Best Gouda Poems
I went to a cheese and wine party on Saturday,
where huge platters of cheese were on display.
There was Gorgonzola and creamy white Brie,
I devoured huge chunks with a glass of Chablis.
Danish Blue, Mozzarella and Swiss Emmental,
of course I had to try a sample of them all!
I declined Edam and Gouda, I find them too waxy -
and the last time I ate them I was sick in the taxi!
Soft creamy Camembert and blue Roquefort,
went down a treat with a glass of vintage port.
Crumbly Cheshire and Cheddar were so divine,
and tasted heavenly with red Beaujolais wine.
I’d chomped through all of the Stinking Bishop,
our hostess had to restock the whole dish up!
Then I munched little cubes of Monterey Jack -
if my doctor saw me he’d have a heart attack!
When our host carried in a blue Stilton in a truckle,
I loosened a notch on my now straining belt buckle!
I admit blue cheese can smell like men's sweaty socks
but ripe Stilton and crackers, this cheese simply rocks!
Write a poem about Cheese Contest
Sponsored by Barry Stebbings
FICTION POEM FOR CONTEST
11/12/18
Categories:
gouda, food, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
there still are the chirps
in the nest
on a bleak winter tree
-- Souvenirs of Silence, Soman Gouda
Categories:
gouda, bird, december, winter,
Form:
Haiku
A Sharp Cheddar sun,
with a Swiss cheese moon.
A Blue cheese river flowing,
with sweet Romano fumes.
A Parmesan pathway,
with some String cheese logs.
To enjoy the Asiago butterflies,
and the Fontina frogs.
Gouda birds singing,
in the Mozzarella trees.
Havarti caterpillars climbing,
on the Pepper Jack leaves.
Aged Cheddar flowers,
with Fontina bees.
A cottage cheese mountain,
and a Lorraine Swiss breeze.
Here I will stay forever,
in this lovely land of cheese.
If you care to stop by,
bring some crackers please.
Dan Kearley: 1-27-16 :o)
Categories:
gouda, food, funny, humorous, smile,
Form:
Rhyme
A tomato and a potato lived in a fridge
And a bunch of other foods lived in their midst
Tomato and potato ruled this place
And all the foods lived in grace.
Of course until all the eggs were beaten
And fried and seasoned and served and eaten
For the eggs were royal guards
Until their shells were smashed into shards
But other than that life was pretty well
But one day the evil Yam cast a spell
A deadly disease that made you grow old,
It was called “The Terrible Mold”
All the bread started to turn white,
And most of the berries were missing a bite,
Mr. Swiss and his wife turned to darker blue,
And so did Cheddar and Gouda too!
Broccoli’s buds started falling down
And Tomato and Potato were nowhere to be found!
Lettuces leaves were coming down fast
And many spinaches lives were passed,
All the meats were freaking out
Like the fish, the Bass, and the fresh trout
And the steak, the chicken, and barbeque duck
But they had tried and tested their luck
They sat in their drawer from April to May
Trying to find out if they could save the day.
They acted as nurses, they acted as a friend
And surprisingly not many lives came to an end,
And when the meats finally saved the day,
They remember that Witch Yam had a price to pay
They defeated her and the rulers came back later
And it turned out they were in another refrigerator!
All the foods kicked them out of the place
And from that day on they lived in grace.
By-Ellie Wayland
Age-10 years
Categories:
gouda, food, kids,
Form:
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
Categories:
gouda, appreciation, christmas, food, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
My missus has a liking for those cheese and onion crisps,
the taste and the aroma she finds tricky to resist.
Yet oddly the real thing she simply will not eat
but me I find the real McCoy is just so hard to beat.
My favourite is Danish Blue but boy, she gives me hell
not just the weird appearance she cannot abide the smell.
You'd think that I could get away with something like a Gouda
but no, I find if anything her nagging just gets louder.
For Gorgonzola I am itching, but she just keeps right on bitchin'
and I get relegated along with the cats from out the kitchen.
Both our cats fancy some Edam, but she simply will not feed 'em
since the thought of touching it can make her shudder,
her distaste remains stolid over anything that's solid
if it started off in life inside an udder.
Things did come to a head half an hour before bed
my breath smelt of cheese, she was not impressed,
took a good swipe at my head, spilled my wine on me instead
you could say that I was now Chablis dressed.
I cannot understand, with my cheddar in my hand,
why she won't try it for once but anyhow,
I can still console myself as I put it on the shelf that she has one thing in common-
she's a cow.
For contest- Here's my whine now pass the cheese, sponsor Phillip Garcia
A slightly bruised Viv Wigley, with a plate of Camembert, August 2nd 2016
Categories:
gouda, food, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh god, not another slice of cheese!
Please,please my plea, No please.
But that lovely gouda,
that calls to me loudah.
Well! maybe a small slivah for peace,
Categories:
gouda, food, humorous, word play,
Form:
Limerick
Old Willy’s ice-box housed nothing but cheese.
