Best Prawns Poems
We strolled hand in hand
along Naples cobbled streets
beneath nearly blown- off linen sheets
Hanging from old balconies.
Street musicians played their bagpipes
ciaramellas,mandarins
In this southern bustling city
where the crowd will never sleep.
Blessed by silent moments
in Duomo di San Gennaro
I knelt down on my knees
Prayed for health ,and for serenity
For strangers ,and for loved ones
who shared different beliefs.
At Da Michele pizza parlour
We shared pizza bites and laughter
Savoured different flavours, of pepperoni
King prawns and provolone cheese.
Fresh oregano filled the air with its pungent smell
on that once upon a summer breeze.
At Sunset,far from gothic abbeys we wandered
Through alleys walked,our lips touched and kissed
Next to lit antique street lamps
Our vacant eyes met,these hearts have been blissed.
A romantic getaway to Naples
New memories in making
Close to Michelangelo's masterpiece
Unveiling virtues and sins,without verdict
Creating on life's canvas, our oil -painting.
Sitting at the edge of the city
Facing the mediterranean sea
Its there where I see you
Arms wrapped around me
Gazing in distance
Watching the last boat
set sails to be free.
Tonight, like many other nights
Its there where I hear you
Soft whisper of a thousand melodies
Tonight, It is there where I'll find you
Oncemore in my dreams.
Categories:
prawns, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
For once this is not fiction
Can you change the past?
I yearn to,
But on condition I carry with me
All that I have learned.
But you cannot change the past.
Still, I yearn for a bottle
Of chilled white wine Chablis.
Delicious on the palette,
Exquisite with rice and plenty of seafood.
The aroma of truffled sauce, the razor clams,
The pinkish prawns and open-wide oysters.
It is my delight.
I yearn for silence, away from rife,
The sounds of cars crashing, the boom of guns,
The killing of innocent people.
I yearn for peace.
I yearn to travel as I used,
For I visited half of Europe
And ventured to Brazil.
Now I’m Island bound and
Travel is no more.
You look good, they say.
But only on the outside.
I yearn for health inside:
The small inoperable cancer,
Kept in check by implants
With bouts of depression
That twice I deleted my poetry site.
Good thing I kept copies of my writings.
But my heart is weak after
Twenty years when I had a triple bypass.
My right eye has the beginning of a cataract,
My left knee needs a replacement
But with Diabetes 2 no operation can be done.
I yearn for my wife.
Seven years I still grieve for her.
She’s in Heaven now.
I yearn for my beloved Lord.
The creator of all.
I pray He takes care of me.
May He grant me a happy death.
And may the Rose of Sharon help me too.
Categories:
prawns, me,
Form:
Free verse
[Written during a twelve hour power cut caused by
Storms this past winter]
The storm that arrived in the depth of the night
Got even worse with the new morning’s light
Although I presumed that they’d already know
I contacted the electricity co
I asked if they knew the whole town had gone dark
Are you fixing it or just having a lark
I think that I upset the man on the phone
He told me to wear a coat inside my home
Just listen to me, I said to the geezer
I think you should know I’ve got a dead freezer
Without any leccy it’s gonna defrost
And all of its contents are gonna be lost
We’re trying to sort it all out said the man
But I would suggest that you eat what you can
So I checked the freezer to sort out my tea
My cooker is gas which is lucky for me
I made my selection from my warming freezer
Fish fingers and chips… and ice cream and pizza
Sausages, drumsticks, a tasty rib-eye
Two rocket lollies, a steak and ale pie
Some prawns that I think have defrosted before
(I’m still gonna eat them because I’m not sure)
Some old sausage rolls from Christmas last year
A fisherman’s pie I’d forgotten was here
Another small pizza with awful fake cheese
An out of date bag full of freezer burned peas
Four quarter pounders and thinly sliced beans
I think I might loosen the belt of my jeans
Categories:
prawns, food,
Form:
Rhyme
Chef 's Winter dishes are simply delicious, not too much oil or cream.
Rich or plain, taste tested to perfection, tiny portions sometimes steamed
He starts the day with freshly squeezed orange juice,coffee and toast.
And embarks on a fitness journey along the seaside in Adelaide.
