Long Paella Poems
Long Paella Poems. Below are the most popular long Paella by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paella poems by poem length and keyword.
She walks in the night..
Cobblestones and sacred churches..
Historical and superb..
Incredible monuments..
A remembrance of ghosts from the past..
Ahh..
Her lovely Madrid..
Sights and sounds to inhale..
The aroma of fresh seafood paella
Her taste buds sang a harmony..
As she devoured her delectable meal..
Ahh..
To wash it down with a tall glass of sangria..
Thirsty for a tall glass..
Of..
A fresh fruity sangria...
She had one too many...
She more then quenched her thirst..
Perhaps her delectable meal was a bit salty..
She walks in the night..
Tipsy in Madrid..
Magical music playing..
Her lovely hips shaking to the beat of the music..
Electrifying and magnetic..
A tango..
Her love for the tango showed..
As she swayed her hips ..
She was hyponozied by the beat..
In the midst of it all..
She danced the night away..
Under the gleaming stars..
Roaming eyes lusting her..
Admiring eyes focused on her beauty..
Half moon above ..
Took a form of its own..
A wink from the half moon..
A wink..
Smiles..
Admiration..
Lust..
Ahh..
Tipsy in Madrid..
She beautifully smiles..
An unforgettable night under the stars..
And a winking half moon..
I’ll go to some faraway place,
On a lovely, isolated beach, at sunset,
And watch the fiery solar ball
Disappear over the limitless horizon.
Look, the waves are rhythmically opalescent,
The azure billows changing to carmine red
And then to misty white as the foam
Dissolve upon the fine citron sand.
I’d lay myself upon a comfy hammock,
Watch baby turtles swim in shallow sea,
Or feel the saliferous sweet breeze
Waft leisurely over the windblown dunes.
Perhaps I’d languidly sway myself into a divine nap
Until the sacred drums resonate with native music.
The smell of finely cooked paella chicken
Would whiff into my nostrils. Time to eat.
I wake and fry a couple of eggs
In my forlorn, unkempt kitchen.
I can only afford a dream.
Since youth, I've been a big foodie; every goodie I've tried, even sushi.
At 18, I traveled abroad, first to France; Thank heavens I didn't try frog!
I got to try crepes (sweet filled envelop shapes) and liquor-filled chocolate
that I ate on a train headed for Spain; but I could not get tipsy on it!
I tried many foods in Madrid, but the strangest thing I ever did
was go to a bar to try fried "calamar." Had no idea it was squid!
In the place where we lived they would serve us a strange fishy soup
that had gobbledy-gook which looked not much better than poop.
My horror I couldn't disguise while eating around those ugly fish eyes.
A soup in Seville not quite as bad was surely the coldest I ever had.
Its name is gazpacho, but I think that machos would rather eat nachos!
Paella I had on the coast to the east; for most it’s a marvelous feast.
But picking out things I just didn’t like, I ended up mainly with rice.
One melon-like drink has a cool taste. In Spain people order horchata.
Horchata from Mexico though they uses rice. It’s not even worth a piñata.
Also from Mexico I had some pork so filled with fat, I thought I’d choke.
And their mole, Holy Moly! I’d much rather eat a cannoli.
In Israel, served a mammal, I was told (once crammed-full), it was camel!
There’s one last super rare thing I’ve tried in my life (and I don’t fib this).
I say it with pride. I’ve recently tried chips made from flour of crickets!
Oct. 25, 2018 for Nina Parmenter's Trying Something New Contest
(the cricket chips are quite tasty! I gave them to a bunch of kids simply telling them that they were similar to doritos and the kids liked them!)
I lounge lazily on my deck chair
Up high in the spacious loggia
Loafing the time away, patient, waiting.....
The ocean ebbs into the small bay
As the sun sets far away over the horizon.
From below electric lights flash on
One by one and guitars are strummed.
The enticing aroma of paella wafts up
But I sit on, unmoved, immobile, waiting.
In the summer heat, I wait,
For the night to bring her near,
With a dance so sweet, she'll appear,
The summer heat is scarcely relieved
By the faint ocean breeze
The murmur of people reaches me.
She has arrived and the guitars sing.
So does my heart as I behold my wife.
Slowly she pirouettes on her dainty toes,
Her skirt resembling a veronica,
Like a cape that baits the bull
In a Spanish bloody arena.
But I sit on, unmoved, immobile, waiting.
I cannot see her red, red lips
That taste like lavender in height of summer,
I can just barely make out her silhouette,
Her sexual curves, her lithe footing,
Her inviting mien, her head held high,
a proud senora dancing just for love.
In the summer heat, I wait,
For the night to bring her near,
With a dance so sweet, she'll appear,
Soon the dance will end and I...
Why I just wait till she'll come to me,
In the dark cover of the night.
With a tequila and a night of love.
