Best Pesto Poems
I have a new lover, the best that I have had in a while; he satisfies my insatiable
appetite...
anytime ~
day
or
night;
He is Italian, and he brings his very own pesto sauce for me to spread...
all over his large body;
Oh ~ his meat...thick...tantalizing...so tasty, and his buns ~ oh, so warm...
If you are lonely some evening, and you need to be satisfied, one call and he is
soon there...ready...
just
for
you...
Of course, there is plenty if you are a sharing soul. Our initial meeting occurred
today when my daughter brought him home...
"Mom, I would like you to meet Quizno, the Ultimate Italian sub."
Quote By Poet "A good friend makes a plain meal extra special."
green is colorful
comes in many pretty shades
mint to deep forest
green beans in my soup
pesto on my warm bread slice
dessert mint ice cream
Vanesso a legjobbo
És megeszi az összes pesto
Most azt mondta: "menjünk"
Annak ellenére, hogy úgy érezte, olyan alacsony
Így evett néhány pesto
Így o lett az legjobbo
Valamennyi a resto
Vanesso is the besto
And eats all of the pesto
Now she said "lets go"
Eventhough she felt so low
So she ate some more pesto
So she became the besto
Of all of the resto
I am the queen of geography
I deserve a trophy
I am the best
better than the rest
this is why I am the queen
In Turkey I swim I skinny dip in the lake
eating some cake
because I am the queen
during my rule ,
I want to grow a forest of baobabs
for Leanne's dads
they call me vanesso
cause I am the besto
and I like pesto
sound
later peace out xoxoxoxoxox
*******Dedicated to JB and Lindaaaaa******
DINNER
Tonight we’ll dine
At a restaurant fine
.To order, we’ll start
With the French words,
Entrée and a la carte.
Hors d oeuvres, escargo,
Brei and dubonnet.
If those mean food,
Why don’t they say?
Foi gras and boeuf.
Grass-fed beef?
Next on the menu:
Pesto, calamari,
Vermicelli, tortellini.
Served with bianco, chianti,
Oh me!
Not to be out done,
The Greeks have their fun
With: gyros, mousaka,
Ouzo, and baklava.
Apparently it’s fashional
To serve food international.
Adding to the appeal
Of a well-prepared meal.
OK by me!
( Hum to the tune of "Get me to the Church on time!"
The old guy's getting married to a fat virgin,
Ding dong, the wedding hearse does shine!
That's what he gets for perving!
Get him to the morgue on time!
The old man's getting married to a fat virgin,
Ding dong, the wedding hearse does shine,
Both the coffins are ready,
The undertakers are steady,
Extra large for the fat groom and bride.
The old man's getting married to a fat virgin,
Ding dong, the wedding hearse does shine,
The bride is wearing her thongy,
His sons are bringing their bongies,
Get him to the morgue on time.
The old man's getting married to a fat virgin,
Ding dong, wedding hearse does shine,
The mob are bringing marijuana pesto,
The transvestites are saying hello,
They can be mothers of the bride.
The old man's marrying a fat virgin,
Yes, that's what you get for a'pervin,
The morticians are all ready,
The coffins are standing steady,
Get him to the morgue on time!
chili, pasta, steak,
fresh fruit salad, lemon cake,
gravy, gumbo, roast,
bacon, jelly, melba toast,
spicy pizza, stews,
juicy kiwis, taffy chews,
shish kabob, rolls, greens,
melon, pesto, pinto beans,
apple pie, mango,
guava, green mints, Oreos—
Heads bowed . . . Grace . . . Ready . . . Feast!
Date: December 19, 2017
Contest Title:Fem Bogstaver (Danish)
Sponsor: Rhoda Tripp
Cumuli
October 24, 2013 at 12:56pm
The contents of my head empty into my stomach
Where nonsense meets yesterday’s frozen Styrofoam spinach cheese pesto ravioli dinner
And a mix of fake pepperoni pizza from lunch
Chocolate topped pink and yellow striped butterscotch and vanilla flavored jelly beans
In plasticized wrappers
And fluorescent day-glow blue caffeinated high fructose sugar beverages
In clear polyethylene terephthalate containers
Pretty and poisonous pollutants ingested and partially digested
We are what we eat and what we throw away
And either way it all sinks to the lowest of places
I had a lofty idea once and spelled out the word, “c u m u l u s”, in my alphabet soup
“Cumuli” means, “heap”, or “pile”, in Latin
Root for the word, “accumulate”
This from a culture that also gives us the word, “vomitorium”, which I think appropriate
So I then gulped down the cloud word of canned hydrogenated processed letters
And chemically enhanced perfectly machine squared orange and green vegetables
Submerged in a reddish brown sodium infused steaming bath
I imagine my bowels are a colorful syrupy serpentine garbage train
Of half eaten scrambled letters, eggs, saturated fats and other gastronomical delights
Where some is vice versa absorbed
To eventually feed my mind again with an endless supply of junk food sludge debris
As the remainder rumbles off in an overlapping “S” shaped extrusion
And or a foregone voluminous towering land fill conclusion
Sometimes it’s all about voiding one hole and filling another
My hands are busy with today,
but my thoughts hang back
in the humid air of a deceptive
yesterday; to dinner and the jungle heat
congealed under umbrellas,
stained with the residue of city traffic,
too loud and too close for significant
atmosphere to stand any chance
in factoring urban style.
