Best Curries Poems
I married someone in America, "My royalty" -
But can you look away from Brides in Sari*
That long, silk or chiffon sheet several feet long
Wrapped with tantalizing patterns around
And around, until thrown over her shoulder?
Another act of royal bearing, wearing Sari ...
Even the floral tops over pants (Kurtah-pajama)
Become these stars - even in zillahs - far from Bollywood
The elegance was first sensed in my Mom in Africa
Yes, I was raised by Hindu-Muslim folk far from India
But with all the curries, puri, chapati, samoosa, subjee
Any South Asian would die for, even in sumptuous America ...
LORD shows me these hard-working Moms who give
And never stop giving: see them in USA
Right under your noses, running businesses
Going home and cooking real food from scratch
Even to the n'th course with heavenly deliciousness
I cannot imagine the non-stop cultural fountains
They draw from, to love so much: man and children
Add grandchildren, and her energy yet abounds
So, I know what I missed, when I emigrated ...
From Hades, I watch Abraham's Bosom
Without blame: praying for those in villages
Without much water, or sanitary napkins, yet
As sanitary as Princesses: cooking, healing, generating
The next great doctor, computer guru for you
And for me, in the West. India's loss and mine
Are your gain: God loves you so much ...
Say that to yourself when U see a South Asian lady
(Now you know why your eyes linger on my Sister)
Categories:
curries, america, appreciation, beautiful, culture,
Form:
Verse
On sandy beaches and along fertile riverbanks,
In fecund soil and in lush green plantations,
Coconut trees stand tall towering into the sky.
They are benevolent palms at the service of generations.
A coconut tree is a marvel of creation, every part of it can be used.
Its umbrella like crown of leaves shades us from sun.
Its circular, heavy cluster of fruits enrich our bodies.
From coconut husks, coir mats and ropes are spun.
The milk-white kernel inside the coconut shell,
Is used in curries, cookies and for extracting oil.
The water inside is a healthy, delicious drink.
Its vast net work of labyrinthine roots holds the loose soil.
Its sturdy trunk is used as a support for anchoring small boats.
Coconut shells in the hands of a craftsman turn into attractive curios.
Palm fronds are used for thatching small hovels and sheds.
Thus, from foot to crown, its uses and charms are various.
If one is stressed, it is therapeutic to de-husk a coconut.
It is a fine exercise and an ideal way to de-stress.
If angry with some one and wish to tear him limb by limb,
Break a coconut and it will take away all your noxious distress.
Still if you don’t feel comfortable and are with tingling nerves,
Scrape a coconut bit by bit and by the time you finish,
All your anger must have slowly gone as steam into air,
And in course of time, you will see it thoroughly vanish!
Categories:
curries, appreciation, identity, tree,
Form:
Rhyme
Hi dear poetry soupians
I'm one of those peach
hued Indians
I'll present to you my
own Indian poetic curries
and broth
for PoetrySoup, yet I post
slow as a sloth
I hope you enjoy reading
me
and poetrypals we all shall
be
Being born abroad, my
poems have a
multicultural flavor
Pls do comment on my
poems, I always return
the favor.
Hi see yah around
Categories:
curries, adventureurdu,
Form:
Nazm
still stuck at the introductory,
I have been a silent observer.
well that is what I do mostly in my laboratory.
To begin,
My name is a tongue twister so don't worry,
I am from a country with a different ethnicity,
it is not just about spices and chillies,
a little more than curry leaves and corianders.
I can't say it better for my cheap vocabulary.
To you it must be still blurry.
Ahem! back to the point,
it is not just about rice and constipation.
we have a lot to worry,
like our uncles we never talk to,
try to engage us to girls we never knew,
in a function we didn't want to attend to,
to escape
claustrophobics have to hide in trunks,
acrophobics have to climb the towers
else
even genophobics have to marry,
so we have a lot of worries,
it is not just about peppers and curries.
Now! more about myself,
believe me I believed that,
retribution for my past I have been in,
trust me I have tried to
sought redemption in the loud cries of grief.
then I met this guy,
who lost his cat
said "why should it be?
while others write about
purity and divinity in love and roses,
sometimes we have to be silly and think of
the fragrance in a curry leaf and chilly.
to hell with the past, the present has to be recreational."
Categories:
curries, immigration,
Form:
Free verse
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
Categories:
curries, food, funny,
Form:
Free verse
Welcome to our world, when you step through the door,
Welcome to a world of loosing weight, more and more,
A plan of healthy eating, for you can hardly call it a diet,
From morning till night you munch, it certainly keeps you quiet,
Once you get the hang of it, its as easy as A,B,C,
The lbs dropping off for all to see,
All you have to do is count points,
Now so much less weight, to strain your joints,
Carrot cakes, and muffins, cherry bakewells and ice cream,
The weight watchers plan, is certainly a dream,
Curries and Lasagne, Potato wedges, fish pie,
All waiting, just for you to try,
Chocolate bars that when you eat, don’t scream more,
All of this when you walk through the door,
SO WHY DON’T YOU, do as I have done,
Join the class and have some fun,
At the moment, I have lost almost a stone,
So I am going to treat myself to an ice cream cone,
Only 4lbs to go, then I will have lost 10% of my body weight,
This plan really is a piece of cake,
So welcome to our world, just step in,
If you to, would like to be slim.
Pat Dring
Categories:
curries, adventure, happiness, imagination, inspirational,
Form:
Rhyme
Here on poetrysoup, the newest poem,
pops up on-screen
like the latest off-shoot, or newborn babe
or like a newest floral bud,
in the orchards of poetry.
Or like a fresh wave of words
crashing and cresting upon the turf
For all and sundry to view, enjoy and surf!
Or ha ha, even like linguistic kernels
that pop like popcorn
in the crockery of poetrysoup
with different flavors to choose from,
to reveal what's been cooking in the minds.
Some indeed spiced-up,
some spicy
some acidic or buttery
all of 'em', more or less with melody.
Or the newest poetry is
to put it more exquisitely,
is a fragrant flower just bloomed
in the bedecked bowers of poetry
Or to say, each latest poem pops on screen
Like pop goes the weasel
For poems pop up like meerkats
but on the lookout for friends instead of foes.
Ah, and then they might wait
for the honey and jam of comments
and perhaps even the bitter gourd of criticism,
for healthy constructive criticism
is like any bitter pill vital to health.
You're lucky if the doctors of poetry
refrain from prescribing chits
of bitter pills to swallow,
Or opted for sugar-coated ones
for which you heave a sigh of relief
you didn't receive, blunt sharp critique!
As I prefer sugar coated pills in all matters.
Yet if they do administer the wrong dose
out of sheer bias and prejudice,
you can always give them a taste of their own medicine,
if you wish to be vengeful and impudent
Or you can forgo, overlook and be lenient
For my poetry is meant to be tasteful
and gentleness is nice.
Harshly insensitive reviews can leave
a sour after taste in the mouth.
As I'm habituated to taking sugar coated pills.
A biased person could never appreciate my poetry.
Let's taste and try out all the varied variety of curries and broths of muse out here...
Let's all appreciate the different flavours that simmer in the poetry soup melting pot,
many cooking up delectable foods for thought...
Categories:
curries, poems, poetry, poets,
Form:
Verse
Zeitgeist - My 1960s - Liz Walsh
Kaftans, mini-skirts, Carnaby Street fashions.
Angel Delight, Hirondelle wine and that sheepskin rug.
"The price of round steak on a Saturday" while
Magdalen Laundries kept dark, dark secrets!
Nylon socks, Cuban heeled boots, body odour -
"it's always the girl's fault - she led him on!-
Button-down collars, civil Rights Marches,
Suspender belts old fashioned, false eye-lashes black -
Excitment, tights, "parents afraid of the new".
Stilletto heels crucifying, Rosary beads grumbling -
"Oh Sacred Heart of Jesus I place all my trust in thee"
Hamburgers, Fleetwood Mac, Anoraks - guilty! remember
Archbishop McQuaid! Bishop Lucey bullying Father Good!
"Wimpey Take-away" - meet a fella - womans lib!
Vietnam War, Albert Hall and Wilson Pickett.
"Would you kiss a boy on the first date?
Drip dry nylon, Dickie Rock gyrating
"Plastics are the future” the graduate said.
"Would you take the pill?"
Tayto crisps - "cheese and onion" munching in the dark.
Che Guevara, Mao Tse Tung and that little red book
In an empire line dress.
Church domination, contraception and major cigarettes
"Back-combing" Vesta Curries and a packet of smash
Maxi, mini, midi-dresses - pan-stick
Mary Quant, Twiggy and the Film Society party.
Flirting innocently, terrified hope - guilt ridden thoughts.
Surges of males, females standing
Eyes scanning, high pitched laughing
"Would you like to dance?"
Free love, flower power, heart thumping
Expensive shoes, a relic of St. Imelda and a chain-store dress -
"She will only get married” Miss Brigid Hayes said!
