Best Foie Poems
Didn’t digest my all-dressed pizza
Suffering now from insomnia
A touch of every possible phobia
Mostly of ravenous bacteria
And humongous tarantula
O yes, and the sordid mafia
Did I call my Grandmamma
Did I put away the spatula
Did I book girls’ day at the spa
Did all the bourgeois really die of cholera
I’m drowning under this plethora
Remind me What’s that formula
O yes, Abracadabra
Tra-la-la and La-di-da
And poof now I’m in a gondola
On the way to utopia
Dressed in graceful taffeta
Eating baklava in the basilica
Hanging from the candelabra
Swinging to the tunes of Lady Gaga
Supported by the silliest orchestra
Hey you Pass me the foie gras
I have a cockeyed camera
You’ll see me at the cinema
I love you Etcetera Etcetera
AP: 1st place 2020, 3rd place 2025
They ply themselves to sculpting,
to fingernails and foie-gras,
those crafty cutters, carving, trimming.
Creations to delight the senses,
a dab of blush or sauce bearnaise,
a final glance, she's ready for her audience.
Haute couture or haute cuisine,
they'll grace a page
in any food or fashion magazine.
Dans une teinte
rose
la vie explose
L'arbre frémit sous son écorce
noire
Comme des vaisseaux sanguins
qui s'agrippent au foie
ses branches serpentent
s'écartent et s'emmêlent
pour atteindre le ciel
et ramener de la vie
à la terre
aux racines
qui s'étendent cachés
sous le pied
-- TRANSLATION--
In a pink hue
Life explodes
The tree shivers under it's black bark
Like blood vessels
gripping the liver
it's branches winding
seperating and twisting around each other
to reach the sky
and bring life back
to earth
to the roots
that spread hidden
underfoot
Villanelle: Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
Likely as not the country will be run by interlopers
Open-heartedness is often a cover for self-bemusement
The first signs crop up when lax morals make him relent
Shuts an eye to alien antics on his wife and his daughters
Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
When foie gras vacation rather than who runs government
Or the long weekend pont makes the migrant caretakers
Open-heartedness is often a cover for self-bemusement
Fanatics from dictatorships money-minters from the Levant
Drugsters* outsourced from banana republics’ carpetbaggers
Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
And lo! Ere the cock crows every face in the pram’s sun-burnt
In one generation one-third pray through tongue-twisters
Open-heartedness is often a cover for self-bemusement
In two generations three-fourths take over government
Pimps drug-addicts loafers wage war with spiritual gangsters
Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
Open-heartedness is often a cover for self-bemusement
* drug-pushers, drug-dealers, drug-addicts and their bankers
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Steam Train Troubles
Percival the steward of the train
Ordered foie gras and oysters too
But left them on the station platform like a fool
Wealthy customers will find this rather tedious
Trips from Switzerland to Germany can be quite mundane
There is plenty of coal though to keep the engine going
Steaming over rail and snow
Not too many murders are expected this go round
Business is much slower this time of year
Train travel lost its luster over time and customers as well
It is quieter with poorer clientele around
A handful of rich still occupy first class
Hang out about the open bar up there
Mr. Smith forgot his ticket
His wife is having an affair with Percival
The conductor wants them both arrested
For their blatant misconduct most unpleasant
Guns come out inside a tunnel entrance
Train covered sights and sounds inside the cab in there
When it exited, Percival was dead
Natural causes were to blame
With a bullet in his brain
Hundred dollar bills were scooped up from the floor
By witnesses who saw nothing but the trees outside
Steam engine rolled along the tracks as usual
Taking truth and reason with it through the snow
Created on 1/14/15 for Shadow Hamilton - “Railway Journeys” Poetry Contest
Capon
Capon roasted...served with
Citrus-Sherry Jus--Ah!
Consommé Virginia
Covers the Country Ham;
Cherry-smoked Foie Gras, then
Christmas Pudding ablaze...
Comely cocks cry out: Foul!
©deborah burch
12.15.16
__________________________________
Pleiades Form--listed as verse
Christmas Capon (Chapon;Fr.) Dinner;
*(A capon is a rooster/cock who has been
"fixed"/neutered;
And foie gras is goose liver...at one point Chicago
had banned foie gras from restaurants,
over animal rights ...)
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 29
At last O Children of the Mother Contrées*
Roll out the red carpets for High Potentates
The hour of glory at Champs–Elysées
Cry not from Eiffel Tower 2C degrés
Temperature rises end of century, Mates
At last O Children of the Mother Contrées
Streak frowning skies in red white and blue display
Let pent-up champagne pop through foie-gras plates
The hour of glory at Champs-Elysées
Limousines line up for haute couture soirées
Blue-ribonned chefs dress-up spruced-up back-door dates
At last O Children of the Mother Contrées
Tri-colour ice cream on rhino-horn purées
See not hear not how iceberg disintegrates
The hour of glory at Champs-Elysées
Chefs d’Etat promise profit for protégés
While oceans swamp islands rivers city-states
At last O Children of the Mother Contrées
The hour of glory at Champs-Elysées
• The final “s” in French is silent
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
just bought three bananas from the corner bodega for a dollar
to send on his way the sweat of a kitchen the immigrant
ducks from hudson almost canada we know our plucks
and the foie gras a science
why me as mostly do not eat meat to over feed the liver
but a kidney I will enjoy with cream and morels.
