Recently my nutritionist – a health
freak if ever there was one – suggested
I eat raw vegetables like cabbage, kale,
asparagus, brussel sprouts, cauliflower
and broccoli, all of the cruciferous family,
all packed with vital antioxidants,
vitamins, minerals, phytochemicals
and fibre, (relieving weekly straining
bouts of constipation.) As for results
he assured me with an assured smile
I’d be stronger and feel years younger,
though vouched cautiously I could expect
a few typical but minor side-effects,
but easily adjusted to, notably when
spring sets in and my ears grow like spires
and to everyone’s amazement I start
hopping about, my libido supercharged
after years of living celibate! – And as
he sees me out with an aside and wink
he says: You'd do well to forewarn the wife.
O, for a bite of chocolate
a tiny lick of fudge
Alas, it is impossible
her nutritionist will not budge
If she were a highly paid professional
she could bribe the priest at confessional
to let her nutritionist know
her intake of sweets is below zero
But our competitor is as poor as poor can be
she'll have to devise a different theory
Aha! The girl's got it!
This year's there no wheelchair bikini competition
Now her hopes may come to fruition
Cows give milk, also 'wallets' sewn from leather
'shoes' accent her dress, 'Hide's' cover her body
in northern freezing weather...
USDA protects everybody
Beef prepared, served as a main course
should be shared somewhere with your buddy
family or friends, perhaps any somebody
especially when smothered in steak sauce
Lobster you eat I adore
this Poem I scribe, for nutrition to explore
scientists observe shellfish close, daily
lobsters fight, a victor will mate, Olay!
Scientist, those fishermen, do monitor count
then will return females, increase their amount
large ones will not be placed on a menu
nutritionist catalog value, appointment venue
having read that interesting message at-top
good decision, you will decide, as you shop
for your 'Maine Lobster' is truly to be loved
dipped in butter, healthier than our cow above
If it smells good and tastes good, I will be munching
Eating is not about caloric number crunching
My taste bud is the judge and not the dietitian
Water, oil and heat there is no complication
Vegans have turned me into a carnivore
Better run, can’t you hear the canine roar
I dig deep into my fried chicken and t-bone steaks
I make a nutritionist salivate and dieting fake
Sorry dietitian I am lost in your jargon
The directions I look for, is how to get the tin open
The ingredients just look like a periodic table
I am used to recipes and not a chemical symbol
I keep simple it, greens for thin
I make the oil ripple, meat for fit
I can't lose touch with the starch
Some extra protein wont make me a glutton
An Exquisite Visit
Went to store where we paid a visit;
What we encountered was exquisite;
Down aisle,
Single file;
In search of food and were implicit.
Our appetite grew and had became vicious,
While we would desire food that is delicious;
Ate and ate,
Then celebrate;
Was not only tasty but would be nutricious.
Certain foods we love but should resist;
Others eat our nutritionist would insist;
Never sweeten,
When eaten;
Now no longer does our excess fat exist.
Found food to eat to satisfy my comfort,
And while it went down never would hurt;
Looked below;
Watched grow,
When fat did tighten my pants and shirt.
Jim Horn
Nutritionist, diabetes or
dietician
All to be unheeded in my
sweet tooth's opinion.
For how can I abandon
That chocolate canyon?
And same goes for yummy
chocolate fudge
Eh to a trifle could I bear
any grudge?
Ah treacle or caramel pudding
And apple crumble needs no
bidding
The craving wishes to devour
the dessert
Few would desert a tasty jam
tart!
Not forgetting swiss rolls and
cup cakes
and whatever other
sweetmeats the baker bakes.
Ah custards, ice-creams,
muffins and jellies
the only deterrent perhaps, the
fear of rounded bellies
Only if the dietician would
recommend instead
to cut down on leafy grassy
veggie salad
For if there was for it a polling
booth
I'd vote in favour of my sweet
tooth!
EGUSI SOUP.
Blessed vegetable leaf with
Melon roots
Selected soup from the
Eastern roof,
My taste bud is the only
Proof,
As pounded yam is her groom
Eba could be a quality
Substitute.
Ingest and digest because this
Is the best,
Nutritionist recommends
Strangely my skin becomes
Fresh,
She even doubles my strength.
Assorted meats to select
Stock fish sinks in Egusi's chair,
Pets enjoy her remnant.
Sufficient palm oil is a blend
It remains on her shallow bed
This makes Egusi almost red.
Five fingers is the instrument
Begin to roll into Egusi's trench.
Egusi is Ibo's friend
She also visit's different events,
Her eminence, favorably prepared
By pretty women
Who are culturally dressed.
Egusi is this natural herb
Cures illness without my consent,
Tarnish as many plates
She never torments,
I will respect green and protect
Her children.
Habib Akewusola.
So sensationally super; Sagittarius son of John Spence
Pleasantly personable, and matriarch Maud Spence’s son
Enabling, exquisite, eloquent, evolving and enterprising
Naturally nice, no nonsense, and a nutritionist nobleman
Carrot consumer, constant comrade and cold-war veteran
Equitably enlightened, and just an elegant eggnog taster
Jumping Jupiter, a jubilant sundae lover, and just a jewel
Oppresso de liber, optimistically captivating; oratorical
Saintly passionate, succulent salmon sampler; sweetheart!
Exquisitely enchanting, enchantingly amatorious; éclat!
Playful, painstakingly passionate, pajama wearer, patient
Handsomely helpful handyman, harmonizer of happiness
Sweet as syrup, shining armor off the shelf; savoir-faire!
Red-blooded poetry connoisseur and radioactively lovable!
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Won Seventh Place Position
"Tell Me About You Contest"
June 16, 2010
Sponsored by Amy Green
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It took a long time, but they finally grew up
Each...with individual diversions...Ha!
Five roads...five conclusions, (yet, but not)
“Children are a gift from God”, unwrapped at birth
Coercing us to change...not an option
I’ve become a doctor, judge, nutritionist,
speech therapist, teacher, and chauffeur...
All without license
In the final analysis of ‘raising’ children
Could it possibly be said...
I’ve finally grown up?