So in our pride we ordered for breakfast an omelet, toast and coffee and what has just arrived is a tomato salad with onions, a dish of pickles, a big slice of watermelon and two bottles of cream soda.
quote by John Steinbeck
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Related quotes
There is a bright spot or two for the Spaniards. French toast has become freedom toast on the Air Force One breakfast menu, but the Spanish omelet is still a Spanish omelet.
quote by Suzanne Fields
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If The World Was Crazy
If the world was crazy, you know what I'd eat?
A big slice of soup and a whole quart of meat,
A lemonade sandwich, and then I might try
Some roasted ice cream or a bicycle pie,
A nice notebook salad, and underwear roast,
An omelet of hats and some crisp cardboard toast,
A thick malted milk made from pencils and daisies,
And that's what I'd eat if the world was crazy.
If the world was crazy, you know what I'd wear?
A chocolate suit and a tie of eclair,
Some marshmallow earmuffs, some licorice shoes,
And I'd read a paper of peppermint news.
I'd call the boys 'Suzy' and I'd call the girls 'Harry,'
I'd talk through my ears, and I always would carry
A paper unbrella for when it grew hazy
To keep in the rain, if the world was crazy.
If the world was crazy, you know what I'd do?
I'd walk on the ocean and swim in my shoe,
I'd fly through the ground and I'd skip through the air,
I'd run down the bathtub and bathe on the stair.
When I met somebody I'd say 'G'bye, Joe,'
And when I was leaving - then I'd say 'Hello.'
And the greatest of men would be silly and lazy
So I would be king... if the world was cazy.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Diet Song
Well breakfast black coffee one slice of dry toast no butter no jelly no jam
Lunch just some lettuce two celery stalks no booze no potatoes no ham
Dinner one chicken wing broiled not fried no gravy no biscuits no pie
And this dietin' dietin' dietin' dietin' sure is a rough way to die
So pass me a carrot stick peel me a prune a glass of skim milk and that's all
Turn off the TV for the Big Mac commercial it's drivin' me straight up the wall
And I'm think' of french fries sausage and waffles spaghetti and cookies and cake
And each night I'm dreamin' of chocolate ice cream and
I'm starvin' to death when I wake all for your sake
You're fixin' the kids all those creamed mashed potatoes
But it's bouillon and water for me and you got a lock on the refrigerator
Lord knows where you're hidin' the key
And while I am starvin' for food late at night I'm starvin' for lovin' from you
But you say that when I can see my own dick you'll be glad to look at it too
So supper two pieces of cauliflower raw some beefsteak the size of a nail
One sliced tomato a small dab of slaw I swear I ate better in jail
Stop eatin' that pizza right under my nose girl that's the least you can do
And put down that candy bar while I am singin' I'm starvin' my ass off for you
And when I am dead with the insurance paid you'll look down at me and you'll grin
You'll say well the boy tried and he suffered and died
But don't he look good when he's thin
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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I went to a restaurant that serves ""breakfast at any time"". So I ordered French Toast during the Renaissance.
quote by Steven Wright
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I went to a restaurant that serves "breakfast at any time". So I ordered French Toast during the Renaissance.
quote by Steven Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fast or Feast
Dreamed we were in The Court of Two Sisters
The slow green fans turnin' in the courtyard
The green napkins, the waiters all in green
In early afternoon, we ordered a big breakfast
Of eggs with lemon sauce, asparagus, ham,
Toast points, creamed shrimp soup, fruit.
Hot rolls, butter, chickory coffee, dark and bitter
And a Charlotte Russe burstin' with whipped cream
We had our fill and ate till we were full
Breakin' a long fast from food, for the night before;
Walkin' through the Quarter till after midnight
Then feastin' on love till early mornin' breaks
What must happen to make this dream last
For this is the only break from love fastin'
And the only feastin' goin' on
Is a feast of heartbreak
poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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We don't need a melting pot in this country, folks. We need a salad bowl. In a salad bowl, you put in the different things. You want the vegetables - the lettuce, the cucumbers, the onions, the green peppers - to maintain their identity. You appreciate differences.
quote by Jane Elliot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You are sitting on the veranda
You are sitting on the veranda
enjoying the breakfast
of eggs fried with tomato with toast
and huge cups of very special tea
that I had made for you.