Single slippered Cinderella
Yesternight’s ball bella
Angelic voices heard a cappella
Followed by lovely clarabella
The dinner served was paella
With a side of shredded mozzarella
While faking a case of salmonella
Cinderella invited her fella
To follow her into the cella
Lingering aroma of citronella
With a pleasant tinge of canella
No secrets told near mimicking corella
Misplacing both shoe and umbrella
[ Clarabella = instrument much like a flute; Cella = a room in a temple; Corella = a cockatoo ]
AP: 3rd place 2025
Submitted on April 28, 2018 for contest ANY RHYMING POEM IN APRIL sponsored by LAURA LOO - RANKED 4TH
Frogs’ legs
French cuisine fad
Amphibians hopping mad
Shish kebabs
Cubed lamb chislic
Served on toothpick
Pizzas
Flatbread Italian feast
Waist measurement increased
Bird’s nest soup
Rare Chinese foodstuff
Swiftlets sleeping rough
Mexican wraps
Spicy chicken fajitas
Hot as senoritas
Seafood paella
Shrimp, lobster, cuttlefish
Saporous Valencian dish
Maple syrup
Canadians tree tap
Sticky sweet sap
Digestif
After dinner drink
Brandy glasses clink
17/09/18
'six-word couplet poetry contest' : Sponsored by: Mark Toney
No Luz (No Light)
We were sitting in a Spanish restaurant,
A strange place, but oh so elegant.
We ordered our meal, but much to my disgust,
The call of nature came, and I thought my bladder would bust.
‘Donde esta los servicicos? I asked,
The beautiful senora, as she raced passed.
'Aqui mismo,' she pointed to the far wall.
‘Gracias’ I replied, and I tried not to fall.
The sangria had built up to an alarming height,
I staggered to the door, but oh what a fright.
No light could I find to light my way in,
And as I closed the door, my foot kicked a bin.
Was it automatic I thought - really quiet quick,
But no the door closed, and there was no welcoming click.
I opened the door ‘Senora, no luz can I find.’
She didn’t hear me, or ignored me for the gorgeous bloke behind.
I closed the door, and in darkness I sat,
My hands searching round, for this and for that.
No tissue, no taps, but Ouch! What was that?
As I banged my knee, on the wall where I sat.
The loo was small, the smallest I had ever seen,
But at least I felt better - when I had been.
I returned to the table, my husband looked at me,
‘Is everything ok?’ I wondered what he could see.
‘Senora no luz’ I said in my best Spanish,
And I pointed to the door, over the paella dish.
‘No luz, you are sure?’ She looked quiet alarmed,
As she reached to the door, and extended her arm.
She pushed the square box on the wall by the side,
And the light shone brightly, and she looked inside.
‘Senora Mirar, look here with me.’
La luz is alight, as you can plainly see.
Embarrassed I was, but at least I did not frown,
As she picked up the trail of tissue hanging down.
It was caught up in my clothing, near the middle somewhere,
And I had dragged it across the restaurant, right back to my chair.
I lounge lazily on my deck chair
up high in the spacious loggia
loafing the time away, patient, waiting.....
The ocean ebbs into the small bay
as the sun sets far away over the horizon.
From below electric lights flash on
one by one and guitars are strummed.
The smell of paella wafts up
towards my rumbling stomach,
but I sit on, unmoved, immobile, waiting.
The summer heat is scarcely relieved
by the faint ocean breeze. Salty sweat
runs down my unshaven face,
a welcome taste as my tongue licks
the sides of my parched lips.
The murmur of people reaches me.
She has arrived and the guitars sing.
So does my heart as I behold my wife.
Slowly she pirouettes on her dainty toes,
her skirt resembling a veronica,
like a cape that baits the bull
in a Spanish bloody arena.
I cannot see her red, red lips
that taste like lavender in height of summer,
I can just barely make out her silhouette,
her sexual curves, her lithe footing,
her inviting mien, her head held high,
a proud senora dancing just for love.
Soon the dance will end and I...
why I just wait till she'll come to me,
in the dark cover of the night.
with a tequila and a night of love.
In mid-June's heat, we wait inside the bus,
and everyone has said their last goodbyes.
The Moorish boy I’ve come to know is sad.
He says he knows I never will return.
The bus pulls out (his face just fades away).
We pass through streets that now seem not the same
as those that we first rode down when we came
here six short months ago. It seemed so strange!
Madrid, my first impression of you was
how everything seemed dingy and so grey.
But staying here, I found your treasures, and
enjoyed your many charms that I unearthed.
I’ve walked among your people, tasted foods:
paella, soups and pastries and much more.
I’ve visited Retiro Park, seen art
in sculptures on your streets and in museums.
I’ve visited your shops, your restaurants
where dancers of flamenco hypnotize,
your ring for fighting bulls, your theaters;
your streets seem now familiar, almost sweet!
The group I came with, now like family,
chat happily about their going home.
But I alone am missing you, Madrid,
before I even board that giant bird.
I would choose Iberian over Siberian a true culinary librarian
Epicurean yet utilitarian not barbarian don’t be a contrarian
Top picks & tricks from heady cultural mix definitely not aryan
Runaway or just the gravy train arcane but with modern refrain
Can’t restrain or contain the insane foody reign of this domain
Go like the clappers for Tapas fiesta then siesta the slow lane
Rally your pals with the gals go dullally down any hidden alley
Croquetas or Las Gambas or just Patatas Bravas in Las Ramblas
Paella the story teller paprika bestow Chorizo glow best seller
Scarlet harlots prawn p*rn dig suckling pig jig a verdant valley
Have a trenchant penchant for any merchant of the don Jamon
Svelte slivers melt tastebuds pelt flow across the Iberico rubicon
Flavour flotilla scintilla of morcilla or tortilla to savour all thriller
Rain falls mainly on the plains starter or main food reigns in Spain