Bratwurst Poems | Examples

At American Family Field

We used to be huge baseball fans
(The Yankees, but, of course!)
And followed all their games and cheered
Until our throats were hoarse.

Our fervor somehow waned and now
We couldn’t even name
The players on the team, although
We still enjoy the game.

While visiting Milwaukee,
We learned there would be a match
Of the Brewers and the Pittsburgh Pirates
Which we (pun!) could catch.

The Pirates pitcher, we found out,
Had quite an arm to wield,
So my husband got us tickets
And we headed to the field.

Their ballpark is a beauty
And we joined in with the crowd
Rooting for their favorite Brewers
As instructed – very loud!

At inning six, a race is held;
Five “sausages” compete.
The winner was Chorizo,
Bratwurst,* sadly, in defeat.

The final score was 4-2,
The Brewers with the prize,
The Pirate pitcher taken out,
Which was a big surprise.

Despite not being N.L.**fans,
We had a lot of fun,
For certain sayings hit the mark
And “When in Rome…” is one.

*The others include Hot Dog, Italian and Polish
**National League

angry citizen

Angry Citizens 

Tired of the sitting woke government, the fake
niceness and the depletion of Germanies 
heavy industry, not to forget her sycophantic
behavior towards Israel, a far-right party has
emerged.
There has been dark plotting afoot by some of
the party members, namely a famous TV cook
a welder from Austria, a GP. an astrologer
 and presumably a tealeaf reader
The plot was to kidnap the prime minister 
parade him on TV in his North Korean hairpiece
the one he only uses at home, hitherto a family
secret, although there had been rumors 
force feed him bratwurst, boiled potatoes 
and chicken nuggets until he promised to end 
his pathetic practices and make Germany
great again.
The would-be terrorists were caught there 
will be a trial, but we sense they will be let off
with custodian sentence 
"Only the heroic has the right to gloat.

The Dirty Dingo

*Warning High Fiber Content*

There is a place in the outback up high on a hill,
a little brown shack, where the Dingo gets his fill.
It’s a place for the locals who eat bratwurst and beans,
a favorite spot for the Dingo which nobody cleans.

The view is breathtaking and so is the smell,
he goes there every night and thinks no one can tell.
He hides in the shadows of the little brown shack,
at a quarter to twelve, he goes in for a snack.

During the day he also goes there to think,
he puts on perfume but he can’t hide the stink.
There is one thing for certain, he is not hard to find,
he’ll be sitting on the biffy, just clearing his mind.

Brahms Ensembles Me

Brahms pushes a piano into my ear.
I hear the stool creak as he sits.
He does not introduce the music,
he expects me to remember it,
know it, eat it.

He lights up a Havana,
clarinet and violin cough
inside a woody cochlear.
Viola takes hold
of a long nostalgic ligament
loosening a stirrup bone. 

Bearded old Brahms
shifts from one large butt cheek
to another,
chords shudder
the music trans-locates us
as we share the lingering hint
of  Bratwurst
on his nicotine stained fingers.

Not being musically trained
I am grateful
to accompany a cello and viola
on a kazoo
shaped like a nose.

Benoit B Mandelbrot

Boggledy Mindalot
Benoit B. Mandelbrot
Perfect recursion sought
Infinitely!

Franticly, fractally
Near-mathemagickly
Spiraling endlessly
Exquisitely!

Bratwurst and sausages
Mandelbrot hostages
Escaping inwardly
Labyrinths for me!

When You Lose Your Joy

When you lose your joy,
Drive into flowers.
Make matters into bratwurst.
Sancitfy the tiny.
Devour the anguish of others
On a single joke,
A swift pivot,
Like magic for all parties.
Your soured season,
A mere passing cloud.

Pat's Polecat

Pat's
polecat
ate Jack's Brats**
got way too fat
So when that cat shat
on Papa's brand-new hat
he was punished tit-for-tat
Now forced to dine solely on rat
Pat's polecat said grace for meals, then spat


          November 07, 2019
    Rhyming Nonet Poetry Contest
        Sponsor: Charles Messina


___________________________________________  
**Jack's Gourmet Kosher Sausage Company's Cured Bratwurst is available in supermarkets in large metropolitan areas.  A three-ounce serving/one bratwurst sausage contains 190 calories, of which 130 are fat calories, 470 mg of Sodium and 55 mg of cholesterol   (JacksGourmet.com)

Wonder Where Had Been the Beer

Wonder Where Had Been the Beer

We wondered where had been the beer,
Or maybe you did drink it all up my dear;
Was cursed,
By Bratwurst;
That is no longer here and did disappear.

