Long Foil Poems
Long Foil Poems. Below are the most popular long Foil by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Foil poems by poem length and keyword.
Gush Potatoes
2 cups of sour cream
5 Tablespoons horseradish
1?2 cup of white cheddar
1 Cup of grated parmesan heavy cream
3 tablespoons of lemon juice
1 tablespoon of lemon zest
1 Tablespoon of red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon of of fish stock
4 cloves of minced garlic
4 green onions
1/2 cup of minced herbs
( thyme, rosemary,, parsley, dill,oregeno and tarragon)
2 grated hard boiled egg yolks
--------------------------------------------
mix smooth set aside
in a casserole dish add 10 cups of cooked white potatoes
cover with sace mix evenly
bake 350 degrees for 35 to 45 minutes
)---------GREENS ALLEGRO--------(
4 cups of drained cooked mustard greens
(recommended( GLORY)
2 cup of steamed bell pepper
red and yellow
2 cups of caramelized onions
3 tablespoons of minced garlic
1/2 cup of pumpkin seeds
1 cup of chopped smoked turkey meat mixed with
about 1/4 cup of cooked bacon
1/2 cup of crushed sundried tomatoes
in a wok add olive oil and sesame seed oil mix
add garlic and peppers and onions
stri fry and add pork
1 cup of chopped ham and cooked bacon and turkey meat
add mustard greens
stir fry
add tomatoes
and top with pumpkin seeds
serve with tart pickled onions
)-----------> Honey, rum, Brown sugar Carrots<--------------(
ATONAL
Steam 15 cleaned carrots until tender
in a casserole dish
add the carrots
1 cup of crumbled feta
3 Tablespoons of rum
5 Tablespoons of mango juice
3 Tablespoons of Pineapple juice
1 cup of golden raisins
1/4 cup of honey
2/3 cup of brown sugar
1/4 cup of lemon juice
1 teaspoon of cumin
1 teaspoon of cayenne
1 tablespoon of dried cilantro
1/2 cup of cooked ground lamb
1 cup of pistachios
add carrots
in a bowl
add spices and brown sugar
mix honey rum and friut juices in a sauce pan
bring to a simmer allow the alcohol
to boil away add lamb
pour over carrots
crumble feta
attop carrots
sprinkle nuts a-top
cover with foil and bake
at 350 for 25 to 30 minutes
Adagio Meat corner
slow cooked beef
------------------------------
serve with roast lamb , roast pork, roasted beef, grilled shrimp and fish
Strawberries, kiwi, and with a vanilla bean cream pastry on a almond nut cookie tart for dessert
Paired with a Moscat de Asti
There’s a party tonight so I bouffe up my hair
Pamper and powder my sweet derrière,
Arrive at the door, all done up to impress.....
Oh man, I forgot! Invite said “fancy dress”!
Pete and Sue are here, seems their theme’s ‘Tarts and Vicars’,
Sue’s skirt’s microscopic! Look at her tiny knickers!
Pete’s in a nun’s habit; the image is scary,
I’ve not seen a nun with a chin that’s THAT hairy!
And there’s Spider-Man! (although I’m perfectly certain,
His cape is made out of his living room curtain),
His curve-hugging costume’s quite “cosy” in size,
I think our friend Spidey gobbled too many flies!
In the corner, a lady has come as Snow White,
Gee, her bosoms are out there, her corset’s so tight,
They look like two bald heads squeezed into a sack,
Glad my hubby’s not here - he’d have a heart attack!
In the hallway, a robot is looking well-oiled -
Her costume’s made out of three rolls of tin foil,
She looks more like a turkey at Christmas, so later,
I really hope no one is tempted to baste her!
By the buffet, Fred Flintstone is looking contrite,
I think he and Wilma are having a fight,
Behaving all “caveman” has got Fred in trouble -
He showed his big man-club to poor Betty Rubble!
There’s a massive man-baby dressed just in a nappy,
The “milk” in his bottle has made him quite happy,
He’s shaking his tooshie and sucking his dummy,
And asking a lady, “can I call you Mummy?”
On the sofa is Princess Fiona from Shrek,
Blimey, Count Dracula’s nibbling her neck,
I avert my eyes to avoid his rising passion,
In walks his wife, and his face turns quite ashen.
