casting in high arcs
pretty young things line the banks
casseroles for bait
Casseroles are so easy.
Taking my red pot,
and adding some fun veggies.
Add great meat to pot,
mix in some water.
Now cooking.
Ummmmm!!!
On the twelfth day of Christmas,
my enemy gave to me
Twelve upset tummies gurgling
Eleven spoiled milk cartons curdling
Ten missed opportunities to achieve
Nine judges who refused my reprieve
Eight frustrations and barriers
Seven Covid-19 carriers
Six casseroles with a bad smell
Five empty packs of Pall Mall
Four creepy sashes
Three worn out lashes
Two cobras who attacked me,
And a grizzly bear in a honey tree.
Willy, a wild mammoth lives in my yard
Shedding head all over in clumps
Neighbors come by and collect it in bales
Making comforters, pillows and plush cushions
They bring casseroles, carrots, croissants and canapes
Willy has the best life, and he knows it
Milking it for all it is worth
I never measure or use a straight edge
Ruler? Measuring cup? I scoff at these tools.
I approximate everything that I do.
That is why I am a folk artist, not a fine artist.
I cook with total imprecision too
Guesswork is my best friend
I toss in a dollop of this and a dash of that
My husband runs when he sees my surprise casseroles.
Thanksgiving Day is the word
Someone giving me the bird
Cranberries and pumpkin pie
Mashed potatoes catch my eye
Casseroles and deviled eggs
Buttered corn and turkey legs
Salads, rolls, and cobblers deep
After dinner fast asleep
A couple hours, hear me snore
Wide awake, I want some more
Chowing down, I just can't stop
Now I think I'm gonna pop
My accountant said I'm officially poor,
so I headed out to the grocery store.
Food now costing so much more.
Preparing tuna casseroles, eating spaghetti
striving to keep track of every penny,
is making me anxious, my palms now sweaty..
Gas prices may have stabilized but every thing
else continues to rise, even every day household supplies..
Merchants smile at you so you think their the nicest
and claim that it's all post pandemic prices or that limited
supplies have caused this food crisis..
I've said no to Lancome and designer jeans as I struggle
to stay with in limited means. My bank account chronically
seems to be lean..
It's not much fun being poor, especially if one's known
money before. I'm starting to ask what else is in store?
Let freedom ring from sea to sea but America is no longer free.
I'll keep on working at 73.
Sam was tired of his mother’s banal cooking.
She fixed hamburger helper every other day.
On the opposite days she fixed tuna helper or chicken helper.
He was tired of all of these helpers, tired of casseroles.
Sam was thrilled to be invited to his girlfriend’s house for supper.
Her mother was always creating exotic dishes.
Salmon crepes, Orange Spicy Chicken, tiramisu.
“I hear you like hamburger helper,” she said upon his arrival.
“Good thing!”
Less turkey bones to trash
less to be left over.
We make a feast on smaller plates.
the following drawn-out days
of casseroles and sandwiches
will be shorter
and we give great thanks for that!
Our happy-go-lucky friend once invited us
at his place to what he called pickle party.
We all were intrigued and excited,
for he mentioned the unique recipe,
which would be delicious cheese sandwich,
each one with filling of different types of pickle,
such as dill, lime, gooseberry, brewed in vinegar,
carrot, mango, and red chili, soaked in brine.
He had carefully laid out the table for us
with an array of six casseroles,
each one containing similar looking sandwich
of cheddar cheese with filling of specific pickle,
indicated by its transparent bottle placed
strategically in front of each casserole.
After we took a few sips of chilled beer
we were asked to taste the sandwich.
We chose all the different types,
except for the red chili one,
for none of us wanted to blaze the tongue.
As we took one bite we jumped up,
for the red chili set our mouths on fire.
We became the invited victim
of the culinary prank of our friend
who had fun seeing us in pickle at pickle party.
________________
August 19, 2022
Contest : It's A Pickle Party
Sponsored by : Mystic Rose Rose
She brought out her lunch and we all said, “Wow!”
Her mother fixes her food that uplifts her chow.
Casseroles are shaped like chickens, her sandwich a cow.,
We looked at her food and gave it a tribute bow.
Nudnick
By Sy Roth
Self, I say
Self,
Wake up.
Your ganglions
Are asleep again.
Wakey, wakey…
Those around you, nudnick,
Are whirling dervishes
Those who come and go
In the Speakeasys of their lives
And I am a silent partner.
Wake up dammit
It’s slipping away
You’re letting it slip away
While the humped dowagers
Prepare their casseroles
For the hungry men who’ve passed.
See in their eyes
Your sadness, Nudnick,
Where’s the fun in your voyage
Careless self
Elf of the bygones,
Shelf where the platitudes lay
Dusty
Fusty hungry dinks waiting
For their revival
Wrapped in their silent home
Domicile of mordant cells
For the somnambulist to walk echoey corridors.
Awaken before it is too late
Or perhaps it is.
The monster is caught galumphing to Bedlam
And the nudnick sits on the side of the road
Waiting for him to pass
Like a hundred-car freight train crossing.
Wake, I hear it in my ear!
Wake the nudnik from its dream
The train is a never-ending circus cavalcade,
And he yawns as it passes by.
They all yawn as he passes by.
I yawn for myself
Yearning to avoid the parade
As my eyes close and sleep invades my reality.
Now don’t get me wrong – I love sweets.
I love all kinds of sugary treats.
I like cake; I like pie,
and for chocolate I die.
I’m hankering now for a malt!
But nothing beats something with salt.
Caramel corn can be nice.
But I prefer salt or some spice.
It would be a mistake
if I did not shake
a while before calling a halt
(into buttery popcorn) my salt!
I shake it all over spaghetti.
I shake it as if it’s confetti!
On french fries and steak
and casseroles I make -
for sure I will have to exalt
my favorite dishes with salt!
March 5, 2021 for Anthony Biaanco's 'Salt' Poetry Contest
I love potatoes in the form of chips
Or mashed with gobs of butter
And salt and pepper.
Throw in a can of creamed-corn.
But if you do that crunch in crackers
And add salt and pepper and jalapeños
Fries? Sure. They are potatoes too.
I like the wavy ones with ketchup and sour cream
Pile them and add salt, pepper and jalapeños
I love potatoes. In candy, in casseroles, in gravy.
I would eat them in omelets or on pancakes.
I eat potato chips in my soup like crackers
I am a potato lover.
Hash browns? Oh yes.
With cheese, ketchup and jalapeños.
Salt and pepper? Why not!
I cook but no one eats.
I bring my offerings to pot-lucks.
But no one wants to be lucky.
I take it home, without a spoonful gone.
I make surprise casseroles.
They are a glorious testament
To everything we have had to eat that week.
My husband eats before he comes home.
I bake and people laugh.
Once I made an inedible cake.
My twin and cousin rolled it into balls.
They bounced all over the sidewalk.
It was from a cake mix.
My mother asked how I had done it.
No one could eat it, but we played with it all day.
If I knew how I did it I would do it again, and often.
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