Smith’s Octopuses Party On Pontoons
Rumor Has It My Dear
Rumor has it my dear something spectacular is near
Bring your batik hats to our grand lavish scene
Wear flowing Kebeya robes
Let them flow in the air
We’re having our party upon the ocean
On pontoons made of bamboo notions
Flown in from Indonesia with crews
Planks will connect all the segments
Chris Christie will help with construction
Bridging rafts with bamboo shoots & roots
(We understand he understands bridges)
Yachts will punctuate the festivities
Covered in purple red flowers with care
Tied to the floating swaying affair
McCartney and Sting will be there
Octopuses Garden is the theme
And Paul will bring Ringo to sing
The Clinton's and Bushes are on the list
Paparazzi will see if they kiss or do tricks
And who can resist our guests of honor
Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt
The main menu is set like this;
Foie gras loco moco carne
Matusaka beef
Pheasant/Mallard breast roast
Beluga Sevruga, Osetra caviar
Goût de Diamants, Taste of Diamonds champagne
Haute chocolate ice cream
This all seems like a dream
We pray that the weather holds up
The only waves we wish to see is from us
In the form of greetings and pleasantries
The party has been planned for ages
If storms should gather
It won’t really matter
We’re thankful
The Royals, Mr.& Mrs. Smith are here
To weigh down pontoons and rafts
With billions in sacks of gold trinkets
Door prizes for sure, (sorry no doors), for those who attend
500 guests will arrive at the gala
A date with Mick Jagger and two jaguars
Assured for each person as gifts guaranteed
Compliments of King & Queen Smith
Whose parties should never be missed
A mystery guest, no surprise
A legend in his own mind
Mr. Trump and his hair might arrive
Since the pope is preoccupied
We’ll sway to the music with fine company
All are welcome to our heavenly scene
At the octopuses party on the sea
7/11/14 Rumor Has It contest
They ply themselves to sculpting,
to fingernails and foie-gras,
those crafty cutters, carving, trimming.
Creations to delight the senses,
a dab of blush or sauce bearnaise,
a final glance, she's ready for the Features Ed.
Haute couture or haute cuisine
they'll grace a page
in any food or fashion magazine!
this task to write thee (whom papa dust envy) difficult,
though aye selflessly assigned
thy beautiful daughter, whose sunny countenance
doth doubly (even donning sunglasses) blind
how charming, fixating, intoxicating...
as if an exquisite meal I dined
and lack of summoning chutzpah,
foie grassy us joie de vivre,
a handsome lad will inevitably find
cuz, a profuse heart wrenching
envious emotions seemed to sneak up from be hind
and said metaphorical sparring resulted
in figurative sadness with deep grooves a lined
the contours of my entire corporeal flesh and bone,
but tis no intent, casting darkness,
where your ecstasy under mind
my existence appears so bland opined
from this papa, whose aspiration
to peal back cerebral rind
doth spur only positive words
(courtesy of shari, andy, marleigh...)
a gordian knot within me gets en twined
to explore places far and wide
as planet earth doth wind
around the sun - millions of years from now
twill become resigned.
Overeating
Foie gras
Viagra
Do not be afraid, Dear Girl, my room’s right down the hall
At the back of the house where it’s quiet; a very pleasant room overall
You may if you prefer freshen up after our prolonged amble
And I want to examine the paw you twisted falling into that thorny bramble
I’m so sorry you hurt yourself as we made our way through the forest
You’re light as a feather to carry, there’s no reason to fuss or protest.
Here we are! All is ready, even a small repast if you wish
Wine-caressed baby artichokes, tender filet, and foie gras upon your dish
A rich espresso, a Portuguese ruby port or French champagne that is bliss
After we’ve dined we can play: I’m overcome you’re here I’m happy to say
Waiting for you to mature to be my accomplished and eager peer
Left I with no impatience or regrets let me make that clear
Playing with other ladies (often absolutely boring drills)
Helped perfect my performance; I do so want to dazzle you with my skill
Let me set you into a position where I can see and hear you the most
I’ve arranged the room perfectly to suit us I’m not embarrassed to boast
I’ll start slow, the prelude is gentle and brief; I’ll be keyed up waiting for you!
Place your lips upon your flute, my violin under my chin as we usually do
The music stands are a comfortable height; the sheet music will be easy to view
As we play together the exotic Raccatta Sonata I wrote especially for two
We will make music as no other have me and you!
As you walk
without hesitation
without gratitude
Seemingly,
without fear
As you walk
back to your place
of power and privilege
You still
require her to smile
As you walk
past the place of humanity,
brokenness
shrill echoes
of shattered glass
You still
require her to smile
As you walk
back to your place
of power and privilege
Her silent screams
and muffled dreams
are washed away
By the vault of indifference
that slams behind you
she is resigned
to a slow sifting
hourglass of isolation
Yet
you still
require
her to smile
She wearies
of the preparation
of submission
a mask that suffocates,
her pretense of desire
But she is
the
entertainment,
the
meal,
the
pleasure,
the plaything
Her belly aches of
raw foie gras, figs
and Bergerac
It no longer matters
that her soul
is absent from this feast
She gathers her body
stained and sweaty
from your momentary
remembrance of her
The violation
puddles
in quiet places
She submits
to a place
of self-loathing
She knows
that
this
is not
the last
of green men
that will require her to smile
They ply themselves to sculpting,
to fingernails and foie-gras,
those crafty cutters, carving, trimming.
Creations to delight the senses,
a dab of blush or sauce bearnaise,
a final glance, she's ready for the Features Ed.
Haute couture or haute cuisine
they'll grace a page
in any food or fashion magazine!