Best Gherkin Poems
Once upon an ancient time,
in long gone languid days,
when distant misted myths bechanced
in lovely rhym'ed ways,
when time was so much freer,
less allotted to the minute,
‘twas then the mighty Big Mac got the gherkin in it.
The night was one made fit for gods,
and stars made white the sky,
and drunk, dylsexic old McDonald
sang Oh Eee, Oh Eee, I.
His greatest yet creation
sat on his barbie plate,
it was the mighty Big Mac with no inkling of its fate.
McDonald thought the pattie lacked
a certain...
Il ne savait pas.
He decided what he'd give it was this green thing from a jar.
But Big Mac cried out, ‘Hang about!
I like the way I am!
And I think that what I need the least is a prostate gland exam.'
McDonald growled, ‘Don't be a sook!
It's not gonna hurt a bit.
Just close your eyes and grit your teeth and keep loose where you sit.'
Big Mac firmly grasped his bun
and held it really tight,
he had Phallicvegiephobia and would resist with all his might.
But McDonald was too smart by far,
Big Mac was not his match,
the old bloke snuck up from behind to by surprise him catch.
Beneath an unsuspecting arm
he gave a little tickle,
the burger gave a little laugh and got a little pickle...
So the Big Mac we all know today
was born of subterfuge.
And although the gherkin in it aint really all that huge,
remember that it's only there
by the skullest of skullduggery,
and that bit we discard's the fruit
of midnight burger buggery.
I wondered if owls became depressed
And if they ever cry
Then instead of saying who
They just wondered why
If a man pulls pickles from a jar
At his place of work
Does he become a pickle plucker
Or a gherkin jerk
My marriage lasted forty years
It's been a lot of fun
The reason I'm still living is
My wife don't own a gun
When she calls me honey dew
I really get suspicious
Because it's honey dew the ironing
Or honey dew the dishes
When something needs fixing at my house
I do it right away
Why put off until tomorrow
What you can screw up today
Thanks to genetic research
The future's bright it shows
You'll be able to choose your children's ears
And even pick their nose.
I’m laughing at Ex boss, Tess Tickle
Once so anti marriage – how fickle
Dick Pickle she’d marry
Though she calls him Larry
Now married she’s Tess Tickle-Pickle
On baby making Tess ain’t shirkin’
They’re bonking and grinding and jerkin’
And soon, sure enough
Tess got up the duff
The baby boy they’ve christened Gherkin!
PICKLE PARTY
The pickles were having a party
In the superstore one night.
The manager was home in bed
So they knew they were all right.
It was a singles party,
Each looking for a mate.
Someone to share a jar with
Until their sell-by date.
One lady pickled pepper
Immediately clicked.
She was the pickled pepper
Peter Piper picked
A young girl in the corner
Was acting very silly
Under the influence of drink.
They called her ‘Pickled Lilli”
But the drunkest one among them
Was a pickled gherkin.
He’d been at the bar all evening.
He must have drunk a firkin.
He had a well-used chat-up line,
But whatever it was he said,
It must have been a bit saucy
For the beetroot turned bright red.
An old pickle said to the DJ,
“Please turn the music down”
He was a pickled walnut,
Ancient, wrinkled and brown
A very sweet pickle called Olive
And an onion got on very well.
But although they felt an attraction,
It was doomed to fail, sad to tell
They say that opposites attract
But you have to draw the line.
She had been pickled in vinegar
And he had been pickled in brine.
Then all too soon it was over.
The party had come and gone.
They had to go home to their shelves.
The day shift was signing on.
24th August 2022
It's a Pickle Party poetry contest
Sponsor - Mystic Rose Rose
her quarter-pounder eyes
edged with charcoal
coaxed me inside.
her round succulent body
i savoured hungrily
as from table to table she rolled.
a small gherkin green nose
sat on lips of tomato sauce
surrounded by a cheesy smile.
as my fingers touched
i knew it was
burger love.
Oh, how I do love pickles
Especially those long, slim icicles
Whether Dill or Sweet Gherkin
From its jar I am jerkin'
Because as it goes down ~ it Tickles!
The London Gherkin gives no inspiration
As for the Auditorio de Tenerife by Calatrava
I can think of no other explanation
Except perhaps they shared too many bottles of Cava
The National Grand Theatre built by Paul Andreu
Built in Beijing China; and it looks just like a dome
I wonder what he was on, when he put the plans on show
It looks like a greenhouse- that we have here at home
Simmons Hall in Cambridge Massachusetts
Looks like a Lego prison gone wrong.
