Best Feta Poems
I followed milky and mouldy scents,
down cobbled and narrow paths,
only to see it riddled with rats,
feasting on Feta and Camembert,
whilst the wine sipping Uppers prepared to
clash against the cider swigging downers!
The Fromage Frenzy and Curd Craze deli.
across from the Dizzy Duck and the Boastful Bard taverns
had been ransacked with only cracker crumbs on the floor.
All the cheesemongers were hiding in their basements.
All the landlords locked away in their cellars!
Bar stools dripping with Chardonnay and Merlot,
carpets soaked in 'Scrumpy Jack' and 'Strongbow.'
It was utter chaos as the 'cheese shed' raged on...
The goats and the cows watched,
as the town folk gathered on either side.
Anger in their eyes, yelling insults like;
'Cheap cheddar gobblers' and 'stinky Stilton munchers.'
This was not cultural tensions,
nor issues with tariffs, quotas or labelling practises-
this was a war of the social classes!
They were not fighting with fists or weapons,
oh no, no no..
The Downers started squirting stinky cheese sauce,
drenching the Uppers with its reeking stench.
However, when the Uppers started hurling
Storico and Caciocavallo Podolico,
back at the Downers, they simply,
started consuming it with their cider!
Both fractions kept pelting and sprinkling,
until little Joey from the farm,
reminded them the football had started,
so off they plodded to watch the game,
singing and laughing together,
arm in arm, munching on cheese
they had salvaged from their skirmish.
It’s been three weeks
since I was in the grocery store,
and an emptiness weighs,
as if I’d lost a friend.
The government issued orders
for people like me,
calling it “social distancing.”
“Stay home,” they say.
Going to a place containing what I need--
things like crumbled feta cheese,
or low sodium pasta sauce,
is like being with a trusted companion.
Greeting cashiers by name
makes each spree a social event,
as well as a lifesaving one
that refills the pantry.
My last visit began with an App,
where I selected what I wanted,
and ended when a stranger
put bags into the back of my car.
My larder might be full,
but my heart feels empty--
deprived of its weekly ritual
of hunting and gathering with friends.
Can you forget that piece of cheese
that you inhaled? Oh, just a crumb it was.
But breathing while chewing, then choking!
Was it Cheddar, Cheshire?
Or that Limburger, Parmesan?
But, oh, that piece of cheese!
Not a morsel you'll forget,
or a temporary amnesia that will bring you peace.
A double Gloucester, some feta or mozzarella?
What about that Parmigiana-Reggiano?
Better, far better, not to inhale
a piece of cheese. It's peace you need.
(8 Jan 2024)
Original version:
Phone for the fish knives, Norman
As cook is a little unnerved;
You kiddies have crumpled the serviettes
And I must have things daintily served.
Are the requisites all in the toilet?
The frills round the cutlets can wait
Till the girl has replenished the cruets
And switched on the logs in the grate.
It's ever so close in the lounge dear,
But the vestibule's comfy for tea
And Howard is riding on horseback
So do come and take some with me.
Now here is a fork for your pastries
And do use the couch for your feet;
I know that I wanted to ask you-
Is trifle sufficient for sweet?
Milk and then just as it comes dear?
I'm afraid the preserve's full of stones;
Beg pardon, I'm soiling the doileys
With afternoon tea-cakes and scones.
~
My version:
Do phone for a pizza Norman,
since Olga is having a strop.
Then say that I want it delivered,
you’re not going down to the shop.
We’ll have to get Desmond to call in,
the sauna’s beginning to leak.
My microwave’s out of commission;
the hoover’s beginning to squeak.
I must send a text to Jemima.
We may get an email from Max
and when you’ve stopped surfing on Google,
do put some more bumph in the fax.
Now give me some thoughts for our party,
the one at the end of the week.
It’s got to be terribly ethnic,
all ouzo and feta and Greek.
I want to have proper moussaka,
souvlaki that’s straight from the grill,
oregano and fresh coriander,
all drizzled about with some dill.
Oh Norman! For God’s sake kick Olga,
she’s getting me rather un-nerved.
And tell her to open the pizza,
I do want it daintily served.
~
Taken from 'How to Get On in Society@ by John Betjeman for the Copy Cat Contest.
I love chocolate, all sorts of chocolate,
The darker and browner the better.
I love it like the Greek love their bread,
When their bread is covered in Feta.
A shout out to Cadbury and Nestle,
The companies making our dreams come true.
Making everything chocolate: cookies, cakes, and bars,
And even making chocolate shampoo.
Some say chocolate’s a medicine, a type of food group,
To others it’s a lifestyle choice.
I say chocolate gives everyone a serious reason to smile,
A serious reason to rejoice.
It makes us feel happy when sad, confident when not,
Forgetting all our troubles and woes.
It makes us feel delighted, ecstatic, perky and tickled,
From our head right down to our toes.
And the best time of year, every single year,
The Easter Bunny hops around quiet as a mouse.
He’ll be here soon, leaving hundreds and thousands of eggs,
Eggs made of chocolate all over the house.
The best things that Christmas guarantees
Are the festive, digestive joys of cheese
No holiday platter is nearly complete
Without the familiar fumes ... of feet
Softening chunks of wafting wonder
Offered up aged for you to plunder
Those holey and rolly blocks to devour
So properly plump, and soddenly sour
There's no better bits for a yuletide slacker
Than great gobs of funk on a crispy cracker
And stuffing a sock or a Christmas Buddha
Is perfect diversion for a gram of Gouda
Or perhaps just a nip of Neufchâtel bliss
Bouncing its stink for a mistletoe kiss
What better addition to the bells of a sleigh
Than vino with bread, and a cheese in decay?
Or, the ideal pal for a proud poinsettia?
Why, a warmingly wonderful wee wedge of feta!
No matter what floats on the holiday breeze
It's ALWAYS out-funked by a good ... Christmas cheese!
Written and submitted on November 18, 2018
For the "Write A Poem About Cheese" Poetry Contest
Barry Stebbings, Judge & Sponsor
A spinach pie one can’t deny
is good eating for you or I.
A flaky crust, oh me oh my.
A spinach pie, a spinach pie.
Some feta cheese will always please.
It complements the pie with ease.
It’s aroma can be a tease.
Some feta cheese, some feta cheese.
Try some white wine. It’s taste is fine.
I prefer a light white with mine.
Is the food ready? Send a sign.
Try some white wine, try some white wine.
Do they make duct tape for a mother's heart
That breaks each time her child's emotions crash
Like waves against a rocky cliff?
A heart pitted by the tears shed
When other kids fling arrows of venomous disdain.
Can you glue a heart split open by
Empathy for the offspring who has no date to prom,
Never gets flowers on Valentine's
and who, with all her heart, tries to make sure
Her friends don't suffer the same fate?
How much would it cost to replace a mother's heart
Each time it was broken from the cries of pain
On her children's lips, or the brave face they put on,
When their souls have been crushed
By another's rejection?
For her, is the hope of relationship restored enough
To shock a dying heart into beating hopefully
For one more day?
Can you regenerate a heart run dry
From lack of trust and affection?
Is it sensible that the resentful little creature
Created from our DNA should also hold our fragile,
Crumbly, feta cheese hearts
In their little boisterous and unforgiving hands?
And yet, given the choice, a mother says,
"Pass the glue. Sign me up for a transplant.
Because having children is what built my heart,
What gave it life, why it beats."
Do they make duct tape for a mother's heart?
It doesn't matter,
because holding the pieces together
When everything is falling apart
Is what mothers do best.
Until the last beat, the last breath,
The last thought of her children:
The only pieces of her soul
That are left behind when she is gone.
The tiny creature swam up through my plumbing pipes.
She was teenier than a real rodent, much smaller.
Not lady bug petite, but teensy, grasshopper-size.
She had wings but they were black, not gossamer.
Do not forget the paddles on her feet! My muse reminds me.
I scoff; she does not realize I was writing before she developed.
The meremouse crept in quietly, she had a forked tail.
And teeth – oh, my goodness, three rows at least!
The cat opened one eye and watched her scoot by.
Not wanting to encounter any of those rows of teeth.
She was also wearing a Las Vegas headdress-like wig.
This intimidated the cat also; he is a tom, easy to intimidate.
The meremouse focused on one object, and it was the cheese.
She waited patiently to steal it until we were in REM sleep.
Then she opened the refrigerator with her enormous lasso-like tail.
Stole every bit of cheese we had in there – feta, mozzarella, cheddar.
Anyway, this is my husband’s version of what happened.
He is the only one who saw the mythical meremouse.
Grandma likes her peppers yellow
since they taste so fresh and mellow.
Atop mixed greens, I’ll slice in strips,
then feta, beets for tangy nips.
Her favorite olives in this jar
will put this salad right on par.
Then these walnuts for extra crunch
for my grandma’s potluck lunch.
To the senior place where she moved,
our friends take food. In this we’ve proved
that though her life may now seem strange,
our gatherings don’t have to change.