His irate wife’s dressed up as pop singer Cher,
In her see through outfit she looks almost bare,
Then she lays into Drac just like Rocky Balboa -
She’s drunk as I skunk, I’m relieved I don’t know her!
Suddenly, Batman bursts through the door,
In his skintight costume - my jaw hits the floor!
He’s so muscular - bulges in all the right places,
If I play my cards right, could be me he embraces!
Well sadly I haven’t a costume of course,
Til I spot a young chappie dressed up as a horse,
I leap on his back - I’m a great improviser -
Strip off and shout “Hey I’m Lady Godiva!”
Collaboration between Jan Allison and the amazing Nina Parmenter
3/17/18
Some places you don’t write about. You survive them.
Frost on the telly, piss on the stairs,
Smells like bleach, burnt foil, and prayers.
Boiler’s gone. Sockets dead.
Someone’s screaming. Someone bled.
Tinfoil wings fill every bin,
Ashtrays stacked with yesterday’s sin.
Fridge blows air. The kitchen’s grave—
Nothing left, and none to save.
Upstairs she rocks a silent kid,
Eyes like glass, ribs half-hid.
Skin all wire, voice all gone—
“He screams less when I use alone.”
Three doors down, a bloke named Rick
Dealt ten bags to fund his fix.
Found his brother stiff and blue—
Took his coat, then shot up too.
They found her curled behind the bins,
Legs like rope, cuts on her shins.
Said she slipped.
Said it was rain.
But silence screams
when soaked in shame.
Kid got stabbed by the corner shop—
Twelve years old, still learning to chop.
Mum lit candles. No one came.
Council rinsed, but the stain remained.
Still—
still—
Through all the filth and smashed-out glass,
a streak of sun begins to pass.
It cuts across the piss and pain,
slides through blinds, through cracked windowpane.
It brushes past the silent kid,
Eyes like glass, ribs half-hid.
No cries now, just the ticking room—
Still rocked gently in her gloom.
It lingers at Rick’s old front door,
His coat long gone, his name no more.
His ghost still trapped where the rot runs deep—
No peace, no fix, no final sleep.
It finds the girl still by the bins,
Track marks raw on paper skin.
She doesn’t move, just lets it burn—
“Smoke still holds me. Wait your turn.”
The sun don’t ask what you’ve done wrong.
It just turns up. Don’t stay too long.
Don’t save the good. Don’t curse the bad.
It lights the wreckage, leaves you mad.
And while it’s here, we breathe. We fight.
We crawl one inch. We steal some light.
A thread of gold. A breath. A flame.
On streets they curse but still proclaim.
So write it raw. Don’t make it sweet.
Don’t bleach the blood. Don’t clean the street.
We ain’t saints. We ain’t pure.
But we’re still here.
And we endure.
This is the sound of neglected Britain—
forgotten, boarded, pissed-on, driven.
A country that don’t fix, just shame.
And sun that shines on piss and pain.
A day to remember; eleven September;
The year -two thousand and one.
Blue sky so pretty, over New York City,
The workday barely begun.
Out of the sky, with a terrible roar,
The first plane hit the Tower.
Soon into view, came one plane more.
Two strikes within the hour!
Fire and smoke; and terrified folk,
Trying to escape with their lives.
Some got away, but many perished that day:
Single people--and husbands--and wives.
In Washington D.C.,came strike number three
On the Pentagon--seat of the military.
The scene-much the same:another hijacked plane.
Oh, how this day turned so scary!
There was also one more;but Plane number Four
Had people who refused to yield.
Soon they began to foil the enemy's plan,
And forced a crash in a field!
America discovered that day-in a horrible way,
That we were no longer immune.
This was a wake -up call, that shook one and all,
But we began to rally real soon!
The enemy assumed with glee,that he had brought us to our knees.
Yet the thing he misunderstood,
Was that although we were there, we were kneeling in prayer!
Out of evil would arise good.
Back at the Towers. minutes became hours,
As people searched through the rubble.
Professionals, and volunteers:full of anxiety and fears
Headed back into danger and trouble.
They acted so brave, for there were people to save.
And, as they helped one another,
There were may heroes, at that place called Ground Zero,
All working together as brothers.
