Best Paprika Poems
What use is a poet,
if without a pen,
like a chef without
a sharp set of knives.
How bland is the soup,
without sincere ingredients.
Nourishing soul food needs
fresh free verses of vegetables,
sweet syllables of stock
and an alliteration of
parmesan, paprika or parsley.
It is pointless being mute,
when there is so much to say.
But too much salt in the soup,
can leave a bitter taste.
No pen scribes with the same garnish,
each pair of eyes focus differently.
Like they say,
too many grammar police,
can spoil the broth.
Too much pepper in
a poem will lead to sneezing.
Not all poets,
share the same beliefs.
Not all soup lovers,
enjoy chicken soup-
especially those with a
vegetarian vocabulary.
In the absence of judgement,
words becomes pure.
With the right ingredients,
the soup is a symphony of flavours.
Let the blood that flows
from your veins,
become the ink that
creates the perfect soup.
Categories:
paprika, analogy,
Form:
Free verse
Modesty,
In the valley of life I S.O.A.K
mirrored
in your reflection of feel
resistance rests in the wilderness
but I will not buy her tricks
I am not long for this world
neither am I short
as the mouths of babes call for their supper
I hold the pillars of the earth in each hand
one black, one white
I don't believe in paprika
overkill for one who has no taste
I live for the salt
and lick those painful wounds
I've been peppered by prejudice
and prefer a silence not yet heard
but in it there is a song
no birds can sing it
only a stranger in the ocean's call
she is not a siren or filled with deep red hair
she's smooth and soft as whispers
with a soul that can't compare
I will not lose her to the wind
nor the fire nor despair
I'll reach out to her dainty
and caress what she does fear
It's me who wounds the wonders
as mother cries at night
there's no living in the darkness
when happiness shines her light
Categories:
paprika, love,
Form:
Romanticism
Her chopsticks are at the ready.
Her hands are good and steady.
She likes to knit her noodles!
The task has just begun...
She starts off with a mango Welt
With pride, with zest, with tang.
It's a mesmerising watch
While the wiggling noodles hang.
Next. She's on to saucy Stocking Stitch.
Her garment sure does grow!
Knit one - Purl one - Knit two together
On each tasty row.
And this main course is called
" Knit Purl Chopstick Cha "
With a curry Cabled centre,
With sides of paprika Purl and Knit korma.
And as an extra taste-bud treat
BBQ Rib Raglan is on the menu.
Trust me! This kind of cuisine
Can't be found in any old venue!
From there on, the sleeves do drop
Like the soy sauce shaken a top.
Neatly Knitted are the Ribs.
Who voted for fish and chips?
To finish this fine course...
Knit - Slip - Knit - Pass Slip Stitch over.
This will make the button holes
For the Cadbury chocolate to melt all over.
And on completion, these knitted noodles
Slide straight on down her throat...
Before we've had a chance to prove her skill
This talent to others gloat!
Categories:
paprika, food, funny, nonsense, silly,
Form:
Rhyme
bursting hot bubbling like lava
oh most sacred shade of sacral chakra’s bloom
chrysanthemum petals burst
like fireworks on the fourth of July
and so none can deny the power of hue…
drape your flowing foreign grace
upon the bare chests of Buddhist monks
or arrive child like and gape toothed
in the fall of all hallows eve..
within the grasp of headless horseman
ripest richest sexual cue
portent of luck, oh holy hue
blended bliss of fire and sun
dreamer of dreams
paprika of the soul
none can deny the power of hue…
Categories:
paprika, allegory, imaginationpower,
Form:
Free verse
Is there a reason I love rhyme?
When critics now think it a crime:
"Rhymed poetry's not worth a dime,
It's as old-fashioned as ragtime,
Free verse poems are most sublime."
Yet I'm still rhyming all the time.
Is there a reason I love rhyme?
True rhymes are hills I love to climb!
I do enjoy free verse big-time,
but modern critics I'll not mime.
I don't endorse their paradigm,
and find it sour as a lime.
Is there a reason I love rhyme?
It's in my every cell's enzyme;
my sun, my rain, my every clime;
my mint, paprika, sage, and thyme;
my juggling act, my pantomime.
You ask, who's going to chime for rhyme?
I'm.
Categories:
paprika, poetry,
Form:
Monorhyme
Dedicated to Evelyn Judy Buehler. I love the joy
and color she brings to her poetry!
Pink puddle of petals, precious
underneath the parasol tree.
Celebrant-pear in bridal white —
pairs walk down the chapel aisle.
The vigor of a garden dressed —
up and down the rows, I’m restless.
Blossoms of bittersweet passion —
red and tangerine attraction.
Sunspree of yellow jonquils —
tiptoeing tiny-tim-like through them.
No mortal map or shovel can undermine
the undiscovered pearly gate of Eden.
Roses blush with tinted cheeks —
a suitor pinches a couple dozen.
Black-eye in the center of a coneflower —
red-tinged-xanthous Susan rays of Summer.
Precious and few, our foray of the perfect,
the most extensive, the coolest environment.
