Long Fries Poems
Long Fries Poems. Below are the most popular long Fries by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fries poems by poem length and keyword.
My name is Flutter T. Flies, my phantom date ferociously said.
I will remember his cocky attitude until the day I am dead.
Do you like frogs? I asked, in a silly sing song voice.
I am super sassy too, my name is Kathisha EverBee Joyce.
He rolled his eyes and acted like I was not the cat’s meow.
Which made me angry, and I mean furious now.
I saw pink, orange, blue and red in my mind.
How dare this Tom be nasty to me, a rare find.
It was a date set up by our mothers, idiots apparently.
We are not suited any more than a spider web to a bee.
I watched him devour fries in a weird ugly toothy way.
And I was glad to leave the buffoon at the end of the day.
The Goa restaurant was in a quiet neighbourhood
a place with small shops selling domestic wares
of the things needed for everyday use
a place I would like to live instead of in a tower block
on entering the restaurant, I took a direct aversion
of the dark blue brocade covering the chairs and also
of the golden-painted walls, but let it pass.
The food we were served was good but ordinary
In the Indian style, they tend to use the same spices
so, all dishes that, in the end, taste the same.
We drank cold beer, and later, my wife had ice cream
and I had a cup of strong coffee.
When I lived in England, I used to after the pubs closed
go to an Asian restaurant to drink some more and
eat chicken with fries, but I can’t remember if the food
was any good; the question is: am I racist, or is it
that I simply like European cuisine.
The Empty Nest
What shall we do today?
Now the nest is empty
Not as much washing to do
When the kids lived at home there was plenty
Shall we go out for a meal?
A two-for-one meal deal will do
Instead of the usual bargain bucket
Which would feed a slew
Chicken wings and coleslaw and fries
And a large tub of chocolate ice-cream
Drew would eat more than his fair share
His love of fast food was extreme
When we get home from the restaurant
I'll look in the boys bedroom door
And i'll think how bare the carpet looks
With no discarded clothes on the floor
I'll lie in the bed and think
That the house is far too quiet
And think of when the kids were here
Music blaring and running riot
I feel a sense of loss
And feelings of rejection
I'm laid here with my loving spouse
But I feel a disaffection
I think that what we had is gone
I'm starting to wonder whether
Our children living at home
Were the glue that kept us together
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
4/7/22
I often smoke it up, the amount is of a colossal size
Drinking whatever even bottled wines
For a long time
Always in a fog and high
It's just been my dog and I
Clueless or watchful eyes
Get with it or fall in line
Sick and tired of such novel lies
Ya'll guys
Some small fries
Still acting like a hostile tribe
During difficult and awful times
What was done was not that bright
Therefore never got it right
Leading to constant loss of life
As well as homicides
Staying on the rise
Leaving families traumatized
What happened was wrong alright
You should be disqualified
Pockets empty or full of bills not pocketknives
When I look in my mama's eyes
I know I gotta try
In order for our lives to be optimized
Does no good to compromise
Before becoming fossilized
Putting it all aside
I'm not going to apologize
Because I make sure that any of my wrongs I right
Changes made occasionally the plan modified
So much still on the mind
For three little pigs,
there was no wolf,
no house of twigs,
no huff, huff, puff.
Just three little pigs,
all far too daft,
all far too thick,
and far too fat.
These three little pigs,
all from the woods,
set sail to where,
a statue stood.
These proud little pigs,
set up their shop,
in New York’s square,
beside the dock.
These bright little pigs,
in old new York,
did find themselves,
'most wanted' pork.
These scared little pigs,
did not realise,
the US fondness,
of pork pie.
These lost little pigs,
frantic to hide,
from Christmas ham,
and bacon fries.
These poor little pigs,
now far too late,
all far too slow,
to escape their fate.
These warm little pigs,
beside the fire.
Happy ending no?
There situ dire.
These sweet little pigs,
now roasted ham,
caked in sauce,
like minty lamb.
For three little pigs,
it was the end,
no golden gates,
nor eulogy penned.
02/12/2021
from the news
A tomato met a non-tuber plant
sweet music
a birth to what is known
as potatoes, these days also called fries
Just think if the tomato had not
been so unfaithful trying it on with
any passing plant
What would our diet be like
without the beloved spud
I read this in a paper that extols the free press
With the mild hand of exceptions
These days, the paper has fallen on hard times
and had sold out to real estate
not the two-up and one bathroom
houses in the millionaire class, after all
One has to show class
This morning, an article about jellyfish, that
In my youth, there were plentiful along the coast
of Norway, some of them stung
Now we have to go to the Outer Hebrides to
Find one in shallow pools
What I took away from the morning paper
was of potatoes, tomatoes, and the selling
of posh houses
When I eat salt it awakens the boys
They talk to the tongue, making all kinds of noise.
One bit of sugar leads to sixteen bits of another.
I learned this the hard way, warned by my mother.
Sugar and salt, the two things I love the very most.
I eat them with chocolate, on peanut butter toast.
I cannot get enough of salt or sweet things.
They are going to kill me. So ding ding a ling?
We have to die of something? It might as well be salt.
I love potato chips and French fries, and a big chocolate malt.
I cannot get enough of cake, pudding, ice cream and pie.
If I cannot have them, frankly, I’m ready to die.
Just for a while, each soul wears smiles,
Then in due style, file past end mile.
Yes one by one, each leaves abrupt,
No more to pun, death does disrupt.
Time catches each, in quick charade,
Space cannot reach, end of life fades.
Be aware then, yes see the truth,
You know not when, death is foolproof.
So set your sights, live well each day,
Too soon the light, burst on the way.
As you grow old, your cohort dies,
One by one cold, icy death fries.
So take a look, survey the hills,
Read each fine book, live your own thrills.
Too soon end times, the final gaze,
Loss flickers chimes, depart this maze.
So laugh now more, let fest greet jest,
Spread cheer galore, frolic with zest.
Each a candle, with flicker brief,
Learn to handle, pile cheer not grief.
Death funds journey, we all must make,
Live life truly, then heaven takes!
Leon Enriquez
20 January 2016
Singapore
The sea beckons.
The air is heavy with heat,
the sun fries the streets
shrivels up trees
and I feel parched.
Tired I trudge towards the waterfront.
Still the sea beckons.
Sweat runs down my face,
wets my unshaved face,
dampens my collar,
as I plod towards
the pebble lined sea shore.
The small waves glimmer,
winking in hot rays,
inviting me to cool myself.
Insistently the sea beckons.
Summer is at its worst.
I hobble down
towards the beach,
pull down my clothes
and stand in the sun's emissions
wearing my swimsuit.
Constantly the sea beckons.
I trudge towards the water's edge,
jump in and then
come out quickly, yelping.
I feel a jelly fish sting,
it burns red across my thigh.
Disillusioned I tramp back home.
The sea beckons no more.
21 August 2021