Best Parsley Poems
When it's soup season on Poetry Soup
Ingredients are in large selection
Creamy chicken soup is yummy
for both body and soul
it is simple to fix
Step one:
Joseph and John catch the chicken
it runs wild in the back garden
Step Two:
Robert and Richard pluck the feathers
and takes out the entrails
no one else would do this work so well
Step Three:
Wash your hands (I bet they smell)
Step Four:
Tania and Evelyn
fry the chicken in butter
together they sing a cheerful song
Step Five:
Ilene and Jan
is responsible for
leek, bell peppers
and carrot in the pot
their tools are humor
not razor sharp knifes
Step Six:
Hiya who is "chicken" in the group
adds boiling broth stock
Linda tells her to be cautious
kitchen window has been misted by steam
Step Seven:
Let the soup boil for ten to fifteen minutes
Sara says to her husband Bill who stirs the pot
Step Eight: Crème Fraîche
Paula and Heidi adds an extra dash
and taste a little with a wooden spoon
Step Nine:
Victor chops some fresh parsley
he feels refreshed and hungry today
Step ten: Pick your place around the table
Welcome to Soup - Enjoy
Why do they call it 'tourist season'
If you're not allowed to shoot 'em
Seems like a great opportunity
To end the over crowding problem
If a house fly loses both of its wings
Would we have to call them 'walks'
Is it possible to have a civil war
Of course not that's just silly talk
Any idea what the best thing was
That came before sliced bread
If a turtle somehow loses its shell
Is it homeless, naked, or dead
I find this saying quite unnerving
“Practice” is what doctors do
And braille on drive-through windows
Find that kinda scary don't you
If a parsley farmer ever gets sued
Can they legally garnish his wages
Well that's enough of this silly talk
At times I go through these phases
© Jack Ellison 2012
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.
How absolutely delightful to watch the sun sets
And all around above the sea and the beach
Some famous painter swipe everywhere in gold.
Soon night will fall and all-around bars will light up.
We walk hand in hand along the jam-packed beach,
Until we stop at the farthest end of the sandy nook.
There soft waves grace our feet and the summer heat
Relieves us delicately as we admire the tranquil bay.
Time passes in tranquility disturbed by the occasional kiss.
Sailing boats sail the Amalfi Bay, flags flying the Italian flags.
Soon we depart to Antonio, famous seafood chef.
We will sample spaghetti, with fresh clams sautéed
In olive oil, garlic, white wine, and parsley. As for wine,
Only the best: "Fiorduva": considered the Amalfi crown jewel.
Satiated from our delicious food, we return to our hotel
Accompanied by the melodious songs animating
From the thrill of a hundred guitars.
Anytime I feel hungry instead of eating a full meal I eat Honey.
The best part is that Honey doesn't mind, she's a sweetheart.
Maurice Yvonne
20~11~2014
The Refrain
I bought a box of Animal Crackers.
On the box it said
"Do not eat if seal is broken"
So I opened the box.
I looked inside and sure enough...
The Encore
If a parsley farmer doesn't pay his bills
can they garnish his wages?
Closing Remarks
There is a new virus. It has no symptoms and no consequences.
I am terrified. It turns out I have been diagnosed with it.
I am not a hypochondriac. I really do have it. If you
don't believe me ask my Gynecologist!
Maurice Yvonne
11~20~2014
When Octopus came round for tea,
it was a tricky time for me.
Not knowing what he’d like to eat.
I wondered... savoury or sweet?
I borrowed spoons from Mrs Deggs
next door, for each of his eight legs.
I ‘d heard, if cross, black ink he’d squirt.
I worried... main course or dessert?
I know you’re thinking ‘do the two’
but he doesn’t eat like me and you,
his tummy’s really very small,
he can’t eat very much at all.
I fast flicked through my cooking books
and gave the clock face frequent looks,
but soon the door bell went ‘terrrinnggg’
Oh gosh! Hot pie or cold pudding?
‘Terrrinnggg, terrrinnggg’. Eight times it rang
and then he used each leg to bang
eight times upon my door. I rushed
to open it, and past he pushed.
“Please hurry up and let me in”
he squealed, and I thought, through the din,
‘He must be hungry for his food,
that’s why his manners are so rude’
But still I didn’t have clue
(a secret between me and you)
what I should feed the octopus.
I wished he ate like one of us.
I closed my eyes and made a wish,
Into my thoughts popped ‘Jelly fish!’
It sounded like the perfect meal,
much tastier than jellied eel.
Ooh, seafood with a fruity taste
and wobbly too. I cooked with haste,
and while I wondered what he’d think
I gave him sea water to drink.
He drank it through a straw, with ice.
