Here is my own recipe for Diet Fruit Pie.
Perhaps you’d like to give it a try.
It will be a success I trust,
if pounds need be shed
as I assume they must.
Peel five large bananas and discard the insides.
Get out the chopper and blend those hides.
When it turns to paste, flour up a pan
and squish it in there by hand.
That will be the crust
of which every pie must.
You may even lick your fingers
If you’re one of those bingers.
Now to this diet pie plan of yours,
Add four cups of apple cores.
For filler, chop up the cardboard box without the ritz
and fold it in with a cup of blended cherry pits.
Now cover up this mess with the rest of the banana peel batter
Bet you’re already feeling a lot less fatter….
(stop drooling)
You may finish up with a garnish topping as follows:
Take old grapefruit peelings and chop them up fine,
mix in, to suite, bits of watermelon rind.
Sprinkle this topping generously all around
And burn this dietary delight until brown.
Warning: this recipe is not for the anemic
As it tends to make one bulimic.
(for more tempting recipes go to : uuuheadforthejohn.com )
Chef Robairte'
Ned the Nerd Gets the Last Laugh
By Elton Camp
Ned is one of the smartest boys in his school
But he is often the subject of scorn or ridicule
Although what others may think he doesn’t care
And he acts like those who hate him aren’t there
Ned is often bullied and is quite socially isolated
Very few, if any, are the girls that he has ever dated
A boy so thin as to set off very serious health alarms,
He wears his pants pulled way up high under his arms
To get along with others he seldom seriously tries
And wears thick glasses that are greatly oversize
Ned has protectors inserted into his shirt pockets
And knows about math, science and space rockets
The usual guy-things Ned doesn’t want to hear
About sports or their progress with their latest dear
When there’s something academic they need to know
Both boys and girl know that to Ned is where they go
Good looks and athletic ability after a while will fade
But one with Ned’s intelligence may still have it made
And long-term good things it certainly does seem
Don’t always go to the captain of the football team
The rock, paper and scissors game
at first glance may seem very tame,
but if you are the loser
and he's an abuser
your wrists may be set quite aflame.
For pd.s contest
I find that when we eat prunes,
We tend to sit in cold bathrooms;
Although it may be a trial,
We fit right in with rank and file.
The wafting scent of strange perfumes,
Are too much like exhaust fumes;
Though it’s not meant to offend the nose,
You can’t compare it to a rose.
All that’s said may sound arcane,
But this I find is a good domain;
For it’s true it is a small event,
But you must admit it’s time well spent.
There’s a lot of poems that have gone unread
They hang in limbo as if written by the dead
Awaiting for someone to hear their cry
As they do not have a mouth to question why
Open one
Just for fun
It may make you laugh, Ooh! UHH! Or just sigh
To those that will make you say Oh my Oh my
And don’t forget to leave a comment
It make those poems alive and give the poet a judgement
For example, I found one just a minute ago
It was boring and time wasting if you must know
The ending just killed me, it drove me up the wall
Till I read who wrote it, it was yours truly Sidney Hall
*Save the poet Make a comment*
Small print: please note this is not an advertisment for personal gain but to assist
those new poets who may value your comment. However, if you feel compelled to
comment on me poems I will not stop you :-)
NOT SONNET 130
My body is nothing like new Adonis born
In some men’s sock there may be delight
Though the fabric may be worn
But mine doth reek, especially late at night
If hair be full crops in the field
And men’s skin be smooth as silk
Then bare soil is my head ‘s yield
And my body-cover’s like sour milk
Some men’s feet are curved all round
With arches graceful, ankles perfect
My feet are flat to tread the ground
They shame my leg with all their defect
If this mess disbelieved be
Then you have never witnessed me
Poetry, Should it Rhyme?
By Elton Camp
To deserve “poet” by my name,
In all candor, I have to disclaim.
Mine may not be the worst,
But, in truth, it’s only verse.
For poetry, Keats is the man you need.
He’s the one I suggest that you read.
Now as to the subject here at hand,
Writing free verse I don’t understand.
I heard “iambic pentameter” in college lit,
But in my narrow thinking it never did fit.
For Shakespeare and Frost it works fine.
