Long Slaw Poems
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We have a brand new fire pit.
The ring is four feet wide.
Perfect for a Fall evening!
Cast iron and two feet high,
a present for hosting warmth.
Perfect for family and friends!
We have deadfall from the storms
and stumps hewn for seating.
Perfect for talk and cheer!
Bring your favorite beverage and food.
We have cozy blankets to cuddle.
Perfect for singing and laughter!
The neighbors see the flames
and bring their contributions.
Perfect for games and camaraderie!
Mom made hot potato salad and slaw.
Sally’s dad made ribs, and chili beans
Perfect for wieners and brats!
And so we sing and play and eat
and tell a few ghost stories, too.
Perfect night to have some fun!
Come join us for our bonfire!
Tediously bored, Sir Drake
Prolonged afternoon of tea and cakes
Jam coats his chin with gooey paste
A beard of crumbs hangs from his face
His manner somewhat hard to grasp
Small fingers smother giddy laughs.
.
To sup he’d need a tuning fork
to confound the smacks from lamb and pork.
Lanky strands of cabbage slaw.
Gravy splashes grease his jaw
Pastries flurry dandruff flakes
A grubby mess, grandiose Sir Drake
Theodore Aka Teddy Bear
With soggy paws and matted hair
Needs a scrub from his stout chin
to the furry spats about his shins.
Carried off by loving arms
A bath restores his stately charm.
Catfish I love is on a plate
with tartar sauce, french fries, and slaw;
but I despise the type that trolls
online, those pervs who break the law
and tell some trusting kid, “I’m twelve,
like YOU! I live right by the park
near you. Let’s meet there by the bridge.
You’ll be back home before it’s dark.
Don’t tell your mom! If she’s like mine,
she’ll tell you NO. Let’s just sneak out.”
She says, “I’ll go slip out the back.
We’ll have a lot of fun—no doubt!”
The sicko rushed right to the bridge.
The “kid” he met was twenty-five,
an undercover cop with cuffs
and back-up. “Channel 14 LIVE”
rushed in on this newsworthy scene.
A big catfish was caught that day.
Because such wickedness abounds,
not all such stories end this way.
May 15, 2018, entered in Catie Lindsey's Catfish Poetry Contest
At a dinner so late,
Felt like weights on my eyes,
I scarfed down a sandwich
And crispy hot fries.
Along with fresh coffee,
It helped me revive,
For fries are a mainstay
That keep me alive.
But next to my sandwich
And cole slaw, my plate
Held a treat, which was clearly
The best thing I ate:
A fat slice of pickle,
Just bursting with crunch,
The perfect companion
To dinner or lunch.
It added allure
And the greatest part yet
Is this pickle was SOUR –
The most you can get.
They’re almost extinct
So I sure was surprised
To bite into a taste
That New Yorkers once prized.
I pondered the source
Of its barrel of brine,
But wherever it came from,
I’m thrilled it was mine!
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!
I'm afraid that this poem was too long to post in one part; here's Part 2, full title:
Dragons Make Great Heating Systems
(Until They Discover That There’s More To Life…)
The next month we received two plane tickets, for free,
to go out to old “CA”; his life film to see.
In a bookstore he autographed our copies and then we had tea;
the manager was told, we were his, “Family”.
“Such a gifted young dragon you folks have raised.”
He declared, he shook both our hands and pulled up a chaise.
“You folks have given us all a great gift;
your dragon, his talents, our spirits did lift.”
A free tour of the studio, we got that week and on the weekend,
we went fishing, in dragon's favorite creek.
We got autographed pictures and souvenirs’ galore;
we’d never seen such publicity before.
Back home we flew and to our surprise;
our piano, we heard, was playing inside.
“That piano is ours!” I shouted and rushed through the door;
it was no surprise; I should've known, of course.
There sat our new dragon, playing without any care.
“Welcome home”, he said, “come and see what I’ve prepared”.
He’d cooked up a giant supper, for us to eat;
it included steamed pears, cole slaw and even chipped beef.
Wine he had poured as we took our seats;
such a succulent display of tasty delicacies.
We knew what would happen, as he filled our plates;
when he showed us the cookbook, he’d written, to date.
So just know, if for heat, a dragon you choose;
be prepared with a backup, for he, you will lose.
Especially if his insomnia reigns, if he dreams, is creative;
your life will soon change.
