Best Frying Poems
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrict the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds in red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey beckons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Categories:
frying, city, environment,
Form:
Quatrain
Categories:
frying, political,
Form:
Footle
Forget the mother hen's grief,
frying pan waiting
with egg, milk, onion, chilli,
flip it in the air----
chick's dream fly.....omelette
ready now,
yum!
© kashinath karmakar
=========================
By :kashinath karmakar (28th April 2011)
Contest:Fast food Epulaeryu
Sponsor:Gwendolen Rix
Categories:
frying, food
Form:
Epulaeryu
I think that it's fantastic
When my wife start's to cook,
She gets out all her pots and pans
And MY brand new cookery book.
She starts to peel some potatoes
Then she gets some liquid out.
As I look on in wonder,
At what it's all about.
She then chops up the potatoes
And drops them in the pan.
I don't know what she is doing,
After all, I'm just a man.
At last she shouts it's ready,
She says she's made my tea.
She's sat there eating a takeaway,
And it's a plate of chips for me.
Categories:
frying, food, funny love, thank
Form:
Rhyme
The woman with red rose vine
up her thighs and thine
showed me the way
and invited tryin,
did she wear rose perfume,too?
did I ask
she coyly husked umm yeah
Lol !it all depends what mood I'm in
I suppose, and there is no strict time code
well I must make yours....for sure.......
that vine is dancing in front of my eyes..
like an invite..
but I do make such moods
about at leisure and later
I'm afraid I can't because I'm spoken
she battered
persisted me
For eloquently is it............so
so the vine sways in winds that move against me......
lol !..hahahahahaha..reply backie..soon.......
Now I am gonna just look at that vine
and move away for like...
hard and good.........
thanks is all I can say
as I watch that vine sway away..
with my heart in wine..
I do whine..
and yeah do that do I
now and by and by
don't ya get me wrong..
I am practicing wooing......
if you were unspoken for
how would ya find that.....
honey......fingers in pie..yeah
you say friend you can be and I say
friends I have many
but one who will be lover
as well as caring nanny........
and frightfully hot fanny.....
I have none
They have many..they say choose any..
but god knows why I dote ya and ya alone..
the woman with vine and wine..........
Alas! you are not my sunshine......boohoo crying
helluva lotta......woo is frying!
she had her fingers in the pie!
Categories:
frying, lifewoman, me, rose,
Form:
Free verse
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrict the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds in red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey beckons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Categories:
frying, on writing and words,
Form:
Quatrain
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrict the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds in red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey beckons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Categories:
frying, city,
Form:
Quatrain
...inspired by 'Blues' by Joseph Brodsky
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrain the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds in red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey summons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Categories:
frying, writing,
Form:
Quatrain
...inspired by 'Blues' by Joseph Brodsky
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrain the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds its red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey summons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Categories:
frying, community, new york,
Form:
Quatrain
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrict the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds in red and gold,
freezing now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey beckons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Categories:
frying, writing,
Form:
Quatrain
Sizzling technology fried up dark and crisp like bacon
Not the way i like it with sunny side up eggs
Driving me mad with its peculiar nuances
And its changing ways, almost sinister
A cape of confusion too crisp on the outlying whites
The rooster crows, pounding its chest, so proud
But the defeated farmer runs to the barn to diminish the flames
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
Categories:
frying, angst,
Form:
Free verse
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrict the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds in red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey summons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Categories:
frying, on writing and words,
Form:
Quatrain
The
Turkey
That escaped
This thanksgiving
Wanting more living
Had fled in November
In hope he would remember
The route with the fastest vessel
To Britain where Christmas was special
Categories:
frying, christmas, thanksgiving,
Form:
Nonet
...inspired by 'Blues' by Joseph Brodsky
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrain the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds its red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey summons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Categories:
frying, dedication
Form:
Quatrain
The old lady
Had a frying pan
Ready to crack
Her old man
Out somewhere
He didn't belong
She hit him pretty hard
For she was strong
He turned and yelled
What did I do wrong
Now q migraine
With hangover, too
Still, why he got hit
He had no clue
He went to bed
Slept it off that night
Kept the old lady
Outta his sight
He'd wait til morning
To make it right
6/19/14
Categories:
frying, anger,
Form:
Rhyme