From around our great land, hand joined in hand:
Numerous offers of help were made.
No one sat and just waited; people congregated
They gave; they gave; they prayed;
Now flags fly everywhere, you frequently hear prayer,
Asking God to be our Guide.
Life has changed in many ways,over just a few days.
There exists renewed national pride!
Though we have declared war-it's unlike any before.
For we fight a foe that's difficult to see.
So as you kneel in prayer, utilize your time there,
To ask God to grant us victory!
Originally written Sept 29, 2001 and posted here as we near the anniversary once
again. Our nation still needs the prayer!
Charlie Pelota HSLP
Form:
In the absence of complication,
trials and tribulations become distant memories.
Above sapphire skies delight sanguine eyes -
inspiring forthcoming musings of the mind
Why, had the circumstances been not so
You would have listened to my frail voice
As it strives to step on life's pebbles
Merely to cross the river willed to us by God!
Pray, you would have yourself asked me
To recount to you of the many insights
That the skies bestow upon me,
Merely because your heart feels alive
Only when connected it is to the mysticism
That surrounds our bond!
More, you would have believed in me
Desiring me with the strength of an earthquake
Seeking solely to see my ocean bed flood
Ravaging lands and killing life
Merely to show to the rest of the cosmos
Of how moving me remains your sole duty!
Had there been not so many complications between us
You would have been the gorges
Ready to swallow my flooding waters
Merely to calm the unease that flows in me!
I remain mere woman
And in my gaze,
You remain my God,
Willed to me through the whispers of the skies
In the depths of the night!
Without you, the consciousness inhabiting me
Will turn into dust,
Easily blown off by gales and typhoons
While yours would roam around,
Hurt and angry at yourself
For having failed to believe that life on Earth
Could be imbibed with the sparks of the divine!
The complications are merely due to misunderstandings
And maybe to a bad timing,
Pray, simplify them:
Lower your swords, speak to me, listen to me,
Make of me your main concern,
Love me, forgive me and embrace me!
See the truth in my meaning
Understand that complications are merely ploys
Of the darkness surrounding us,
Seeking solely to foil God's plans!
My eyes seek to see their reflections in yours
When after whispering of my poetry to your soul
You shall lay, spent and worn
Wanting me to indulge in more of my art
Merely to please you!
In the absence of complication,
My hand would be yours to rule
My heart, yours to cherish
And my soul, yours to inspire!
In the absence of complication,
You would accept the position of God
That I give to you,
Wanting to see me snarl at the rest of the world
But,
Becoming all servile and submissive to you!
Ignatius inspected his cohort
The unknown one and his men
He needed the best to fight for him
He needed the best to fight for them
Iduma stood tall, with a beard of fiery red
Didn’t like Ignatius, he wanted his job instead
Now was the time, he could prove his worth
He was born to be a leader; he knew it from birth
Ianus the two-faced one, wasn’t sure whose side to take
He watched Ignatius and Iduma, he waited for his break
The cohorts were ordered to drink, and sup from the pool
Then Ignatius would pick his men, he was nobody’s fool
To take Britannia from Caesar, that was Ignatius’ game
And then he wouldn’t be unknown, everyone will know his name
The ones that sipped from the pool, while keeping watch around
They were the cohorts Ignatius used, his cohorts he had found
Caesar when he slept, would be in his tent set by the river
Ignatius sent his men, to bring back the Caesar’s liver
Iduma heard the plan, his temper rose and boiled
He would not let Caesar die; it was Ignatius that would be broiled
Ianus watched them both, a side he needed to pick
He wanted to be on the winning one, he knew he must act quick
The cohorts crept into the camp; to take Caesar was their plan
Then Ignatius knew he would be leader, he would be their man
Ianus decided to foil the plan, and so he set a small trap
He told Caesar what was afoot, and then his thigh did slap
He hid in Caesars’ tent and waited for the cohorts
But it seemed to him that Idouma… must have read his thoughts
His two-faced trickery failed, at the conception of his plan
Iduma didn’t trust him, he was a two-faced man
Ianus of the two faces would pick sides when things were good
But he hadn’t counted on Idouma; it was something that he should
Ignatius failed to take Caesar, and will forever remain unknown
Londinium became a diocese, of the Roman throne
With Ianus dead and Ignatius too, that left only Iduma with his men
For Caesar to promote him, not of one cohort, but ten.
