Long Seasoning Poems
Long Seasoning Poems. Below are the most popular long Seasoning by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Seasoning poems by poem length and keyword.
5 cups of cooked rice
1 &1/2 cup of diced polish sausage
1 cup of poached chicken livers crumbled (poached in 1/2 white wine)
3/4 cups of diced onion
1/2 diced celery
1/2 diced green bell pepper
3 tablespoons of crushed garlic
3 tablespoons of red bell pepper
3 tablespoons of fish stock
4 tablespoons of olive oil
1 cup of red beans
2 tablespoons of toasted sesame seeds
1 & 1/2 cups of chicken gravy
Sautee veggies in olive oil( onions, garlic ,celery, red peppers),, add sausage and livers add fish stock and red pepper flakes, adjust seasoning, add gravy stir, add the red beans, and top with sesame seeds !
SNUGGLE WUGGLE
kissy love
so the nights
shall be with you
you and I
just you and me
the way it use to be
spend sometime
just loving
just you and I
just you and me
snuggle wuggle
kissy love
sweetheart I love you
sweetheart I care
sweetheart
kiss me
let use sit here
like the ole times
when you
and I had just begun
together, together
you and I
as one !
new York, new York
2 New York Strips (patted dry)
1 teaspoon of garlic powder
1 teaspoon of salt
1 teaspoon of pepper
3 tablespoons of olive oil
2 tablespoons of butter
in a casted iron skillet
(preheated)
add oil, and butter
sprinkle seasoning to all sides of the steaks
place steaks in oil, and sear one side to a crisp sear,
turn and do the same to the other side, ( about 4 & 1/2 minutes on each side)
place in a preheated oven for 15 minutes about medium , and remove
and slather with butter and serve with the rice and beans.
Winky and the Kisser
1 cup of grape juice
1 cup of lemon juice
1/4 cup of apricot brandy
3 cups of sweet wine (red)
serve cold, with strawberry's
As Lot and his wife
Left the city of Sodom
Where gnosis flourished
His wife heard Yaldabaoth’s wrath
As the two lands burned
Hearing the children crying
Her heart made blood tears
It ripped from top to bottom
Hearing the calm call
Of gnosis singing with joy
Her soul remembered
She looked back with a quick glance
Before salty rain
Became rivers on her face
In an eye’s twinkling
She turned into a pillar
A pillar of salt
A tower of white rock salt
Through which her spirit
Climbed up the stairs of wisdom
All three thousand steps
And climbed above the heavens
And reached her first home
With all those spirits who rose
From the burning wrath
From Sodom and Gomorrah
Back below, her grave
Her grand pillar of our faith
Still stands as rock salt
To be used as seasoning
For the race of Seth
A seasoning of wisdom
To awaken all
By her noble sacrifice
Of love and gnosis
So that we all may join her
With all the angels
In the Pleroma’s banquet
Of dates and white grapes
As Philip the Apostle
Said to his students
“May our complete offering
Come with much sweet salt
For we name Sophia salt
Without her, no gift is sweet”
Thousands of students of decades
Across the nation,
Have loads of issues with grades
And lack of motivation.
A retention to learning,
With parents calling
And graduation rates falling.
It's beginning to be so concerning,
That teachers even notice,
These kids aren't learning.
The propositions the school has given,
Halted the adults' beliefs they thought they knew.
School psychologist’s are anything but driven,
And their inadequate solutions are simply untrue.
The great idea has bestowed upon me,
And this hypothesis has been churning.
Without concern for the students I can see,
This will prove the best of your earning.
A new substance has reached the market,
That will prove me right.
LSD, Cocaine, and Meth will hit the target,
So cook with all your might.
Gracious children run freely in the halls
Now happy and cherishing all their liberty,
Can finally succeed and jump off the walls.
The teens will finally use all of their ability,
If you even have the balls.
Their improved grades are a certain probability
All until the last one falls.
Will you allow these anti-celibate hands to be your remedy?