Did Steven Holl take some bets?
Or had he been on the bottle too long
Architecture of the contemporary kind
Does not inspire me
I am more an of old fashioned girl
And will accept a castle built just for me.
30 St Mary’s Axe is commonly known as the London Gherkin
All the Pickled produce gathered
At Branston Manor - if you please!
They entered via a staircase
Made of Jacob's Crackers and Cheese.
The Gherkin Girls and Chutney twins,
Who's names are Tom and Mango
Compete against the Beetroot Troupe
To make the taste buds Tango!
The Beetroot Troupe are not alone.
They have a wise old friend
Zingy Mr. Vinegar.
Always ready to defend.
The Silverskins call upon
The Shallots acapella choir
To pack a punchy added flavour
In a pitch that can't go higher.
The sour Grapes sulk in the corner.
They apparently should not have come.
Only Pickles were invited.
It was not open to everyone.
The Eggs got pickled with too much drink.
They thought it would be fun
To gatecrash the party
Just to confuse everyone!
It was an event to be remembered.
But alas, though sad to say
The party ended abruptly.
For they were consumed that very day!
Written 18th August 2022
For the, "It's A Pickle Party Contest"
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Pickelina Pickelina, cutest dill from Pasadena
she was hot, she was spicy with a crunch of very nicey
With a dash of cosher dill she was Duken's favorite thrill
was she gherkin was she Vlasic, what a bittersweet dill-emma !
Pickelina Pickelina middle name was Angelina
thought she was a daffo-dill all decked up in lace and frill
Relished moments of pure taste, only needed one to baste
Yes she was the sweetest dill, always dressed to over kill.
It is not a mind altering parade of substances that questions a rotting ship. It is not a threefold tankard buried in an Abyssinia besom of beads for only a technological advance actually shows such a word and such a word is neither an acute angle or a plastic xylophone. Booming bionic bulls bringing bacon backgrounds. An acute angle is not a cute horsefly. And an obtuse angle is too stubborn. Quite a threshold to compete against especially in strong winds but then elephants, giraffes, alligators, and snoring boars often cross river pathways. Don't they? Well really a soup and a spoon? Why not use a fork? A fork is very proud of it's prongs and who would prong an atomic carrot on a battalion of hereditary deeds? Surely if a pickled onion can sing a beautiful aria then a galloping gherkin can play bongos in a classical rendition. The plant thought it was a train but in fact it was the serene sound of a pig snoring. Ten loaves of bread, a silky cape, an atomic pistol and a shroud of golden oranges but not in a halo. Ok then. On a beach. Hahahahaha pushing pineapples over a cliff in a stormy teacup is akin to a lemon in a mud bath. Let it not be said that all potatoes are a wandering timeline. And standing as a tree on a motorway is about as hazardous as learning to play golf in a bathroom. And now the trees are waving. Good. Xxxxx incontinence Z z Z Z
A back flipping coconut is very very amusing at a ball but ball pits are moving around so one must surely wear wellingtons or a pair of anglers' waders when jumping across such multicoloured curves. Harp no more sang to a lute at a castle. For harp was too busy restringing and replacing for often strands should be sitting in a neat formation so never whirl around whilst sewing, knitting or braiding a horse's tail. Especially not in a typhoon for a typhoon is often a tycoon and tycoons are really toucans in very smart hats. Now audiences singing to nova scotia are often in great voice. But voicemail from a silky seagull is neither rushed, accented or delivered at the correct time. Drink no cup of mildewed coffee omitting from the horns of a bull. Horns of bull should only be shown on humpback whale variety shows. But not in showers of rain. Trains taking turns tinkling tantrums. And a wide variety of beaks, snouts, and hooves meet with many paws but not in a zoo or a circus for these places are now closed due to a booooom from a book. State no stench and stick no stink. It is the mass availability of a wire that moves the grid into a pineapple formation. Wow. Legs arms and torsos make fairytales in a large luxury room but the rhombic pentameter is waiting in the wings in the theatre to perform a dance. 656 eagles plus 800, 000, 000, bison arriving with a horse, a rhinoceros and a little pickled gherkin in a suit. Fascia fashions fantastic fake frogs. But a pill on a hill is not a pillow nor a pillowcase nor is it a ten thousand kilometre pillar. Rather great to watch the auras of apples spinning over the grass being chased by the caterpillars and huge crowd of pigs. Erogenous earwigs eating everything. Haha pile the plates and dance. Haha silicon tango opera. Hahaha left wing tight wing flap flap flap. Cluck. And a click in a clock is a clock tower chatting. Xxxxx institutionalism Z Z Z Z
What a fine party, we’ll swim in the brine
Let’s invite Mr. Kosher Dill and Mrs. Gherkin,
I’m sure we’ll make memories to enshrine
If Mr. Sweet wears his favorite wool firkin!
