The autumn air is crisp like a potato chip
I can taste the breeze baking tree leaves
The color of them dance on my pupils
And I carry them within my spirit like song
The grass still green is freshly mowed
And the geese are hanging around
For the hidden treasures in ground
Like we do at thanksgiving dinner time
The garden is still colorful and bright
Flowers seem to breathe in gold sunlight
And I play hooky from cranberry chores
To take in the sounds smells others ignore
I eat a piece of fudge
it lands on my hips
great
I devour a potato chip
she travels to one of my tummy rolls
I see her happily settling down
I slurp down biscuits and gravy
Feel my butt get fluffy and puffy
starting to look frightful
reading a menu in a restaurant used to be a pleasure
relaxing, while my tongue salivated at the tasty choices
today the reading of the menu was not so lovely
signature skillet twenty-one hundred calories
cobb salad twelve hundred and eighty calories
potato chip seventy calories
I have been watching my weight at home
but eating out is a treat; I have not done it for a long time
I guess after eating this nine-hundred calorie cheeseburger
I will try to waddle out of here and watch my weight go up
Potato chip, I love you up,
my darling little buttercup.
A cup! A Reese’s chocolate one
with peanut butter. Oh, what fun!
What fun is time with nacho chips;
delightful cheese to tease my lips.
My lips around a hamburger,
with onion rings my heart to stir.
Stir the chili in the pot.
Add Tabasco; cook it hot.
Hot, that snack I love so well,
is buttered popcorn that I smell.
Smell the pasta fantasy-
sauce and parmesan for me.
Me and cheesecake, cherries atop.
Once I start, I cannot stop.
Stop for ice cream; what I wish-
a sundae sitting in a dish.
Dish me up some southern fried
with mashed potatoes on the side.
A side of bacon, crispy fat.
I see nothing wrong in that!
That’s a spicy hot tamale.
Enchiladas make me jolly.
Jolly Christmas; candies sweet,
turkey, ham; so much to eat.
Eat a pizza. It’s the best.
Now I’ve gotta take a rest.
The tree looked magnificently gaudy.
I gave and received some offbeat gifts.
Some were expected; others highly inappropriate.
We snacked on strange potato chip dip and orange chocolate.
Baby Jesus was covered in tinsel, ribbons, and the aroma of honey-dipped ham.
i have a craving today
my tongue salivates
a crinkling yellow bag
i tear it open
salty and sour
potato
chips
dog tears up things daily
paint brushes, shoes, potato chip bags, stuffed animals,.
anything and everything from the garbage
or from a table or the couch or anywhere else he can reach
he is a large puppy, three foot long; he can reach everything
a few minutes ago I tossed him a People magazine
desperate to keep him away from my milk and cookies
It will not last forever, but long enough.
if the world was running out of salt
I would be hoarding it for sure
But would I be the last to know? Asked Walt.
And would the salt I find be pure?
If they announced it on the news it would be too late.
The stores salt shelves would be empty, wouldn’t that be great?
Even the small towns in Idaho, Indiana, Illinois and Ioway
Would have barren places where the salt boxes used to stay.
It would be too late for me to find salt anywhere I bet.
Never would I ever want salt more in my life, I said to my pet.
Could I order bags and melt down each potato chip?
My dog got up and wandered off, arthritis in his hip.
If the world was running out of salt, whatever would I do?
My dishes would be less wonderful, they would not have a clue.
Meats and chili would be dull, unless I added jalapenos to perk them up.
If the world runs out of salt, I would be a criminal, stealing salt by the cup.
grab goggles, private sugarly said, we are head to the depths of the sea.
henry pea, her comrade, threw the binoculars and they hit a knee.
"that’s okay, you can’t hurt the captain of this adventurous ship"
they sailed up and down the coast for hours, as waves slip and dip.
Mommy tried to slow them with tomato soup and one potato chip.
you are my first mate, she told him, congratulations are in order, Pea.
he smiled all the way to the next big pirate island loving sea.
sugarly kept throwing stuffed animals into the ship for a bigger crew.
they traveled around the capes, to North pole, and over to Kalamazoo.
Vast sums of money
enormous chunks of time
All spent on losing weight ~
usually ruined by dinnertime
It's really quite easy
now I know that sounds cheezy
But here's the one thing that works, brother
Sell your car today, and don't buy another
You'll walk everywhere
have little time to spare
for banquets and luncheons
or to lie around potato chip munchin'
And even if this radical step doesn't work
you have my personal guarantee
I'll sell your car back to you for what you took from me
~ sure enjoyed driving it for free
Goodness and crisp
Taste that can’t be missed
No one can just eat one
That’s why the bag can be finished done
It’s doesn’t matter the brand
Potato Chips are eaten throughout the land
Plenty of flavor
Ingredients to savor
Every crunch
Throughout the bunch
Goes well with a hamburger and sandwich
Potato chips are distinguished
Every delight
It includes even at night
P for Perfection and C for any celebration
The plaid couch was well-built in 1972.
We purchased it brand new from a ritzy furniture store.
I was not fond of the plaid, but it was fairly inexpensive.
Little Plaid could tell stories about my potato chip binges.
Many of them ended up in bits under her cushions.
Her Scotch guard was remarkable.
She is fifty-one years old now.
Sitting in my granddaughter’s sorority house.
They needed a couch.
It’s so comfy, we fight over it, she told me.
They had dolled it up with pillows and artwork.
It looks better there than it ever looked in my house.
Fifty-one and you have never aged, I tell her.
Plaid never looked so welcoming!
I want to look like that potato chip
And be on the front of time magazine
Wear the latest fashions, I'll be so hip
I'll be the best French fry you've ever seen
And be on the front of time magazine
I will be the envy of all my friends
I'll be the best French fry you've ever seen
Keeping up with the latest fashion trends.
I will be the envy of all my friends
Wear the latest fashions, I'll be so hip
Keeping up with the latest fashion trends
I want to look like that potato chip.
(In the uk French fries are called chips and potato chips in the US are called crisps in the UK)
Written 20th July 2021
Picture number 3
For Pantoum Rhyme 1 Poetry Contest
Sponsored By Eve Roper.
Mashed biscuits, broken nuts on plates
potato chip pieces, embedded in cake
Cola stained coasters, ready for the bin
Crumpled napkins, kids banging on tins
Laughing and crying, all in one breath
Lil spoiled brats, we hug them to death
High on sugar, they run in circles around
Chocolate fudge, stamped on the ground
Balloons popping, some launch into space
Dog licking jam, from the children’s face
Oh yes what a mess, we do it every year
Take them home, I’d murder a cold beer
By
David Kavanagh
The hollow sounds of fog return this time of year.
Loud echoes of potato chip crunching tires on frozen snow.
Disappearing into the city night as stars emerge from hiding
in a black-blanketed sky. We move toward the cusp of country,
body twitching with remembrances of anticipation.
That first dark nighttime sky away from city lights,
glimpsing the Milky Way Orchestra tuning
its sound to the touch of our senses. Oh yes, there is a tingle
in the air. The first tiny ting of triangle leading to such a
crescendo of silence so loud you cannot hear with common ear.
You hear it with your soul. You may see a frozen deer along
the tree line staring or a fox half-halting with its searching ears;
miniature gramophones scooping giant swathes of air for sound
and hearing none. It is a silent swift of fog between the moon and earth
that lends its leverage to the Universe. One verse for us all tonight.
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