Long Cooked Poems
Long Cooked Poems. Below are the most popular long Cooked by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cooked poems by poem length and keyword.
I’m in my pajamas.
With stars on my pajama pants.
My pen is on the nightstand.
And paper never lasts.
Everyone is cooking breakfast.
Too many slices of toast.
Bacon is good, but it makes too much noise.
My laptop died.
And then the sun came out.
And told me there is a package on the doorstep.
Something I ordered a few weeks ago.
That I forgot about.
My laptop is charging.
The need to go downstairs is increasing exponentially.
I could go back to bed.
Or fly out the window.
I’m not dreaming, so that’s not an option.
Hovering around the corner of my room.
By my laptop which is charging.
The power went out.
The sun came out, though.
The bacon is halfway cooked.
But the toast is just perfect.
I take a glorious bite.
In pajamas that are almost ready to be washed.
But the power is out.
And I like it that way.
8 cups of shredded cabbage
5 cups of chopped kale
4 cups of shredded cooked pork (pork roast)
15 peeled and parboiled potatoes( cooked about 20 minutes in salted water)
1 one quart can of peeled tomatoes(drained)
10 slices of slab bacon
2, 8 ounce cans of cooked white beans
1/2 cup of chopped cilantro( plus 4 tablespoons of lime juice)
1 & 1/2 cup of chopped onion
4 tablespoons of crushed garlic
5 cups of chicken stock
1/4 cup of honey( add one tablespoon of cayenne pepper, 1 tablespoon of liquid smoke)
in a dutch oven, layer potatoes, top with kale and cabbage, cover veggies with shredded pork and honey.....add onions, garlic and cilantro, add tomatoes, add chicken stock, cover with the white beans, layer top with bacon, cook for about 2 hours at 350......
simple dessert
press sugar cookie dough into muffin pan(the bottom and up the edges to make a cup)
0r use graham cracker crust in muffin tins
fill with a mixture of
3 cups of cream cheese
3 tablespoons of orange liquer
3 tablespoons of vanilla
2 tablespoons of a good quality nut liqueur
3 tablespoons of lime juice
3 egg yolks
1/2 cup of melted butter
1 package of white chocolate pudding mix(instant)
1 cup of sugar
1/2 cup of pecans
1/2 cup of toasted almonds
1/3 cup of coconut flakes
1/3 cup of white chocolate chips
mix well fill tins, bake for about 30 minutes, allow to cool, top each muffin with a strawberry, cut into strawberry fans.
the bassoons player wife, whats something, she invited us over for some grub, and strawberry snorts....
she had a lamb with pomagranete, lime and rosemary sauce...
we grubbed like "Floranctine, in Rome" she had me looking at her like a date, Dude better check his self, his wife is ah keeper!
Air is altering its pattern
Dusks are getting crispier
Nights are falling earlier
Sun is taking time to rise up
Leaves are changing their colors
Trees are showing off their fiery flairs
Pine needles and acorns have scattered all over
Halloween is around the corner
Ghosts and goblins are appearing at the doors with vampires
Skeletons and ghouls are hanging out near front arrivals
Entries are surrounded in the webs of humongous spiders
Witches and Jack-o’-lanterns are getting ready to welcome visitors
Black cats are showing up
Owls and spooky bats are flapping their flutters
Crescent moon is decorating the night skies with its shiny silver
Town is preparing itself to entertain little monsters
Plump round pumpkins are showing shades of orange, auburn and ginger
Costumes are being bought in stores
Candy containers can be seen in shops’ every corner
Eager children are getting ready for Halloween pleasure
Houses are smelling with sweet scents of candles
Kitchens are spreading aromas of pies cooked with cinnamon
Taste buds are savoring spicy warm apple ciders
Families are ready to greet and treat trick-or-treaters
The whole world knows that
Adding vinegar to chips and fish
Turns the whole offering into
An almost Earth shattering dish,
But how many people know,
How many people realise
The amazing effect to be had
By adding Mayo to your fries.
Almost a Damascus Road event
The first time that you try it
Just take the humble spud
And very quickly deep fry it
Then take a huge dollop of
That thick yellow stuff
Don’t worry just how much
You can never have enough.
A nice thick blob to make
A very tasty tasty dip
Then use one by one
On every single chip.
An explosion of joy
Follows each immersion
It really is a case of
Taste bud subversion.
Oh vinegar can be nice
It never ever goes to waste
But lather on the yellow stuff
For that cosmopolitan taste.
It’s the simpler things in life
That can give it zest and glow
Like a bag of red hot chips
And a splodge of Mayo.
You can keep your Fine Dining,
Your food artfully arranged
Your Meat barely cooked,
Oh how things have changed,
Just give me fish and ‘taties,
Wrapped and ready to go
To be Eaten with the fingers
Hot fish and ‘taties alfresco
Toasted teacakes,parmesan cheese
Croquetted chicken,fricasees;
Apple dumplings,yogurt creamed
Welsh mutton,in pudding,steamed.
Baked Alaska,Banbury cake
Lyons ices with Cadbury flake;
Gorganzola buttered roll
Side salad oil drizzled,in a bowl.
Melba meringue,warm mince pies
Filet mignon,mushrooms and fries;
Sunday roast in dripping jelly
Onions and peppered tripe belly.
Trout poached,not microwaved
Slowly cooked,and no time saved;
Thick fishstock,bouillabaissed
Beefsteak so lightly braised.
Hash browns,sausage,gravy and mash
Casseroled stew or goulash;
Poached,simmered maybe pressure cooked
Tempting meals from Granma's book.
And For Supper Tonight...