We must invite the Bread-and-Butter twins,
Mr. Crinkle Chips must surely be on our list
Refrigerator pickles with a Vlasic label wins
Prizes we shall offer, Miss Lime will insist.
For refreshments we can serve Mr. Kool-Aids
Since nobody will think of them as a pickle
If they aren’t in a jar and are home-made,
Our pickle party will be fun in the shade!
Written August 13, 2022
submitted to "It's a Pickle Party" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
A for Ahira not an Apple was found at the tree of life, Sustain ate Manna;
B for Band bananas Black beans in stride;
C for Corianders and Cocoyam's flown in from the skies, sustain ate Manna;
D for Dalkon with Dandelions cries;
E for Endive in the wilderness eat, eaten with flies, sustain ate Manna;
F for Fat hen-Fiddlehead Fern, all for this I learn many people died;
G for Gherkin no more starving infants sustain ate Manna;
Sustain ate Manna;
H for Horseradish rode in from the North East;
Got a stomach-ache, must been somethin' that I didn't eat that I didn't ate.
Got no food for my family, must pray and stop being sadly...
God rains down something, I sigh, well, well, I said God rains down something...
rain down a chocolate cake or pumpkin pie;
Sustain ate manna this I got to have, yowl. . .
I for Ice plant, I spent on hot soup, sustain ate Manna
J for Jerusalem Artichokes rolls of Rice, this would b so nice so very nice
K for Kale is coming growing in bunches, sustain ate Manna;
L for Lemon grass and lentils and tree bark crunches;
M for Marjoram just to be brewed, sustain ate Manna;
N for Nettles and nuts just a few;
O for Okra and Olives oh, my, my, Oh! sustain ate Manna, sustain ate Manna;
P for peppers and palm hearts warms my inter soul;
Got a stomachs ache, must been something I didn't eat;
God no food for my family, must pray and stop being sadly;
God rains down something I sigh, a chocolate cake or pumpkin pie;
sustain ate manna this I got to have now. . .
Q for Quince and mince and mash and chew, sustain ate Manna;
R for Radish the raisins just a few;
S for Slokes are jokes no one eats them, sustain ate Manna;
T for tomatoes to Matt Toe what's the different;
U for Ulluco you be hungry when you eat, sustain ate Manna;
V for Vidalia onion sometimes is sweet;
W for Watercress, what a mess, sustain ate Manna;
X for Xemenia too!, Comes from heavens kitchen;
Y for Yamaimo and yams is the plan, sustain ate Manna;
Z for Zucchini for every woman, girl, boy and man;
Sustain ate Manna
Author's note: I dug deep into my archives chest to retrieve this piece of utter nonsense, dear readers, because I thought it would make a good submission for April Fool's Day...
Freckles!
People who have freckles
Are sometimes people who eat pickles.
But pickles have bumps,
They don't have freckles.
Bumpy people are often fickle
And won't eat pickles without freckles.
A squash with speckles might be pickled,
But is no sub for freckled pickles,
Which is being pickle fickle.
If someone earned a nickel
For every pickle with a freckle,
He'd have to gorge on hordes of pickles
Just to make one lousy nickel.
Now I'm in a poetic pickle
And my brain is overworkin',
So freckled people don't be fickle,
Avoid the sun and eat a gherkin.
Autor's PS: This piece, as I recall, started out to be a parody of the song "People" from the musical "Funny Girl", but quickly took a very sharp left turn and turned out quite differently.
Reasons for drinking, there are quite a few,
some people might take a different point of view,
But if when alive, you abstain, I suggest,
That drinking when dead, is unlikely at best.
For those of us, who like to drink,
There is no harm in moderation,
A glass of wine is nice I think,
And aids contentment in our nation.
A philosopher, who only drank water,
condemned out of hand the demon drink,
He lectured both, his son and daughter,
On the dangers of drinking, gin that was pink.
My father once said, after quaffing a pint,
misquoting Marx, with impish delight,
That work was the curse of the drinking classes,
Then ordered a refill for all of our glasses.
Descarte had the answer, if we think, then we are,
He drew his inspiration, from a pickled gherkin jar,
He also liked to drink, a glass of vin de local,
Noticing that wine and veg, were, never ever vocal.