Long Culinary Poems
Long Culinary Poems. Below are the most popular long Culinary by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Culinary poems by poem length and keyword.
Those with a culinary masterplan
Know go for neon glow talisman
Spick & span with fancy dan elan
Wooing doing the cooing can-can
Riot on a diet expands my lifespan
Wrinkle free wry mystery Peter Pan
Doorman to sly new world deadpan
For sushi like John Belushi a madman
Oodles of noodles like silky doodles
Caveman craved calming ramen amen
In a hurry then lasso a curry.. yep Katsu
From svelte purveyor and belt conveyor
Time to have a durry in the rusty daihatsu
Beg for an egg sandwich from heaven
Palette parsons from Lawsons not 7/11
Stricken saved by nori or yakitori chicken
Remembers glory of flaming embers story
Or ditty of look at me too pretty sashimi
Detect such respect in every single aspect
Mingle & scan no defect full effect scran
No also ran but our number one suspect
Wasabi touch of ginger..trusty kemo sabe
Culture protect am a fan can only be Japan
In the eighteenth century, it made its first scene.
This is one of five main sauces in haute cuisine.
Culinary experts give credit to France,
although it may have come from the Netherlands by chance.
Just take some clarified butter, egg yolk, and lemon juice.
These simple ingredients can be put to good use.
Preparation must be performed carefully.
Over moderate heat, it is whisked constantly.
Heat in up, but not to a boil.
Too high a heat and the ingredients spoil.
The butter, juice, and egg yolk can separate.
When it is this way, it is not too great.
The sauce goes well with fish and asparagus.
However, with Eggs Benedict, it is most famous.
Many other sauces can be made with variation.
Each of them has other items in combination.
It is also a base for Sauces Mousseline and Maltaise.
With some herbs and peppercorns, you can make Sauce Bearnaise.
Replace the butter with oil, and you can make mayonnaise.
This is one of the best known sauces in the world.
It can be found no matter which flag is unfurled.
Covered Dishes
1
The password is… password, shhh...
Try to remember if possible,
this sure-fire way of getting through the door;
Entering indeed, as with all lithesome ladies,
and their dithering dogs, after
entreating the big dude at the entrance gate,
with licorice sticks and cauliflower juice on ice,
and leaning over long enough to show off the planets,
those spinning orbs of a mathematical universe,
now turning madly and centrifugally, sucking
out the eyes of the pleading fools,
dressed in rage, and wont to feel the ancient eclipses,
those silent but grunting interludes unseen,
all dressed in satin boredom, all flummoxed
as with clowns, dressed in neon failure,
who now offer smiles and winking winces,
to the sad-eyed pedestrians, and
the red-lipped ladies with the wide-brimmed hats,
out to tease with nylon exposures,
around the bleakly lighted doorways
to dark entrances, without eyes to feel.
You were sitting there with legs crossed,
a cocktail dangling from your frozen fingertips,
like a fainted ballerina in the splitting moonlight.
In front of you, on the table, covered dishes
covered tureens, with surprise taste delights simmering,
shouting out in mute languages of the multitudes:
What is under the lid of this blue dish?
What is beneath the cover of this steaming tureen?
I turned to see other dishes and other culinary settings,
and instead, I saw you among the bon bons
and the flaming surrendering soufflé.
You wore that same translucent skirt with
the lightning stripes and the chiffon protestations,
and as you rose from your chair with howling legs,
there was no hell and brimstone in what I saw.
Then as with a silent hungry leopard,
setting exotic eyes on my stilled soul and quivering body,
you took my hand into yours, as easily as one might,
and with straight-staring certitude, we politely exited
from this quiet pedestrian grille,
this obscure café under the yawning stars,
hidden behind festooning flowers,
draped on hungry trellises,
for the hopelessly outraged.
FROM THE HUSBAND'S EYE
In the kitchen, a dance of flavors play,
When your "food" cooks up a surprise today.
Living the good life, in every bite found,
Deciding the order, to let joy abound.4
In the kitchen is where unsavoury appetite reside.
His wife, a dish so tasty, he can't help but decide,
Is she a meal to savor before the main course?
Or perhaps a dessert, and a necessary dose?8
To him, she's a banquet, a feast for the eyes,
Each day a new dish, a delicious surprise.
Does he devour her body while digesting the day?
Or save her as a treat, to enjoy right away?¹²
In the husband's eye, his wife is the ultimate fare,
A meal so divine, far beyond compare.
So he ponders & muses, with stomach a-grumble,
How best to enjoy her, this culinary ensemble.¹6
He relishes these moments, cherished & sweet,
Where his "food" prepares his food in a joyous feat.
That's when he knows he's living a good life,
And not living by the edge of the knife.²°
For men, the meal we seek lies by our side.
