Best Vindaloo Poems
TURK TATIL MIZAH
FOREST GUMP
Did you hear about old Forest Gump
Went up to do a parachute jump
Gave the rip cord a jerk
Found out it didn't work
Hit the ground with one hell of a thump...
JED
In the care home was an old boy called Jed
Always given some blue pills with his med
And every night
He didn't excite
But it stopped him from falling out of bed...
THE BAKER
There was a baker from Hemel Hempstead
His loaves were the best you've ever tasted
But what people didn't know
LSD was in the dough
After eating his bread they'd be wasted...
PETE
A meat factory owner called Pete
Won gold awards for his sausage meat
But his meat supply
And this is no lie
Was of meat from stray dogs off the street...
SANTA ( NOT FOR KIDS )
Santa Claus was out preparing his sled
Whilst all children were tucked up in bed
Put some presents at the back
Had a fatal heart attack
The elves rushed out but poor Santa was dead ...
THE SWIMMER
A young man went for a swim in the sea
Smelt a bad smell wondered what can it be
A woman shouted swim back
The sewer pipe has a crack
He then realised he was swimming in pee...
JOHN
John was heading off to hot sunny Spain
When he landed saw snow falling and rain
Went through immigration
Hit with realisation
At the airport he'd boarded the wrong plane...
SUZE
She was born in the city of Syracuse
Was a stripper with the stage name of Suze
Was ginormous on top
That made all men's jaws drop
For private shows she's the one men would choose...
FRED
Fred went out for a curry vindaloo
All okay till he bent down to his shoe
A sharp pain then some gas
He was sure it would pass
Too late, he never made it to the loo...
Written on 24th September 2019.
When I let one loose in the elevator
It wasn't a squeak but more of a roar
The night before I'd had a hot vindaloo
My guts were churning and out one flew.
Thankfully I was alone until floor three
Then six girls got in and stood by me
Guts churned again ; I tried to clench cheek
The door then closed and boy did it reek.
Written 1st August 2021.
For When I Let One Loose In The Elevator Poetry Contest.
Sponsored By Charles Messini.
I devoured a really hot curry
Then I dashed to the loo in a hurry
I filled the loo bowl
With sheets of bog roll
Fiery vindaloo sure made me scurry!
Fictional write
08~06~16
Midnight plus fifteen, the streets come alive,
Spilling tattooed mobs, teeming motion-blurred
From the bars, karate and kung-fu moves in car parks
And upon telephone kiosk phone books.
Kebabs stinking of extra onion, chilli and garlic sauce,
Soaking up beer and chasers, churning innards;
Chinese takeaway cartons slung in gutters,
Spraying noodles and rice with random artistry.
Spiralling fumes of vindaloo, popadums and naan
Swirl, snake, samba under neon rain;
CCTV super models, skirts no more than belts
Hiked under hips, distended abdomens drooping with gravity.
Navels pierced, studded, impaled with fake silver,
Flesh faintly turning green-tinged;
The high heeled stagger continues at ankle-breaking
Precariousness; teetering and stumbling, acrobatically drunk.
Swimming heads reject the motion sickness,
And vomit starts to rise, disgorged, spattering the wet paving
With rainbows of liquid colour abstraction,
Trickled with a gleeful pale amber stress incontinent stream.
It’s easy for a casual observer to plead for escape from
This planet of the apes, but have a heart – they’re young,
Free and doomed beyond all relative conception.
Why not be cool, have fun?
Your stand with your hand on your hip
I must presume, I will not get a tip
Yes, the soup is cold I know
But Gazpacho is meant to be so
The reason the curry is not “hot”
The four star Vindaloo it is not
I accept you don’t think us, first class
But you distinctly ordered Madras
The table looked like Vietnam
But you arrived early, Madam
Than the time that we have in our book
Here Madam, please take a look
It clearly states you are booked in at four
At half past three you walked through the door
So the table we failed to set
Do you comprehend our tete-a-tete
Miracles we do not create
It would have been ready, had you been late
So it leaves me to apologize
On behalf of the girls and the guys
Who are run off their feet in this sweat shop
Before your complaints get us all the "chop"
i dont feel well at all today
i think ive got the flu
the sweat is pouring out of me
like ive had a vindaloo
its minus three degrees outside
the frost is on the ground
but i am burning up and now
my head is spinning round
the pins and needles in my arm
are shooting down my side
and now im going dizzy
like im on a fairground ride
a crushing pain is in my chest
my breathings getting slack
i cant beleive i chose today
to have a heart attack
Vindaloo:
Running to & fro the loo...
for Andrea's Food Memories contest
Marmite, was somebody having a joke
And hot vindaloo is a pig in a poke
And serve me up soup that is runny and thin
It’s soup down the sink and the tin in the bin
I kinda like eggs gathered when newly laid
They're great in an omelette if properly made
But then there’s Welsh Rarebit, a dish sure to please
And these both explain the existence of cheese
But how did the tale of cheese ever unfold
Someone thought milk would taste good turned to mould
So they sat back and let the milk get warm and old
And presto, we’ve got ourselves food that is gold
There’s cheese that is mild and cheese that is strong
And cheese that will near knock you out with its pong
It’s devoured with gusto from Hull to Hong Kong
And seventeen trillion mice can’t be wrong
Lycra clad folk say you’ll get fat and ill
As they struggle to cycle their bikes up the hill
But cock a deaf ear as they preach their dislike
There’s more mice than people and none ride a bike
17 November 2018
Leap off a Day
Leap off a day full of struggle and toil.