Ignatius . Loose translations in Latin …..Unknowning
Iduma… ……………………………. red
Ianus… …………………………… two faces.
Caesar……………………………………King
Cohorts…….. The Legion was split into 10 Cohorts. The Cohorts were divided into
Centuries. The First Cohort contained five centuries of 160 'crack troops.
Years P.M. (Pre-MacDonald's).
Woolworths. Huge chain. (Chains break with age.)
Elevated trains. All over New York.
Five and Dimes. That was what you paid.
Ceaserian birth. In Rome?
10 cent comic books.
10 cent ice cream cones with sprinkles.
Big finned cars.
No such thing as a Pizzeria. Only certain taverns. Delivery? You nuts?
Butcher shops. Merkel Meats, etc.
Divorce? Who?
Dirt sidewalks in Queens.
No such thing as a driveway.
Tab cola (ugh!)
Old 7 oz. Coke bottles. Never tasted the same after.
Personal memories- My two cousins and I clad the entire basement in aluminum
foil- to make a "ice-cave" jam stage. Lots'a money, lots of hours.
Cesspools.
Coal furnaces. Pot belly stove in kitchen.
Family, seemingly demented, all piling in car to park right behind an Idlewild
runway take-off spot. Oh, the ears!
Jet crash at idlewild- we wound up driving through the debris field. Awful.
The 15 year old girl next door stabbed 7 times in her bed mid night. Who?
The first color tv sets early 60's- 2 choices, green tinted or purple tinted.
Saddly, this had to be butchered cause it ran too long..will be reworked another
day..
Queen For a Day. How pathetic!
Mickey Mouse Club.
Daniel boone coonskin caps.
Huge pool table in basement- played daily for years.
1956 chevy family sedan my Dad put a "Flattery" sign name on. Often asked,
why? Cause "Flattery will get you nowhere!" he'd quip.
Tools his favorite gift.
The wonders of Christmas, Thanksgiving, 6 o'clock family diners every night.
Always with mashed potatoes. (50 pound bag in pantry)- livin cheap.
My Dad never made $200 a week in salary- all his life. Lived on delivery tips and
his wits (reselling take-away appliances when he delivered).
We never had to pay for appliances because of his job.
Warm family love- unbroken- never a parent argument. Never.
No heat upstairs in our kid's bedrooms.
What's a shower? Old claw legged porcelain tub.
A 5 flowered vine livinroom chandelier of brass. worth a fortune now, if owned.
Sliding paneled doors.
Running to greet my dad when he got home each night during "Popeye".
Fried Liver. UGH!!
Smiles...
A childhood of pure wonder!!
Oh if all today's kids could be so lucky!!
It's always a chore to make...and still,
when Halloween comes, I find the will.
I don't rent or buy costumes you see,
but dress myself up like I want to be.
I don't trick or treat as I am too old,
yet, I do it for the kids coming to my door so bold.
Once I stuffed an old shirt and jeans
With rags and paper and other things.
Then I pinned it to the clothing I wore,
Four arms, four legs...who could want more?
One year I wrapped myself in aluminum foil,
Just to see if some of those kids I could roil.
I wasn't exactly the Tin Man of Oz's fame,
But the neighborhood all thought me quite insane.
Having pinned stuffed animals to my shirt one time
The "stuffed shirt" routine was more than a crime.
I have been hunchbacked and straight laced just for the kids,
Some come to my door, just to see what I did.
Last year I took a soft ball and pinned it atop my shoulder,
No, it wasn't there to look like a boulder.
I put a facemask and hat on it you see,
Two heads were better than one, when the kids looked at me.
I've gone to a party wearing shorts 'neath my overcoat,
But being such a flimsy "Flasher", I could not emote.
So, I took the strobe from my camera and held it inside,
Then, when I opened my coat...FLASH...got everyone wide eyed.
I don't do parties for Halloween any more,
Too much work, passing out candy at the door.
But, I still dress up for the kids to know,
That you don't have to buy a costume when imagination will do.
I will wear some wierd outfit that I have tried to do well,
Then yank open the door screaming..."Who's ringing that bell"?
