Long Saucepan Poems
Long Saucepan Poems. Below are the most popular long Saucepan by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Saucepan poems by poem length and keyword.
iv'e turned the heat to maximum, and thrown in quite a lot,
that saucepan lids sure jumping,the liquid must be hot!
i might get moans bad comment..? you never really know and
i'm told i can't use square words..! in case their tempers blow.!
now i know my styles unorthodox'' a trial no doubt in truth,
i think i should give it all i've got, plus more (verbiage)
perhaps rough-cut or... uncouth.? no! i'd better not get heavy
in case indegestion looms, oh..bother i'll just serve it as it is,
and use the extra large soup spoons..! yess.. they won't get in
one full helping, at least not at a thyme, the lumps for those with a nose for
prose,
for the others some soupy rhyme.
The air fills with familiar tunes eminating from a flaking dusky red piano, it's master's majestic touch of mitten clad fingers are a sight to behold as they dance sprightly upon ebony and ivory with vibrant tonality.
Strangers amass to witness a crescendo of notes rhythmically blended to produce an ear pleasing multitude of genre encompassing numbers, each one with it's own story to tell as smiles are raised by reminiscing onlookers.
A gracious nod acknowledging the sound of assembled coinage thrust into a warped aged saucepan placed alongside a chrome thermoflask filled with aromatic African flavour, applause aplenty greet the ending of the show as the lid closes on another days play.
It happened on an ordinary afternoon.
In the quiet kitchen I was busy like a masterchef,
moving unnoticed with self-poised dexterity.
The intent was to cook a perfect silky tomato soup.
I reached for the salt, instead grabbed the sugar jar,
sprinkled a generous amount into the saucepan.
The smell changed instantly, sweet and wrong.
I grimaced, added more spices to mend the mistake.
She walked in then when I was at a crucial stage,
for the recipe required a vigorous whipping,
I was practically dancing with the saucepan,
holding a large spoon full of half-cooked soup.
As she went past me to reach the cabinet
I spun around to ask her to taste if the salt is ok,
ended up holding the spilling spoon over her white skirt.
The only sound I then heard was the soup hitting her feet.
I didn't say excuse me or I’m sorry,
instead, thrust the spoon toward her mouth,
murmured, tell me if it's too garlicky and salty.
I could still make the tangy taste right.
She ducked under my arm and silently walked out,
leaving me with the dripping spoon.
I wondered if I should hand over the kitchen
solely to my wife, for I felt that was not my place.
Note : I am not an accomplished cook, but I often try to do some
culinary experiments. I chose this moment and the situation
because these were quite embarrassing and awkward for me,
for my wife used to tell me to not mess around in the kitchen.
The hardest line to write was “ I didn't say excuse me or I’m sorry”,
because at that upsetting moment I wanted to divert her attention,
doing and saying something else, but actually I wanted to say sorry.
From the first draft I removed the last two lines of the last stanza where
I said I should spend more time in the kitchen to be an efficient cook,
but replaced them with the two lines as shown, a realization that I think
was pragmatic at that time.
PASTA: A FORK OF HEAVEN
In a pot of bubbling boiling water,
I drop hard nine inches long bundle of farfelles..
Minutes passed,between my fingertips,
I pressed one strand, al- dente!
In a platter glittering white,
I form a fist of fresh-cooked pasta noodles,
pouring a hot scoop of white
creamy silky sauce made from:
parmesan and pecorino
melted, blended in a saucepan,
flavored more with a savory stock,
tossed of shallots, saffron and lean meat.
The sauce must be rich enough
coating all the threads of farfelles...
Garnishing it with grated cheese,
teaspoonful crunchy diced bacon,
a pinch of chopped flat leaf parsley...
Voila! Who could refuse this tasty fork of heaven?
__________________________________________________
***farfelle - a type of pasta: thick and wide noodles
al -dente - a pasta noodle cooked all the way through except in the center being slightly undone
CONTEST name: DIDACTIC FOOD
~~3rd place~~
1:54pm, September 09, 2015
The ancient organ groaned
ended the passion
- bitter vinegar tones
pierced the walls
Heart had lost its fire
The prophets rubbed their heads
wisdom at any time and place
Overly high hopes
Resignation found in a
cast iron saucepan
The criteria for organ donors
are clear
~
Bell tower mourns
*Image of Paul Simon SNL by Giphy.