Today he is going to create a seafood bisque inspired by his walk.
This morning whilst walking along the beach he noticed the outgoing
Tide and outlet left a long groove with definite honeycombe indentations
snaking parallel to the shore for a distance near a giant swirly starfish.
From an aerial perspective it looked like a Christo dragon , hardened ripples
representing the scales and the sometimes swirling patterns here and there
where the giant Sea-dragon moved, slithered or shifted about in the sand .
The Sea-Dragon must have laid there for some time before he disappeared
as his scales were deeply impressed and clearly embossed in the firm sand.
A clear body of water flowed in the center of this outlet echoing the scales
shimmering and gleaming with sunlight smoothly on the groove's surface.
Upon seeing this ,Chef etched it in his memory and began to mentally gather
ingredients for his creation.How could he give his bisque the dragon flavour?
Grilling the whiting, prawns and scallops with butter laced with honey , chilli,
cardamon + crushed nuts , garlic, a dash of brandy.......
then adding chicken stock , lime , thyme ,cracked pepper , rock sea salt and
finally pureeing the lot with a splash of coconut milk.
Categories:
prawns, food, funny, mystery, on
Form:
Rhyme
Going bush
So I suppose if the world explodes
With war and misery
I will go bush,
Atom bombs will push
Me away from the great city
Return to the fiftys lifestyle
Box of matches an a pocketknife
To live off the land
Be home again
Mongst Rabbit n Roo
without strife
Eat old sheep,
a feed for a week
Shrimp bucket will get me some….(pale prawns)
Drop a line in the creek
Yellow belly I seek
Or Codfish you’d only need one……like Groper
When Codfish does strike
He can snap your line tight
And jerk it out of your hand
Big buggers out there
A hundred pound, rare
Yet a hard battle to land
Dreaming of the old riverbank
With the Coolibahs overhead
Old snake stay away
I’m not here to play
Brown Froggy is mine to keep
He’ll catch me a Jew
a Yellow belly too
Codfish will snap all that creeps
So into the coals
near me billy of tea
goes the fish well covered to cook
eat him bit later with sweet potato
then into me swag I’m no sook (wuss)
Don Johnson
Categories:
prawns, adventureme, old, me, old,
Form:
Rhyme
Afternoon tea at three, oh what a delight
The table was set - it was an incredible sight
Laden with sandwiches, cakes and tea
What a fantastic treat this was going to be
We tucked in with relish, each mouthful a treat
Deciding which delicious food we should eat
Sandwiches with beef, prawns and tuna too
So much choice my appetite grew and grew
I demolished four sandwiches and then licked my lips
Should I tackle the cakes or consider my hips
The scones with cream and strawberries caught my eye
Oh sod all the calories and wave the diet goodbye
Next came the cake could I resist the temptation
Coffee and walnut cake I had to sample this creation
Each mouthful was heaven oh the dieting can wait
Niarbyl café afternoon tea – sheer heaven on a plate!
Jan Allison
7th April 2014
We were treated to Afternoon Tea at the Niarbyl Cafe yesterday - I wrote this little poem as a thank you to our lovely friend
Categories:
prawns, food, humorous, thank you,
Form:
Rhyme
Dear fatherland
the cradle of races
you lie among the many
with great sight of differences
in this mulatto of western languages
Oh great triangle!
you rise and fall
like ocean tides
in landscape and beauty
in patois and culture
Tell me you're not corrupt
deny racial discrimination
country of peace
river of prawns, Africa in miniature
Cameroon.
Categories:
prawns, dedication
Form:
Free verse
Clyde's Fine Country Diner is located about a mile south of town.
If you're lookin' fer rib-stickin' grub, its the greatest place aroun'!
Clyde retired after cookin' fer twenty-two years in the U.S. Navy,
Servin' up gobs of SOS, more delicately known as biscuits 'n' gravy!
It ain't a fancy place, jes' some booths and a dozen tables er so,
Dominated by a friendly but saucy-tongued waitress named Ruby Flo.
Farmers in John Deere caps meet there fer breakfast ever' day.
The Baptist Ladies Aid Society meets each Tuesday noon to dine 'n' pray.