But that style can never come to be mine.
My “poems” may be predictable and mundane,
But like that, I fear, they will have to remain.
What I write is usually just for fun.
And only in old age has it begun.
The “old dog” finds that tricks come hard.
And he isn’t likely ever to become a bard.
So to those whose poetry doesn’t rhyme,
Know that I won’t criticize you any time.
On Reading a Poem That I Don’t Understand
By Elton Camp
Those lines that an author has penned
I would like very much to commend.
I read it carefully twice more,
But remain confused as before.
The words chosen are those I’ve seen,
But the sentences, what do they mean?
Maybe the poem is just too profound
For a simple man like me to expound.
Does the poet speak of himself or another man?
In his writing of it, just what may be his plan?
I can’t see coherent thought,
To me, it expresses naught.
That doesn’t mean the poem is no good,
Only that by me it isn’t being understood.
Comments that others post
Say that it is just “the most.”
I am sure that true that must be,
It’s just too hard for one like me.
I have to seek an easier verse
With its author I may converse.
Goodbye to Mrs. Spratt
By Elton Camp
Although Jack Spratt his diet may hate
Shouldn’t have a problem with weight
And he won’t have any trouble at all
With his level of the bad cholesterol
Because of what Jack puts on his plate
But Mrs. Spratt may be another story
And far too soon, she will go to glory
Her state of health just can’t be right
Because her type of food is a fright
She’ll never be wrinkled and hoary
(This change was due to a reader's suggestion. Thanks.)
I called this greatest poem ever
cause I knew the name would make you read
so keep it coming, keep it coming
I need more views please
Sorry if I lack my usual,
thoughts filled with emotion
but even now with lighter notes,
I have filled my purpose
It may not be very deep
with words that make you weep
but the title's very catchy
that may be all you care to see
I have named it.
The kittens name is....Crystal.
It is an apt name, seeing as
she felt compelled to break
my crystal goblet.
The very one I "drink" from
on the occasions when someone
tries to break in.
One must see to use manners
when one is in his own home.
Crystal has not one.
She has already used my coffin
as an outhouse.
We are working stridently on
that particular issue.
Last nights hunt was....well,
boring, to say the least. I was
distracted. My thoughts were of
home and what Crystal was doing now.
I need to take time.
Feel the flavor of the hunt.
Feel my preys fear.
Or it is like drinking Ale,
instead of a rare wine.
Both will get you there.
But, as I always say,
One must always choose style. It is
what separates us from...well,
uncouth mortals and such.
I am not a snob.
I may be pure evil, true.
But, I do have standards.
Few that they may be.
I believe I am fit now.
Tomorrows nights hunt will be
one of the most fun.
I am going to a party.
One I must crash, of course.
~Lord Kellington
I suppose monkey shines in rhymes will do,
But you(!) monkey may out shine at the zoo!
Peanuts and popcorn,
Primates will not scorn.
Beware the phew monkeys may throw at you!
Monkey shines in rhymes always the best kind,
But fall not into the pit of the lion.
The bite, growl and roar,
Won’t leave a small sore.
Could be the last line rhyme of monkey shine!
For contest: Tales From the zoo
In honor of: Barbara Gorelick
In Zimbabwe you may think life is rough
A land where empty is enough
Remember the rule
Sell your car to buy fuel
To the first world this may seem rather tough
Here we go again.
Silly boy.
Tell me no lies.
I may not be smart.
But I am not stupid.
These words you speak are like flies.
Annoying little bastards.
Getting stuck in my hair.
Even though I shall not believe.
I may not be smart.
But I am not stupid.
Not so easy to decieve.
The smell of the blue sky, the sound of a hole
to think and make sense is not my role
Watch as a couch contemplates death
listen as a squid tries to make breath
I don't know why I know not why
enter the sandman.. pie in the eye
live my birthday, die my cast
touch all the lemmings as they hurry past.
sense isn't made, it's merely brought in
from the island of lezbos where no one can sin
money is flat and so are cards
now you deserve a kick in the nards
I may be loopy, I may be old
only thing sane in my life is "moulds"
first name is kelly and she's all mine
ya gotta love her all of the time.
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