The Missus Prepared Her Trademark Tortilla Pizza
Hmm...yum...after a hard
days night of reading Hebrew,
though I do not know a word,
nonetheless taking leftist to right
correspondence course tubby guru
hoop fully coaxing posthumous fame and glory
detailing mundane epistles about this Matthew,
yours truly indulged in delicious comestible eschew
wing noncombustible vegetarian ingredients,
asper supp pur ream culinary
innovative eats, she whipped up anew
(similar how mine late mum did construe
tasty dishes to buzzfeed famished motley crew),
anyway thee wife comprised something new
microwaved cooked, (the stove off limits),
yet savory extemporaneous hodgepodge
usually delightful originating predicated on Jew
whoosh heritage, sans unpredictable menu
within fount tin head,
where earlier this evening she drew
forth, the above titled nonpareil zesty
substantial adequately satiating
me tummy, which uttered
(rather incoherently) halloo
since supercalifragilous expialidocious impossible
mission to verbalize
with full mouth, relishing anew
analogous when just a whippersnapper,
viz teenage mutant ninja turtle lapping stew
wickedly bubbling cauldron warming Inuits igloo
thawing this adventure seeker,
when a mere hatchling shew
wing fearlessness, I unwittingly got shell lacked
(became nearly homeless) sent askew
enroute rescued courtesy Mister Magoo
aforesaid Eskimos he knew
nursed me back to health
shaman donned as a "FAKE" kangaroo
accompanied by apprentice
trumpeting on Taj Mahal miniature didgeridoo,
which nostalgic "FAKE" memory
spouse poked das man
i.e., dozing papa awake asking review,
regarding Tortilla Pizza comprising:
whole wheat tortilla, dairy free vegan cheese
organic mild salsa
meatless crumbles
cubed eggplant.
One More
Ingredients are a funny thing.
Timing is probably more important.
But it is hard to say really.
I cooked all day, but…
I wanted it to be perfect, but…
I thought I had it, but…
The turkey refused to get in the pot.
He looked at me like I was crazy.
I guess I did not blame him,
as I would not have thought it
the best idea.
I let him out of the cage early.
I wanted to get to know him a little.
I wanted this to be a mutually
acceptable event.
Yet, explaining that you have a plan,
in which one of you will not be
okay with the outcome,
never goes well.
I am here to tell you.
Clearly.
He looked at me,
now free from the box.
He could see the window(open),
the door (ajar)
and the floor, was just washed.
In an instant I realized,
The ingredient had found,
a reason…
not to want to be cooked.
Maybe many?
Turkeys fly, no lie.
Not fast or slow, but erratically.
First a smoldering present just for me,
on my shining surface.
Plop.
Then a squawk,
that I had not realized,
I could understand, as if in English…
I will not repeat…
for mixed readers present.
Off he went.
High and low, and in between.
He knocked off things I had not seen.
Trouble on the rise, trouble already risen,
feathers and flying not the same,
as any other caged bird,
as this one knew,
to be free,
he had a clue.
So he flew.
(Otherwise titled poetic
gobbledygook trot -
oven chilly cooked confusion eliciting
faint thanks a lot
unbeknownst this tasteless,
senseless, rhymeless... lettered
Rorschach test tease I jot
interpretation, viz hitting
analogously like amorphous melted ingot
watch yourself...
d's lines iz still smok'n HOT,
now I puzzle regarding how
to extricate mess elf aye got
into try'n to strut and trumpet
hightailing to Hong Kong
entrepôt yea, that dot
on the map embroiled -
in political fracas fifteen minutes
of fame Andy Warhol didst allot
every man, woman,
and child even no bot
tee like me.)
Anyway... when zombie like,
I try to dead reckon eyes
purposefulness astride oblate spheroid
nsync with other gals and guys
either one, t'other or all
mask cue lated in disguise
impossible mission to triangulate
Euclid say logic defies
to comprehend gibberish
no matter how much you scrutinize
his highness, qua shape
shifting imperfect square stumps
any tree men douse great mind to analyze
me skewering, marinating, gunning... decries
abiding any logical positivism
queries best addressed to Lord of the Flies
since nary handy dandy blues clues,
I opted out thus...
rubbish provided to synthesize
random words helter skelter
strewn to symbolize
absent any rhyme or reason
courtesy handy matted figurative
trapezoid doth employ
no paradigm to exercise
leaving comprehension after mine demise
so go ahead chastise
cuz I already know,
never will said poetry win apprize.
The sun contours the cloud’s edges
Like a sky crack. If the sun be my eye,
Could eye be distracted from the surface heaven?
Some seven wispy islands’ masking bedding,
The frictive crashing plates, dying
And reborn downpours, slitted resting
Clouds, tense breasts and tension bringing.
A salmon fillet stretches gelatinously,
Horizon skin cooked by incidental switches,
Minor cloud bump shuffles that arrest
The sky. It lay there scorching
From the daggered strikes, the speaking
Pikes that shatter crackled clouds.
Their lost remains are seeping out of line,
An army shielded, steel of darker, stealing paints.
Valhalla battle cries boast legends, saints
And mages known only to the sky.
After a quite long time
Leaning on dad's shoulder warm
Like a newly speaking child
Babbling trivial stories wildly
Showing my poetry on soup's first book
Sharing the biscuit ice-cream I cooked
Asking him to review the paintings I've drawn
And complaining badly about the relatives gone
Ravished by his sudden arrival
I saw a gleam of hope in survival
When I was lucidly expounding the episodes
All he did was Laughing out loud
" Hey, kutti, Do you think I've been faraway?
Don't you know I can't go anywhere away?
I am still here watching all the happenings
Now, come, just relax and speak to me"
Uttered he, subtly in my dream
The warmth, the caress, the secured feel
Made me feel the plot so real and surreal
Oh! How I wish the dream not to end!
Feb 10 2022