a rock. Just then the entire family (Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents 2nd and 3rd cousins) pours out of the front door and here I am hovered over their dog trying to explain to a bunch of people who don’t speak a lick of English that their dog is dead. Stupid me is pointing at the dog while pretending to slit my throat...the international sign for your dog is dead ????? The Mexican father reached down and pokes the dog then starts jabbering something about El Diablo and giving me the stank eye. The grandmother breaks out her rosary beads and begins saying the Lord’s Prayer and finally the English speaking preschooler comes toddling out and interprets for me....I didn’t kill your dog! I just want to get the hell out of there so I begin taking photos of the truck. Here comes the funny part. I accidentally step on either a tarter sauce or ranch dressing condiment container and produced what sounded like explosive diarrhea and spewed white looking pelican all over everybody’s pants and shoes. The toddler giggles and I just grin and keep on keepin on. Fast forward to the end of the day I’m digging a hole to bury my cat ‘paint’ and out of the ten acres we own I pick the exact same spot I buried another cat-dog-chicken or chupacabra a decade earlier and there’s bones and ribs everywhere. Anywho I feel like I need a shot of tequila or twelve.
Like the background music in movies
Like the artwork on the walls of your home
Condiments spice up your sandwich
~ Conversation is the spice of your life
There was the sudden stench of silence that fell upon the street.
The congregate of people looking on in disbelief.
Trying to gain a view in a manner yet discrete,
observing the excavation of his apartment in feigned grief.
The noises that they heard in the nights, but collectively ignored.
The rank smells of miasma that crept from underneath the door.
Now what was merely paranoia has turned to fearsome fact.
As the investigation continually reveals his gruesome past.
The refrigerator units that stored condiments and human crania.
The skeletal relics unearthed, his gallery of paraphilia
The large blue barrels in which several bodies had been dissolved.
So many questions here still linger and none may be resolved,
and he may never be absolved for the hunger that he fed.
And they will never face another night without him in their heads
I have Smelly Armpits and
Bursting to Go
but; I'm heading to the supermarket
the condiments aisle
I meet my neighbour
like conversing with a
pigeon
give me the full recipe
he says
he has arm wrestling
intelligence -
but how to get out of it
unsex me now
come, thick night
he talks about his hedges
I shoplift
the sugar puffs
I love toast….the smell, the taste
The condiments that give toast wings
Most importantly though
I love the comfort toast brings
Even better when toast is accompanied
By oldest friend and best buddy
Nothing more comforting or heartwarming
Than toast and tea!!