The
Turkey
That escaped
This thanksgiving
Wanting more living
Had fled in November
In hope he would remember
The route with the fastest vessel
To Britain where Christmas was special
On the day of his divorce
He put a bet upon a horse
And when it lost he bet again
And then he walked home in the rain
No-one asked, ‘How much d’ya lose?’
He didn’t wipe his muddy shoes
And no-one moaned and no-one groaned
And no-one said you shoulda phoned
In the morning no-one said
Don’t forget to make the bed
Or asked him at the crack of dawn
When you gonna mow the lawn
He didn’t vacuum, didn’t dust
And how he grinned when no-one fussed
He never liked Do-It-Yourself
But now he needn’t fix that shelf
He got some food inside his belly
Put his feet up, watched some telly
Guessing it was getting late
Grabbed a beer and called a mate
His ‘Echo’ bought from Amazon
He wondered if she’d left it on
He said, Alexa, what time is it
‘She’ said…
Time you washed up, fixed the fence and paid your mum a visit
[Inspired by my recent purchase of an Amazon Echo and my accidental
discovery that she does jokes. Try saying… Alexa, make me a sandwich (apparently it’s well documented on YouTube but I found out by pure chance)]
I think that it's fantastic
When my wife start's to cook,
She gets out all her pots and pans
And MY brand new cookery book.
She starts to peel some potatoes
Then she gets some liquid out.
As I look on in wonder,
At what it's all about.
She then chops up the potatoes
And drops them in the pan.
I don't know what she is doing,
After all, I'm just a man.
At last she shouts it's ready,
She says she's made my tea.
She's sat there eating a takeaway,
And it's a plate of chips for me.
Sizzling technology fried up dark and crisp like bacon
Not the way i like it with sunny side up eggs
Driving me mad with its peculiar nuances
And its changing ways, almost sinister
A cape of confusion too crisp on the outlying whites
The rooster crows, pounding its chest, so proud
But the defeated farmer runs to the barn to diminish the flames
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrict the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds in red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey beckons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrict the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds in red and gold,
freezing now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey beckons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
...inspired by 'Blues' by Joseph Brodsky
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrain the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds in red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey summons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
...inspired by 'Blues' by Joseph Brodsky
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrain the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds its red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey summons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
The old lady
Had a frying pan
Ready to crack
Her old man
Out somewhere
He didn't belong
She hit him pretty hard
For she was strong
He turned and yelled
What did I do wrong
Now q migraine
With hangover, too
Still, why he got hit
He had no clue
He went to bed
Slept it off that night
Kept the old lady
Outta his sight
He'd wait til morning
To make it right
6/19/14
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrict the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds in red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey beckons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrict the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds in red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey beckons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrict the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds in red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey summons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Forget the mother hen's grief,
frying pan waiting
with egg, milk, onion, chilli,
flip it in the air----
chick's dream fly.....omelette
ready now,
yum!
© kashinath karmakar
=========================
By :kashinath karmakar (28th April 2011)
Contest:Fast food Epulaeryu
Sponsor:Gwendolen Rix
...inspired by 'Blues' by Joseph Brodsky
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrain the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds its red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey summons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.