Flaky and golden, fresh from the sea,
Rich flavors awaken taste buds with glee.
Indulgence in every crispy bite.
Exquisite aroma, a pure delight.
Delicate texture, cooked just right.
Hand-battered perfection, seasoned with care,
Aromatic herbs drifting through the air.
Dish served hot, inviting and bright,
Dreams of oceans on plates tonight.
Opulent taste, savory and bold,
Crunchy outside, tender to hold.
Keen to savor, I take another bite.
There once was a guy with a trick:
the Florida Man limerick.
But when he got rowing,
the verses stopped flowing
or maybe ‘cuz his wife was sick.
It’s nothing but crickets of late,
and those that he musters ain’t great.
The hooks are sporadic
as fresh-water haddock;
perhaps he should try some new bait.
Did the first creature to crawl
out of the proverbial, primal primordial,
onto the sand,
feel like a fish out of water,
out of its depth,
when high and dry on land?
With no wish to carp or cock a snook
I won't leave you in the lurch
but oh my cod take a look
what a plaice to perch
as just for the halibut
putting seahorses out to paddock
is enough to give one
a severely bad haddock
so no red herring I don't flounder around
take a peeled eel flake of baked hake
plus a pinch of pickled pilchard
and an ichthyic sandwich make
but if my words are vitriolic
you may grunt and kiss my bass
as it's all a load of pollock(s)
I went to the butchers to get me some fish
I asked for some haddock to bake in a dish
The butcher said, “Sir, if it’s fish that you’re after,
You’ve picked the wrong place and you couldn’t pick dafter.”
He said, “If you want fish you want the fishmonger,
I know cos I bought some fish when I was younger.”
To find the fishmonger did not take too long
In order to find it I followed the pong
I didn’t want fish bones to stick in my teeth
So went in and asked for a nice piece of beef
The man was abrupt, he was no politician
He said, “I’m no butcher, Sir… I’m an optician.”
He knew all there was to know
About the frying game
Haddock, cod, skate and ling
All treated just the same.
A deft flick of the wrist to draw
Each piece through the batter
Then the basket lowered into
The hot oil’s spit and splatter.
A basket full chips
Placed alongside
For food of the gods
Quickly deep fried.
Well wrapped in clean paper
When the order was complete
Or the wrapping left open
To be eaten on the street.
Salt pepper vinegar
To add to the flavour
Giving a hot meal for
Any person to savour.
Sits well on top of pints
Calms a stomach down
Known to all and sundry as
The best chippie in town.
The third generation
Carrying on from his dad
A point he emphasised
When he ran his local ad.
Proudly above his shop was
Displayed his family name
And they knew all there was
To know about the frying game.
Hero of Marine World
Super
Grouper
The Disabled One
The shrimp -
A gimp
Electrocuted
Haddock
Had shock
When Sea Runs Dry
Salmon
Famine
Her Musical Fish
Faye’s carp
Plays harp
Great News
Found ‘yer
Flounder
Fish Caregiver
Caring
Herring
Because They Deserve It
Harass
The Bass
A clammy Make-over
More glam
For clam
You Just Missed Him
Gone clam
On tram
pancakes barbara with cream
a buckwheat galette
haddock,prawn savoury wraps
brandy crepe suzettes
dribbled with treacle
Flip,flip Hoo
Ray!
[A couple… ONLY TWO?… of you have wondered about my recent absence from Soup. I’m on a personal challenge to write 52 poems for kiddies… maybe, only maybe, to put a booklet together. My mind doesn’t naturally do ‘kiddy think’ so it’s stretching me a bit.
This little ode, I felt was too grown up for kiddies, but I rather like it so I thought I’d share it with you lot ;-) ]
Harry the haddock swam proud in the sea
He said there is no fish that looks down on me
I told him of one and he looked at me odd
And said I’m not sure that there’s really a Cod
*Image of Little Boy Fishing by Mutual Art
Cape Cod Boy
A warring feat
expands beneath
petite and huge contends,
a unique line
tugging the brine
taunting as it suspends,
a juvenile
bear naught a smile
a glimpse enigma lends,
too close to shore
new hopes implore
that cod and haddock wends,
true tasty meats
fresh scene unseats
entreaties pleased extends,
aspect well made
fulfilled persuade
the wait, the catch godsends.
Now see a fine display in market hall
Where fishmonger's stalls sell the freshest catch.
A world of wet white tiles and melting ice.
Seafood displayed, arranged in rank and file.
One Scottish salmon commands centre stage
Stretched out upon its own tray of crushed ice
And next to a few Icelandic haddock
Along with cod trawled from the Dogger Bank.
To one side are some plaice all flopped and flat.
Seems they are staring up with fixed focus.
A side display of small fry, placed parallel
And herrings heaped up in sad slump of grey.
Some calamari, tasteless rubbery squid
Are off stage with other seldom sold bits.
In the corner there's offal bin with heads,
Guts, skeletons and several layers of skin.
Take for your cat. Put pence in charity box.
A fine display we see in market hall.
I ponder on this till I ache:
a haddock who says he's a hake -
I guess it's his right
to think that despite
so many believe he's a fake...
Written 25th April for Constance's ache contest
I have loved this dish all my life
my mum made it so ever new
but always best at chippy shop
wrapped in newspaper after a queue
Always loved splashing my chips
with vinegar, pepper and salt
haddock or cod my favourite fish
cover with tartar sauce without fault
Loved to have after the match
soccer my fab game, go every week
get my fish supper before go home
real tangy taste so to speak
Remember holidays in my twenties
Blackpool on the west coast yearly
last thing at night fish supper a must
diet forgotten weight high I did fear!
In Scotland, we called it a fish supper
if in England fish and chips was its name
over the years price has changed too high
but even so, its never lost its fishy fame
(I am writing a poem about the classic British dish... fish and chips!)
Unwanted affection
I’m writing a play about an older man who was helpful
to a woman crying in the street and he thought that
was the end of the incident.
At night a knock on his door, the woman wanted
to thank him and before he could turn around, she sat
on his sofa insisting on holding his hands and him
felt her hand was like a wet haddock.
He knew she mentally disturbs but didn’t like to say so
the worst thing was he was watching his favourite show.
He feigned tiredness got up to open the door,
she offered to stay he froze by the horror of the thought.
She left after kissing him on the cheek.
He rang the porter and told him never let in this bloody woman.
Returing home from “The Fish And Chips Hut”
Hubby asks wife for sex just for the “halibut”
“No, not tonight sweetie,
Got a “haddock” and I'm sleepy”
Sounded “fishy” and he became despondent somewhat
One night an octopus said,
Those whelks should be in bed.
Said the herring to the plaice,
Would you please say grace.
"I say" said a passing whale,
"Is that kipper for sale."
There is somethingvery odd,
Repied a bewildered cod.
"Excuse me" asked the shark,
"Did you hear that dogfish bark".
The haddock with a smile serene,
Said the mermaid is our queen.
May I join you said the seal,
To the mackerel with some appeal.
Of course the snapper replied,
Yes,yes the mullet cried.
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