Paris, it wasn't, but the setting suggested
the delusional coolness of a sidewalk café.
The invisible sultriness that had seduced
the day forced rivulets of sweat
from even the chic-est brows tucked beneath
the shaded shadow of the backdropped skyscraper.
Heat had the upper hand, and with attitude,
flipped off the advancing breeze from the lake;
defeated, it proffered nothing more
than the stale breath of a probing lover.
The haricots verts were passable,
the whitefish with pesto-laced orzo -
commendable. The coffee? Ah, the coffee
was an invisible accompaniment
to a parody of authentic New York cheesecake.
It was a one sip, one bite affair, exchanged
for an iceless margarita in deference
to the science of cooling the body
with room temperature libations.
Jose winked from the glass
as I settled back in my chair
and began to paint a self portrait
for other people's minds.
It's what a poet does
on the avenue in Chicago,
in the heat, in July;
eat, drink and imagine
you're seen.
Pine nuts
May remind you
Of Pesto,
They rewind
Me to Rome.
Eternal blue skies
Soccer games
Lemon and fragola ice creams
The Vatican,
A city once called home.
My neighbor Giorgio
We met at the park
Initial sign language
Kicked the ball then till dark.
Skinny tall Pine trees
Peaked green Monte Mario hills
Surrounding fresh perfume,
Throughout historic stills.
Intrepid pastime
Was climbing
Slim trunks
Stealing trees pine cones,
Then eating pine nuts.
All empty hollow cones
Water colored each husk
Rainbow like painted,
Bringing sunshine
To Christmas dusk.
Memories brought back
With each little bite
Earthy tiny small pieces
Remembers me Rome
In each pine nut.
12/30/15
It's prime time
And the difference is seperated by a fine line
Hello
All these fellows
Softer than marshmallows
Your girl keeps trying to stick to me like velcro
And continues shaking that booty like jello
This is just a demo
In case you didn't get the memo
Not against it but am very unfamiliar with techno
And flamenco
At the expo
Met mo' girls wearing stilettos
Then left those premises with one around each elbow
Later on felt like Gordon Gecko
As I passed a petco and began to head home
Down the next road
Just like that, presto
A sudden new perspective after passing an old and withered meadow
I suddenly stopped to burn some endo
From Mendo
And then found a memento
Had lots of pasta with pesto
Started coolin' and felt pretty mellow
Until these fools started being yellow
Began a trek so
I could have my intellect grow
Inside and above areas known to have an echo
By: Dalton Ogletree
Of open ravioli
Pepperonata
Tomato & pepper stew
Pesto & goats cheese
Slow roasted garlic
Chianti
Smell!
For Terry Flood,* since you insist,
Here, in rhyme’s my shopping list:
Orange juice and Starbuck’s (iced,
Even though it’s overpriced),
Bagels, Swiss and muenster cheese,
Whitefish salad, frozen peas,
Broccoli and salad greens,
Carrots, berries, nectarines,
Melons, muffins, chocolate treats,
Licorice or gummy sweets,
Ice cream, cookies, corn chips, bread,
Hummus, pesto, peppers (red),
Eggs and butter, IPA’s,
Pasta meant for many days,
Chicken, mushrooms, sometimes meat –
Think that makes my list complete.
(For omissions, I’m to blame
Since rhyme, not shopping, was my aim!)
*a fellow poet on Poetry Soup
How do I eat thee? Let me count the ways:
sauced, buttered, plain,
sprinkled with Parmigiano Reggiano,
pesto, pancetta, bacon.
Rowdy rigatoni, flamboyant farfalle,
perky penne, funny fusilli, lovely linguini,
spunky spaghetti,
personality abounds.
An atavistic love affair
with semolina goodness
in all shapes, sizes
like my three Aunt Rosas.
Dear pasta,
I count on you
for your depression-lifting goodness,
accepting no impastas!
When you end up in hot water,
you come out better than before.
You’ve stuck with me
through thick and thin,
mostly thick around my hips.
Pasta al dente, the choice
of strong Italian women!
...
Dont be compelled to finish this
Line s are pretty words in a
Row an argument in Scottish
buy pesto with pesetas
leaning back into later
or did L eat R
would that make it a letterabal
or may be that's not literal following with
fissuraL
Abbey's mall is abysmal or IS abbey SMALL
anti...