Row after row of perfect pillars packed
with gouda cheese, bleu cheese, mascarpone cheese
and a bit of brie (though for cheddar lacked)
all sealed in air-tight capsules and aligned
in such a way that no available space
went to waste. When his health declined
and failed in 1616, his cheese faced
a litany of tests as physicians
marveled at how it seemed to resist
decay or time induced decomposition,
the results of which have since been published
and studied by goats like me who mock that cheese
while hypocritically writing poems like these.
11/19/2018
Categories:
gouda, appreciation, funny, poets,
Form:
Rhyme
I wonder what the moon would say
Should I invite him, down to play?
As he smiles from in the sky
Slowly winks his monthy eye
Stood at rainbow's pot of gold
I'd dine on moon cheese, I'd been told
A slice of Brie or Edam do,
A Tasty piece of Lunar Blue
To bounce and leap around the place
Would put a smile upon my face
Enjoy the lack of gravity
On every crest and cavity
I wonder what Moon would do?
Listen to a tune or two?
Beethoven, Strauss or Bach
Who sounds better in the dark?
Maybe watch cricket on the telly
Or winter games or Targa rally
I know, we could connect to Sky
To help him pass the hours by
Perhaps we'd roll him down the hill
Racing cheeses, what a thrill!
Wrapped up like Gouda all in red
With racing stripes around his head
Then feed him up on fish and chips
Ice cream cones with chocolate dips
Pineapple lumps for his sweet tooth
They're the best ain't that the truth?
When the sun began to sag
We'd send Moon home with doggy bag
Things to munch all through the night
To help him keep his shining bright
When morning comes we'd see him there
Still smiling down from in the air
Know inside that all was well
Quite some story, we could tell
GB
Categories:
gouda, moon,
Form:
Rhyme
At breakfast time, don’t give me eggs
Or pancakes or French toast;
Some coffee and a cheese-topped bagel
Is what I like most.
Gouda, Muenster, Edam, Swiss,
American or Brie;
Jarlsberg, Asiago, Jack –
They all work fine for me.
I’m not a fan of smelly ones,
And blue cheese I despise;
I guess I’m more pedestrian
And not so worldly-wise.
But still, I’d like to offer praise
To every type that pleases;
The world would be a sadder place
If it did not have cheeses.
Categories:
gouda, food,
Form:
Rhyme
my feelers feel a moldy cheese wheel
to the dented and bitten side, slapping
pushing, thumbing down, break a chunk
and bring close to my eyes to take
a look. there are my brothers, they
look hither and see my eight thousand
eyes gazing upon squirming fatness
in the festering fuzzy fungus sauce.
not fit to eat or to discard, i hold
my brothers' home and look to the wall,
then to the floor, and to the ceiling
so mottled and cream. just a little less
viscous than their own abode, and
smelling similar. they have no eyes
or ears, but an instinct to wiggle and
squirm. so alike are we, my brothers in
the curdled gouda.
i devoured the wheel whole, for i hungered,
and was sated
Categories:
gouda, insect,
Form:
Free verse
As I sit on my couch, all cosy and warm.
My head starts thinking of delicious, I'm torn.
I'm happy and content with all that is me.
But there is something missing.
Something I need to feel free.
I think of all that is going on in my life.
The good and the hardships.
All prepared by slice.
Some tasty, some sweet.
Some sour with spice.
There is still something missing,
Missing in my life.
So I sit in bliss and wonder some more.
What am I expecting to knock on my door.
I wish for nothing, but still want more
Life can be confusing and disturbing to all.
Surrounded by love, happiness and more.
What is the need, that's creating a flaw.
I want for nothing, my life is fulfilled.
What is this need, it's making me bleed.
I choose to forget for I am very confused.
I get of the couch, to lighten my mood.
On my walk down the passage
The kitchen calls to me
The fridge in particular, is singing to me.
I open the door and glare inside.
That moment of pause, I'm still thinking of my life.
I reach for the brightest thing that I see.
It's a big block of yellow, Gouda cheese.
I take it in hand and grab a knife.
And prepare myself to cut a slice.
I cut a slice as smooth as can be
And place it in my mouth, section a to b.
And a realization flows like never before
My thoughts of want are gone and no more.
It's funny how little things in our life
Make you feel like you are missing a slice.
Just reach in the fridge and cut some cheese
And be happy in life, take a deep breath
And breathe.
Categories:
gouda, desire,
Form:
Tail-rhyme
I was hoping to give you a Cheddar life
But it was never Gouda 'nough
Mozzarella I could never cheese you
But being provolone, it's tough
Categories:
gouda, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
I fell asleep on the bench
And let out a fart with such a stench
Blew a hole in my trouser
And smelt of garlic and Gouda
I had to wake up and retch
So off I went home to sleep
But the sleep was not all that deep
Due to the previous surprise
That watered my eyes
I lay there instead counting sheep.
Categories:
gouda, funny
Form:
Limerick
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)
Categories:
gouda, food, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme