Best Sausage Poems
**“Those that respect the law and love sausage should watch neither being made.” –
American Humorist/Author Mark Twain (real name Samuel Clemens)
Prestigious lawmaking bodies are comprised of solons*
Some find it hard to refrain from comparing them to cons
Few legislators know the ramifications of bills
And the way they’re rushed to passage can give the public chills
We don’t know what’s in bills or how they strip away our rights
And if we ask our lawmakers, they provide few insights
Piles of amendments are thrust hastily in political machines
Objections are made; no one successfully intervenes
“What’s that?” we ask later when we realize what has been done
(In Kennesaw, Georgia, all citizens MUST purchase guns)
Try to blend the conservative and liberal viewpoints
You’ll find the machine sputters with fat spewing from its joints
It’s like taking hunks of pork and grinding them into links
The process is messy and the outcome usually stinks
No matter! We are supposed to smile and just eat it up
Then we wash it all down with a sip from the lager cup
Pork barrel projects like Alaska’s “Bridge to Nowhere” confound
As on nebulous values of bills lawmakers expound
So beware if for common sense in these bills you forage
And remember old Mark Twain’s analogy to sausage
*Solons are members of any legislative or lawmaking body.
Bill's snowman was missing a snout
For carrots in shops had run out.
A sausage sufficed
But as it de-iced
Its purpose was cast into doubt!
30.01.21
Winter Snow Or Ice Limerick Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania kitchin
I have to admit I’ve got a confession
About my unhealthy obsession
Other kids love pop stars with all their heart
For me it’s the Bristol Stool chart
There’s seven different types of poo
With pictures that give me a clue
to how long the poo’s been in my bowel
Poos that’s both fresh and some that’s foul
Each morning once I get out of bed
For breakfast I’ll have brown bread
The chart is a handy tool
To identify your type of stool
Now I’ve decided to tell
You about the different poos that smell
Cos it’s clear that the Bristol stool chart
Can also indicate your type of fart
Type 1 is as hard as a nut
And stays longest in the gut
Type 2 is a sausagy lump
That’s hard to squeeze out your rump
Then there’s types 3 and type 4
These are the poos I adore
These are the poos I prefer to make
A cracked sausage or smooth like a snake
Types 5 and 6 are easier to pass
Blobby or fluffy ones from your ass
Type 7 is the worst of all
It gushes like a waterfall
So now you’ve got all the scoop
On all the different types of poop
I love identifying my poo and type of fart
The Bristol Stool chart fills my heart
Silly Sally scoffed six succulent spicy sausages
Six succulent spicy sausages silly Sally scoffed
Silly Sally succumbed to sickness!
11~16~16
One cannot make an honest lawyer
Merely by an act of legislature
Work on his conscience
His lack of conscience
Is what makes him a lawyer.
And God said let there be Satan
So any blame not my concern
Satan said let be lawyers
So I have my own pleasures
To defend, lawyers are proper men.
================================
Third place winner
Contest : Lawyers Limeric by Carolyn Devenshire
Sausages, sausages, sausages,
An ongoing string,
Attached by a swirl and twirl,
Now there’s a thing,
One runs into the another,
How many do you want,
For that depends, we have
Long ones and short ones,
And fat ones and thin,
Where do you want me to begin?
We have Portuguese and Greek,
British, South African and German
I offered the last string
To someone unique,
Who wanted a tweak,
Asked if they were fresh and real,
She actually had a feel!
The German ones are spicy,
And the Portuguese pricey,
How much to you want to pay
Me today?
Edith replied, I have to say,
The decorative way
You hang your sausages
And mozzarella balls,
Make me giggle,
They must tickle
Your customer’s fancy,
What do you say Clancey?