Golden buttermilk rose, with its ruffled petals —
pleasant scent neighboring the paprika yarrow.
What worth Eden — its treasures of rainbow showers,
scents that are mind boggling, its puddles of petals?
3/22/2021
Categories:
paprika, garden, imagery,
Form:
Verse
Two days ago I filled up my fridge ... now it is empty - I was expecting visit of my cousin, her husband and seven hungry children
From fairness, is food the only thing that makes life worth living?
No one has a genetic defect that causes the body to make fat out of the air ...
Refill my fridge :
One liter of milk
Two cartons of juice
(the one with apples, orange and carrots)
Butter for bread
and butter for baking
Strawberry jam (without sugar)
White cheese, low fat
Brown cheese ... I must have the mild variety
Six yogurt, with different flavors
Eggs
Vegetables: Broccoli - (rich in iron) - Carrots - (contains beta carotene)
Onions - (reduces cholesterol levels, in the blood)
Some paprika/ red, yellow, orange and green (lots of vitamin C)
... and potatoes
Pure ham, chicken or turkey slices
Lots of fruit
Sardines on box
Salmon
Tomatoes ... (antioxidants)
One cucumber ... smells so delicious
- - don't forget the bread ... hot and freshly baked ... jummy
(Sorry, there is no Coca-Cola or chocolate in my fridge)
04.08.2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
* A fictional poem
Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 - List
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
3rd place in the contest
Categories:
paprika, food, fun,
Form:
List
spawned in the summer of 1853
these sliced succulent deep fried wonders
resulted from the demands of a complaining customer
whose ******** led our man, a one,
mr. george crum
to do his best to satisfy the putz in question by
replacing the humdrum n’ waterlogged n’ sodden,
slithery,
pommes de terre
with
his
new
&
improved
(as thin as could possibly be imagined),
drenched in salt,
deep fried & sizzling,
immaculate conception.
and as you can imagine, mr. cornelius vanderbilt
(said unruly customer),
whom mr. crum felt would most assuredly send back the creation he just made,
again,
for his money back,
instead
had something of an ****** of the taste buds!
and so these
“saratoga chips”
came to be the next big thing---
satisfying lovers of starch, grease & salt, everywhere.
it didn’t take long for word to get to canada where they buried them things in
dill pickle,
ketchup,
jalapeño & cheddar,
salt n’ pepper,
roast chicken---or to
austria where they soak em’ in garlic, bulgaria, where paprika is the taste of the day—
& colombia boasts
mayonesa y limón,
egypt popularized the kebob & stuffed vine leave essence of zest,
you got oregano chips in greece
you got the overwhelming majority chomping down the tayto’s in ireland
whereas in
russia
it is caviar, crab and
shashlik
which make the people salivate.
regardless of where you are or what you are doing
you can get some kind of potato chip
yes,
you can suck down that sodium & grease
mmmmmmmm
i
myself
am currently in something of a sour cream n’ onion phase---
and i must say
i praise the day
that crum went back in the
kitchen
&
angrily
whipped up a batch of
yummyness
for
vandy
to
suck
down---
commencing
la revolución de patatas fritas.
Categories:
paprika, life
Form:
Free verse
Smooth white orbs, halved and emptied
Golden centers mashed
Mayo, pickle juice combined
Half orbs mounded high
Paprika adorned
Won't last long
Eat!
11/21/11
For Gwen and Tony's Thanksgiving Epulaeryu Contest
I am thankful for my salvation.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Categories:
paprika, food, thanksgiving, thanksgiving,
Form:
Epulaeryu
11/30/16
That girl is an over achiever
And avid reader
That girl is a real brainteaser
Yet a true pleaser
That girl had a golden retriever
And a house with multiple bird feeders
That girl yeah she's a high speeder
The music always coming out loud from the speaker
That girl follows her own procedure and not the leader
She's a good teacher
That girl is a talented weaver
And familiar with using beakers
That girl can cook off the meter
Perfect balance of being spicy or sweeter
That girl wasn't eager, she has a wise demeanor
And works where fields are greener
That girl is an excellent cleaner
And she has family that works for Stanley Steemer
That girl burns reefer
And she is quite the sleeper
That girl wears either
Flashy shoes or sneakers
That girl lives by a lot of trees that are cedar
And wild creatures
That girl likes coffee with creamer
And she is not a picky eater
That girl is more than a dreamer
She does it in person whether or not you believe her
That girl can have a heart colder than a freezer
If you ever try to deceive her
That girl I've met and seen her
That girl she a keeper
That girl is more nimble than a ballerina
And more athletic than Venus or Serena
She doesn't rely on having to need a
Visa
She's a diva
Mama Mia!
She can sing as beautiful as aaliyah
Know's how to cook a pizza and damn good fajita
Familiar with herbs and spices including paprika
It's like eureka!
By: Dalton Ogletree
Categories:
paprika, poetry, rap, word play,
Form:
Rhyme
Tortoise husband of salamander,
Childless couple for sorrowful years,
Their quest for child was beyond placation;
What is matrimony without fertility?
Child is gold,child is the crown on our heads,
Child is the retain wall that holds us to life.
So tortoise consulted goddess of fertility
Her divinity prescribed goddess soup for her:
Fresh tomato,fresh paprika,olive oil,curry ;
Chicken,cow liver ,young lamb flesh ,
Tomorrow tortoise must collect the soup.
The tortoise,the soup and the priest:
Take the soup to salamander for fruition,
Behold thou must not taste of it;
He collected the soup and headed home,
On his way home the soup was scenting,
His gluttony at last consumed his will.
In a blink of eye,his stomach swelled up,
The pain of edema hit him everywhere,
His eyes became red like cherry fruit;
What could I do? Regret took its place,
Restlessly tortoise returned to shrine.
At shrine he pleaded with goddess:
Ho priest I have come to beg,selah;
The soup you cooked for her,selah ;
You said I should not eat from it,selah;
The thicket on my path fell me down,selah;
My hand touched the ground and touched my mouth;
I looked at my stomach,it had become balloo;
Oh priest I have come to beg,selah.
Like thunder a voice spoke to him:
Words of goddess like arrow had left the bow,
Remember the pillar of salt in the days of Lot,
The wage of disobedience forever stands.
Categories:
paprika, children,
Form:
Verse
Along the regular hustle-bustle of my daily life's distraction
I know, I need to cook poetry soup - food of poets.
So I heat my pan of imagination on flames of inspiration
while I assort juicy words enriched with insightful meaning.
Then I pour inside my pan, my fluid stock of emotions
and add the words to simmer in it, to blend in properly.
While the words get poached in my lucid intuition,
I prepare my seasoning to enhance the flavor of my poetry soup.
Depends upon my mood and the way I want its impression,
whether to make it piquant or mild; searing hot or icy cold.
I add hot-red paprika of scorching temptation
that spices up the romantic soup and makes it very steamy.
Some sugar lumps of longing love and passion
can really turn up the love soup very sweet and lovely.
To make it tangy, I add scraped orange zest of social disruption
and vinegar of political corruption in my serious soup.
To make it touchy and sad, I add acrid herbs of bleak depression
and for funny soup, fresh mint leaves of humor is must.
I guess...no, I'm sure! I have shared all the information
about the special ingredients that I add in my poetry soup.
Finally, when I am done, I serve my soup bowl in fashion
garnished with some special characters and well formatted.
~*~ Profitez de ma recette de soupe ~*~
Date: 01/26/2017
Categories:
paprika, fun,
Form:
Free verse
In your loss
the blazing sun is paprika red
the sky turns pale blue in sadness
the Danube is flowing calm
absorbing anger of that bursting sun
Standing next to the wooden cascade
I sense an aura of your essence
You travelled place to place,
snowy mountain high to
shallow river bay
Here your journey ends
in an august summer day
in heart of Budapest
It's hard to consent
no more you will open the door
and merrily say
"How are you today?"
My eyes tear and heart pains
I want to cry out loud
but I fall short in breath
Hey wayfarer
now you are set free
Time to take a voyage to eternity,
and find peace forever
with divine grace
in a realm of time and space
We have your blessing
and that is our only solace.
Categories:
paprika, death, loss,
Form:
Free verse
paprika-stained tongue
passion of the Magyar —
sweet rose tingles tines
10/1/2018
Categories:
paprika, food,
Form:
Haiku
HERE COMES THE HUNGARIANS
A sign hangs like a star upon a building:
“HERE COME THE HUNGARIANS”
Delicious dishes that will please
The American and European palate.
My sisters on the right and my brother on the left,
Pressure cookers upon the stage.
Paprika to make you pretty, will make you blush.
And yes, plenty of sour cream.
Paprikash chicken with sour cream gravy is our specialty,
Served up with plentiful eggs and flour in buttered dumplings ,
With a side of dills or creamy cucumbers.
The four chefs will compete and make theirs the very best.
We will have to expand to sites stemming out from the South.
Our cousins will handle business in the Northeast, near Buffalo.
We already have family involved in flooring and carpentry
And one is the big boss of a well known restaurant.
We roll up our sleeves, the cookers ready – 1,2,3,4…check.
My sisters have a glint in their eyes whilst my brother plays innocent.
I have to tell the truth, one sister’s moved aside, for it is her spouse
Who mixes and pours. The pressure’s on. Dining room’s quiet –
Until the doors open at 5:00 p.m. sharp, and the crowd listens
For the familiar whistles, and the kitchen banter. Wine glasses
Clink over sparkling white tablecloths and they savor the smell
Of onion and chicken, beginning to thicken into browning gravy.
As the customers eat their savory meals, my dad plays
The Hungarian Czardas on his clarinet. And the satisfied
Tongues sway to the folksy dinner with oohs and ahhs.
This five star gem, okay I brag, will rise to historic fame!
2nd Place Winner
9/4/2016
My Imaginary Restaurant sponsored by Silent One
Categories:
paprika, food,
Form:
Free verse