We’ll still share hugs and talk and laugh,
uninterrupted by the staff.
I pay and get my change (cha-ching!)
and dream of what our friends will bring.
But then Gran calls me on the phone.
New lockdown! She must eat alone.
Friends can’t visit her senior place.
I must eat this at my home base.
Contest name: An Interesting Couplet Poetry Contest
Contest sponsor: Dr. Funom Makama
The New Diet
I've put myself on this new diet,
Trying to drop a dress size or two,
Believe me it's a taste sensation,
I'm loving it and think you will too.
So here is my secret to weight loss,
Success guaranteed to please,
The day I discovered sweet Karma,
Beetroot salad and Greek Feta Cheese.
My body feels free, newly awakened,
Skin tones, complexion much better,
Helped by one simple life choice,
A diet of Beetroot and Greek Feta.
Maria hums to the tune of “Taps” as she scoops out the betta
One red, one blue, Wiggles got ick, now it’s just Padma blue
Doorbell rings, ding dong, Maria rushes to answer, Ahh, Greek feta
The delivery guy left as the maid pounded on the screen, birds flew
This is cheddar, Miss Sparks will be upset, hmmm. It’s okay!
Swooshing sounds from the toilet bowl, as Maria flushes
Tosses the salad, grabs her clanking keys, and drives away
Down the hill, exhales haa, then inhales huh, blood rushes
Nick The Greek’s, an order of the Greek feta salad, to go please
Exits Nicks, enters Finney’s Fish Store. I’ll take that one, that fish
As she points to the red betta splashing, wiggling, stops, in a freeze
Dear Maria, I’m home, bring my salad and a glass of iced tea swish
So, tell me, how was your day, clops off her shoes by her chair
Leaning, back crackling, with Wiggles her red betta nearby
Miss Sparks waits for her maid, then notices Padma’s stare
Maria, why is Padma staring at Wiggles with a glint in her eye?
My pet mouse Louie is a connoisseur of exotic cheese,
But when it comes to gratifying him, he's mighty hard to please!
I have my own choice of cheese, therefor, 'tis an ongoing clash,
Between me and Louie at which he has become somewhat brash!
If I set a snack of limburger before him, he'll turn up his nose,
And I learned mighty quick to no longer on him that crud impose!
I happen to like a simple cheddar but Louie will clearly voice,
His desire for an expensive gouda if he had to make the choice!
We both abhor cottage cheese on that we can readily agree,
But he savors bizarre cheeses such as Greek feta and French brie!
The latter two I can barely tolerate and well-nigh cause me to retch!
I hate to divulge this but Louie is becoming a bothersome kvetch!
Lately he insists on me catering ricotta, swiss and mozzarella.
(Ain't gonna happen, you can bet your life on that, little fella!)
Alas, my dilemma was solved by my cat who relishes tasty mice;
Louie was devoured by ravenous Jeff the cat which wasn't very nice!
Entry for Barry Stebbins' "Poem About Cheese" Contest
(15 November 2018)
Oh Jeeze!
He wants a poem about cheese,
This guy is hard to please,
I hope he likes what he sees.
I don't know about you,
But many people like Bleu,
Wait! Take a step back,
You say it's got to be Pepper Jack.
Some say there is nothing better,
Than good ole Cheddar,
People will even bet ya,
It's got to be Feta,
There is no limit what a good cook can do,
From a rib sticking macaroni to a delish Fondue,
Or a cheesy dog covered with chili,
To a fabulous cheese steak from Philly!
I even knew a fella,
Who ate nothing but Mozzarella,
So I say eat whatever kind you please,
And try not to cut the cheese!
Write a Poem About Cheese Poetry Contest
Sponsored by:
Barry Stebbings
11/15/18
I sit at my table in the sun
Absorbing all natures love
Salad in bowl green and clean
Olives, cucumber, tomatoes, and feta cheese
A nice amount of iceberg lettuce
With a mixture of radishes and rocket
The BBQ going for those who want it
Some wonderful scented garlic bread
That's just come out the oven so are nice and fresh.
I got another sitting too one side with the freshest fruit
Succulent to the eyes
Melon, nectarines and grapes
But then I spy
Strawberries and kiwi fruit
I love all of this kind of salad and fruit
And the smell of freshly baked bread
The smell reverberating in my head
Summertime days sipping orange juice in the sun
Laughing g with your family and and friends who have come
To savour the flavours of good food
And to see a wonderful garden in full bloom
Yes! I love these days.
29/06/2018