Best Rotisserie Poems
Eaten By The World
I tried to eat the world
but it caused me stomach pains
The bones of the lost
are all that remains
It was flavored with deceit
with a coating of sweet honey
The rotisserie went round and round
it was powered by big money
I drank from the rivers
as they began to flood
Fish no longer lived there
the waters turned to blood
The grain from the fields
had long ago blown away
The once fertile soil
had turned to dust and clay
Fruit from all the trees
lay rotting on the ground
Fists upon my chest
I began to pound
We once had a garden
a paradise on earth
With greed we all destroyed it
we didn’t understand it's worth
So I took another bite
trying to get my share
empty tasteless promises
with no nourishment there
I watched the World bite back
Earthquakes our demise
Hurricanes and fires
As ocean waters rise
People seemed surprised
The changes came so fast
Sooner rather than later
We became part of the past
A planet without humans
Skies now crystal blue
The world she survived
By eating me and you
Categories:
rotisserie, angst, anxiety, creation, scary,
Form:
Quatrain
Inside the Dishwasher everyone rushed!
Clinks, clanks, rattles, 'Ouches' and ' Ohs'!
"Would you pa--lease, settle down!" said Deb--They hushed.
"Now we can hear...let's just see how this goes."
Curious, Peter, looked out through a chinc,
And watched Vie and Chris-- approaching by twos.
They opened the door--and who do you think--
Standing there wearing her fine Jimmy Choos,
Ms Lost Sonnet!--spoke not a word--but winked.
Wilma Wine-Corkscrew, dressed in purple hues
Gave the 'all clear', and Peter spread the news.
"We're having a party Ms Sonnet, please,
Won't you join us? It's a magic party
For Peter", said Ruben Rotisserie.
Bob Blender poured her a drink--quite hardy.
Connie Candellabra was flaming bright
As Ms Sonnet swept past to the soft couch.
Carolyn Cookie Jar screamed with such fright,
"Quick! She's on fire!" Then Lost cried, "Ouch!"
"I'll save her", said Catie Collander. "Here!"
But the water leaked through her like a sieve.
Susan Spatula yelled, "Have no fear, dear!"
Yet, the fire held on and would not give--
Others tried, but could not stop the fire.
Then Peter said, "I wuw twy! I can do it!
With 'Awwy, I can fwy! Way up highya!
Togethwa, we can save Ms Wost Sonnet!
Awwy is my fwend. He tawks funny, too!
He's aw the way fwom Engwand and he is
My Supwa Cape! So I can fwy! It's twue!
No H's wive theaw--his name is wike this:
'Awwy--not Hawwy." So now, they all knew.
"Did I 'ear some bloke colling my name?"
"Yes! 'Awwy, me! We've Ms Sonnet to save!"
Harry Handtowel--AKA, Super Cape--fame
Was now on the neck of Peter the Brave!
With no hesitation quickly they flew,
Smothered the fire and saved just one shoe.
Brittle and weak, Lost needed more than glue...
"She needs magic! Oh! Paweeze! What can we do?"
"Peter...we only made enough for you".
Said Carol Crock-pot. They all cried, "Boo Hoo..."
"Then give huw my magic! That's what you do!"
So quickly they sprinkled the magic brew.
Ms Sonnet was greatful--then said, "Adieu".
"Peter, you've done well," said Anne Assam Tea,
"Let's all have a cup'a tea and you'll see...
"'Magic's believing in yourself, --frankly,
Do that--and you can do--anything!"
~©deborah burch
5/23/2012
*Special appearance by "Lost Sonnet", courtesey of David Williams...with much gratitude, thank you all for appearing ;)...Peter has many adventures to come...big hugs, love you all, cap'n deb
Categories:
rotisserie, allegory, faith, family, fantasy,
Form:
Personification
He lied about his industry
and cut me to the heart
She tried to be a mystery
please, I'm way too smart
He had a way with levity
I always had a smile
She made a mean rotisserie
And that I won't deny
He swore that she was history
Oh! was that quite the ploy
She bore the mark of misery
I lavished her with every toy
He loved me with an artistry
The pleasure was such joy
She held my dreams so vividly
I became a man from a boy
He stabbed me with such accuracy
I bled then, I bleed now
She effected so much trickery
I became the rabbit and the bow
I hate you James for the misery
When love was all but ours
I hate you Jane for the hypocrisy
For you foiled the shuttered glass
I love you James for eternity
You're mine, you're mine, you're mine!