Simple Simon
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Woke up fresh as the day began,
Busy cooking, his wife named Anne,
Made his breakfast in a saucepan,
Enjoyed eating his plate of flan,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Filled with it and a bit more than,
Kissed his wife as the best he can,
Came a knock was cousin Tristan,
Kissed her again before he ran,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Walking with his fellow kinsman,
Who was a bit like a Tarzan,
He says, "We'll do as we did plan",
Simon says, "Yes, buy us a van",
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
His cousin be an anchorman,
Does things like some sort of game plan,
Says he will talk to the salesman,
Interviews him like a newsman,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Let him run the show as one-man,
Naught be a common businessman,
Just glad to be a middleman,
As Tristan drew the masterplan
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Waiting ate a bowl of pecan,
Tossed all the shells in a trash can,
Tristan smiled, "Got the minivan",
"And at a price that cost less than",
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Twas showroom new, in black and tan,
Best terms on the installment plan,
Signed, gift his full attention span,
While at the station, thanked Tristan,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Drove on home to show his wife Anne,
Who had a guest her friend, Roxanne,
Amused they were with the new van,
The cost, the look, in black and tan,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Took wife Anne and her friend Roxanne,
Proud just been a little more than,
Wide-eyed no call by the sandman,
Off from work with Anne and their van,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman.
2020 March 03
*HM*
STRAND CHOICE C,any form,any theme
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2020 March 11
So, they say that you kill a man with a pillar and saucepan
The witness was clear for he saw you coming from over there
You enter through the back door with a claw bar and drill
You broke off the lock and make your way in from the back
You enter the bedroom and strangle him in his bed
Then you use the sauce pan and sever several blows to his head
And in second my next-door neighbor was dead.
The evidence is clear,
that you were the only person that went over there…
Your fingerprint is all over the place,
and your DNA is floating everywhere.
You kill the man, didn’t you?
Yes! you kill the man for a single pair of shoes,
for it is the only golden shoe; it is the only one of its kind,
and it was a gift from a friend of mine.
Your honor the evidence is strong
and he is the only witness that will take the stand
It was a deliberate and calculated murder
For the camera captured every bit of it
And the judge will now read out the verdict.
I watched him staring in the sky
Without a single remorse in his eyes
It was extremely clear that the verdict was coming from the air
The entire place was still
and you could hear a pin drop on the ground
while destiny loiters around
Count one guilty
Count two guilty
Guilty on count three
Guilty on count four
Count five guilty
There was no jury in the box
The verdict bellows through the clouds
As it made as it made its way into the
Freighted crowd sitting in the courthouse
Everyone looked up at the roof
to see what was passing through
but the voice filters out into thin air
and they chain him onto the mystical chair.
Yorkshire, 1914
I patch mended her copper saucepan,
Edged an axe, two cleavers and a knife.
I did all the jobs that were required.
By this comely young farmer’s wife.
She served me a platter of rare beef
With chunks of home baked bread,
And along each large slice of meat
Relish of horseradish was spread.
She served me there in her kitchen
Sat me at a large wooden bench
As I watched all around the room
A young and fine buxom a wench.
She slid on my knee quite suddenly
And I held her there in my arms.
For how could any young man
Refuse an offer of such charms
She kissed my mouth with a passion.
She kissed me with a lust and desire,
That set may pulses off racing
That set my whole body on fire.
I held her for all of that evening
And most of that coming night,
Enjoying the play of our passion
The pleasure and sheer delight.
She served me a farmhouse breakfast.
For which my whole body yearned.
Eggs and home slaughtered bacon
Bread, and butter near freshly churned
I held her once more in that kitchen
In thanks for the love we had made
Then out to follow my fortune,
A wandering Jack of all Trade.
I could hear Shires in the stable
That fine November’s morn
As I set off on my journey
Just at the crack of dawn.
I strode away quite briskly
Down that winding cart track,
My body so pleasantly sated,
Possessions slung over my back.
Oh how I so love this my freedom
To enjoy while there’s still chance
For I reckon it’ll soon be the recruiter
And a spell in the trenches of France.
Maybe this really happened.
I wonder did he survive
The carnage of that bitter war
To come back whole and alive.
Yorkshire 2022
The day had started normally and no way had I reckoned
when Mum had washed the breakfast pots that stardom was to beckon.
Waiting on the pavement, passing dogs who were not used
to what they saw, jumped up and barked- their owners looked bemused.
Total strangers, pretty girls, the driver of the bus,
they all queued up to talk to me and some made quite a fuss.
The older folk asked how I was and Mum told them I'm healthy,
the younger ones with phones in hand sneaked up and took a selfie.
A nurse though rarely raised a brow when we walked through the door,
a veteran of lads like me she'd seen it all before.
In A&E* she commented "Lad, let it not be said
you'll ever be short of company with a saucepan stuck on your head".
(*A&E- Accident and Emergency)
'Twas but a reptile passing by.
It flew across the deep blue sky
Why do reptiles fly so high?
I'll love you till I die.
"Twas but a cat under the moon.
Did you have a silver spoon?
Why can't cats all waul in tune?
I'll love you very soon
'Twas but a wooden legged man,
Carrying a large brass saucepan.
Why can't men do what women can?
I'll love you better than.
Why are adverbs?
What are nouns?
why do circuses have clowns?
I'll love you lying down.
Where do dreams go in the day?
What game can we adults play?
Can you or can you not say?
I'll love you,in my way.
'Twas but a verse that seemed so free.
It floated over my oak tree.
I have eyes but cannot see.
I'll love you when I be