Now it is up to us to meticulously decide,²²
If we are gonna "eat" before we eat,
Or "eat" after eating on our seat,
Or "eat" while eating even from the offset.²5
From breakfast to dinner, his appetite roams,
For his wife is a delicacy, making his heart her home.
With love as the spice & laughter as the flavor,
He knows for sure, he'll savor her forever.²?
~~~~~
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©?21st April, 2024.
From my memory and from endless maps
I recreated my homeland to write newly upon it
And on the twenty first day, God rested for months
To ensure the world could shine darkly
The February sun shone mercilessly
As the only thing that could kill my hunger
I tasted their lips before walking into another set of credits
Ever pondering why I even bothered to perform
Endless ghosts whirled before me
As all past plot threads wrapped up nearly beneath me
Gazing into the bright Spring sun
My heart rang as hollow as ever
Twenty four and there's so much more
As an unwitting finale to permanent summer vacation dragged out
Beaten down by sun and arm in arm
We twin herobreakers drank the days away
Forever locked within my skull
My gray matter cried for what it lacked
And yet I let the waves crash down on me
To shield those who wouldn't return the favor from life
Thirteen months deep into stillness
I finally entered my field and ran
The summer sun never touched my skin
As I built and used a new TV studio
Culinary echoes bounded back at me
As the wizened elder who craved the chance
That stony faced and sleepy eyed children only took
Because they felt as though they must, rather than they could
Falsely accused with no recourse
I let my rage vanish into the aether
And lost myself within routine
As the heroic replacement I so desperately wanted to be
I took a student under my wing
And began to consider a new flight path
As this nest I came to know
Was battered by the fell wind I flew in on
And on that hill where my life was saved twice before
A dashing warlord gave me the missing piece I craved
The gentle tune of the ocarina called
And every morning, I patched what was lost
And thus the twin herobreakers merely became one
As I abandoned him to act as God
As nasty as any punch to the liver could be
When it became clear we could only bond over booze
And thus I waved goodbye to a decade of growth
Asleep at 10 with no fanfare
From every end comes a new beginning
So rest well knowing I'll remember you fondly.
Non-bachelor (batch chiller)
"FAKE" horror thriller
available Netflix starring
ghost of Phyllis Diller
stand up comedienne killer
brought down haunted house
witch sea hunt accompanied
theme song referencing Argonaut tiller
Greenwich Village location Barney Miller
lite precinct brewed fare of corpse
unearthed dead comedy duo Meara and Stiller
with surreal stalking candy corn canes
as bon appétit gnashing
gobbledygook filler.
Ice scream aghast with
blood curdling shriek,
the dearth of satisfactory
FIOS shows bleak
readying jump into polluted creek
thus, I bury alive yours truly
except his sharp pointed beak
exhuming him after rotted
flesh doth reek
perfectly tricked out
for Halloween treat
masks long haired
pencil necked geek
October thirty first when freak
alias Gadshill gadabout
poetaster doth sneak
feigning antonym anthem of meek
oh my dog, I lyft hind
uber leg to take leak
hoop fully haint nobody dares peak
urinate kidding ma bladder weak.
I long since waved
channel surfing adieu
much prefer silence
meditating under blue
skies peering into
infinite space nary a clue
intellectual conversation many disvalue
perched edge of seat and hunched over
how riveting story doth ensue
ah... time for commercial break
culinary wizard abracadabra
whips up fondue
easy as pie (are squared)
with consistency of glue
methinks Elmer stole patent,
cuz secret formula Hebrew
what with identical hue
as aforementioned adhesive liquid
doubling up to keep igloo
air tight even against
global warming, anyway would Jew...
aye betcha already knew
yes believe Yahweh endowed Semites
like me with high ike kue
of course after dumping
a load (reed) I feel sue
per ream intelligence dumbed down
(mine), especially after using loo
naturally decrease smarts
stings like poisonous
scorpion size of Eee moue,
which aforementioned papa's
poetic poppycock nonissue
saturating plethora home entertainment
most people overvalue
linkedin - shoot all stemming from
"idiot box" I rarely view.
In lands where sun and sea entwine,
Where palm trees dance and waves align,
There thrives a fruit, both rough and brown,
The coconut, a tropical crown.
Amidst the breeze, it hangs with pride,
Its essence felt far and wide.
A marvel wrapped in husky shroud,
Its secrets whisper tales aloud.
From high above, it takes the fall,
Yet within, it harbors all.
Sweet nectar trapped in fibrous hold,
A treasure chest, a story untold.
Beneath the tropic, azure sky,
In sandy soils, it learns to lie.
Roots that grip the earth so tight,
Anchored in both day and night.