I love you Jane till infinity
Forever, you are mine...
Categories:
rotisserie, anger, love, love hurts,
Form:
Rhyme
lord of the outdoors
ruler of the castle
king of the barbecue
wielding fork and spatula
like a maestro
snow rain or shine
surf and turf
burgers or hotdogs
rotisserie chicken
exotic kebobs
grilled colorful veggies
nontraditional desserts
take a bow
you’re a pro
submitted on June 26, 2018 for contest SUMMER COOKING sponsored by KIM RODRIGUES
Categories:
rotisserie, food, passion, pride, summer,
Form:
Free verse
Once a year we gather but this year will be quite different,
for fifty year’s my family has dinner at my grandparent’s home-
But last March my grandpa died and it just won’t be the same,
my poor grandma was left without her soulmate, lost and alone.
An unfortunate circumstance happened last month,
my grandma lost her balance, fell and broke her hip-
Doctor said surgery wasn’t an option, her heart too weak,
but she fought so hard and ended up living through it.
So, this year Thanksgiving Day will be celebrated in a hospital,
her children flying from all over the country to enjoy the holiday-
Grandchildren and great-grandchildren there to celebrate too,
and maybe we can all make her miss grandpa less in some way.
All she asked for was nothing but a plate of sweet potatoes,
my dear mother will use grandma’s secret Thanksgiving recipe-
I’m sure she would love some stuffing and cranberries,
along with my mother’s famous rotisserie turkey.
Once a year we gather but this year will be quite different,
no more Thanksgiving Day held at grandma’s homestead-
I’m sure it will be difficult for her to spend it without grandpa,
as she celebrates Thanksgiving Day in a hospital bed.
November 15, 2016
Categories:
rotisserie, thanksgiving day,
Form:
Quatrain
I tried to eat the world
But it caused me stomach pains
The bones of the lost are all that remains
It was flavored with deceit
With a coating of honey
The rotisserie went round and round
It was powered by money
I drank from the rivers
As they began to flood
Fish no longer lived there
The waters had turned to blood
The grain from the fields
Had long ago blown away
The once fertile soil
has turned to clay
Fruit from the trees
Lay rotting on the ground
Fists on my chest
I began to pound
We once had a garden
A paradise on earth
With our greed we destroyed it
We didn't understand it's worth
So I take another bite
Trying to get my share
Empty promises
With no nourishment there
The world bites back
Earthquakes our demise
Hurricanes and fires
The ocean waters rise
Just like the dinosaurs
We'll be extinct at last
Sooner than later
We will be part of the past
My Friend Robert Neufeld made a comment "Eat the world"
I liked it and asked if I could use it, this is the result.
Categories:
rotisserie, environment, eulogy,
Form:
Quatrain
Food 4 less, food co. Illinois
“Hello mayo”, yelled the yogurt, "it is yuletide!"
“Do you need organic greens and cheese by your side?”
Mayo replied“I will rather cruise with ketchup and… vanilla,”
yogurt asked… “ is vinaigrettes and veggie still in this villa?”
...Rotisserie chicken realized it was time… to roast
Salsas and spinach felt, “it’s time we left this colourful coast”
Packaged deli meats made mention of… "it’s Christmas time"
All condiment cried, “we want to stay some more… thyme! “
Categories:
rotisserie, art
Form:
Rhyme
What came first, the chicken or the egg?
The answer is still relatively unknown.
Which tastes better, the egg or the chicken?
It depends on the person, so really, who knows?
Little baby chickens taken from mother hens
Still wrapped in their little hardened cocoons,
Ignorant to the fact that they are about to die
Slaughtered by plastic forks and silver spoons.
Ol’ poor little unhatched chicken embryos
Bet you didn’t know you’d end up on my plate.
Your parents procreated and made such tasty treats.
Sorry lil’ chickies, you shouldn’t taste so great.
You are so multitalented, you come in many forms:
Hardboiled, poached, over easy, eggs benedict,
An egg salad, an omelet, or have you sunny side up,
Maybe even scrambled for something really quick.
You get me going for the day with you for breakfast;
Have you in the morning to provide my body fuel.
