Long French fries Poems
Long French fries Poems. Below are the most popular long French fries by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long French fries poems by poem length and keyword.
Freedom foremost, and the will to fight
to keep and protect our natural rights.
Nightclubs, jello shots, disco balls
mechanical bulls, beers cold and tall!
Baseball, football, and basketball games,
crazy rodeo riders on horses untamed.
Books by the millions, more than can be read,
and knowing anything can be by anyone said.
Burgers on buns, potato and tortilla chips,
yeah, those are American, born in Texas!
Satirical cartoons, radio and TV,
the magic that was Hollywood, as it used to be.
Ragtime, Bee-bop, Rockabilly, and Jazz
Swing, R & B, movie soundtracks, and Bluegrass.
The warm blanket of country when feeling cold,
the power and fury of rock and roll.
The grind of hip-hop and of rap…
on second thought, we apologize for that.
But funk gets things all out of control,
and who can say no to harmonious soul?
Stream locomotives, tracks narrow and wide,
flying machines that soar through the sky.
The glorious art that is the western,
and old Las Vegas, the moral tester.
The miracle of southern barbeque,
the burn of moonshine, or Mountain Dew.
Soft ice crew and greasy-fast French fries,
the expectation that politicians lie.
Liberty in law deeply enshrined,
muscle cars driving of the right side.
Suburbs, cabins, farms and guns,
and every legally available type of fun.
Forests, combines, and big chain-saws,
as well as full equality before the law.
A vast landscape, awesome to see,
an undying faith in our families.
Art from great down to lackluster,
recalls, vetos, and filibusters!
Checks and balances on the powerful,
we invented the internet, so things are never dull!
Mountain bikes and rollers blades,
fried chicken and biscuits, porterhouse steak.
Diners, dairy bars and fast food,
we walked on the friggin’ moon,
and built the only probes that escaped
into the void of interstellar space.
I could go on, I am tempted to,
but I think I’ve made my point to you,
And when young fool have yelled there fill,
reject their nonsense talk of “guilt.”
All nations have screwed up, it’s so
but perfection is something man never knows.
This nation still tires to confront is sins,
and brings forth profusions of great things.
The scales upon which we are weighed,
are ever clear in what they say:
When it all is said and done,
America is made of awesome.
The sober drunk
He woke up early, had fallen asleep when drunk
now, he was sober trembling hands and blurred vision
full of self-loathing; what happened once, he had been
a little boy in the Vatican and bathed in Fonte Aguiar
that’s what his mother said, and knew it was
not true, but enough for him to expect to succeed.
Walking to work, he had an unimportant snack bar in town
he stopped at a butcher and bought sliced ham to make
sandwiches also stopped at a shop and bought several
bottles of beer to get the courage needed to confront
young people, buying French fries and soft drinks.
Now that it was winter, not many people had money
came, and he was faced with long hours of tediousness
yet, he was secretly glad no one came.
Since his wife left him, worst of all had taken the dog
also, living at her father’s farm, he had no one to look after
drinking had become a problem, sometimes he closed
early so he could go to the pub and drink hours away.
He had been a seaman with a college degree, a good job
and had read hundreds of books, some of them good, his
favourite writers were Dos Passos and Ernest Hemingway
He also read supermarket books on “how to win friends
and be a success.” This was his problem, he didn’t know
how to get along with people without a drink in his hands.
One day, after buying sliced ham, but no beer, he rang
the people he had rented the snack bar to, told them he
quit, and went to an AA meeting.
At the meeting, he took the issue of what many middle-class
people said those who endlessly spoke of suffering, telling
stories of how drunk they had been and done, which
in his mind was not very much to go on about.
Friendly people they were, but one got the sense that
the down and out were not made welcome.
Since he was not drinking, his hands still tremored
went to see a doctor who said he had diabetes and wrote
out a note to buy tablets; apparently, according to
the medic had had this condition for many years, a toll
on his heart which was not in great shape either.
he lives now, a quit in Portugal and happily drinks red wine
in the evening, he says to himself. “I’m not an alcoholic.”
The tomato is the Kamikaze
of the kitchen ...
every day in droves or
sliced ??..