For they've known years of auctioning pleasure and devouring hearts
I am a chartered Smith
Blessed in the art of forging lies and seasoning of Romance
These are the games I play
If you may, allow these hands to caress you
I have a game in mind
One in which I love to touch and find weakness in a feminine
Getting you in bed is the last trick
I am a dog
Still a k-9 at heart
Waiting for the miss who is to play her cards right and consume this king of hearts
For these are the games I love to play
I will settle for nothing but a gem
One to take out to tongabezi and give her flowers that match the colour of her heart.
Making Breakfast
by Edmund Siejka
We live
Where trees
Reach out
To shade
A quite place.
Saturday morning
Chores
Kids still asleep
She moves effortlessly
Cracking an egg
Then another
Adding seasoning
Stirring
A blur of movements
A flick of the wrist
And breakfast is ready.
She is the Mistress
Of the house
The kitchen
Is where
We have dinner
A chance for us to
Share and
Talk
Listen to our kids
Ask questions
And grow.
“Where is the salt?” I ask
Morning sun
Gleaming
On my wife’s
Soft brown hair
Just brushed back
Warm sleep
Clinging to
Every corner of her dress.
The woman
Who says she loves me
Puts up with me
Stands
Arms folded
Leaning against the counter
She is the only one
Who can say
“It’s right in front of your nose
Where it always is”
I look sheepishly
The ceramics twins
Smile back at me
In shiny silence
Knowing that without her
I wouldn’t have breakfast.
1/4 C OF BRONW SUGAR
1/4 C HONEY
1/4 C SWEET CHILI PASTE
1/4 C CHOPPED CANDIED GINGER
3 TABLESPOONS OF SWEET WINE
1 TABLESPOON OF ONION POWDER
1 TABLESPOON GARLIC POWDER
2 TABLESPOONS OF LEMON JUICE
..........................................................................................................
1 TO 2 POUNDS OF COUNTRY HAM
2 C BUTTERMILK
SOAK HAM IN BUTTERMILK, OVERNGHT OR FOR 2-3 HOURS, TOWEL DRY AND BAKE FOR 30--45 MINUTES.
WHILE HAM BAKES, MIX BROWN SUGAR, HONEY ,CHILI,GARLIC POWDER, ONION POWDER, LEMON JUICE, AND GINGER BRING TO A SIMMERING BOIL,
AND COVER HAM, AND SEPERATE ON A COOKIE SHEET. ALLOW TO DRY.
----------------------------------------
6 RUSSET POTATOES
USING THE BUTTERMILK,
SOAK POTATOES, CUT INTO ONE INCH FRENCHFRIES
FOR ABOUT AN HOUR
-------------------------------
1 CUP OF FLOUR
2 TABLESPOONS OF CAYEENE PEPPER
2 TABLESPOONS OF CELERY SALT
2 TEASPOONS OF PAPRIKA
2 TABLESPOONS OF GARLIC POWDER
2 TABLESPOONS OF ONION POWDER
1 TABLESPOON OF OLDBAY SEASONING
----------------------------------------------------------
DREDGE POTAOES IN FLOUR, AND FRY IN OIL
REMOVE WHEN DONE------
SERVE WITH ABOUT ONE CUP OF SAUTEED ONIONS AND THE HAM
GREAT WITH SCRAMBLED EGGS AND TOAST !
Passing Moments
The test of time,
is given to every person on earth.
It wears on us like rust on metal.
It adds flavor as it pleases.
Sometimes in the best ways,
as in cooking, seasoning,
and eating.
Sometimes, not so much so,
ever instead...
knocking us down,
and around as it pleases.
The fact that it is measured,
tells us that we are gauged as well.
We are evaluated for
what we have been given,
what we earn,
what we learn
and what we do with it.
A man is the sum total,
of all that he is,
from his birth unto his death,
but that is only the beginning.
There is so much more.
The word eternity...
embracing the ultimate
summation of all existence,
in the incredible
truly...
indescribable...
face of God.
Even now,
He prepares a place,
for you and I,
in his own time,
which is perfect too.
FIVE days before Christmas, we neither
dream nor think about a white Christmas.
We see mostly red, green, silver, and gold.