I apologize for eating you before you were able to live.
I sincerely don’t mean to be thoughtless and cruel.
If we should place the blame, it should go to your parents,
To that loud, cocky rooster and that little red hen.
Your taste pales in comparison to the both of them
Because I can eat them over and over and over again.
Sometimes they live long, sometimes they don’t.
Either way, they taste awesome on my plate.
Barbecued, grilled, fried, or on a stick
Boiled, rotisserie, roasted, or baked.
Either way, little chicken, you were born to die
And unfortunately, that is your earthly fate.
Take pleasure in the fact that you are enjoyed
And that my stomach is your final resting place.
Categories:
rotisserie, animals, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
Anti-social at its finest
I'm Johnny Unitas
Nobody’s highness
I hate drugs
I hate when people rely on highness
Yes weed heads turn into junkies
My crush when I was 16 is now a flunky
Lord please lay your grace on Paul and Chunky
Chopin chickens
Using Noonie's kitchen
No the chicken isn't baked, fried, or rotisserie
It's the chicken for the vixens
My brothers missing
To be real with you my brother died
Heroin left his brain fried
Heroin left me without an Erik
Oh he's in a better place
That response is generic
Do you see what I see?
Maybe you need a dosage of carrots
Thank god for friends Jade and Jalyn
They deserve a merit
Slangin chickens makes more money
Than my 2 jobs put together
Rashadtnae changed my view on heffers
I'm clutch but clever
I can't stand to lose another person to drugs
So ties will be severed
It's not whatever
I take it serious
The only way I can talk to my brother again
Is in spirit
Choppin chickens
Piano flippin
Everybody is either selling or doing drugs
But I wanna be different
21
21
I hate the sun
But I'm Angie's son
Rocky couldn't handle the responsibility of being a mom
So the state took her kids and let her run
Having my name in your mouth must be fun
Having my name in your mouth must be tasty entertainment
I love when people hate me
It’s anti-love so how could I hate it
Anti-social
21 forever
I am hopeful
Anywhere But Here
But Louisville is all know
I love the locals
I love Sharleeta
Love wouldn't love without hoes and cheaters
Lord Jesus this world
It's so drug ridden
Chop me up before I chop a chicken
Does it look like I'm playing?
Does it look like I'm kidddin?
Kidding around with heroin
Is how I lost my older sibling
Categories:
rotisserie, bereavement, brother, integrity, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse
Pan: Betel. Or quintessentially creole, made anew, pan-American music
Aloo: also Native American, the staff of life, versatile with curry
Naan: often translated roti, chapati, dhaalpuri, but not rotisserie
Dholak: the drums that doubled (not Doubles) as tassa, for Hosay
I : I, too, know bitter sugar, the syrupy blood of plantations
Tasted: Tasted the brotherhood of the boat, in another middle passage
Appointments: with pen. She is a better pendit than Claude McKay, CLR, VS ...
Categories:
rotisserie, 12th grade, allegory, america,
Form:
Acrostic
nature's way of saying
I love what you do with your tongue
mom used to lick her hanky
to clean my face I want to kill her
aided by my only allies
the hobo armies of doom
resulted in a sweet tooth with no answers
for the impenetrable slits of her eyes
the crowd was aghast
so I knew we hit the glass jaw
now back to the scheduled program
our man Swigheart Backhoe
reports from Flat, Nebraska
on the next Heads of Kings exhibit
down at the Crusader camp
I'm trying to figure out why sperm motility
hasn't created a master race yet
The best of millions fighting upstream like
Steelers' running back Don Quixote
over a million years and we still end up with
politicians with red putty noses that go honk
and readers of the Weekly World News
who renew their state of alarm by the minute
we're not one step closer to kingdom come for it
sperm motility then is as effective an indicator
of Darwinian uber selection
as a chicken on a rotisserie spit
is an indicator of barnyard vitality
you are alive right give yourself a pinch
let's use sperm science to give the 2nd raters
and mediocrities a chance at the brass ova
the modern science of magnification
can certainly arrange for a
shiftless layabout sperm
to take a poke at the moon
enough with this Mother Nature swill
put the couch potato, the hysteric
the derelict pants pissing wino sperm
up the beanpole and see who salutes
Mother Nature eats her young
and writes checks for the
Eugenics Foundation of Savannah, Africa
does God have someone
telling him what to think
so go for it you little tadpoles
get in there you little champions
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.site11.com/
Categories:
rotisserie, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
What kind of gobbledegulp,
holiday mess,
are you stuffing down your jaw giblets —
one day early ...