Afraid of the future, afraid of corruption
Brain exploding - ALL MIXED UP -
Categories:
curries, nostalgiaheart, heart,
Form:
Hey,hey! It's the Bohemia Cafe!Barry and Kirra'd greet you and say
"Hi there! Pleased to meet Chai!"
Barry and Kirra they say had a crazy Cafe where musicians would
go to jam and play.
You'd go...Through the kitchen and down the secret staircase to the
round dusty table where people
played for hours.`
When Barry met Kirra their world revolved around the Bohemia Cafe
the story is told...
You could go there anytime to order coffee,chat and listen to Kirra
play "Gypsy Caravan"on her clarinet.
Once you bought your coffee, Kirra would never bother you to clear your
table or buy another cup.
Sometimes customers would do the dishes,and at one stage Barry's
curries were quite delicious.
Then you'd go through the kitchen,down the narrow,steep staircase
to the secret lounge room of the Bohemia Cafe.
Every Sunday night an Irish Orchestra would swarm and settle in the cafe.
and the other musicians would go downstairs to play.
On Teusday nights people would come for chess to win their quests,while
guests happily blended at their own tables.
Poetry nights were Wednesdays and occasionally some almost famous
poets would gather,recite and be toastmasters for the night....
Till the tension grew so thick in the smoke-filled joint,you could
cut it with a knife.
Yes, the point is...the Bohemia
was in its heyday in the 1990's.
Many an artist and poet would have
gone there.
It reminds me of what a true
"Beatnik" cafe would've been like.
Categories:
curries, friendship, loss, nostalgia, people,
Form:
Rhyme
(Shakespearean)
Against the sky, the weathered land now sinks
as water pours its force upon the earth
'til mossy glades become the tattered links
between the ocean's rim and mountain's girth.
A drought creates the stagnant puddle-scum
unfit to slake the thirst of man or ape
while life on earth will shrink and soon become
too weak to fight disease or seek escape.
Yet streams still flow with water fresh and clean
to nourish all of life within their range,
as pastures blossom, lush in verdant green,
from rain which curries earth in soft exchange.
As life cannot continue without breath,
a rainless land may gather only death.
Categories:
curries, life, mountains, ocean, rain,
Form:
Sonnet
The show it is over another one gone
Never ever again I decry and bemoan
Five days of eating the turkey and ham
Curries for me and the bones for dog Sam
The tree in the corner all naked and bare
Pine needles cover the carpet and chair
The presents patiently wait to be cleared
Aftershave and face balm; I have a beard
My head in bits from abundance of drink
Can hardly talk never mind clearly think
Pants must have shrunk they are too tight
My wife has left after a big row last night
I may have said that her bum was quiet big
Her father a waster and her mother a pig
Of joy, carols and merry I’ve had my fill
I tell you now you can stick your goodwill
Sink stacked high with dishes and plates
The tables a mess and the floor in a state
Sports been cancelled because of snow
The car’s frozen in so I’ve nowhere to go
T.V. is repeating twenty year old shows
I think I’ll just settle to rest and repose
Even if Christmas I sometimes besmear
Peace to you all and I’ll see you next year
Categories:
curries, introspection
Form:
Couplet
Don’t worry about being thinner
Get yourself off down the pub
Then go home to a good British dinner,
Of British traditional grub
Delicious roast beef of old England
Served up with a thick Yorkshire pud
With roast spuds and cabbage and carrots
Plus gravy in which the spoon stood
What’s wrong with a good stew and dumplings?
Made with some prime neck of lamb
Or a thick slice of home boiled bacon
Instead of that wafer thin ham
Fried eggs and bacon for breakfast
A steak that’s surrounded with chips
Some mushrooms and beans or tomatoes
Can I hear you smacking your lips?
Give me pork chops with a kidney
A helping of wild rabbit pie
With carrots and peas and thick pastry
For which old Auntie Bessie would die
Kippers, smoked haddock or winkles
Mussels or soft herring roe
Jellied eels, tripe or pigs liver
I think I might give it a go
A thick slice of cheddar is pleasant
Coated with pickle of course
Or maybe a plump well hung Pheasant
Plastered with cranberry sauce
Blackberry and apple crumble
A dollop of cream on the plate
This is making my tummy rumble
Give me some quick I can't wait
A big lump of home made bread pudding
Or maybe a nice spotted dick
Served up with syrup or custard
Providing the custard is thick
A stuffed Sheep’s heart makes a good dinner
Or a nice deep-fried black pudding ring
On a slice of fried bread, did you hear what I said?
