Long Leg of lamb Poems
Long Leg of lamb Poems. Below are the most popular long Leg of lamb by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Leg of lamb poems by poem length and keyword.
The painter
The sky this afternoon was odd clouds
looked as ice-bergs floating on pink air
the seagulls kept their distance.
A grey wolf scratches on my door
I let it in
had a leg of lamb it ate it all then fell asleep
Then it wanted to leave and, I saw it disappearing
In the dim lit hall, I asked no question.
But made me think of a Russian painter who
painted the trees black with a red background
and you could sense wolves starring at you.
The sea in the bay is dark with white spots has
the Russian gone mad painting the sky and not
telling anyone. I wonder if his name was Kalovsky
not that I know but the name sound Russians.
I go back into the hall the wolf has gone but it
left a pile of dung as prove it had been there.
Leg of lamb with rosemary
Herb sauce and berries
Mouth-watering aroma
Blend of paprika
Get a plate in haste
Such a great
Taste!
Nice!
Easter crust
Slice of delicious
Tasty gingerbread
Baked with touch a Easter wine
Going to my head
Ready to royally dine!
© Joseph, March 19, 2008
© All Rights Reserved
This poem about a delicious dish starts with the regular format of seven
syllables in the first line, and it progresses down to one syllable in the seventh
and last line. However, the second section starts with an inverse of the first
section, whereby the poem starts with the seventh and last line of one syllable
and ends with the first line of seven syllables. The form is 7/5/7/5/5/3/1/ and
inverse 1/3/5/5/7/5/7. This form was created by Joseph S. Spence, Sr.
Brush strokes
The sky this afternoon had odd clouds
looked like icebergs floating on pink air
The seagulls took refuge on my terrace.
A grey wolf with a leg of lamb scratched
on the door, I let it in.
when preparing the meat, the wolf left
down the hall that was dimly lit
I asked no question
I remembered a Russian painter of black forests
and dark red sky I think he was foresighted
therefore, sent to a Gulag.
The sea in the bay is dark with white spots
the Russian has gone mad, was his name Kozlovski?
Back in the hall where the wolf had disappeared
left a pile of dung as proof, in case, I thought
it was a dream.
THANKSGIVING LEFTOVERS
Thanksgiving has now come and gone,
But we’ve still got turkey by the pound,
So the question now becomes,
What leftover recipes can be found?
We can have turkey tetrazzini,
Turkey chili with lots of beanies,
Turkey chow mein,
Turkey with whole grains,
Cause we’re not thrilled by more turkey plain.
Turkey stacked on white bread, lots of mayo,
Turkey quite spicy doused with lots of Old Bay,
Pasta with turkey spaghetti sauce,
Turkey on a salad gently tossed,
And let’s not forget some turkey jerky.
Ben Franklin pushed the turkey for our national bird,
Cause turkey provided sustenance, that’s what he heard.
But he didn’t face the problem that confronts us today,
How do we make so much leftover turkey go away?
Turkey is quite versatile, Help us eat a pile,
Eat the neck, munch the gizzard,
So much white meat, it’s a turkey blizzard.
And let’s not forget the turkey liver,
That’s the part Grandma says to give her.
Our turkey didn’t fly the coop,
That’s why we’ll enjoy turkey noodle soup,
Turkey in the straw, turkey cole slaw,
Take my advice, try turkey fried rice,
Turkey pot pie, Got to give it a try.
How many days can one turkey last,
If we don’t get rid of these leftovers fast,
Then we’ll have turkey coming out our ears,
And we’ll eat turkey for a couple years.
Oh, no, I just remembered, Christmas is coming soon,
We can’t eat another turkey or we’re gonna swoon.
Guess instead we’ll serve ham, leg of lamb with mint jam, can of spam,
A dozen clams, with a side of yams and crackers of graham.
Anything but turkey!
One leg of lamb
Fish stock
Lemons
Cayenne
Rosemary
Thyme
Onions
Garlic
Soy sauce
Tomato paste
Olive oil
Grated Ginger
MSG
Buttermilk
Marinade overnight. BBq rare, cook fork tender
In 6 cups of vegetables stock.
Cook. Strain and make a sauce.
Make your best pie dough.
Mash 4 cups of potatoes
3/4 turkey bacon diced cooked
1 cup of swiss cheese
Cream cheese
chopped jalepeano peppers
Salt and pepper
Cayenne
Roll dough make turnovers
Deep fry or bake
Casears Salad with garlic bread, and boiled eggs!
Make Churros
Some
Butter
Flour
Eggs
Serve with fruit, sweetened goat cheese and fruit!
Now that's Supper!
