Porridge Poems - Poems about Porridge

When In Rome

No pease porridge for me if you please
neither hot nor cold
especially not if what's in the pot
is nine days old
for when in Parma Palermo or Pisa
(no pottage slop)
I'm predisposed and have the propensity
to pour a potent potable
(pink plonk)
and prefer to partake of a piece of pepperoni pizza
with pancetta pomodoro peperoncini
porcini plus a peck of pecorino

WHEELCHAIR BOUND

 WHEELCHAIR BOUND

Dots appeared and disappeared 
a single sunray flashed onto 
wheelspokes, canvas seat 
 comfortably frayed 
bought secondhand
her unexercised legs flabby 
window bars rusted, panes cracked
nobody cared

there she sat thinking about 
cooking porridge with cinnamon 
tricky to wheel in 
two meter wide kitchen 
lighting gas stove sitting no easy feat
this was charnel ground
no cash

Cold Porridge

Patrick, Pearl and Phillip were fond siblings, in halcyon days of fairy tales;
Long beloved of Mother and Father, like beloved ballads of all nightingales.

Father was a successful tailor, creating finest clothes for women and men;
And they dwelled in a village near the river, in teal days of now and then.

Mother sold elegant embroidery, quite pretty,

Creamy-Porridge Skies

The creamy-porridge skies 
Gave us drizzle at noon 
  The sun’s drooping violet 
Palette squinted over the hills
And hid there, for the clouds 
Were annulling her will.
   
   At one the rain shifted its weight 
To white withering gloom,
With haste warmed to puddles 
Which watered the walk
Sustaining the blade’s colored

Courage, Porridge Portage Shortage

weighing curds and whey
the spider spied, her courage
curdled, ran away


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another alliterative haiku for you

- Rice Porridge With a Dollop of Butter -

White as snow
                               sugar sprinkle and cinnamon

                  

The Fourth Kingdom

“Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie, face
Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race!”
“Address To A Haggis”, Robert Burns, 1786.
(Keeper o’er the Fourth Kingdom)

Robert, Robert, Fourth Kingdom
Gate Keeper.
No Telestial glory
Befits the poet deeper!

Wherefore is thy legacy
Robert Burns, regretfully
Wherefore is thy Haggis?
Thy Puddin’ flees before thee.

Thy Hippopotami give birth
Purple, purple, such deliver
The royal eggplant hatchling
That multiplies the giver!

Celestial porridge is

Courageous Porridge Slam

Prayed for courage

And in return was given porridge

Topped with salt instead of sugar

And water for milk

Cooked in a kitchen of filth

To be eat out of a chipped saucepan

With plastic chopsticks for cutlery

Tracing help into forage ferrell wild oats

The holy father's sins 

Handed down to his children

Porridge Dinner-

Silver Spoons
Cabin in the Woods
Feeding impoverished bears porridge

Golden Plates
Dirty hairy faces
After dinner Mama Bear washing dishes

1/27/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr  2020

Not Gruel

A pot of stew. 
Made with meat. 
Meat and more meat.
I am hungry. 

What is for dinner, mother?

Porridge of Love

Sailing through airs of iridescent clouds
I collected spoonfuls of rainbow joy
To sweeten porridge included in my love's cuisine
Embellishing it with laughing almonds
Served it hot with fragrance escaping to heavens
Angels flew down to taste the delectable dish

20/02/2019

Courage In Steerage and Porridge

Courage in Steerage and Porridge

You will never read another
limerick like this one. Was
watching Cinderella when
courage was mentioned.

We heard she had so much courage;
Was stuffed in shoe  in her steerage;
So much delight,
In pretty sight;
She also had tasted it in her porridge.

Jim Horn

Her Booty, Like Yam Porridge

Her booty is like yam porridge 
She's gonna blow that mind away
I know you can't wait 
She will show you how to work 
without an interview 
                            

My Mother Said:- I Have To Eat More Porridge

My mother said:- I have to eat more porridge,
And when I grow up, I will be very strong.
Now I'm a porter,  carrying heavy bags to storage.
The advice of a mother never can be wrong!

Porridge

PORRIDGE





                                   I’ve put up with it for years   -   how?

It’s been too long, but no more.
My head

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