The onion is offered
all life ... all over
naked, defoliation in all
veins ... covers ...
Garlic is full of proud ...
Does not attend
in all dishes ... only comes
to be a partner in spice ...
Eggplant is a lucky fellow,
rarely comes to war ...
Almost never is summoned
to be eaten ...
Chuchu ... come on pet
dear ... serves God,
and everybody ... in the salad
and in the juice ...
Lettuce, it's buddy
trendy to classics,
live on high elite,
in the mouth of the muses
and artists ...
Bunny Carrot,
and eye fortifier ...
It comes together in salads,
and it's cake batter ...
Asparagus, it's fine stuff ...
just adores high society ...
Loves the bourgeoisie,
and it doesn't appear on every fair ...
Jerimum, known and
called pumpkin,
but loves to be called
of zucca, or zapallo ...
Azafran ... is snobby ...
Don't even talk of saffron,
this distant poor cousin ...
But it is delicious in rice ..
This already proved is fact, ...
Said to be Spanish, but it is
from Egypt...
Some others I'll just name ...
Maxixe, is for those who appreciate ...
Many dance the rhythm from Brazil ...
Okra has drool and beard
and some sticky taste ... there
in MINAS with chicken
it looks tasty ...
And the cilantro ... ah! .. for
who eats it ... I ...
I do not ...!
Cumin ... makes spice,
a care for you to dreams ...
Without cumin I eat everything
alone ...
Finally the POTATO ...
Bread of the poor and the rich ...
Packaged in salad, cooked,
French fries ... potateee,
Kartofen ... how tasteful ...!
You have fought in many wars,
saved many lives ...!
No Toilet Paper
My mind is boggled.
What is with the Coronavirus mania?
Why is everyone going freaking nuts over this?
From what this writer understands,
It is much like the regular flu,
Which is killing thousands as we speak, and
Hospitalizing even more. And this has been going on,
As long as I have been alive since 1952.
But this particular microbe is novel, and
Since little is known about it apparently,
People are afraid they will “get it.”
So off to Costco they all go, and
Buy as much toilet paper they are all permitted to buy,
Take it home, store or hide it with the other family treasures,
And then realize, inexplicably, that now
They are all magically immune to “getting it.”
Is that what these crazed souls are thinking?
I can think of a fate worse than “getting it.”
Worse than sports games being cancelled;
Worse than concerts and plays going on indefinite hiatus;
Worse than school classes and Sunday services finding the exit door, for now;
Worse than millions of vacations being cancelled, and
Entire industries being brought to their knees;
Worse than the world economy taking a complete nosedive
Into depression and financial paralysis;
Worse than millions of human beings dying
Horrible, agonizing deaths due to this little microbe.
No, I can think of something even worse.
Imagine going to Steak Corral - All You Can Eat,
One night soon, and you wanted your money’s worth.
So you load up your plate with:
Whiskey-laced, barbecued baked beans and garlic bread;
Two breadcrumb-laced quarter pound char-burgers,
Each smothered in a half dozen beer-breaded onion rings,
With ranch dressing dripping over them like lava.
Then you go get some more beans on french fries with
Big raw garlic chunks nestled in them, and then,
You wash it all down with three beers.
Imagine the next morning.
Imagine the horror, the horror,
Of voiding all that Steak Corral stuff, and then
Having the absolute worst possible thing
Happen to you in today’s crisis times.
No toilet paper.
Remember when suburban and small town stores were closed Sunday morn?
Remember when they rolled up the sidewalk at night at nine-thirty or ten?
Remember when the attendant pumped your gas for less than 20 cents a
gallon?
And when you opened the hood, you could find the gears and the trans?
Remember when a national holiday didn't mean 'beach, beer or barbeque?'
Remember when vacations meant marshmallow roasts by a campfire
uplugged?
Remember when the policeman walked his beat on the street, and was
friendly?
And that via US mail was the only way a picture postcard out-of-town could
you send?
Remember when a paper was a dime, baseball cards and candy bars a nickel?
Remember when fans, and players, were loyal to their teams, and not so
fickle?
Remember when the soda jerk in the white paper cap poured us phosphates?
And how 'bout the linoleum tiles of those diners and all the greasy French fries
we ate?