Sausages remind me of days
In every year, three hundred
And sixty-five to be exact,
So comfortably compact,
One joined to the other,
Each one offering spice, color,
Taste and adventure,
They come and they go,
For everyone’s good cheer,
Which must be had every
Day of each year,
Life is but a dream,
Over in the wink of an eye,
Now Clancey,
With which sausage are you going
To tantalize me with, my dear?
ON BEING A SAUSAGE ROLL
Our other sausage acquaintances are real –
Flavoured, pigmented, heated
By boiling or frying :
They have their dignity, though they too be eated.
Our natural features, our inner glories,
Are pastry-coated and abide
In small bags from ye take-away,
All similar and eaten cold outside.
Or at best saucered and microwaved
With ketchup to add insults :
Not only hidden under pastry,
Yea also ‘neath red chemical lab results.
Never are we savoured like frankfurters
Or slowly chewed like wurst.
We are hurriedly snapped up like cakes and ale
By a fat eater ready to burst
In a line of crawling traffic,
Or in a static bus queue.
Inside an expanding waistline - Zwounds
Ye fat paunch - with no limit in view.
But soft! Life on the savoury pastry shelf
Is a production line existence - not a role.
Oh, to shuffle off this pastry coil -
I’m just another sausage roll.
.................................
We’re watching Saturday
Morning cookery
On TV; wide-eyed
Amateurs impressing
Mock-military judges
With parcels and fools
And baskets and coulis
And ganaches and jus.
My wife likes a recipe
And asks me to record
It for posterity and for dinner.
But I couldn’t care less
About eggs julienne
Because it’s coming up
To half past ten
And my head is screaming
“Run for the muffin!
Run for the muffin!”
Trouble was caused by love of sausage,
Summer sausage by strict definition,
Which is any sausage loved by masses
That can be kept without refrigeration.
Until a day when a man arrives
Walking into a home, his destination,
The sausage was waiting, calling
His name, how could he avoid the temptation?
He lost his vision of all other tasks
In a quest for this pork perfection.
Who is to say it wasn’t true love?
Who can resist the salty pig parts?
The slender casing surrounding the
Tube of leftover scraps, like hearts.
The exact ingredients are makers secrets,
No recipes, or measuring, or charts.
The love in the hands of the artist
Who takes the whole pig, and some parts.
Often mixed with beef or venison
In secret combinations, takes smarts.
The magic of putting it all together,
Mixing and cooking and chopping,
Is wasted on a young man’s greed,
Who never even did the shopping.
Lost in the quest for food and drink
Shoving food in, there’s no stopping.
Heartless abandon to those around
Staying for free, just flopping.
Sausage created a wall for him
Between starving and groc shopping.
Did he even taste the subtle tang
Of a creation with just the right fat?
Does he even know the time it took
To get the ingredients where they’re at?
Did he miss the testament to the hog,
The life of the pig for just that?
Does he even have a clue that all meat,
Fat, salt and herbs, must be so exact?
He couldn’t have wolfed down a log
Of chorizo, for it would be too hot.
He couldn’t have handled the extra
Garlic in one, he’d faint right on the spot.
The mustard seed, black pepper
And salt gave it just the right shot,
Of spices, then add in a grace
Of sugar, to make it the best he got.
Dried or smoked, he grunted right through
Gone in a whisper, it was not.
I used to be a sausage dog the floor was very close
I used to sniff it quite a lot I’d sniff it with my nose
and every time I did a poo they’d pick it how gross
they’d carry in a bag but why on Earth who knows
Humans think they're really clever but I don't think it's true
I mean why the Hell would you collect other peoples poo!
Leave my poo alone you wally it's not a gift for you,
I think they collect it because it's not something they do!!
Sausage or suya* ?
Sausage or suya ?Give me the latter;
The craft of maisuya* is grand
He cleans guts like a housesitter,
Weaves all like caterer’s fondant
Liver, kidney all in a meaty bag
Smokes same like german grill
Variety often delights my heart,
Give me suya,I wish to laugh.