He smiled and said “That’s rather nice,
but now I really need my dinner
before my legs get any thinner”
The Jelly Fish I boiled and froze
and put some parsley up its nose.
It was neither jelly nor a fish
but I served it on a silver dish
and asked before it passed his lips
“Do you want it with ice-cream or chips?”
He chose to have a bit of each,
both garnished with a slice of peach.
It all went down with one loud SLUURRRPPP
close followed by a great big BUUUURRRRPP
An episode of birds hovers beneath
a marmalade moon , just for a while,
as cotton-clouds sweep
the brushed limbs of a sky ready
to cradle the cloaks draping avian settlers;
those who like us ascend on hammocks
of dreams windblown by heady seasons
gliding through embroidered spring, the livid
lust in summer, on to a pious psalm come autumn,
soon... opal stalagmites of winter:
how abrupt and immediate this leaving!
Here we are, beyond shadows tasting
the song of evening walks soaring with
Aurora’s mist vanishing into a world
where permanence of cycles returns and repeats
the refrains from humming rivers growing frail,
until buds explode into leafy twirls
sweeter than the scent of parsley
on a fresh daylight…. icy, spicy, tangy.
Birds tweet, to swivel back into ancestral nests
much like us... wandering then yearning to kindle
the fire and oil of sweet home. Somehow,
seasons change… but our children’s dwellings
and god ‘s grace do not.
............
1/28/2016
For Cyndi Mac Millan's Contest
FIVE PROOF: FREE VERSE
THAT SHOWS IT AIN'T NO PROSE
......................
Literary devices: Assonance, Alliteration,
Imagery, Mood, Synesthesia
I still savor the thought of the zest that I caught
When you joined us that night after school.
Tara figured out why, since she’s so sage and sly;
She left early to show it was cool.
With her sis Tara-gon, Ginger sighed with a yawn,
“My, it’s late!” to clue in that nut-Meg.
“Would you look at the thyme!” came the reechoed chime,
With a wink from Corey-ander pal Peg.
Well, I felt like a god, though it seemed somewhat odd
That they all should jus’ curry, but hey,
When you gave me a smile as we two walked a while,
It dissolved my perplexed caraway.
In this teenagey bliss, I leaned in for a kiss,
Little knowing what I was against:
You demurred in a trice, “Though hot pepper is nice,
I insist that it’s parsley dispensed.”
With a panicky cast, I apologized fast
In my chili confusion and dread,
But I saw your eyes light, and we had a nice night
Holding hands at the cinnamon stead.
---
Credit where credit is due: I got the idea for this from Michael Wise's very original poem "A Spicy Story," posted here:
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/a_spicy_story_1100057
On this spring day- the sky is azure blue,
the creeping pink Phlox wants to cascade down;
pretty striped Sweet William seek to spread too,
in my Zen garden there is not a frown !
My herbs Rosemary and Parsley, Basil,
and Oregano whisper- water please;
we want to grow up strong and to dazzle,
oh, how we love swaying in the soft breeze !
My hanging pots hold twining lush green vines,
tangled emerald tendrils soon hang low;
they grow wild and never held to confines,
I give them shade and they give me no woe !
Bees come drifting and we never say shoo
on this spring day- the sky is azure blue !
____________________
May 07, 2022
Poetry/Orphan Sonnet/My Zen Garden
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1455-151-07
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Orphan Sonnet
sponsor, Emile Pinet, Judged 05/30/2022
Third Place
PoetrySoup …
I Was Heartily Welcomed… As I Sat At Your Table
By: Carol, Sara, Carolyn, Dane Anne, Moses, and Abel
Tim, Leon, John, Michael, Jim and Yoni
Deborah, Krista, Adeleke and Charlie
… James, The (Two) Ruben(s) and (The Quik-Composer) Raul
… and Many, Many More, I Love to Hear At Dinner-Call !
The PoetrySoup …
… It Has Member – Mushrooms
Chew and Chat Lunchrooms
Delectable Hors d'oeuvre
Every Ear-Full… Heard
Every Mouthful… Taste
Spoonful of Gourmet Grace
Voila’ Words, Don’t Waste
Simmer-Slow and Baste’
In Dug-up, Sweet Potatoes
Ripe Food for Thought Tomatoes
And Onions, That Will Make You Cry
Artichokes and Lemons that Squeeze – ‘til You Die
Garlic and Oregano Are Just Some Suggestions
And Here’s Some Mint… for Your Digestion
Parsley to Parley and Jive-Chives, Just Keep Stirring
But There’s No Clam Chowder, Shrimp, or Herring
A Dash of This… A Dash of That Seasoning
A Pinch of That and Sprinkle This Reasoning…
On The Side with the Mustard and Relish, so Fresh
Are the Cucumber-Contest and Radish Requests
And I Can’t Forgo the Tongue-in-Cheek Puns…
Your Laughter is Passed Around, like Hot-Buttered Buns !
