In summer, listless feel of sloth he gets,
stops the sluggish time, the clock hands he sets.
In hot kitchen he doesn’t go,
keeps whipped eggs on portico.
He snoozes in shade, sun cooks omelettes.
There’s a rooster and a chicken both well fed
Ode poem to them for they created an egg
I love the egg well before it becomes a new life
I use it to make an omelette with poetry spice
Verbs splashes of red onion taste so good
Peppered prepositions used as one should
Buttery nouns sautéed until brown in the pan
Milky splashes of adjectives because we can
Cheesy punctuations used for emphasis
Plus some bacon not forsaken adding bliss
It can be turkey or from pork in limerick
And to finish add in spinach sonnet’s kiss
Ode to the chicken and rooster parents love
They created an egg
with which I’m fed
Can’t get enough I’m stuffed
I'm a simple man
You may choose what kind of egg
Omelette is fine.
I had a tasty cock-a-doodle stew
Now I crow at dawn as cockerels do
I pulled a sweet hen
And now and again
We dine on an omelette made for two.
A bout of sloth in summer this man gets,
time on lazy clock inert mind forgets.
In the kitchen he doesn’t go,
keeps whipped eggs on portico,
while he dozes sun flame makes omelettes.
June 8, 2020
Syllable count : 10/10/7/7/10
Checked on howmanysyllables.com
Contest : Summer Laziness
Sponsor : Mohan Chutani
What you wish for
It was Friday we were going out for a meal in the evening
I had visualized a fat pork chop with furrows of fat in the meat
whatever you say fat food taste better than chicken.
Since it was evening my wife thought an omelet would be
right for me and the waitress agreed – she is a friend-
But a few glasses of red wine were ok.
After eating the omelette, drinking the wine, I wondered if
they were patronizing me, so I had whisky with coke.
I tell you I was not drunk, but I felt an irresistible need to
tell a story, standing up and let my voice boom to drown
the audience with my erudition; it was not on,
we come home to catch the nine o`clock news.
Omelette au fromage!
It was like simply taking a risk,
In making omelette, breaking and whisk.
To drive it smoother than silk,
Add up some water or milk.
Chop, chop, chop!
Bulb onion, tomato, bell pepper, coriander and dill,
Salt ,black pepper, whip all before relaxing and chill.
Oh! Have some patience and wait till the butter melt,
As soon as it muster some heat from the hot pan felt.
Let the batter spread!
Hope nothing is left to tell,
Keep flapping untill it cooks well.
Ready! At the center sprinkle some grated cheese,
Enjoy hot while relaxing in the cool breeze.
Craked and stired,
Life is like a Omelette au fromage,
Whirl of love, anger and joy are hot served.
a mother hen
peeps through the kitchen window...
yummy omelette
really, i’m really starving
from the frame of my room’s window
afternoon sun looks like an omelette
wonderful, well-fried, big and wide
but that omelette has been divided,
slaughter by neighbors’ tv antennas
by phone and electronics cables
and without a few for my stomach
i try to make my tears not to drops
remind me again my mom’s omelette
i used to be find one, a whole one,
as her love with her children
with continues fallen saliva
i see that omelette without wink
but only few seconds then
it is gone ravenous-dine
by whom i don’t know
and then left sky alone
like dirty-grubby plate
tonight when dark covers the space
night lamps one by one wake
i will crawl go out from my room
then silently lick the sky-plate
before cleaned by rain or dew
only to entertain my hunger stomach
then sleep and dream about an omelette
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.