This is food that is fit for a king
When you’ve feasted on cabbage or brussels
Don’t ever consider you’ve sinned
Just be certain your close friends and family
Are seated some distance up wind
A plateful of boiled new potatoes
Dashed with salt taste exceedingly nice
If you give them a try will you no longer buy
Bean shoots or Chinese fried rice
Avoid all these kebabs and curries
They look like they’ve been eaten before
You’ll be finding them most Sunday mornings
On the pavement outside your front door
Don’t listen to these dieticians
Between themselves they can’t agree
Nobody mentioned cholesterol
Until nineteen seventy three
Make sure all your dinners are British
Now you know the foods that I mean
We never defeated old Hitler
Eating Pasta or Nuevo Cuisine
Categories:
curries, foodold, nice, home, home,
Form:
My body is just a shell that I wear,
how it looks I have scarcely a care,
for I have no sight to cause me pain,
or make me view you with any disdain.
I'm told I have a colour but what does that mean,
perhaps it's like the flavours that I taste in ice cream,
I like the taste of all of those that I've ever yet tried,
vanilla, coffee & chocolate, they slide smoothly inside.
I come from some place where we all sound the same,
a Yorkshire accent rich with pride, always heard at the game.
My friends tell me where the ball flies & excitement grows,
they all share that with me and the fun shared really shows.
Mohammed, Ralph and Joseph, Kaldeep and Ahsan,
they all come from Bradford, in boyhood and man,
we'll eat roast beef and Yorkshire puds down at the pub,
or maybe samosas and curries in the working mans club.
I've heard of this race thing, but for me it is just fine,
some win at 100 metres, others take some more time,
in my world it is better than for some I've been told,
where race can be seen as bad but just why leaves me cold.
Would the world be much better if no one could see,
and all could be friends with any race just like me,
for I enjoy the company of those diverse people who share
in this melting pot of cultures where so many show that they care...
©Rhumour
September 12th 2012
Categories:
curries, friendship, humanity, philosophy,
Form:
Rhyme
See how Christmas fete on earth
Indians will walk to the mass
Enjoy curries and sweets enmass
Australians hang wreaths girthed
Here Santa gives rest to reindeer
Changes dress for less ”hot” with cheer.
Chinese light streets and stores with mirth
Santa is called “Shen Dan Lao Ren”
In shops only the grottos plain.
Yule logs burned in French hearth
With food left, the logs burn all night
In case Jesus comes in the night.
Russians fast till first star rebirths
Then break fast with Kutia eating
For good luck throw some up ceiling.
Ways and approach differ on earth
Call him Christ, Gud, Gott, dieu,dio, God
Ishwar, Allah, he’s the same lord.
See how Christmas fete on earth
Australians hang wreathes girthed
Chinese light streets and stores with mirth
Yule logs burned in French hearth
Russians fast till first star rebirths
Ways and approach differ on earth
++++++++++++++++++++++++
**This is my maiden poem in form Constanza**
28-12-13
Dr. Ram Mehta
Form:Constanza
Motif : Epic
Sixth Place win
Contest: Impress Me III by Giorgio V.
Categories:
curries, religious,
Form:
Rhyme
THE GIRLFRIEND OF MY FRIEND
Saturday noon I drove my car to her house.
Seeing the doors open my eyebrows were all aroused.
I began to curse Jai who told me
“Samit look after my girlfriend while I’m out of town”
Damn it! Now all my weekend plan are drown.
I saw the first sight of Natasha.
She was sitting on her sofa with her legs crossed.
And a pretty little mole near the thigh exposed
Her skin was like a cream from orchids of Vanilla.
Lips that can drive madness spree in any fella.
“Hello there! When did u arrive?” mouthed she.
“Come down and help me with my sandal” asked she.
I took her softish feet in my crude hands
And haul them inside the sandal where they melt.
“Let’s go”, she stood up and said in a shot.
I followed her to my car with her range goddamn hot.
I stopped the car at the Curries restaurant.
But her thoughts in my mind still drew.
With the getting to know chit chat, yea, oh, hmm…
I thought I’m getting her bored.
She’s a kind of girl who let me down as I feel fool.
With the cool girl as that I wish I had tricks bag full.
Dropping her late night I asked if she had the good time.
With eyes looking at sandal she said that made me wakeup,
“Your friend shows he has move on after the breakup
But still didn’t forget to send the gift on my special day
Give my thanks and say the sandals are not my size”
She muttered after a teardrop rolled from her eyes.
So I’m texting you Jai…not to make her shoe size settle
But urging you to go back to make her every day SPECIAL.
-By Kunal Rathod
Categories:
curries, innocence, love, lust, relationship,
Form:
Narrative