Jim Horn

Summer Cooking

Summertime is here and it’s time to light the grill, 
Filet Mignon and Bratwurst always bring a thrill.
Family time outside on the old picnic table, 
I’m ready for some good cookin’,
man, my hubby’s so good lookin’!
No more time spent inside with phones or cable. 

Hot dogs for the kids with fresh lemonade, 
it’s an icy snow cone for me that’s homemade. 
Hamburgers with cheese and pickles for taste,
I’m ready for some good cookin’,
man, my hubby’s so good lookin’!
Let’s hope the neighbor kids don’t waste!

Let’s eat on the pool deck and watch the kids swim,
last year little Ella was thrown in by Uncle Jim.
All the delectable foods we make are so yummy,
I’m ready for some good cookin,
man, my hubby’s so good lookin’!
The scrumptious food rests in my full tummy!


Summer Cooking Poetry Contest
Kim Rodrigues
July 8, 2018

Easter Monday At Hahndorf, South Australia 2 April 2018

A bright sunny azure blue sky above fills
Me with happiness and a leisurely drive into the Adelaide Hills
The Hahndorf Main Street full of shops 
With soaps and hand made goods between the hops

A lunch of German fare of schnitzel or bratwurst with beer
All washed down in heartiness and cheer
Then to Melba’s chocolate factory for all you eat sweets
Or the Beerenberg farm for chutneys and jam so complete 
Then fresh apples off the farm
And a sleepy trip home full of small town charm.

© Paul Warren Poetry

Brat Who Is Spoiled

Brat Who Is Spoiled

Out next President is not very bright
With orange hair and rouge is such a sight
And to all of us what seems so scary
He has such a horrible vocabulary.

If it wasn't for computer spell check
Many words were not spelled correct
And something we have contemplated
For four years he should be sedated.

Is best to keep Trump out of our way
Never knows right thing to say anyway
And can you imagine him being sent
To speak at graduation or sporting event.

Down country Trump is sure to drag
Can you imagine him saluting our flag
For President others tried and toiled
We ended up with brat who is spoiled.

He ikes eating bratwurst and it the worst
brat we have ever seen. Plump Trump
we should try to dump. He might like
acting part of Forrest Gump.

Jim Horn

If in Baton Rogue he should start batting
down the hatches and do it by the batches.

October

October turns another numbered page
Act three of nature's seasonal ballet
While dreams of summer gradually assuage
Bright dancing leaves now star in autumn's play

Chilled mornings waken to a heavy dew
Cold mercury begins it's slow descent
The sun pulls closer for a better view
And blankets thrown on beds wear moth balls' scent

But spirits are not dampened by the change
Young children's dreams grow sweeter by the day
While mothers clean spare rooms and rearrange
As they prepare for coming holidays

October means that festive times are here
Let's grab ourselves a bratwurst and a beer


   an original poem by Daniel Turner

Wisconsin

We are known for our football, bratwurst, and beer,
Iridescent blue lakes with fresh waters, crystal clear,
Summer's sun blazes hot enough to make skin burn,
Cheese producing dairy farms are around every turn,
Our bright autumn leaves change their colors with ease,
Near spring, the scent of lilac floats upon the breeze,
Snowy winters, with temperatures below zero degrees,
In our green forests, raccoons and deer have a home,
Near the roadside, wildflowers grow wherever you roam.

Harley-Davidson was born, where the eagles fly free,
Wisconsin is as close to heaven, as home can be.






Kim Merryman's contest - "Tell Me About Where You're From"

Around the Snout

Favorite pig out…
Bier bratwurst and sour kraut
Flies buzzing about

Clay Victories

Scars been stricken on their face
The game is called, the green is dressed,
They shout, insult, drink and curse
(no rhyme of course, and seldom versed!)

We’re the blowing hooligans of the side
Swift and smooth as Jell-O Bratwurst,
Soccer warriors admiring the slide.
No matter who has lost or won.

Don’t you see the beauty of the game?
A seat, a bottle and that sissy figurine
Fly, knock, and hit any without a name
Till scars bleed on their face.

• Short Bratwurst Poems
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• Read Bratwurst Poems
• Long Bratwurst Poems
• Bratwurst Quotes