Pleasure-power fuels freedom's few precious
hours. Head for the cellar where solace is
found. Shoulder a way through the jostling crowd.
The thicket is wild and dense by the bar,
winter-branch arms shedding autumn-leaf notes.
Barmaids flick taught-aloof tails while they flit,
ripping off balls with their sharp little ****.
Machine-gunning speakers spray punters with
rap. Call for ''strong-ale!'' Leave the lager for
louts. Survey, edge away from the wankers
and drunks. She's got mad-eyes. He's pushing tabs.
Ocean of faces polluted by booze.
Snatches of voices wind-torn from the storm.
Crackhead is screaming about his bad hit.
Rodents are filling his skull full of ****.
Rhythm-girls bob up and down to the beat.
The one called Desire has wings on her feet,
legs and white pants like a rose in full bloom.
the one in the crowd who lights up a room.
Shouting and cursing and breaking of glass.
Fun at the bar... stampeding, girls crying,
chairs swinging, fists flying, then Exocet-
bottles-and-boots in an all-out attack.
Faces exploding in fountains of blood.
Shatter-glass windows ice-blue-psychedel;
game-beating police rousing quarry to
flight – any brace cooks-the-books for the night.
Scatter and panic, a jam at the door
as we tear and then pull and then kick and
butt heads, now dash for the street and the sweet
inky-black safety of swallowing night.
Find the fair-maid Desire, cute little sprite
whose ignoble-knight offers Vindaloo-
sauce – plan for scalding her **** and covert-
ovens-of-love as we leap off a day.
We English men are disciplined from birth
Our poker face with upper lips are stiff
We need not hug nor kiss to know our worth
God save the queen will often give us lift
Curries with chips, that is our national dish
We don’t eat rice and but love our family nan
In Birmingham we made the Balti fish
Vindaloo and larger maketh this man
For their green fields the Welsh we did attack
The Irish Sea it also lent a hand
Hadrian helped us keep the Scottish back
A United Kingdom on face we stand
Though beer with football sometimes make us fight
All English men by God are straight and right
Sometimes Dizzy feels kinda yearning in his heart. It's okay for him. Men like Dizzy are well acquainted with yearning. Sitting in the kitchen, scratching the head, drinking, drowning one cigarette after another in leftover vindaloo, talking to the Moon in the window. The Moon circles the Earth, the galaxy circles the Great Attractor and Dizzy as well circles his yearning’s center of mass. A Dizzy's dizzy. A funny joke. Alas, green Moon, you are a bad drinking partner unlike devils. Awkward shy albinos, with rosy eyes and cow-like colorless long lashes, they are always ready to keep you company when it comes to 55 proof alcohol. Lemmi pour you sommore, guys. Where are you off to? I don't care you're at work tomorrow. A dizzying drinking - that's your work now and ever and unto ages of ages. Poor Dizzy!
devils drink with him
till the sun comes up over
the poet's body
16/08/2019
Bring A Character To Life Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
See here what happens then: https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/the_four_bits_dizzy_1133346
Cheque please
You are better than me,
You are quicker than me,
You are more intelligent than me,
Or is it I? See?
I am worse than you at everything that I do.
I want a vindaloo, but it is three in the morning,
And when I should be snoring, I am wide awake.
Filling another book, look.
It’s twenty something or other;
Lost count now. Onto another.
Give this one away, can’t be bothered to write it.
Poetry is easy.
Life is in bits.
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
For yer supper, vindaloo,
hop to the music doing a poo,
toilets are crowded, yer tummy is mush,
bang the doors and plead with 'em, 'Rush.'
Drop yer pants and let it go,
paper's all gone (but yet you don't know),
fearing the soap is now missing too, yes?
Well, jus' saying...You're in a mess!
THE ERRAND BOY
I'd love to wake up in an early morn
Out just to witness the dew.
Even in the sun,I'll prefer plucking a corn.
Errandery,oh! It drives all joy away.
Even in its minutae ,I'll rather die to face the scorn.
Now that the razzmatazz of nature feels like vindaloo.
Tossed around like a lost nylon,it gives no time to play.
And day to day this will pry.
No time to fish,no time to swim oh! It drives all joy away.
Oh! Mother give me a break.
Errandery has gotten me dry.
Am dripping sick,I lied
When she's out,I sneak out to lake.
Happiness is restored atleast in mild.
this is my England...
fish and chips
(with curry sauce)
pizza, lasagne
and, of course -
Chicken Tikka Masala
with poppadums, pickles
or a beef vindaloo
to open your ventricles.
this is my England...
hot buttered toast
or jam on crumpets
homemade roast dinner
(go blow your own trumpet)
Maccie D’s on pay day
or Greek, our special restaurant
bacon buttie, fried egg
or tell me, what do you want?
this is my England...
oodles of noodles
lashings of gravy
enough chilli peppers
to make your head wavy
Subway, Costa, Starbucks
pose and be seen
end of the month statement
you can see where you’ve been.
this is my England...
seafood sticks and winkles
sticks of rock, candy floss
vegan, veggie, carnivore
you are not at a loss
crisp sarnies
Marmite with sprouts
what’s your favourite
any doubts?
this is my England...
hot dogs, fried onions
full on English breakfast
first meal of the day -
certainly not the last
or a healthy option, cereal
orange juice, hot strong coffee
or - if you prefer
Earl Grey tea.
this is my England...
eat and eat it’s what we do
until we’re fit to burst
hang on, did I mention
chorizo and bratwurst?
a nation divided
until upon our plate
the taste of many cultures
our knives and forks await.
21/22 January and 11 February 2022 8am