Short Fryer Poems

Iran is playing with fire

    If Israel gets hot ~

  Tehran will burn in her fryer...

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Carp


A Carp in the fryer,
is worth far more than,
all the trout in a lake.


By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison...

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Roses are red
My names Dave
this poem makes no sense
Microwave

Roses are red 
I a'int No lier
This poem makes No sense 
Deep fat fryer...

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There once was a monk named Cur Plunk
Who frequently strayed from his bunk
He claimed he was drunk
And stunk like a skunk
'til his hunk of a trunk had shrunk...

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A small chicken more like a fryer
One with all its innards
When the pack was opened
    Out came two necks, three livers, two gizzards
                 No hearts?
There has got to be a poem in here somewhere____...

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.  
           

                He's trying out that new-fangled deep fryer for Super Bowl 


                The third firetruck arrives at Half-time




______________________________
For Brian's "Spaces" contest...

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Hotdogs without the skin is like unrequited love,
all sorts with no where to put it.

Bravery pig with no city to save,
chopped liver makes it the same.

Beef tenderloin
and it followed the stretch to the fryer.

Medium rare 
like it should be
but still not what it requires....

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I roasted hotdogs
in an air fryer.

We gathered to celebrate.

There was a backyard romance going on
right under our eyes,
divorce played tennis for a while
in an open court.

Strange how hotdogs
can spark secrets,
how warm hands will flirt
between cold beers.

When two left
adultery
hovered between them....

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whispering a tune
blue tablet vibrating 
to the gentle wind's rhythm
as we all cooperate with blowing
locks of nostalgia

never bored in my time machine
the sands of time wave at me with
flowing currents of sincerity

i never have to wait
for the old fryer is never late
i am forever pulled in by 
gravitational forces of melancholy bliss.......

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I am your dreams
Curled up in a ball.
Napping vicious dreams,
Crouched against the wall.
Oh the stoic stares at dovetailing dreams.
Throw your fryer in the briar.
May the mist tear your eyes.
You haven't cried in months.
Bleep out all dull colors,
Let the celluloid solitude remain a-drip.
You are your heart's keeper.
Tend to your first original light.
The all-possible pulsar of our lives....

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Swastikas Today on Temple Mizpah 
 

The kitchens of Auschwitz
are belching again.

Ancient chefs, 
puffed hats askew,

storm once more
the catwalks swaying.
 
When the ovens are full,
the chefs dig pits

in the kitchen floor, set
silver spits, roast fryer thin
 
the legs and wings they’ve
cleaned and cleavered. Yes,

the kitchens of Auschwitz 
are belching again.
 
 
Donal Mahoney...

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Welcome to the fifty’s diner
Where there are chrome stools
Black, red and white leather seats
A checkered floor

Everything matches
A soda machine is standing ready
The chef is heating up the fryer
Burgers and fries are the main stay

The waitress has filled the ketchup bottles
There are also mustard bottles, and salt and pepper shakers
Staff is ready for school to dismiss
So, the munching, and conversing can begin....

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The bloom of a new bud 
planted within me births old emotions. 
Planted within me, not by me but by eyes as deep as the ocean. 
It blossoms beautifully with my blood. 
A deep shade of red it signifies my desire 
I yearn longingly for you 
For this relationship is long overdue 
But my attempts have ended in misfire 
So when will you discover 
My desire 
And become my lover? 
My love burns hotter than the fryer 
So when will you discover
My fire?...

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