Short Culinary Poems
Short Culinary Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Culinary by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Culinary by length and keyword.
I wish I could bake
I like to eat cake
But my culinary skills are crap
I go to a wake
Make some handshakes
Then leave with a sponge in my bag
Pancakes come from heaven above,
One bite and it is culinary love!
Calories don’t count, you can eat your fill!
The Pancake world surely beats the grill!
Her craft had a sizzle and spark,
Lighting up to cook after dark.
So his brainpan swam,
“That’s one succulent clam!”
A morsel, just right for the shark.
Well done pizza is what the mob counts on
The lightest always set before each con
Don't die alone
It's set in stone
It's always the darkest before the don!
Listen to poem:
Now here's mishmash mess of a dish,
A hodgepodge of things you won't miss,
Use-by-dates, well past encore,
Muddled up on the floor,
A culinary concoction so swish!
Pelican Soup
I will not partake of your Pelican Soup,
Not even a drop or a very small scoop.
This culinary dish is quite absurd,
A consommé of a large billed bird.
Stirring and mixing ingredients with, sweet smelling herbs.
The culinary art form; a favorite of many people.
Succulent perfume fills the kitchen; dinner will soon be served.
With Medicaid I got my dentures so bright
To pursue each and every culinary delight
Now with swagger I sway
But DOGE takes them away
Guess it's yogurt for dinner again tonight
Just discovered a new eatery on Main Street
WOW what a fantastic experience, a culinary treat
Knew it by the crowd
That says it out loud
A pub called the Crow's Nest, a great place to eat
visit Rue du Faubourg
culturally diverse Parisian Street
culinary delights every direction
croque monsieur
marron glace’
la malbouffe’
follow the locals they know where to eat
savvy street smart foodies
My son Scottie turned out to be an amazing chef
Whatever dish he concocts, it's up there with the best
Know not where it's from
But it's up with my thumb
Deserves the World Culinary Award he's up to the test
My blue terraced pot is alive this year,
Growing basil, chives, oregano and sage.
It sits on my patio in the filtered sun,
Ready for creative culinary inspiration......
Maybe after I finish this glass of wine.
Culinary resonations my senses please
Blowtorch trimming the tapering of cheese
Cremated lactations dance on the fan’s breeze
Crab forks impaling young peas
Lightly dusting salt of the seas
Grindings of exotic teas
Marinades my taste buds tease
Banana went to culinary college
Yellow, firm, wanted so much knowledge,
Standing up in last class,
Ending up in large mass,
Now was the time for all to acknowledge.
Written for
Sponsor Deborah Guzzi
Contest Name The once was a man from Dunkirk..
If, in culinary quarters, thin-sliced, Crisco’d chicken orders go as cutlets,
Then are coupled quatrain quarters, when arranged in rhyming order, christened couplets?
—————
(For the ‘Your Best Rhyming Couplet’ Poetry Contest
Sponsored by L Milton Hankins
2/5/22)
BELLY OF A WHALE
heavy
it sits
shoalfish
complex
dessert
the brown
barnacles
attach
themselves
voiceless
a diet
underwater
crumbs
controlled
senseless
nevertheless
it steamed
delicious
culinary
dishes
under the sea
© Kim van Breda—3 November 2015
Form:
Once again, I ate more then one.
Returning to the stack such fun,
Examining the richness complete,
One cookie not left to eat.
Culinary flavor in every bite,
Original taste that satisfies right,
One dip in milk, rich to the core,
Keeping the history, craving more,
I am always filled with delight.
Extraordinary savor just right.
To know Thy Self
is to know a universe:
I peel back the onion of me…
tears are only a surface
of my journey;
for there is
sweetness enough to enhance
any dish;
In fact, each of us
is a banquet of discovery –
awaiting the chef, our nature that of
a culinary soul, to assemble and toss,
fresh from the garden of God’s greening –
My husband likes to cook and that’s
A lucky thing for me
For I am the recipient
Of his gastronomy.
He hardly tastes what he prepares.
His culinary skills
Are aimed to please my palate;
It’s my belly that he fills.
Like Jack Sprat and his wife, we are,
Without the fat and lean.
He cooks, I eat, he clears, I wash –
Our dinnertime routine.
Listen to poem:
Your hairy brown exterior
Belies the sweet interior
A gift to humans culinary
Or cocktail quite extraordinary
Your oil it smooths, caresses
A babies bum it blesses
Your cream is heaven slurry
As I add it to my curry
In short you're what we all need
Though your stature for a plant seed
Might be intimidating
I'll still give you 'A' star rating
All day Franco-American spaghetti-suckers
do not make connoisseurs' lips pucker
Neither do grilled spiders and a side of beans
appeal to kings or to queens
When looking to make a culinary splash
never serve reheated corned-beef hash
And even if you're in a real time jam
fuggetabout cold pizza topped-off with spam
Just stick to the basics, you'll surely succeed
~ A dozen raw eggs afloat in seaweed
He Has Fifty Years of Poetic Art
Forty Years, with a Broken Heart
Thirty-five Years “Culinary Arts”
To Be Continued
Dedicated To Chef : Known to You as - HG ~ Harry ~ Liege
Poet's Note : OK this is only my third Poem, so Please
give Your Advise it is muchly Appreciated I want to know;
I'm going to put this under the Form : Rhyme : My second
choice was Free Verse; Respectfully, kenny , A Fledgling POET
Role models they are, guiding lights so bright,
In their footsteps, I find my own path, day and night.
A man of food, a culinary passion I hold dear,
Nourishing souls with flavors that bring cheer.
Brilliancy and intelligence, they're not achieved alone,
Books and food, the foundations they've shown.
Egbon Oniwe, books are vital, knowledge they bring,
But food also sustains, a vital part of everything.
Thanks for the average dinner last night
It wasn't exactly a culinary delight
It wasn't that nice but it wasn't that vile
That it made me so sick or bring up some bile
It just lacked flavour, finesse or shazam
The chops were bland, I think they were lamb
The mash was lumpy with minimal seasoning
Now please stop crying, with you there's no reasoning
I've told you before now I'll tell you again
I am the judge of all women and men
Tea for two, for me, for you
Buckwheats for three, you, and you, and me
Huckleberries for four, that's what we adore
Spring rolls for five make us feel alive
Chalupas for six, served on heated bricks
Matzo balls for seven without a bit of levin
Piroshki for eight and won't we all feel great
Potato cakes for nine, that's such a lot to dine
Apple pie for ten then start over again
Frittata for one and now I'm finally done.