Despicable
How it drips down the side
Bubbling up from the innards of the pot
I can hear the sizzling
The smell of the butter drenched corn
I throw in a bit of salt and pepper
To spice up the contents
Cream splashes up, upon my cheek
I leave it.
The light burning sensation begins to fade
As I step away, breathing intensely
This alone reminded me of my younger years.
Frightened yet interested
In how the cream drizzled corn was hesitant to conform.
How I yearn for the old me
Who could make batches of milky substance,
Yet now I struggle
With the makings of one
My fingers felt greasy
Like those nights years ago
How I would work every evening
Hoping you enjoyed the taste
My eyes sparkling,
Lost in the thoughts
The slurping and screeching
Of the boiling brew
The fragrance of corn graces my nostrils
Flashes of memories flood in
Your body, yet again
Covered in the opalescent matter
You used to love my cream corn chowder
The same way I still desire you
Yet there’s always a bowl of higher quality.
Saddened, as I turn the flame on low
Let it seethe,
Let it come to a halt.
Now I await to enjoy
Like those feasts years ago
Shay play chowder me, a miracle of motion still a movin’
Just a waste masks the Master of all design
Walk we upright in the deficit of night
Depth of darkness not repeated in the generations of beings
Bent a willing root dimension three
Welcome gnashing, it’s only me
Pass me by again today, no message to receive
Partition-on my friend to survive sureality
A Chowder Of Cats
There's a chowder of cats on the corner
an exultation of larks in the sky
a troop of monkeys high in the trees
where the rhino's doth daily crash by
A pack of dogs patrolling the lane-way
a herd of cows at rest in the byre
a bellow of bullfinches grasping hawthorn
A mischief of mice staying warm by the fire
A parliament of owls swoop over golden corn
where an army of caterpillars stay low
a flock of sheep look down from the hills high above
a congregation of alligators sleeping in a row
A pandemonium of parrots rudely laughing
an unkindness of ravens unamused
a drove of bullocks seriously unimpressed
a bloat of hippopotami singing twelve-bar blues
Too much drink, someone had just implied
When she passed out, it couldn't be denied
Face down in stew
Rising askew
"There's a soup in my hair!", she then cried
A man said, "You're having trouble I see!"
"May I buy your meal and some coffee?"
She brushed off rice
And said, "Coffee's nice!"
"But it looks like the meal is on me!"
Oh, clam chowder, how I would love
You to be like the thing you claim you taste of.
You're seafood, soup, potatoes, all warm
And bubbling in a splendrous, thick liquid form.
Your amount of potatoes, though is extensive,
Because I guess that clam is just too expensive
To be present in amounts that meet my desires.
But I suppose you'd be too costly for buyers.
But aside from that, clam chowder, you're alright.
I'll probably still have some tonight.
Manhattan Clam Chowder
Warm and wet a real delight