We ate very well for a couple of years;
then our eyes, once again, shed big giant tears.
Here came the plane tickets; we had a great trip.
We toured his studio kitchen; grew larger bellies and hips.
Home once again, we received another treat;
Dragon three’s an inventor, though he can’t boil a beet.
He’s managed to build us a new heating device;
in the summer it cools, like we’re sitting on ice.
It costs nothing to run and dragon three’s fame;
We all celebrated with a glass of champagne.
All the dragons will visit, on the big holidays
and we feel very blessed, that they share our family name.
saltease slaw
1 cup of dried cranberries
1 cup of diced cucumber (shredded)
2 cups of grannie smith apples (Shredded)
2 cups of shredded cabbage
1/4 cup of avocdo crushed
1/4 cup of sesame seed oil
1 cup of sour cream
1 cup of mayo/ salad dressing
1/4 cup of honey
1/4 cup of apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon of cayenne
1 teaspoon of dried mint
2 tablespoons of orange zest
3/4 cup of sunflower seeds
amore-patty
2 pounds of grounded pork/ lamb lettuce
2 tablespoons of garlic powder tomato
mozzorilla cheese
marinara sauce
1 teaspoon of paprika
3 tablespoons of dried basil
3 tablespoons of dried oregano
5 tablespoons of parmesean cheese
5 tablespoons of sun dried tomato
1 T celery seeds
3 tablespoons of Habana peppers
1/2 cup of green onions chopped
1 tablespoons of crushed garlic
1 tablespoon of salt
(mix and pan fry in oven)
toast Italian rolls, with garlic bread spread)
9 bake potatoes ( cut julinne slices)
preheat about a half gallon of oil
deep fat fry potatoes until golden brown
salt and serve with pork and slaw
and serve with a glass of
gamms water
3 cups of lemonade
2 cups of gin
1 cup of purred watermelon
1/4 whiskey
2 cups of brewed strong tea
I suppose struggling bards (such as I) are wont to muse
Upon profound or inane topics to propound our views.
So, it occured to me how baffling the English language could be,
To new arrivals to our shores from international potpourri.
Will he ever master the usage of to, two, tutu and too?
Should he order "coal" or "cole" slaw at his favorite rendevous?
Plane could be a woodworking tool or is it that thing in the sky,
Or something plain and simple or a plain of undulating rye?
He tries to sort out the subtleties of yawl and ya'll,
And the nuances of aunt, ant and if that ain't all,
How can he figure out the use of maul, moll and mall?
Is it a golf ball or a formal ball? 'Tis enough to make him bawl!
He must ever ponder if a yard is three feat or three feet,
And is addled about the use of peek, peak and pique.
Is a pupil a kid in class or something to do with the eye?
Buy, bi, by and bye, now what does each of those imply?
His fear is that he'll never get it write or is it rite or right?
He preys (or prays?) for deliverance from his fearful plight.
Momma mia! He's bewildered and just wants to return home,
To that Eternal City in Italy called Rome (or is it Roam?)!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
When I was a kid, the family reunion was the highlight of the year.
Aunts, uncles and dozens of cousins came from far and near,
To meet at Memorial Park to eat, brag and enjoy the fellowship.
I was admonished by Mom to behave and not voice any sassy lip!
The ladies vied with each other to provide jello, cakes and pies,
Pertater salad, baked beans, termaters and heaps of chicken thighs,
Ham, peas and carrots, cole slaw and gallons of lemonade,
And home-made ice cream, the speciality of Aunt Clara, the old maid!
The patriarch of the clan was usually asked to bless the food.
Stomachs growled, flies swarmed, the old geezer wouldn't conclude,
Until his spouse of many years poked him saying, "That's enough!"
Then, all took a seat and elbows flew as they began to stuff!
After the meal was over, old folks would reminisce and muse.
Others found a shady spot to curl up and take a snooze.
Ne'er-do-well Uncle Wilbur would sneak a forbidden nip of booze,
While snobbish Cousin Sarah boasted of her Caribbean cruise!
The kids frolicked on the teeter-totters, swings and slides.
The older ones grabbed bats and balls and chose up sides.
Now I'm the patriarch and am usually called upon to pray,
But I make it snappy so we can get on with fellowship and play!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Entry for Craig Cornish's "The Park" Contest