Country and Western blares from the juke box near the kitchen door.
Ain't no fancy carpet gracin' the place, jes' a squeakin' wooden floor.
The menu ain't changed much over the years but it is quite replete,
With homemade pies, toxic navy coffee plus plain good things to eat.
Sundays, he features fried chicken, peas and smashed pertaters,
Mondays, soup du jour and tossed salad with garden fresh termaters.
Tuesdays, Clyde offers Mexican with enchiladas and tacos in the shell
Wednesdays, the speciality is green chili soup, the hottest this side of hell!
Thursdays, you can enjoy all you can eat of macaroni and cheese.
Fridays, he features either chicken fried steak er a servin' of Chinese.
Saturdays, is his famous chef d'oeuvre, prawns and black angus steak!
It ain't a 5-star café but Clyde serves great grub, of that there's no mistake!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
prawns, food, humorous, , western,
Form:
Rhyme
baked beetroot in balsamic
carrots with cummin
sizzling prawns in mayonaise
lettuce and radishes
cold rasberryade
Olive oli
Press!
Categories:
prawns, food, seasons
Form:
Epulaeryu
She stays awake for hours, cutting Xs in the sprouts,
Then peels all the tatties, a ton or thereabouts,
Slicing and dicing parsnips is next up in the plan,
Chops up carrots and a swede, and put them in a pan,
Mixes up her sage and onion and stuffs it in the bird,
Along with some pork sausage meat that’s been pre-prepared,
She takes apart the oven, to fit the turkey in,
Hangs it up with bits of string, there’s no room in the tin,
Wraps sausages in bacon, in case they catch a chill,
But makes sure they‘re all cooked thoroughly, so the family won’t get ill,
Cooks the bird for hours, while the table’s being laid,
With all the finest crockery (and some of lower grade),
Makes space around the table, brings in extra chairs,
Adorns the place with candles and other Christmas wares,
Lays out a Christmas cracker in everybody’s place,
Complete with rather tacky joke, no doubt of a straight face,
And brings out all the condiments, the pickles and the sauce,
The salt and pepper, the mustard and radish known as “horse”,
Next she makes the starter, the simplest course by far,
A cocktail made up of prawns and a sauce out of a jar.
The family then all piles in, and argues over seats,
The children are already full of chocolates and treats,
Grandmother is mumbling, “Kids should be seen not heard”,
Meanwhile back in the kitchen Mum’s wrestling with the bird,
She tries to carve up slices, but ends up with turkey chunks,
While Dad and Gramps have become a pair of Christmas drunks,
They start an argument about which wine goes with the meat,
And restless children run around, not staying in their seat,
Mother tries to keep her calm and bravely soldiers on,
But the roasties are all blackened and the sprouts are over done,
Mum enters the dining room looking very puffed,
She throws the turkey down and shouts ,“There you go! Get stuffed!”
18th November 2012
Categories:
prawns, christmas, family, food, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
Eat me first, I am the entrée,
My pink, sleeping prawns
Lie in wait
Tempt my main course, dancing
As in summer buds, flowers of
Goujons, acrobats of love
Fire your lust, washed down with
Blood-red wine, stirring midst
Medallions of beef and more
Then leave the cloth, the dish, the
Opened summer wine, to merry moth’s
Dance around the candlelight and
So we’ll not forget this menu’s
List, this line of straining chariots,
These happy concubines who wait in
Line, as if by sentiment’s dessert;
Perch your ruby lips and tongue’s
Pink tip, and make a kiss on mine
26/10/15
Categories:
prawns, love, passion, romance,
Form:
Free verse
OK another adventure in the mad poet’s life,
This occurred just before I met Jane, my imaginary wife.
Jane’s brother, Glen had set me up with a blind date
He said the girl was a stunner, I could not wait
So dressed in me stripe trouser with me chequer tank top vest
I oiled me baldhead and let the old spice do the rest
Off I went down town to meet Deglet Noor (that was her name)
Glen said, “If you see her lips you’ll want to kiss them more and more.”
Then I saw her, and dam what a blind date
She was lumpy like custard with an all eye seeing Rottweiler that made me fearfully
hesitate.