Mid Autumn, Saturday 6.30am
and daybreak is slowly climbing
over the back fence.
Frank O'Hara's poetry is still
echoing in my head from reading
it last night as I cook breakfast
of bacon and eggs.
Later I walk up the street
to the chemist to get
my blood pressure pills
and as I walk, compile arguments
against Postmodernism
and recognise that the notion of
the transcendental
sits at the centre of my beliefs.
I cannot abandon meaning.
Later, I prepare a leg of lamb
for baking along with potatoes,
pumpkin and carrots. Childhood
breaks through as I open
the oven door and a blast
of heat hits my face.
I am persuaded now
by the arguments
of the Universalist or else
there is nothing at all.
After dinner I sit quietly
with my wife. The evening
is coming on and the sound
of crickets filter in through
the front screen door.
I have much to be thankful for
but I feel sad. I am not sure
if it's just the early dark or having
to let go of the last line
of this poem and slip back
into the heavy silence
of myself.
It's only a paper-mache
moon, they say, too cool,
too full of interstellar space
to sympathize or stress about
lovers, kings and fools.
Or is it? According to Deutsch
the so-called final ignition
into outer space
is a product of man's meditations
moving, as if via gravitation
the magician to the other end
of the expanding universe. Sure,
in yr computer. Meanwhile, nursed
in a nursing home, mewling and peeing
as accurately predicted by Shakespeare
my old Marine, an ex-sailor, bitter
at life's ending, waited
too long to dispatch with dignity.
All alone, as in Corbiere's poem,
old soldiers are fated
to fight unnecessary wars
as we all are. Except for the fact that
every helium and hydrogen atom
ever born or made (whatever you believe)
has taken positions, passionate
and predetermined as republicans and dobermans
over eons and epochs. Thus
I don't think it behooves us much to care
if we're getting too little clean air or
bacteria are better adapted than us. This
obsession with identity, survival
a name and a leg of lamb is lame
even uninspired. The entire universe
including the professional baseball season
is canceled when yr dead. No blame.
Shall I liken you to a leg of lamb?
You are more toothsome than marrow bone.
Though cuds do crop in Jersey cow and ram,
And all have great fondness for spam and prawn.
On winters cusp, hot roast lamb reigns sublime,
And often the gravy broth most slurpy;
And juicy parts fine as most fine wine,
By chance, both your legs are shapely;
Let not our leggy longings limply fade,
Nor droop to bagginess nor wilt or falter,
Nor lambkin legs brag on being so well made,
When in time all pegs wither and alter.
So long as there are gams to praise and thanks,
So do I, love your thighs above all other shanks
I am in a quandary
I am in a fix
My life in a predicament
I wonder what will happen next
Nothing doth run smoothly
So often things go wrong
It would be so refreshing
For a new day to begin
with laughter and with joy
and a large double gin
And as the sun begins to rise
And blackbirds start to sing
I’m looking all around
for a dilemma to begin
Breakfast comes and goes
Not a burn upon the toast
For today this day be Sunday
I look forward to my Sunday roast
A gentle stroll along the prom
Before it starts to go all wrong
But people smile and for a while
I even burst into a song
Back at home the leg of lamb
Permeates my nostrils
Pink and succulent with roasties
tender carrots and parsnips
lots of lovely fresh mint sauce
complements the lamb of course
I sit and tuck into my meal
lamb melting in my mouth
This is my favourite Sunday roast
But then disaster doth approach
My left front crown I'd swallowed down
My day had begun
far too good to be true
I am starting to choke
I am turning bright blue
Alone am I ~ am I going to die
No one here to pat my back
I am in a pickle
I am in a jam
In such a tight corner
In a quandary is where I am…
Written 2nd October 2021
Contest "Q" contest
Sponsor Constance La France
2nd PLACE
Contest A STRAND 1054
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
5 Tablespoons of honey
5 Tablespoons of pommagranite molassass
5 tablespoons of Cayeene pepper
2 Tablespoons of mace
5 tablespoons of ground ginger
5 tablespoons of ground garlic
5 tablespoons of ground pepper
5 tablespoons of fennel seeds
5 tablespoons of lime juice
5 tblespoons of dried Cilantro
1 Tablespoons of Bourbon
3 tablespoons of brownsugar
mix lime, honey, molassass and bourbon and brown sugar.
rub on de-boned leg of lamb.
Mix spices and rub on lamb. Allow to marinade for 24 hours.
roast medium well.
slice and allow for those who wish well done to have there's broiled to desired doness.
Serve with a salad! and Wine.
Or potatoes and gravy.
or a savory sqash dish.
Aint knowing like loving, enjoy!