Short Griddle Poems

Ah! The smell of eggs
   and pancakes on the griddle

  Olfactory nerve distributes
    five pounds to my middle...

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I got no legs
Ain't I pitiful
Wheel me around all day.

Boil me an egg
Pancakes, a griddle full
Then watch me worm away....

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Welshcakes

Stolen straight from the bakestone*
Was a taster we all proclaimed

* cast iron griddle

Penned 5 November 2015...

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And poverty has thus filled his griddle with dust,
His cup covered in rust
His strength, long waned to wail and cry
Now, all he awaits is to die...

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There once was a man named Little Jack Little.
Who sure could play a mean little fiddle,
He played with big Bix Morgan,
Who pounded his upright organ,
While eating pancakes from the griddle....

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I like My morning pancake's,
With swirls of maple syrup.
And sublime tasty butter,
slathered in circles.
If I have My druthers,
that's more than a little.
I like my morning pancake's,
warm off the griddle....

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Heat Index 111
Miracle Man
6/12/2022

Air has the feel of touching a griddle,
as if given birth by smoke and fire.
From a shady nook, thumbs I twiddle,
but for today, little more do I aspire.
...

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The door rings,
I look up,
someone with someone else,
back to my eggs and hash browns.
The door rings
Spatulas knell the griddle.
The skinny cook yells in Kentucky Yiddish.
Flapjacks slap in midair,
syrup dongs in jug and jar.
...

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Rum tum tiddle
You can fiddle
In the middle
Of the place where you piddle
In a skittle on the griddle 

Rum tum tiddle
It's a brittle little riddle
As you tell your tarradiddle
And we beat a paradiddle
Every kid'll want to whittle
And watch you as you diddle
Mrs. Twiddle....

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Eve Roper’s he-cat Dooby went on a date
                          With Debbie’s she-dog a curly burly Kate
                                         But SKAT's arrival
                                       Made their dismissal
                      She told The Griddle Cafe LA to raise their rate...

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Was quite the lady that Tilly O’Grady
she plays the fiddle and tells you a riddle
but stops in the middle, just to piddle
she was fit as a fiddle, made waffles on the griddle
the cat ate the waffles and her paws would twiddle after she read the riddle
so there you have it, the cat and the fiddle....

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Listen to poem:

My stomach is on my mind
Won't you get that griddle cooking
My mind is on my heart
Couldn't get no better looking

My memories all ran dry
Went down to the drinking well
Fill me up my loving cup
Surely wasn't thinking well

My tractor lost a wheel
The hoe can't even pull her out
My cat came back without her
The dog can't even figure it out...

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Ahh yes, our friend of course, the Pancake
Fluffy and accommodating
A stack of love for you and me
Ffffff..flip it! Yeah!

I pour you on a hot griddle
A light-brown face
Of total acceptance
Yes, of course, I’ll have another

Please love me
Like I love you
Your varied shapes
I gobble up, always grateful

A friend with a riddle
A friend on the griddle
I’ll never forget you
Our friend… the Pancake...

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MISTER BALEEN
limerick




                                    Mister Baleen got a whalebone
                                 He went to a charmer Doctor scone
                                          Doctor went to granny
                                           She was very funny
                                 Put bone on griddle to make a clone







© Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty December 2014...

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My old flame in the kitchen
Man, she could bring the heat
They’ve now induced induction
I feel so incomplete

It sprung up overnight
It lit the world ablaze
And now my flame’s anathema
In just a few short days

They say she causes asthma
And cognitive distress
I think there’s likely more at play
But that’s an addled guess

But I know when the grid is out
The Tesla has no charge
I’ll be flippin’ griddle cakes
with gas and living large...

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Every ten year old needs a hustle 
The cattle yards the Friday shuffle 

The farmer need a sandwich for lunch
Or a horse they've got a hunch  

I will run to get your dinner
Or place the bet for the sinner

It makes no difference to me
I am just hustling for a tuppenny

In the back door of bookie shop
Two Shillings I did drop

Over to the copper fiddle
For the ham off the griddle

I hand Paddy his slip and meat
A sixpence on the hustlers beat...

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The sizzle of the griddle
amongst the chitter-chatter
of nubile meanderings

The St. Francis rocks
rocks the soda POP stops...

This fifties Fonzi haunt 
for the twenty-first century's gaunt
feeds the bellies of San Francisco's dreamers.

Amongst a milkshake swirl
stand pretty girls 
tee's rolled up tattoos unfurled
on lollipop like pedestals they twirl
unwinding like wet red and white paper straws
barelegged or blue-jeaned.

The St. Francis rocks
rocks the dinners scene....

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I tried to do some grilling
But the sky just opened up
And it rained like Noah’s time
Each raindrop filled a cup

I’m using here hyperbole
To make a point of rain
The grilling of the burgers
Could not even begin

So I used an indoor griddle
To heat the burgers through
It wasn’t quite that bad at all
I was trying something new

I think they were less healthy
Since they sat in their own grease
Where the grill would let it drizzle down
And all that’s left was meat!...

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Ask no more
Summer has mellowed, gone are the thrills
autumn beds down for winter’s chills
spring will bring on the cheers
same old, same old all those years.

pull up my pillow and pull over my cap
settling down by the fire before I nap
wood box filled from my cutting
life is simple here, no golf putting.

old box radio spills out the jive of the fiddle
aroma of flapjacks hot off the griddle.
time has sure burned away my days
but my blessings  shine from the morning rays....

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