It is often fun to see the reactions my costumes bring each year,
They generally don't know what awaits them here.
It's only once a year that I go on this binge,
The littlest ones never cease to cringe.
Some will run to their parents standing in the drive,
Wondering if such a creature could be alive.
But they eventually come back to reap their treats.
In spite of my bombastic costumal feats.
So, if you come to my door just beware,
More than a crazy poet, you might find here.
Have you ever wondered what’s kept in a real blokes shed?
I bet you thought them full of junk, but I’m telling you instead.
I’ve had the privilege to peruse such a shed one night,
It’s owned by mate Kenny, who opened up my eyes.
There was carpet on the floor, compressors by the door,
Nuts and bolts, fishing rods, and Fosters cans galore.
And if you wanted any oil, like sewing, sump, or mower,
Just look around - you’ll find it stored; an ice-cream tub’s the goer.
A pair of boots a little tight, he’ll fix for future toil,
As Kenny’s way to make them fit is dip the toes in oil.
And when I asked, ‘What’s that you have hidden under wraps?’
‘A photocopy machine’ he said, ‘and next I need a fax.’
Oh, what delights this shed had brought, all useful stuff in here,
There are even shiny rolls of foil that hold your cans of beer.
I looked around and then I spied a cot upon the wall
In storage now, he will pass it on to eldest son named Paul.
On the shelf, a yellow cage for a bird he may pick up,
But have no fear Jeanette my dear, the feathered kinds enough.
Next to the cage a machine to sew, a little worse for wear
But Ken still keeps it, just in case his overalls might tear.
Equipment plus and flashing stuff in draws quite neatly stored,
And tucked away a paper too, in case your ever bored.
Although its news has come and gone of what, why, when, and how,
This edition’s old and rare, a collector’s item now.
However, in this shed don’t smoke, no ashtray can be found
It’s tucked away, so if you must just butt upon the ground.
And for those dark and dismal days a torch you may require,
Ken has several he would lend if ever you enquire.
When talking old but useful parts, yes most still have a spare
In case of breakdowns of the first - of course that would be rare.
Ken’s shed has lots of shi….ny gear, some new, quite fit to hock
But parting with equipment here, for Ken would bring on shock.
So, hear now, folks, and listen well - a real blokes shed has all,
Its contents stored on bench and floor and even up the wall.
And if you ever need a bit of this or even that,
Go to a real blokes shed you’ll find every piece of crap.
Firstly, skies grew dark, whilst the winds grew strong,
this ominous progression, showed it would not be long
before towering clouds released their thunderous load
of torrential rain, on the land below. Though rain bode
well for much needed relief, they held great danger too,
for a lengthy deluge lasting hours, which might ensue,
could flood the low lying regions, when the dry soil,
baked hard from weeks of drought, would likely foil
the penetration of water to the parched depths below,
where roots wither unseen. Essential for plants to grow,
they’d wait in vain for relief, when heavy cool rains
racing pell mell to the lower reaches of flood plains:
sweep all before their gathered cascading might!
Although rain is needed, it is never a welcome sight
to see it fall heavily, then race away in unseemly haste.
Though desperately essential, it is a diabolical waste,
and further devastates the already stressed, parched land!
Of late Mother Nature shows she wants us to understand
global warming effects are a result of man’s thoughtlessness,
and this is why we see extremes of weather related distress,
manifested all around the globe, as severe rampaging storms,
replace once benign weather systems, accepted as norms.
Lately however, we’ve been fortunate inasmuch as the rain
from damaging storms has passed us by, and we gain
satisfaction, whilst our garden, over which we’ve slaved,
will reach its full potential, with our distressed plants saved,
from the effects of several windy days and oppressive heat.
From life giving rain, which fell:, our day is complete:
with our brown landscape becoming refreshed and green;
changed from the recent dull, ochre brown that has been
our lot. Due to changes in our weather patterns of late,
the welcome rain coming as it did, has changed the state
of our land in a way that is seen by many as a miracle.
Although this transformation is natural, for this spectacle
we give thanks, hoping nature forgives our ignorance
if we contain our natural greedy ways and exuberance.
Should we show firm resolve, to change our ways,
then she in turn may ensure we enjoy our future days.
Rhymer. Aug 5th, 2016.