Had my fill of Finnish fish pie food
it only put me in the mood
for a Swedish meatball
which really and truly
duly answered the call
followed by a Danish bacon pastry
all in all it was quite tasty
hoping I won't glow in the dark
in Iceland I had fermented shark
and creamy tangy skyr à la mode
it's yoghurt with ice cream in Norse code
but of Greenland's daily delicacy
homemade soup I must reveal
a staple of Inuit cuisine
the main ingredient is seal
and for a Norway repast
(as that bird has flown)
I'll leave it 'til the very last
but for cellulose as grub goes
what good
is Norwegian wood?
Baku and the Swedish cook
It sounds impossible, but 72 years ago, I was
a galley-boy on an old tank ship loading
oil for Iceland, a country with watery beer
Baku, I remember the long avenue, empty
of people and poorly lit.
The cook and I had gone ashore, and we were
the only one who dared me, because I had
not been brainwashed, and the cook who
was Swedish, Stige Hellander, his name, and
a communist
There was a party somewhere near the men
Who wore a double-breasted suit to grow in
and padded shoulder, making them look odd
Oh, yes, they were party functionaries
Stige, the cook, enjoyed himself with free vodka.
They put it in a corner with a bottle of milk
and bars of chocolate, until it was time to go
back onboard, Stige, the cook, sang rude songs
Now, seventy-two years later, I learn that Baku
is not in Russia
I am Swedish so I have no concept of warmth,
Yet my heart has been touched by a thousand degree
Gum was taken by cupid's spicy dart,
An amorous wind resting through Duino's trees
Who is his lover? Who has his hand?
Who will feel his lips when Mensa's food
is bland?
And how will the rest of us ever compare,
to the angel who captured Gum's yearning stare?
©Miranda Samuelson
Filippa loved her bright-eyed horse.
His name was Fred, his mane was coarse.
They galloped back and forth to school.
When shoes got loose, she’d use a tool.
Filippa’s Fred was loyal and fine.
He was sixteen, and she was nine.
Swedish, they both loved life.
She played a flute. He played a fife.
Swesish Saga
Gerda left Sweden with an odd liking for turnips.
She claimed hard labor ruined her hands.
She hated her father.
Fritchof walked like an ex-sailor.
He had a vein-blue tattoo on his left hand.
He once sailed the Red Sea and grew a mustache.
They met in Vancouver. A brown wedding oval preserves
her stiff upper lip, his doubting earnestness.
She made him smoke his after-dinner cigar
in a corner where he taught me chess.
On the morning he died my mother removed the half pint
of Jim Beam from his bed-table drawer.
Gerda now reads the Bible to her son.
He is 50 and masturbates in the tub.
They go to faith healers.
He has actually seen the Devil!
I'm a
Swedish beauty
Born in
poverty
With eyes
so green
And cheek bones
so high
You wonder
at the structure
Of DNA gone by
My hair is silk
running through
the breeze
And
If you touch it
your fingers wil
slip through it
My skin is tan
with freckles
woven in
and my smile
is white
with straight teeth
to look apon
at moons delight
and my body is
purely a sight
with small beasts
upturned and
inviting
saying please
look apon me
you will be enlightened
a tastely morsel
created by a
heavenly light
and hips curved
just oh so right
You'll need a road map
for your hands to drive
the feeling of being with
a sensation so powerful
how can you walk by
oh.... my baby you will
not leave my side
because my
Swedish beauty
will hold you
forever to your side
come to me baby
I'll be your guide
showing you
just what I like
Back at you baby. Dedicated to Ezell Dazh.
Calvin Harris "This is what you came for" video with Rhianna
And "How deep is your love" video.
Swedish Flower
Hair blonde,eyes blue.it couldn't grow in dark and cold Stockholm without having sunny hair and oceanic eyes in it self.
if i had a Swedish flower in my garden i would make it warm with the heat of my heart and i would give it water with my tears.
If i had a Swedish flower,if...if... .
As Swedish lightning enters
Renders day from deepest night
And (soulful) wishers beg
Mortgaging their tearful fortunes
For an ounce of pure spiritual bullion
With happy veins glistening
Truth, honor, sufficient respect
Among the smelted ore
Ready for mold and use
Pass me down
The spirit roars
Throw me selflessly into the frenzy
That needs the slightest taste
Where spirit climbs
Wind lifting it above the caroling
Desperate chorus
They sing to place the blame
Affix the blame
Plainly on shoulders
Foreign yet known
Sturdy, meaty
Built by strength
Gained, endured
Through the repetition
Yet believe, they will
Chant its gross tales of hope
Until the sun can rise
On its own
Two feet.
(8/14/04)
Soft and chewy, cute and red;
They won’t wedge in your teeth.
You can chew them and not fear
They’ll get stuck underneath.
Jelly beans and licorice
And taffy tend to stick.
Jujyfruits wreak havoc
So they’re not the sweets to pick.
But Swedish fish and gummy bears
Are perfect for a chew.
If you need a sugar rush,
Well, either one will do.
Chocolate has its special place
But sometimes you just need
A candy where the chewy factor’s
Surely guaranteed.
Hopefully in Sweden
People eat and get their wish:
A perfect ending to a meal –
A plate of Swedish fish!
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