… Poets … Are Proverbial Peas In The Pod
The Harvesters of Herbs-Heard, in The Garden of God
so... Salt and Pepper to Your Superb Style
Did You Say Cheese, Please ?... ( Full Mouth Smile !)
There’s Hot Chicken Broth, When You Are Cold
Everybody Knows… Its Good For The Soul
And All That’s On The Human Menu… It’s In There !
… Even A Mother’s … Tenderized Care
Like Campbell’s Brand… Its Umm… Umm… Good !
The Aspire – Asparagus, I Took… I Understood
So, PoetrySoup’s Cupboard is Never Bare
And There Ain’t No Bones, No Medium, Just Rare
And On The Star-Burner… Is The Savory Meat
So… Grab A Heartbeat-Bowl… and Bona Petit’…
Yes, Thank You, PoetrySoup
(You’re Up There with MoonBee’s FruitLoops !)
It Has Been A Pleasure Getting To Know You All
Thru Your Beautiful Expressions, Coming Straight
From Your Warm and Welcoming Hearts
God Bless You......
MoonBee
The winter snow and freeze killed everything
I planted in the spring,
Rhododendrons, roses, Hawaii hibiscus
And the bougainvillea orange king.
Parsley, sage and thyme are gone,
Peony and pansies too,
The daisies died and I still sigh
For the loss of primrose blue.
No more azaleas or alyssum,
Passionflower or peppermint,
The coleus did not last nor sassafras,
And goodbye to rosemary’s scent.
And all the leaves on the lemon tree
Look more like a weeping willow,
Sagging sadly as if begging madly
To finally let her go.
But Spring is looming ‘round the bend
And new seeds await good earth,
To come alive in sun-filled skies
And signify life’s worth.
As all things come, and all must go
In a whisp of place and time,
Like flowers and plants in a cosmic dance,
The seasons of life are Sublime.
© Terrell Martin, 01/27/2025
Charming Patterns
An eyelet wheel models medieval embroidery
Aromatic, ornamental garden ballet steps for lovers
Strolling in stately patterns of noble estate
Savory’s romance looping through lavender labyrinths
Lost in curves of sweet scented anise dreams
A pavel of peace in pungent fans of feathery dill
Set in soothing circles of demure comfort,
Inside squares of loyal rosemary tied with ribbons of sage
Trimmed with clarion harmony of marjoram’s gailland
And arches of drizzles leap as parsley festivity
Joyfully brushes the fingertips of rows in oregano courants
A center pistel radiates lines of tarragon in devotion
Dotted by French knots of thyme
With rosettes of mint scattered in diamonds about the maze
Virtuous embraces of shy courtly kisses
In basil’s blush of chain stitch purity
And to the almain of lutes and of lyres
To the harp strum, to the chaste flute,
A castle garden dances faithful fidelity
Telling the story of love’s longevity
In charming patterns.
10-6-21
Contest: Charming Patterns
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Embroidery stitches: eyelet wheel, loops, drizzles, pistel, French knot, rosettes, chain stitch
Medieval Instruments: clarion, lute, lyre, flute, harp
Elizabethan Dances: ballet, pavel, gailland, courant, almain
Knot gardens of herbs are based on the intricate embroidery patterns of the Elizabethan age.
EIGHT BEAUTIFUL LINES
Filled with peachy pleasure in parsley pastures
I eye eagle elegantly elevate in elongated flight
warriors wonder wisely about rising Sun
whispering wondrous worldly wishes across
abiding angelic appled air spun
elves and fairies pirouette in royal ribbons blue
with mystics maypoling as kittens mew
a mistletoe mist of fat figs feasting true !
groundsel
forget-me not
my pretty spurge
mere fools parsley
sowing thistles
a
dead nettle
leaving such
bitter cress
a scentless mayweed
in a field of pansy
O scarlet pimpernel
a dan-de-iion
black
as nightshade
a common poppy
speedwell
my wild radish my fat hen
penny crest
in a sheperd's
purse
No Moussaka Tonight
Eggplant
is scant
Too Much Coleslaw
Cabbage
baggage
A Beggar’s Plea
Carrot?
Share it!
Trendy Veggie
Faddish
Radish
Trendy Veggie 2
Hepper
Pepper
A peppy Dancer
Pepper
Stepper
Baby Veggie
Onion
young one
Easy on the Garnish
Parsley
sparsley
A Leafy Session
Lettuce
met us
Seeds for Teeth
Dental
fennel
Now It’s a Party
Turnip
Turn-up