Food poems - let's eat our words (poetry game) - Page 2

Ganesha · 11-08-2009, 02:43 AM

two poached eggs
one cloudy around the yoke
two broiled chicken thighs
one crispier than is healthy
two more pounds
I must workout longer
too much fun
this eating

SirOtter · 11-11-2009, 09:24 AM

Colby Longhorn and Monterey Jack

Desperado of the West!
Renegade Cheese, all nattily dressed
In cellophane chaps and a wax paper vest,
Six-gun at his side.

Here comes Jack, itchin' to fight,
Riding roughshod out of the night,
Brie and Feta tremble in fright,
Hide, Ranchers, hide!

He rustled their cattle, horses and foals,
He burned their houses down to coals,
He shot Old Man Swiss plumb full of holes,
In front, back and side!

The bank in Cheeseville locked its door,
Away the stagecoach driver tore,
The Cheddar merchant lay on the floor,
Hide, Townies, Hide!

From out of the East a stranger came,
Colby Longhorn was his name,
Out to crumble Monterey's fame,
He searched far and wide!

Monterey Jack laughed when he heard
How Colby Longhorn spread the word
He'd whip his whey and beat his curd,
Jack's rep he did deride!

They met on the street at a quarter to one
And when the marshal's work was done,
Monterey Jack was on the run!
Ride, Outlaw, Ride!

Jack rode his Pimiento out from the town,
Colby set out to track him down,
Toting a grater and wearing a frown,
Destinies to decide!

The outlaw was wounded, quite badly, and so
In Parmesan Valley he waited below
Some tumbleweeds so could bushwack his foe!
Hide, Outlaw, Hide!

But good luck was with Old Colby that day.
The Outlaw's first shot went wildly astray,
The marshal fired back and he blew Jack away!
Jack lay down and died!

When Colby returned the whole town gave a cheer,
Gouda the bartender gave him free beer.
They lauded the Cheese whom the outlaws did fear,
To honor him they vied.

He settled in town and married a Miss,
Ricotta, the daughter of the late Old Man Swiss,
And there he has stayed from that day to this,
Contented with his bride!

c 2002 Mark Orr

SirOtter · 11-11-2009, 09:45 AM

It's Grits

I'd like to offer a little homily
Upon the joys of ground up hominy.
The stuff is always ordered in the plurality;
Specifically, 'how much?' instead of 'how many?'

A singleness the dish does not possess,
Although one might say it has singularity.
And north of the Mason-Dixon Line
In most restaurants it is a rarity.

Them Yankees have no clue just what they are missing.
They grind up some taters and fry 'em to bits
And pass off their hashbrowns as a poor substitute -
But you just ain't got breakfast unless you have grits.

onestepp · 11-17-2009, 04:24 AM

Dasies on my palate
fresh from a garden salad
prickled up and down spine
tickled chin yellow,
tingled nose and toes
into a dance of woes.

11-08-2009, 02:43 AM	#26
Ganesha you are so cool! Join Date: Feb 2006 Location: Vermont Posts: 1,520	Dining on dinner two poached eggs one cloudy around the yoke two broiled chicken thighs one crispier than is healthy two more pounds I must workout longer too much fun this eating __________________ “All judgment reveals itself to be self-judgement in the end, and when this is understood a larger comprehension of the nature of life takes its place.” Dr. David Hawkins

11-11-2009, 09:24 AM	#27
SirOtter Il Cavaliere Marino Join Date: Aug 2008 Location: Tennessee Posts: 503	Colby Longhorn and Monterey Jack Desperado of the West! Renegade Cheese, all nattily dressed In cellophane chaps and a wax paper vest, Six-gun at his side. Here comes Jack, itchin' to fight, Riding roughshod out of the night, Brie and Feta tremble in fright, Hide, Ranchers, hide! He rustled their cattle, horses and foals, He burned their houses down to coals, He shot Old Man Swiss plumb full of holes, In front, back and side! The bank in Cheeseville locked its door, Away the stagecoach driver tore, The Cheddar merchant lay on the floor, Hide, Townies, Hide! From out of the East a stranger came, Colby Longhorn was his name, Out to crumble Monterey's fame, He searched far and wide! Monterey Jack laughed when he heard How Colby Longhorn spread the word He'd whip his whey and beat his curd, Jack's rep he did deride! They met on the street at a quarter to one And when the marshal's work was done, Monterey Jack was on the run! Ride, Outlaw, Ride! Jack rode his Pimiento out from the town, Colby set out to track him down, Toting a grater and wearing a frown, Destinies to decide! The outlaw was wounded, quite badly, and so In Parmesan Valley he waited below Some tumbleweeds so could bushwack his foe! Hide, Outlaw, Hide! But good luck was with Old Colby that day. The Outlaw's first shot went wildly astray, The marshal fired back and he blew Jack away! Jack lay down and died! When Colby returned the whole town gave a cheer, Gouda the bartender gave him free beer. They lauded the Cheese whom the outlaws did fear, To honor him they vied. He settled in town and married a Miss, Ricotta, the daughter of the late Old Man Swiss, And there he has stayed from that day to this, Contented with his bride! c 2002 Mark Orr __________________ "Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters; united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels." - Francisco de Goya

11-11-2009, 09:45 AM	#28
SirOtter Il Cavaliere Marino Join Date: Aug 2008 Location: Tennessee Posts: 503	It's Grits I'd like to offer a little homily Upon the joys of ground up hominy. The stuff is always ordered in the plurality; Specifically, 'how much?' instead of 'how many?' A singleness the dish does not possess, Although one might say it has singularity. And north of the Mason-Dixon Line In most restaurants it is a rarity. Them Yankees have no clue just what they are missing. They grind up some taters and fry 'em to bits And pass off their hashbrowns as a poor substitute - But you just ain't got breakfast unless you have grits. __________________ "Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters; united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels." - Francisco de Goya

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11-17-2009, 04:24 AM	#29
onestepp AW Addict Join Date: Oct 2007 Posts: 353	Dasies on my palate fresh from a garden salad prickled up and down spine tickled chin yellow, tingled nose and toes into a dance of woes.