She looked like a bulldog chewing on a bee
And the Rotter was eyeing me leg as if it wanted to hump me
I thought to myself, give the girl a meal
Then we call it a day and that was the deal
She chose this uptown place where rich people dined
A French restaurant with snails and frogs legs, you know the funny kind
I had a steak, she had prawns and a lobster too
And she persuaded me by force to drink champagne form her trainer shoe
When she ate poor lobster it was a terrible gore
I wish she could have taken a tip from Sir Robert Hinshaw
When we finished the waiter brought the bill and waited for me to pay
£1500 bloody pounds, my bowels almost gave way
I said to him “We not finished yet. Could we have Ice cream and coffee?”
And I said “Oh and don’t forget the mint toffee”
Me credit card was on strike and would not handle that amount
It was time for me to exit time to get out
So when the waiter had gone I told her I was going to the loo
Said to her I needed to off load a number two
In a terrible panic I managed to squeeze through the window, hitting the deck
I punched the air shouting “Yes!” followed by an “Oh F-ck” and “What the Heck”
I had fallen into the kitchen and not outside you see
The head chef said “We built it this way to stop people like you stealing from me”
Five weeks on and 100000 dishes later,
If I stayed any longer I’m sure I would have been promoted to head waiter
Nevertheless, If you do come across Glen give me a shout
Tell him the mad poet is looking to blow his brains out
**For my sweet Delysia Hendricks who asked me to write this poem**
**Deglet Noor is a date that you eat if you didn't know**
Categories:
prawns, funnyme, people, girl, me,
Form:
Rhyme
12 eggs a cracking
11 prawns a peeling
10 potatoes baking
9 cookies crumbling
8 cheery cherries
7 sweeten oranges
6 cheesy caulies
5 gooooooooolden loaves
4 turkeys roasting
3 puds a steaming
2 happy hams
brings 1 Christmas feast for my family....
Tracie Edwards
For P.ds 12 days of xmass contest
Please note we dont really have 4 turkeys lol :D
Categories:
prawns, christmas, food,
Form:
Free verse
The bride looked so lovely
All dressed up in lace,
The groom by her side
In His rightful place.
Food in abundance,
A mountain at least,
Guests by the hundreds
Flock to the feast.
French bread and garlic
Prawns in clay pots,
Sweetmeats and jellies
And ice cream for tots.
Chopsticks provided
For eating the rice,
For those who can’t work ‘em
Fingers suffice.
Old Uncle Albert
Says “waste is a sin”
So proceeds with a smile
More food to force in.
Due to his greed
He’s not feeling so bright
But continues to eat
Just out of spite.
Children are running
All over the shop
Some are so tired
They’re ready to drop
People are dancing
The music is loud
Everyone’s happy
What a great crowd
The sun is still shining
It has from the start
The bride and the groom
Prepare to depart
Into the limo
All cute coy and chaste
The groom bids the driver
“Drive on and make haste”
I’ve been to some weddings
This wasn’t the worst
I have to go now
Old Albert has burst.
September 2011
Categories:
prawns, food, funny, wedding, ,
Form:
Rhyme
My wrath, O Allah, I do so swear, is not the aftermath of my bad temper
It’s my long shout of forsaken patriotism
It’s my suffering for the cradle of our fathers
It’s a breath to revivify my slumbering
Countrymen
Who are dying of fears for the sake of peace
Uplifted with peace to be forever ruled by the prince
My wrath is not a desire to take revenge against the Man and his lazy tribe
It’s the unanswered cries of the hiding in the deep forest
It’s the massacre of my brothers before the 1984 slaughtering
It’s the sighs of the lake Wum, the constant rise, cholera
The drought plundering all the crops and the livestock
My wrath is not a contempt of the order and the widely idealized peace
It’s an attempt to restore justice and uproot the prince’s
trustees
It’s an attempt to live by our motto to build peace
in working and loving
It’s an attempt to give birth to Fonlons so as “to share
in moulding what should be”
And not fatally be eaten like prawns, O Shady Eone!
My wrath is patriotism, justice for all, the reversal of the tribe by the Republic
The really emergent republic
Categories:
prawns, change, history, patriotic, poverty,
Form: