He who eats an egg foregoes a future meal of chicken soup.
Related quotes
Urban
the old crone
slurping up
essence of chicken
soup
as though
it were chicken soup
itself, mis
taking the hum in
her veins
for the ima
gined chicken’s part
ing gift
while
I know it to be
no more
than hot
water’s mo
mentary warming,
and how mo
mentary when even naked
flame would howl
and wiggle
an in
jured fing
er, frost
bitten, coming
too close
to the
waft of de
parting chill.
[From: How Do You Withstand, Body; Publisher: Clearing House, Mumbai, 1976]
poem by Gieve Patel
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Never let a stain from the past put a mark on your future.
Jillian Graham in Chicken Soup for the Preteen Soul
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Panacea
Panacea for the worlds ills.
Chicken soup in America.
'Mr President, the twin-towers
were destroyed by el caida terrorists.'
The President replies:
'You wouldn't have any chicken soup
on you, would you? '
A cup of tea in England.
'Prime Minister, the nazis have bombed
the shyte out of London.'
Prime Minister replies:
'Bastards, we'd better have a cup of tea
and think about this.'
poem by Jerry Hughes
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Krishna's Meal
Kanha eats in Yasoda's lap.
some he eats, some he drops,
as the ladies of Nandgaon watch,
some he eats and some he puts
in Nanda's mouth,
this joy is beyound recount.
some he eats, some gives to gopas,
butter in his hands, curd in doniyas.
The joy of Yasoda
the three worlds cannot account.
the meal is over, Kanha washes,
for Sur the left-overs count.
poem by Sant Surdas
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Eating Together
I know my friend is going,
though she still sits there
across from me in the restaurant,
and leans over the table to dip
her bread in the oil on my plate; I know
how thick her hair used to be,
and what it takes for her to discard
her man’s cap partway through our meal,
to look straight at the young waiter
and smile when he asks
how we are liking it. She eats
as though starving—chicken, dolmata,
the buttery flakes of filo—
and what’s killing her
eats, too. I watch her lift
a glistening black olive and peel
the meat from the pit, watch
her fine long fingers, and her face,
puffy from medication. She lowers
her eyes to the food, pretending
not to know what I know. She’s going.
And we go on eating.
poem by Kim Addonizio
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When Winter Started In May
With winter starting in May
you stir lentil soup around and around,
looking like the most beautiful housewife
while I am astounded by the odours of that meal.
When your lips find mine,
we are for long moments blinded to the world
and the soup almost boils over,
while a strong wind is rattling the windows.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Chicken With a Twist of Deliciousness
I bought thin breasts of sliced chicken.
Thinking I would make a chicken soup.
So I then cut the breasts,
Preparing to create a meal...
I believed would be the best.
When I had this thought...
Season and sauté the breast.
Simmer them quickly,
In olive oil next.
Add I did...
Broccoli, onions and green peppers.
With carrots and celery...
Thinking perhaps some cauliflower,
And Soy sauce too...
Was needed in this aromatic stew.
This I did.
Before I lowered the heat,
And covered this with the frying pan lid.
I said to myself...
This needed a touch of brown sugar.
A splash of apple vinegar,
And a dash of lemon for taste.
Mine,
Of course!
I'm suggesting this,
Before it is ready to plate.
I think this took twenty minutes to cook.
But the smell of it increased my appetite.
And I couldn't wait,
To devour each morsel.
Knowing I had cooked up something,
Bonafide to get me hooked!
Oh yes!
I've already named it,
Chicken With a Twist of Deliciousness!
If you want some,
You will have to make your own.
None of this I am eating,
Will a dropp of it you get!
Oh,
Before I forget.
Add some basil, dill, oregano and garlic too.
I like to use red pepper as well.
You can try that,
If you wish to lick the dish!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An Expectant Mother
(Who knows about the importance of the present time more than an expectant mother does?)
She's not just expecting a baby,
But the future with no more of hers.
She's not just giving birth to a baby,
But the future, Wow! full of wonders.
She eats not just for herself,
Nor for her pleasant pleasure;
She sleeps not just for her health,
Nor for her physical power;
She lives not just for her future,
Nor for her present hours;
But for all the best she could give to the world,
She eats, sleeps and lives with great care;
'Cause she knows with all her heart
The present is pregnant with the future!