Coconut, your virtues vast,
From first to last, they ever last.
Your water quenches deepest thirst,
In your embrace, we find life's burst.
In kitchens, you're a culinary muse,
In every dish, you leave a bruise,
A mark of flavor, rich and pure,
In every bite, your essence sure.
Oil, you yield, a potion rare,
For skin and hair, you deeply care.
In every drop, a healing touch,
A balm that soothes, it means so much.
In island lore and folklore grand,
You grace the art of every land.
From crafts to songs, you play a part,
Coconut, you touch the heart.
A fruit so humble, yet so grand,
In grains of sand, across the land,
You teach us lessons, deep and wise,
In your simplicity, strength lies.
Oh, coconut, in sun and rain,
Your essence courses through each vein,
A symbol of the tropic's grace,
In every form, you leave a trace.
Spring, early morning.
Sitting beneath the half-arch
Of the bayleaf tree,
On the old wooden garden bench -
Early morning, the first full day of Spring.
A cup of warm coffee,
A smoothie bowl of banana,
Avocado and chia seed, topped
With walnuts, golden raisins, goji berries.
Cool, crisp, and hazy—
Soft sunlight breathing
Seasonal new life,
A quiet awakening.
I sit apart from it,
Yet quietly within—
Still, observing, serene,
Flooded with innocent memory.
Jewels of dew on the lawn
And the broad-leafed tulips,
Long-stemmed and short—
Reds, pinks, yellows, whites.
Bright daffodils bow and sway,
Primroses bring gentle colour
To a forgotten corner
Behind a moss-covered standing stone.
Tips of green unfurl
On the red boughs
Of the Japanese maple
And the three hibiscus.
The herb garden—sage,
Savoury, lemon balm, verbena,
Parsley, thyme, oregano, chive—
Waits for eager culinary hands.
Flowering strawberry plants,
Rose-coloured rhubarb stalks,
Fresh mint—
All hinting at summer puddings.
A cockerel in the distance,
Nature’s alarm clock—
Wake up. Wake up.
Hiding in the branches,
A little red-breasted robin sings
His bright, insistent song,
Just to say: I’m here.
A blackbird lands on the fence,
Briefly surveying the ground
For slimy morsels
To catch his beady eye.
Ducks rise from
The dark green canal,
A woodpecker drums a steady beat,
A collared dove softly coos.
Tiny pale mauve butterflies—
Parma violet sweets on wing.
The first shift of bees emerges,
Focused on the day’s work.
And on the window ledge next door—
The neighbour’s cat.
Feeling low best way to alter is kneeling at the altar of the Taco my romeo
Halter stealing TexMex slaughter dealing burrito or nacho cos ends with “O”
Clever clogs in boho vlogs falter say hey “Cilantro” but it is a herb so no
Yanks know tanks finest order for lothario or marauder's below the border
Crow say tally ho a true aficionado go gung-ho for mojo halo of Mexico
Mole is not a relic a culinary medic as holy as a cleric just like Pozole
Wholly done slowly not being hasty most things tasty ends in an “E”
Alright in the larder not from the Armada friends Guacamole or Tamale
“A” senorita might say forgot Enchilada and Quesadilla or Conchinita
Sages simmer sauces for ages so many stages as the flavour rages
The most pure for many I’m sure would quip the tip “al Pastor” Taco
Their cocoa gusto & avocado bravado so come on everyone go loco
Forget the crime.. sublime..prime chime once upon a time in Mexico
i'm supposed to be
a man of words
absurdly called
a poet
i believe the old lines
in rhyme are
i'm a poet but
don't know it
hoping that that is
public domain
so please don't
sue me
but I find myself which
is usually hard to
do but i did and
i was looking
through the dictionary
i don't need to
say "a" dictionary
because "the"
dictionary is the
bible meaning
book and so
is that other
one with Old and New
with Methuselah and
Jesus and his
twelve buddies
but I digress trying to
digest words to
describe her so
i randomly
opened and flipped
first finding heel
and toe which
is a good one
but then flipped to
find vertex and
then briney
but not
exactly how i would
describe her so
doing a stupid
thing i thought
i can play a melody and
sing harmony but
what would be
her key
and the pitch would have
to equal the quality
of her laugh if
that's not
enough so i looked at
other arts such
as culinary but
sometimes
she is saucy and spicy
but others she's
sweet and like
a fine wine
full bodied and yet
never dry so
then i tried
martial
arts and still couldn't find
her even in poetic
movements of
tai chi
so i went through all
of the arts which
basically is
everything
even the art of dying
then i realized
with pen in
hand had
been doodling all this
time so looked
at the paper
and found
not an emoji so still
hard to define
her but i had
drawn
a smile
with big
eyes of
wonderment
Form: