Soupers as lovers unite, with spoons and bowls held high,
All soups from broths to chunky chowders, they'll try.
Making steamy affairs in poems that burn and delight,
To fill the world with soup, that's their plight!
With spoons like scepters, ladles toppled full for the fight,
They struggle as wordsmiths with all their might!
Adding chillies, spices and herbs, to en-flame the brew,
They take aim with stakes to drive into apathy's stew.
So here’s to all soupers, lovers of muse, noble and true,
As they dish up their broths, lost souls, to bring to,
With their bouillon and bisque, mulligatawny and minestrone.
Let's say bon aperitif to them all, with a hoot, yippee and whoopee!
strawberry ice cream
on this hot June afternoon
melting on my tongue . . .
from the dish up to my lips
I bring each spoonful of bliss
June 22, 2022
In the fanciest restaurant in our little town
Where ladies are expected in evening gown,
I think the food is no better for fancy dressing
All said and done, I’m simply confessing,
Give me the hole-in-the-wall, plain food place
Where nobody’s wearing any satin and lace,
Dish up the grub like Grandma used to make
And give me plenty of leftovers home to take!
written March 4, 2022
Turmoil Soup:
by M. Griswold 09112020
Stirring the pot until fully hot.
Bringing the turmoil to it's boil.
Then to see what is and is not.
Add to the broth a li'l bit of oil.
Add a li'l more fuel to the fire.
Tasting now with ladle in hand.
Sipping again for flavored desire.
Is the soup well made as planned?
Is it ready, it is truly fully dire?
Add a li'l more fuel to the fire.
Other ingredients are in the need.
A tad more hate and pinch of fear.
With a little lust for power to feed.
One more death that makes it clear.
Add a li'l more fuel to the fire.
It's all in how you get them stewing.
Until their ready to dish up a friend.
A peoples riot is within it's brewing.
Creating turmoil soup without an end.
I went to a cheese and wine party on Saturday,
where huge platters of cheese were on display.
There was Gorgonzola and creamy white Brie,
I devoured huge chunks with a glass of Chablis.
Danish Blue, Mozzarella and Swiss Emmental,
of course I had to try a sample of them all!
I declined Edam and Gouda, I find them too waxy -
and the last time I ate them I was sick in the taxi!
Soft creamy Camembert and blue Roquefort,
went down a treat with a glass of vintage port.
Crumbly Cheshire and Cheddar were so divine,
and tasted heavenly with red Beaujolais wine.
I’d chomped through all of the Stinking Bishop,
our hostess had to restock the whole dish up!
Then I munched little cubes of Monterey Jack -
if my doctor saw me he’d have a heart attack!
When our host carried in a blue Stilton in a truckle,
I loosened a notch on my now straining belt buckle!
I admit blue cheese can smell like men's sweaty socks
but ripe Stilton and crackers, this cheese simply rocks!
Write a poem about Cheese Contest
Sponsored by Barry Stebbings
FICTION POEM FOR CONTEST
11/12/18
cooking life
dish up that successful life,starting from the heating of blood,
and chopping the pieces of brain
and adding some pain
in the pan.
a beautiful person does not live by fruity salads
but every tissue that i issue,
you feel the love of wiping the blood
I say do not cry
not knowing that I'm making you cry even more
like chopped onions in the boiling oil,
that is cooking life.
you keep the challenges running for you
because of the aroma,
the deep cry after cry
pain after pain
expectation are running high and giving false hope
that is cooking life
Jambalaya tastes so fine
With sweet plantains fried…
Serve this dish up nice and hot,
Sure to hit the spot…
Of course you’ll feel fine
Won’t you sit,
Dine!