Short Basted Poems

Glazed, basted berries
Cardinal red, burning buds
Doused in morning dew....

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Tom Turkey has been defrocked
Cleaned, basted and stuffed
Surrounded by pumpkin pie
Green bean casserole
Tart cranberry sauce
Come, Pilgrim,
Eat!...

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There once was a gobbler named Tom,
Who thought himself quite the fowl homme,
Though hens thought him a cad,
Pilgrims thought he was rad,
Especially stuffed, roasted and basted...nom, Nom NOM!!...

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Salmon So Good

My salmon so good it did taste;
Ate all and none went to waste;
With no bone,
And all alone;
Done quickly with  much haste.

Wife basted salmon in Yashoda sauce.

Jim Horn...

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My Grandmother's recipe
Here, yet she is gone.
Plump turkey stuffed with veggies,
Spices sprinkled on.
Basted until done.
Delicious,
YUM!


I'm most thankful for family!

P.S.- Complete recipe available upon request by Soup Mail....

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without you all these years
I filled a bucket full of tears
Then made ice cubes
To help drown my sorrows
And face more tomorrows
Then I ‘d begun
T’ lay in the sun 
Tasted and wasted and basted
Well done
Or 
Rare
I don’t really care
I’m thinking of 
Rhyming
With bucket...

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Outside, the still 
of crickets.
Inside, petals
of a cold sore 
foliate,
a boutonniere 
for full lips.
Looking up, I tell her 
two eggs, basted, 
hash browns,
coffee now.
Later on, 
she says
the birthmark
I found 
south of her navel 
she’s had 
all her life.


Donal Mahoney...

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Behold what a beauty came to tame the beast

Who has yet to ravish such a lavish feast

With but a little or no romance in sight

After the last tango both would dance tonight 

Quite the delicate juicy morsel tasted

And no better flavor to savor basted

Whenever there's beauty for the beast to see

Then ever the beast will the beast ever be...

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Lobsters and crabs on griller
Basted with butter
Pepper and asparagus
For sweet chilli sauce
With side salad dish
Great picnic 
Taste!




June 5, 2022    8.18pm



PS Syllable Counter
Syllables Per Line:	7 5 7 5 5 3 1


Summer Contest
Contest Judged:  8/12/2022 10:24:00 AM
Sponsored by: M. L. Kiser 
Place 2 (up to 5 multi w)...

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Only turkey feeds Thanksgiving Day
the way a stuffing fills.
With drumsticks poking through it's ribs
like every hunger kills.

All basted through a buttered skin
you've sealed inside for taste.
Now sitting plump within it's juice
as flavor runs to waste.

A succulence of tight meat bird
enthusiasm boasts.
As spirits rise Thanksgiving Day
when this bird slowly roasts....

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Bestowed bereavement, this condolence graft
the memorabilia sequence, mine not draft,
like some ongoing virtue, depth not classed
forever ~ love relinquished at the pass!

The merriment not, but laughing, seal to last
a joy eternal, hope prithee to cast ~
my soul, now rent with sorrow, seams relapse
is broken down to virtue's homeless past ~

and mortifies with perish ~  where once basted!...

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Let my remains be not mourned or wasted
Entombed, cremated, sautéed or basted
Enriching the soil below
Where lush apple trees grow
I'll be in the best Macintosh anyone's tasted!

If one were laid beneath an apple tree  
Very nourishing that would surely be 
Apple pie to die for  
From an earthling's deep core  
Whose epitaph could read “Bon Appetit."

Added Limerick by Belle Bellevue
10/21/22...

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Gemstones on a shoreline
maladjusted to the saltiness of fallen tears
basted in the din of sunbeam atoms colliding
the neap, a resting time from mortal waveforms
towed beneath the sanded plasma of sinking unblown glass
a final lash, a glinting sorrow, an eternal goodbye
so many facets unturned, a reminder of the emptiness
no shimmer on the barren plains of shore, a reflection
of the once and final aortic beat...

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The blood orange moon hung low
the sky around an eerie orange.
Trees turned bronze in its light
and water the colour of marmalade.

A strange twilight night this Halloween
basted in hues of various orange streaks.
Tis easy this all saints night to believe
and even see the orange clad ghouls arise.

Skeletons  walk in the gloom of candles
sparkling grins peering from pumpkins.
As witches fly across the moon cackling
leaving behind a trail of shooting stars....

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The farmer said to the cow
Be quiet you old sow
To which she replied
I am not a pig, I am a mooing cow!
He looked at her mockingly
Saying "That is yet to be determined"
She huffed and puffed as he called the butcher.

Whether she was a cow, or a pig or even a one legged chicken
She is now the silent one.

For on the table she sits
A rightful dish along with the haggis
The Fox shall enjoy his menu de la soir
Roasted and basted
Merry Christmas to one and all!...

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