I've been served lots of unappetizing things
that simply did not please my palette.
Being force fed with bitter or insincere words
is unappealing presented as a crisp green salad.
I would rather be underfed and malnourished
than to feast on something too briny or cheesy.
I won't feast on a buffet of regurgitated foods,
like dill pickles offered as sour grapes... sleazy.
Nothing has more stench to me than rotten food.
As an example, mold spores inside blue roquefort,
and don't ask me to swallow one bite of sarcasm.
That would take far too much of my time and effort.
I'd spit out a spoon of any soup if in it swims a fly,
or if the spices were added by the hand of a hypocrite.
A warm peach cobbler would make a scrumptious dish
as long as inside there'd not be left on purpose... a pit.
Categories:
roquefort, how i feel, humor,
Form: Rhyme
Mother raindrop
She didn’t want the lunch I prepared
said she was on a diet, unhappy with her body
she is half of a watermelon
to keep my company
I wish she hadn’t stopped talking about
her discontent
I tried to enjoy my lunch, cauliflowers with
Cheese sauce, celery sticks with Roquefort
I had gone vegetarian to please her
Later, on the terrace, tending to my rose bush
it needed compost
I saw a big rain falling like a shiny sapphire
hit the terrace, burst open, and gave
birth to a million smaller drops
I scooped them up and fed my rosebush
It blushed and produced marron roses
Categories:
roquefort, africa, age, best friend,
Form: Blank verse
Any attempt to milk my muse
Has produced utter cheese
It stinks and I am blue
I have hit roquefort
Categories:
roquefort, muse,
Form: Light Verse
I went to a cheese and wine party on Saturday,
where huge platters of cheese were on display.
There was Gorgonzola and creamy white Brie,
I devoured huge chunks with a glass of Chablis.
Danish Blue, Mozzarella and Swiss Emmental,
of course I had to try a sample of them all!
I declined Edam and Gouda, I find them too waxy -
and the last time I ate them I was sick in the taxi!
Soft creamy Camembert and blue Roquefort,
went down a treat with a glass of vintage port.
Crumbly Cheshire and Cheddar were so divine,
and tasted heavenly with red Beaujolais wine.
I’d chomped through all of the Stinking Bishop,
our hostess had to restock the whole dish up!
Then I munched little cubes of Monterey Jack -
if my doctor saw me he’d have a heart attack!
When our host carried in a blue Stilton in a truckle,
I loosened a notch on my now straining belt buckle!
I admit blue cheese can smell like men's sweaty socks
but ripe Stilton and crackers, this cheese simply rocks!
Write a poem about Cheese Contest
Sponsored by Barry Stebbings
FICTION POEM FOR CONTEST
11/12/18
Categories:
roquefort, food, humorous,
Form: Rhyme
CHEESE
Wisconsin is the Cheese Capitol of the USA
There you can find cheese ever on display
And of this wonderful thing called cheese
There is a type for everyone if you please
There's Cheese Grits, and Nacho Cheese
Muenster, Guta, and Cantonese
Goats and cows milk both are used
Making it easy to become confused
Even sheep and camels get in on the act
Their milk is used for cheese -- that's a fact
Cheese is a staple familiar to all
It comes in slices or rolled up in a ball
There's Parmagiano-Reggiano, Gouda and Brie
And smelly Limburger, you may want to try
Roquefort, Camembert, Cotija and Chevre
Monterey Jack and Mozzarella
Emmental, Taleggio, and Feta
The list goes on, and the Cheese gets better
But I'm only allowed to post twenty lines
So you'll have to Google for more flavors to find
10 November 2018
For the contest sponsored by Barry Stebbings
Categories:
roquefort, culture, food, fun,
Form: Rhyme
What color is it? that luminous llght,
throwing patterns past midnight under my archway,
and on the sandy beach of our island ocean,
where I used to wade home in the surf
from Moore's dance floor, where there was a real,
live band on Labor Day at summer's end,
where window after window facing the roiling
sea brought a salt aphrodisiac, as if
the moon was not enough.
Is it the pale blue blend of Roquefort, or
more like Stilton, color of cream, more radiant
than light spilled by the indecent bright glare
of the Sun God? It's the midnight stare
of the Maid In The Moon, no matter its color.
She wakes us from sleep to place our feet
in her deep-cast beauty, to trouble our hearts
for lost youth and love, and if she's not
made of cheese, as folklore tells us-- No
matter! She brings us to our knees.
Categories:
roquefort, visionary, labor day,
Form: Idyll (Idyl)
What color is it? that luminous light
throwing patterns past midnight under my
archway, and on the sand of the ocean
where I used to walk, wading home in the surf
from Moore's dance floor, where there was a real
live band on Labor Day at summer's end,
where window after window facing the roiling
sea brought a salt aphrodisiac as if
the moon was not enough?
Is it the pale blue of Roquefort, or more like Stilton,
color of cream, you might say, more radiant than light
spilled by the indecent bright glare of the Sun God?
It's the 'Minuit' stare of the Maid In The Moon, no
matter its color. She wakes us from sleep to put
our feet in her deep-cast beauty, to trouble
our hearts for lost youth and love, and if she's
not made of cheese, as fairy tales tell us -- No
matter! She brings us to our knees.
Categories:
roquefort, labor day,
Form: Free verse