Remember when we danced the twist, the frug, the Freddy and the swim?
Remember when we camped outside the ballpark and near the end the
usher let us in?
Remember when you paid nothing for medical insurance and how much
it covered?
And the Doctor used his hands to examine you, then told you, without
ordering any tests, what was wrong?
Remember when friends and neighbors sat on the stoop, shooting the breeze
on hot summer nights?
Remember when the sounds we heard were not gunshots, but the crickets, in
the moon shining bright?
Remember when we covered our hearts with our hands when the National
Anthem was sung or played?
And we knew the words and sang along, with a lump in our throats, and tears
in our eyes, 'O, say...'
If you remember these things, and they seem as precious to you as they do
to me,
Then make a poem of your memory ~ Capture them forever for your children
for free.
There you were. Here you were a tear falls down my eyes as I see you getting weaker.
Doctors predicted 4 months to live and I was still living in a delusional world I could
never quite see over that rainbow where you were gone from me. It seemed too strange to
ever see my life going on without you here with me. Then the four months went by and you
were still here a new treatment, a new try... but the pain keeps getting deeper. I wanted
you to live forever to be my dad until the end of time and all the while I noticed that
this disease was breaking you down and it hurt. If it was breakfast in the morning it was
usually liquid in the bucket by lunch, you couldn't keep any food down and your favorite
foods taste like garbage. I wished I could help you, I almost resented your anger when I
didn't bring ketchup to put on your french fries. You claimed I was inconsiderate and
then when i'd cry you'd wipe my tears and sing me songs full with lies. I always ended up
forgiving you and thinking that you'd always be here tomorrow to talk to. How naive I
was... almost a year went by and than each couple of weeks you were in an out of the
hospital. The ambulance was at our house more than anyone else... I had to call every
time you were in pain and I sat by you reassuring you things were going to be ok. But I
never got the reassuring talk from you... I was too late to visit you in the hospital and
I hate myself for not seeing you. By the time I visited you couldn't talk or breath on
your own... The only sign of life was the monitor. I cried so hard that day and I cried
for after. Hard times were coming then and I could have used reassuring words from my
father. But I guess I can't fault you... I can never blame you, It just hurts me that I
never got a chance to say good bye. I never got to say " I love you".
Form:
Like French fries and ice cream, two different places but retain the same meaning
Hot and cold like I am riding with the a/c on and the window down to catch the perfect breeze
If we were born in the same state would our relationship ever equate
You can never be certain of what is to come but you can control your outlook
We used to go by intuition, then we used the stars, then we stumbled upon maps, before listening to the GPS
Someone will always have an opinion, direction, plan for what should be your relationship
When the only map that matters is the directions to your relationship goals, the only opinion that matters is the thoughts floating from the mind of your queen or king
So, when all is lost and you are frustrated with bae over the little things
Look into the stars in their eyes under that Minnesota sky to find the answers
Why fight over the little things when in the beginning we connected through all of the little things
The way he would kiss her right before he said goodbye, was never the same as the kiss he gave as he said hello, it was special as if he was in the same moment she was thinking of as he walked away
The way she would hold you just a little tighter when she was afraid and believe in you when you didn’t believe in yourself
She has never been to Tennessee but I can picture her under the Memphis sunset, as to say it will all be ok at the end of the day
We get on each other’s nerves but all we have is us when everything else is gone, so no matter how hard life gets I will always be the one to kiss her goodnight
As we lay back and pop in a movie that we will never finish before our eyes close with my arms around you and your faith carrying my wavering thoughts
p.s. our feeling will stay the same, never changing same as the birthplace…
Probably with the most evilest of laughs!
89,000 gold nuclei per second.
Sounds medieval:knowledge and enquiry
based on ancient findings. Findings learned from
Latin and Greek Natural Scientist.
Medieval scientific knowledge and enquiry
precious metal gold was a dream of
medieval alchemists.
Instead of focusing on fixing individual parts,
systemic thinking looks at how everything
in a system is connected.
Have the Mad Scientist of our past made a comeback
through channeling into the souls of these men?
Are they wicked for achieving what Madmen
had tried to achieve for centuries?
Soliste in the power of invention.
Colliding beams of lead
short-lived gold ions.
refine particle-accelerator residue
lead is a very difficult element to make
lose protons and for it to lose 3 of them
to change it into gold requires huge
amounts of energy
These Men are either wise or Mad!
hematite, a iron oxide mineral
found on Mars might have inspired this Madness!
Their are no confirmed evidence of gold on Mars
surface
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Romantic Meal
12 fried zucchini fries
12 eggplant fries
2 cups of brown ground pork
2 cups grated mozzarella
3 cups of tomato's sauce
sauteed onions and garlic
1/4 parmesan cheese
sauteed green bell peppers
sauteed mushrooms
pizza dough
deep dish casserole pan
1 teaspoon of anchovie fillets
1/2 chopped ham
1-2 cups of béchamel sauce
in dish layer dough.
add béchamel sauce top with ham
fried veggies and sauteed veggies
(add fresh basil & Oregano
leaves)
or sprinkle dried basil and oregano
add pareseam
top with tomato sauce mixed with
pork
top with mozzarella and bake
until golden brown serve with
a sald french fries and beer
;
As always when in the initial throes
of writing what I strive to concoct viz
pièce de ré·sis·tance,
which grandiose whim fizz
hills with utter futility, nonetheless this
nondescript husband under
scores comment, while pulling his
grizzled hair of chinny chin chin,
and emphasizing that mine
literary effort ain't no whiz,
whether expressing an insatiable hunger
for factual national world events,
weird news i.e. geico liz
heard eats dog,
(who swallowed homework) quiz
sic hull varying from opinion/editorial,
geopolitical related or showbiz,
but breathe deep, while setting loose
quiet riot of ideas,
which profuse accursed
process usually incorporates an overwhelming
growing exponentially cerebral burst
whereat impossible task
looms large, asper how to
zero on most agreeable needling
threadbare notion to come first
amidst the plethora of rampant analogous
to horde of infants
clamoring tubby nursed
bajillion ideas touting joyfulness
(re: l'chaim), or...mine
envisioned sorrowfully immersed
demise as select small group
of family and friends accompany
glassy transparent hearst
(which...shh... keep on the Q.T.
as figuratively utter by pursed
lips), of course no corps
(habeas corpus cited for no reason),
but liver worst
poisoning wrought unexpected demise,
AND cremation (in a free nation)
means body double
coffin before your eyes
doppelganger paid in blood
money and french fries
(duet to a solo salt craving) no lies,
hence an none nee moose penniless chap dies
in short shrift within schema of mortal guise
ashes scattered all points on the compass
one bitcoin player in the blockchain of life wise
lee subsumed within world
wide web, this fate hain't no surprize!
I should eat healthy, I really should! But life is too short for that. Food, food, food,
it chases away the blues, it brings comfort to the soul. So here is a list of the foods
that I L.O.V.E. and that make me happy. You will note a theme of cheese and
dripping butter (and chocolate) . . .
a chocolate bar, anytime
bananas, green, not ripe
crackers and cheese, as a snack
drenched in blue cheese, salads and homemade croutons
even, tortilla chips and chunky salsa
French fries from a chip wagon (on my way home from the gym)
grandma's recipe for beef stew with loads of vegetables and a rich gravy
hamburgers and hotdogs off the barbeque with all the fixings
ice-cream, chocolate of course
just out of the oven, french bread
keep the donuts and coffee coming
loads of meatballs, made from mom's recipe (in a sweet tangy sauce)
macaroni made with three kinds of cheese
nothing better, than spaghetti with meat sauce and parmesan cheese
onion soup, french canadian style, dripping with cheese
pizza, deluxe (peanut butter on toast before bed)
quick take out of chicken wings with hot sauce
really, really old cheddar cheese
steaming cobs of corn, dripping with butter and salt
tomato, bacon, and lettuce sandwich
until I say stop, chocolate
vegetables fresh for a farmers market
what is wrong with me, this is all so unhealthy
x-tra, of everything, please
yogurt with strawberries on the bottom
zesty dill pickles, aged one year
______________________________
June 24, 2016
Poetry/List/The Joy Of Food
Copyright Protected, ID 16-804-040-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.