Sausage or suya? Give me the latter;
Freshness is the soul of my taste;
Suya my peppermeat,how it warmness
Emmits spoilers out of my nusery canal;
It herbal spice breaks all within with ease,
Onion, garlic playing their soldiering roles;
Give me suya, sound health, for all I care.
Sausage or suya? Give me the latter;
I will rather befriend that which I trust
Than blend of other that is short in trust
Who metamorphses horse to cow in factory
And fixes a damsel to hail same on screen;
She bites and gets a chuckle; but what can ,
What can be more inviting than the aroma
Wafting in the air,diffuses from suya spot ?
Sausage or suya? Give me the latter;
Suya I know, what is sausage?
*Suya is barbecue, Maisuya is the seller
A Bo'sun in the pub was wheezing
From Wanda Mann's underhand teasing
An organist by trade
And accomplished milkmaid
Her fingers were quite busy squeezing
The Bo'sun recalled a sperm whale
That spouted away in a gale
Wanda knew how whales blow
And performed it just so
The Bo'sun would buy her more ale
The Bo'sun was never a sinner
And saw her a champion winner
He took her for wife
She took up her knife
And swallowed his sausage for dinner
The Bo'sun now lies underground
His widow is fooling around
Like an octopus
She will grab men thus
Explaining she's on the rebound
A widow must have food to eat
A sausage is filled up with meat
Just one dram of rum
And seamen will come
To give Wanda a cream-filled treat
But the Bo'sun's fate still lingers
Like Wanda's octopus fingers
'Tis said on her plate
She'd resuscitate
A galley of real humdingers
Now the Bo'sun's fate took a toll
On many a poor seaman's soul
When out on a date
Remember their fate
Keep your sausage out of the roll!
sausages mash and peas
Slowly climb the leaning tree and learn about leaves
Count them
Count the corners
The points
The colours
And when you have completed this climb back down but quickly this time
For this is a process of professionalism and professionalism is neither a professor picking potatoes and nor is it a pale portly peach in a pothole
A seasonal session is a lesson indeed
And when to amass such knowledge and gain such insight
Structures that know no surrounds are the enemy of the lines
Drawn out lines are a plan to cage
And taunt the chambers
And dwell in thin cabled networks of plasma
No controlled steam could grow a stem on a concrete path
And no wave could flow from a tap
And no free flowing river jet could burst out of a water spray
And in a jury clad case of fast measures it is best to be a frog
Leaping
At top speed
Especially when the case being heard is not a suitcase patterned open and shut one
It is a fact versus fiction
To whom should you place your beliefs then
Belly laughing buttoned buffoons
Bellowing
Oh and before the programme shuts it must be said that apples always follow pears into the food bags
For the comfort element
But oh no the screaming plasma of an electrified plant
But the kindness of the acacia berry is renowned for giving the electric a mild boot
Foreknown is not often a foregone conclusion and conclusions are neither a clinking chain nor are they a clapping chunk of pineapples in a picture window
So now all can see and smell the garden pollen, perhaps it is time for the just and dutiful cause of the lawnmower
To pull itself out from the dust and cobwebs and pull the grass out with such force that all windows break
Oh wow adjudicating ant is clapping wildly in fur surrounds
Z Formicidae Z at 40 round beetles kicking a stone into a puddle to 18 wild and infruiated beads of corn
Spicy sausage (food for thought!)
Carrots, onions, …chopped!
Tomatoes, bells, add to stock....
Peppered spice….(a lot!)
Oops!.... Almost forgot....!
Burned tongue!!!....It's....
HOT!!
Three cocktail sausages jumped out of a tin
Off they went in a Ferrari for a spin
The weather was perfect, the ride a breeze
Everything was going well, until one sausage began to sneeze
Sweat dripped down the sausage's skin
It fell out of the racing car and wished it were back in the tin
The big wheels of a jeep almost crushed it but the wind blew it away
And nobody ever found it until today