Short Baguette Poems

Tempest again...
everywhere only apricot flowers-
Grandfather with baguette ......

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a gabion if only the little girl knew
she'll be julius caesar and no baguette in her basket
only stones to distract the picnic of dreams long gone...

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Home-grown tomatoes on low
Basil and garlic
Angel hair pasta wall test
Fresh parmesan cheese
Thin-sliced hard baguette
Olive oil
Yum!
...

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Let me breathe that sea air
that once waltzed through your hair.
Let me view that sunrise
you once graced with your eyes.
Let me taste that baguette
from the morn we first met.
How I've replayed that dawn
since they told me you're gone....

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In a small cafe
I've ordered a selection of
Vegetarian salads
It came with a basket mountain of
Sliced baguette
I considered the terrible waste
Serving that much bread
To one person
I wrote this poem
In the time it took me
To demolish any evidence of baguette
I don't know if this is a poem
But I thought someone
Should know...

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Door to Nowhere


Royalty have Chateau’s
With moats and drawbridges

Artists have colors
Paints and brushes and dreams

The poor have soup
And Marie's gateau’s

The lonely have open doors
To nowhere

I let my baguette go hard and stale
So I could stab myself with nourishment

As my blood flows slowly
Through that door with no hope

I with no rope, fade away...

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My husband said, “Pick up some bread
When you are at the store.
Of course you must be sure the crust
Is what I’m looking for.”

The loaf I found was nicely browned
And fresh out of the oven.
You never met a French baguette
About to get such lovin’.

For soon we’ll feast on what some yeast
Created with some flour;
When butter-spread, that loaf of bread
We’ll hungrily devour....

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Scaly Kelly scrawled a scribble rolled up into a scroll
                   Kept it in the Dolly's baguette and waited for the fall
                                 But Dolly was fumbler-bumbler
                                     Constitutionally humbler
            Kissed the baguette goodbye and jumped on a jumbo spring roll










               Scaly Kelly  © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY November 2014...

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Tripe, sweetbreads, entrails, offal,
some people spell them awful.
Scottish chefs can do them right
Haggis, a meal, out of sight. 

Making a proper meatball sandwich
is virtual what-not-who and which
needing perhaps some extra spice
supply it with a bit of Scotch hype.

The last, best organ 'grinder' that I got
was on Panera Bread’s French baguette, hot.
Barrel-shaped bread held tight as treasure
the tin cup for the drink of my pleasure....

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Lazy, long, leisurely lunch,
    Lolling, laughing, lingering,
     O'er lamb-stew, linguini 'n lager.

   In Louisville, Los Angeles, Las Vegas,
    London, Lisbon, or Lyon;
     At Los Olivos, Las Palmas, La Paloma,
      La Scala, La Baguette, or La Castilla:

   Let lunch lie palatially on your palate,
    Let lunch slowly settle in your limbs,
     Let lunch last always:
      Let it lustrate and luminate
       Life lived long and lived well....

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Doctor Duck could not cluck
Whenever he tried, he was out of luck
So he bought bread
Brioche, Baguette, White, and Grain


He'd wake up covered in crumbs
Looking like one of the bums
His wife left him because he spent his paycheck on bread


Doctor duck sure was out of luck
He'd lost it all, every single buck
Doctor Duck was fired
He was always tired


So he worked at the grocery store
All the bread he could want, and more
Just stock the shelves with food
And He'd be good....

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