you human turkey
Cubicle farm-raised patsy policies
is what your top executive, tinfoil hat fool handlers
are serving you
lower oven rack pooping ninnies
Conspiracy stew —
Genetically modified organism mush squalls
are swimming thru
that grey matter inner tube drain,
you red meat clucky cheeks call a brain
Corporate pecking order is on the
menu packaging downsize
Gobble Raiders of the hallowed profit
sweet yam takeover Arc,
have split pea parceled your succulent
office promotion wish bone
Cooking the books ... green bean stringing
you dumb dinner table birds along
Cellular talk to the boss HR department chick,
if you don’t buttery believe little ol’ poultry me
Now don’t go getting cutlery stir crazy,
put that carving knife down, celery baste boy ...
Are you rooster gone out of your rotisserie mind?!
Coming at me with those carnivore eyes,
watch yourself, now
I heard thru the henpeck grapevine,
that it’s your neck on the chopping block
in two days merger time
Sho’ nuff on Black Friday,
it’s gobble dupe you
that gonna be
in the return merchandise soup line
Now ain’t that some bad Scroogie news ...
holiday tummy ache blues
It’s enough to make a cool, jive turkey like me
start dressing up fo’
yo’ pink slip fowl roast early retirement party
Categories:
rotisserie, character, humor, satire, word
Form:
Light Verse
my spirit is damaged
i breathe sorrow and sadness
my heart shattered in pieces
by the hammer of madness
short breaths trying to catch wind
its impossible catching something so thin
expansion! explosion a chest cavity with a heavy heart
like a dove, i love once until death do us part
rotating on the rotisserie of reality
hells fire summoned beckoning my fatality
i care not for the sun sets and sun ups
enough pain already i'm all done up
tired of tears cranky of crying
rush my life grant me the wish of dying
it's too much pain the memory of her face
how can i forget somthing that can't be replaced??????
Categories:
rotisserie, birth,
Form:
ABC
“Fortress”
‘Love
is stronger
than death
Belief
dwells in
the refuge
and the fortress …’
she said.
Back then,
true romance was lost
in the subterranean
frequency
poets, musicians, artists
were crucified publicly
for free thoughts on how
it all really was … meant to be
Life and
freedom
we were all lost
looking for the
reality in Life
and its true meaning
Books and lives burned
stories irretrievable
destroyed by all the me too’s
and you too’s,
who gallantly
turned,
averting their eyes
ignoring all the injustice,
charity their home first, this
no startling surprise
as the whole world turned
on its rotisserie, over well-done
shreds of self roasted soul
were coming greasily undone
still -
that one word
called us
all back in
into our dampening
what-if-dreams-were-not-dead
songs-to-be-sung,
stories-still-to-be-written, not hung
it continually
whispered its presence,
its promises incessant
called us all back in
some of us listened,
others of us considered
it all some kind of
freak-filled nonsense
None of us
truly understood it all
back then, grasped the reason
for our complex fall
until the last of the fires
burned out and
the call was still calling
all the burning brides in
its true revelation
its meaningful meaning
in the underrated time
of the great reckoning
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"Come to Life"/ Kanye West
https://youtu.be/7SsrVGHJvaA
fortress.
bride.
revelation.
LYRICS/ "Come to Life", Kanye West
https://genius.com/Kanye-west-come-to-life-lyrics
Categories:
rotisserie, humanity, i am,
Form:
Romanticism
Kitchen Is Open
A Hawaiian
sun blisters
fine grains of beached sand, unaware
to some assured wandering of tender
soles stumbled
swiftly altering
run judiciously
Prepared bodies
rotisserie spirals
evenly baked oily skins glistened among
beads of slippery sweats gliding loosely
suitably turning
perhaps sleepy
retreat reading
Dripping sunlight
rising sunbathers
the conclusive plunge followed by towel
rubdowns prompt a thorough cleanup by
everybody there
final examination
kitchen's closed.
2021 January 13
*1st Place*
Trinet
~~Joseph May
Categories:
rotisserie, beach, metaphor, sunshine,
Form:
Verse