We are rather pleased with a cool and sunny
Christmas Season. And we can't wait for the gumbo.
FOUR days before Christmas, our daughter is shopping
for us, her three children, and our other grandchildren.
All of them love their grandma's gumbo.
THREE days before Christmas, the streets are jammed
and the stores are packed as we shop for sausage, chicken,
crab, shrimp, and all the great seasoning for my wife's gumbo.
TWO days before Christmas, I am stressed as I shop for
a special gift for my bride of 52 years. I love my wife,
but I must confess; I'm thinking about her gumbo.
ONE day before Christmas, all our kids and grandkids are gathered
for our Christmas celebration. Gifts are shared and opened with
lots of smiles, laughs, and noise. And everyone is feasting on
Miss Barbara's gumbo.
It's Christmas Day, and all is calm, quiet, and serene.
My bride and I are all alone and enjoying the
finest gumbo. Merry Christmas to all.
Deep in your mind, You will find
Things that ain't you, Things you shouldn't do
Unless you think you can, Try to be that man
Imagine how a soul can taste, Not a day to waste
Each one adds a flavor, In which you must savor
It's like a seasoning, Depends on your reasoning
Some seek power, Watch the ritual and the hour
Careful what you ask for, Remember there's no back door
Signed in blood, This deals no dud
What you want you'll get, Yep it'll be met
When payments due, You shoulda knew
The deal was bad, Hah! You've been had
Screams of pain and laughter, That's what their after
With the sounds of ripping skin, Let's begin
Skinned like a rabbit, All movements outa habit
Epidermis thrown into the fire, That taste little desire
Red meat that's the one, Now the feast has begun
You'll be kept awake, Keeps you fresh when you bake
Peels right off the bone, Pain of another zone
Random pieces are pulled, No don't be fooled
It's called long pork, Cooked right needs no fork
Consuming brings a surge, weakness faces purge
Not talking about a movie, Not cool, not groovy
Sights can't be unseen, Real nightmares I mean
The taste so sweet, So do you wanna meet
With every gust of wind, secret taboo,
secreting a web a cocooned prison
of liquid knowing, flowing,
emulsifying impossibly old and new.
In the beyond of the known, stair-stepped,
desert bone flashed into
your consciousness a confident cajoling.
To stew, on the broth of you.
A teasing shot across your bough
of lost resistance and preservation
your eyes rolling white to the out of blue.
Sailing magnetic across it's salivate maw
and unflinching gaze
You are its pupil satellite Positron of drug,
positioned, strung shift of phase shift
of new vistas of truth and beauty unsealed,
inlayed in the naked language of the Angels, stage.
You are, quickened.
Quickened-Quicksilver, tuning, dimensionality,
Principality.
Hidden depths of self,
trigger emotion and thoughts
of infinity divided by three.
A black hole of obscene curiosity
swallows your mind.
Consciousness crests
in trans-mission inflated verbose
relay of Celeste divine? Freet?
You are a place of shipwrecks and mires,
Vagabound desires.
Who dares to sail beyond the horizon of the known retreat.
You come to an isle
of Precious golds and silvers
in frequency bands of holo-hold.
Land of spellcraft, music, heresy, thrones.
Centrigual placement of palaced
internment, camp of strange instruments,
beautiful adorned accoutrements, and contrived designs.
Rune of keys you can feel, the need.
To play them, a feeling, freed.
You shape the music into an arch entity
that offers you it's drink.
You become a dizzy swirl, unable to think to speak...
Of
Silk robes of every delicate fabrication of sin.
Jewels undone, in mythos biolocationed- transmogrifliquesatisfactions.
Yet the symbology remains constant
in it's sustain of visual topology.
Guiding you through the choppy waters
on ethereal landing
in land of the cloud of uncertainty, in hymnal,
refrain, refrain from it's hypnotic beat.
Hold on tight, Jane, Jason of the
foams and eddys and strangered things.
The exhilerating peril, in para parable.
Epic Tome, seasoning tomb of forner deed, denial plausibility causible.
Be ye not
thirsted for the salts of her drink.
For these are the Seven Seas.