poem by KnowledgeSincerityWisdom KSW
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Soup Of The Day
Well she thinks shes looking so cool
She thinks shes great but shes just a fool
What awful lack of class makes this kind behave this way
I look and only think of one thing to say
Soup, shes just soup
Soup of the day
Shes thin around the waistline
Thin around the brain
You see this type so many times
Time and time again
How could they really think
Theyd be treated in any other way
Everybodys looking and everybody say
Soup, shes just soup
Soup of the day
Well youd think theyd know better
That behaving in this way
They think theyre being clever
But I really have to say
Youd better think it over
Youll regret it one fine day
When the circus partys over
And you were just soup of the day
Shes just soup
Soup of the day
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thanks God For Soup Kitchen
Thanks God for soup kitchen
Because that is the only meal
That the poor will have for the day
And if it wasn't for the soup kitchen the poor would
starve
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Another clown
the clown with red nose
the clown with green ears
the clown with yellow cheeks
the clown with webbed feet
the children don’t like the clowns
all clowns
all the children are scared by all clowns
the child with orange hairs
the child with blue eyes
the child with pink smiles
the child with wide eyes
the clown don’t like the children
all children
all the clowns want to kill all children
the clown get back at home
He shouts: I hate the children
then he eats the soup of day
quietly smiling
the child get back at home
He shouts: I hate the clowns
then he eats the soup of day
quietly smiling
But the worst is forthcoming:
one child among one million
will become a clown
Me I am not a child
I am not a clown and
I do not like the soup
luckily
all sad stories have an end
and here I write a full stop
poem by Jean Francois Le Goff
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Crow Black Chicken
(laurence wilson)
Well, I went on the mountain
And I gave my horn a blow
Thought I heard some purty gal say
Yonder come my beau
Crow black chicken and crow for a day
Crow black chicken and fly away
Crow black chicken and-a ...
I like chicken pie
Well, the hardest work that ever I done
Is plowin a field of rye
The easiest work that ever I done
Was eatin chicken pie
Chicken crow for midnight
And chicken crow for a day
Along come an owl, lord, have mercy
And stole my chicken away
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The only thing chicken about Israel is their soup.
Brutal
I don't sauté what I say,
With puffed up fluff!
When I 've had enough...
I get brutal.
I don't offer apple strudel.
Or beat around the bush.
I'm not into fuzzy wuzzy stuff.
Or get cuddly to patch things up!
I don't sauté what I have to say,
With puffed up fluff for you!
When I've had enough...
And the going gets tough,
I get brutal.
I don't offer apple strudel.
I get brutal.
Or chicken soup with noodle.
I get brutal.
When games are lame.
And the aim is the same.
Putting my name to shame.
And wanting me to take the blame.
For something I know,
From the start I didn't do?
Because you think it's cute...
To use me as a substitute!
I don't bite my lip...
And pretend I'm not pissed!
You try to do me in...
And then you turn around and grin?
Thinking I wont do,
What now you know I can and will...
To you!
Yes...
Your looks could kill,
But I wont be a pig in swill.
I will get brutal.
I don't offer apple strudel.
I get brutal.
Or chicken soup with noodle.
I get brutal.
When games are lame.
And the aim is the same.
Putting my name to shame.
And wanting me to take the blame.
For something I know,
From the start I didn't do?
You think I'm a wimp in a pink tutu?
With a tutti fruiti tattoo on my booty too?
I wont sauté what I say,
With puffed up fluff for you.
When I've had enough...
I get brutal.
I don't offer apple strudel.
I get brutal.
Or chicken soup with noodle.
I get brutal.
I don't sauté what I say,
Or look away...
With my dignity played!
Not me.
Oh no!
You see...
I don't offer fantasy!
I'll give you brutal.
That's all I offer to you,
Is the brutal.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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He who eats globefish soup is a fool; so is he who does not.
Hurried judgment, curried thought
‘Animal sacrifice in Kali temples
and in Durga shrines is a disgrace! –
this is pagan savagery and
a shame to our pure souls!
*
(Please excuse the yellow smear
of chicken tikka on this screen;
chicken from a factory farm
that led a miserable life..
these lines were written in
righteous anger, and just after
a delicious Hindu meal.)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Chicken Lips And Lizard Hips
When i was a little kid
I never liked to eat
Mom would put things on my plate
And i'd dump 'em on her feet
But then one day she made this soup
I ate it all in bed
I asked her what she put in it
And this is what she said:
"oh, chicken lips and lizard hips
And alligator eyes
Monkey legs and buzzard eggs
And salamander thighs
Rabbit ears and camel rears
And tasty toenail pies
Stir 'em all together
And it's mama's soup surprise"
I went into the bathroom
And i stood beside the sink
I said, "i'm feeling slightly ill
And i think i'd like a drink"
Mama said, "i've just the thing
I'll get it in a wink
It's full of lots of protein
And vitamins, i think"
"oh, chicken lips and lizard hips
And alligator eyes
Monkey legs and buzzard eggs
And salamander thighs
Rabbit ears and camel rears
And tasty toenail pies
Stir 'em all together
And it's mama's soup surprise
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode to Chickens
An Ode to Chickens
Oh chicken, oh chicken,
With orange little feet,
All white and fluffy,
So good to eat,
Oh chicken, oh chicken,
I will get you so fat,
Then I will kill you,
And eat you at last
poem by Trevor Cummins
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When a poor man eats a chicken, one or the other is sick.
Evening Hunger
When hunger came
I went to kitchen
Cooked rice
Made a soup of chicken
Hunger lessened
Had a glass of wine
Felt not comfortable
To have the food alone
Took the mobile phone
Called to him
Who lives same as I
Welcoming sudden invitation
He is to come
Prepared the table for two
Second glass of wine
Toasted with the friend
We had a happy time
Talking about problems
Transcendent solution
To the boarding evening
Tomorrow
How it will be
Hunger is not the curry for meal all the time
Wine is not the friend for loneliness all the time
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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