Sweet innocence radiates from you
while you watch the blooming
purple irises, some white lilies, pink,
orange and ruby red geraniums
and birds fly down
from the pepper tree
to peck up the seed
that I had put out for them.
There’s a melody in your voice
while you give some toast with Marmite
to the dogs that gather
with twisting tails
to get their treat
and the morning is sweet
and our house is a moated fort,
a treasured place
where only we are locked in.
poem by Gert Strydom
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But I like mango
if it's my market I want to say
I don't like it when the eaves are dropping
potato is cheap the beans are at hand and it's ok
the onions would slice me there's too much to peel
the salad seller I'm sure he'll cheat
the eggs will be broken I'm too clumsy
and I don't think the lamb and beef
are happy smiling in a butcher's shop
my economy branches are fragile breaking
they're selling it all to me
I'm so full of my bags will stagger home unnoticed
and wonder 'so what are we cooking today'
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A Good Poem
a good poem is as good as it makes you feel
good,
about yourself and your world, your pains
and joys, your sorrows and pains, all mixed up
into one salad
a bowl of greens and reds
a slice of lemon, black olives,
a little pinch of salt, a garnishing
of olive oil, and some
cheese.
and of course, the purple onions
that you peel one by one
tears and the lasting smile
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Flaming Dragon Curry
On the menu, I spotted Flaming Dragon Curry,
But, to try this dish, I am in no particular hurry;
It has onions, red peppers, and chicken (diced) ,
Steeped in seasoning, herbs, and Indian spice.
I'd probably be sitting there with streaming eyes:
For me to try this dish, I think, would not be wise.
As well as watery eyes, my mouth would be on fire;
Neither of which is a sensation I particularly desire.
Five red chillies indicated it was the hottest dish there;
Certainly way too hot for my taste-buds to ever bear.
I consider that this curry is only for the very brave;
It is certainly not a dish that I would ever crave.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Petri-dish
Your love is like salad in a salad Petri-dish,
But, bounded in the myth of paradise! !
However, the pivoting labour of your muse acts like flaccid breasts;
And, tomorrow is the opening of your hot meal to the masses,
For, you are very much noted in this village.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Mutton
Gently stir and blow the fire,
Lay the mutton down to roast,
Dress it quickly, I desire,
In the dripping put a toast,
That I hunger may remove --
Mutton is the meat I love.
On the dresser see it lie;
Oh, the charming white and red;
Finer meat ne'er met the eye,
On the sweetest grass it fed:
Let the jack go swiftly round,
Let me have it nice and brown'd.
On the table spread the cloth,
Let the knives be sharp and clean,
Pickles get and salad both,
Let them each be fresh and green.
With small beer, good ale and wine,
Oh ye gods! how I shall dine.
poem by Jonathan Swift
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Big Tomato Meets Big Toe
Little did Big Tomato know,
she would meet Mr. Big Toe.
She did not know that Big Toe
had a radio show.
The radio show was called
“Big Toe Wants To Know”
Big Tomato walked through the door, ,
knowing she had an interview at 4.
Waiting in the lobby remembering what to say,
she bumped into doll Melodie Mezoree’.
“Wow, it’s Melodie Mezoree’ how are you today? ”
“Oh great nice to see you Big Tomato,
I was just on the radio show! ”
Big Tomato replied, “I will talk about how I can fly-
how I can fly way up in the sky.”
Then Big Toe walked in,
he was happy to see Big Tomato with a grin.
Both of them shook hands,
and Big Tomato talked and sang,
on the mic behind the stand.
It was Big Tomato’s big day,
every child listened to what she had to say.
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Big Tomato Meets Big Toe
Little did Big Tomato know,
she would meet Mr. Big Toe.
She did not know that Big Toe
had a radio show.
The radio show was called
“Big Toe Wants To Know”
Big Tomato walked through the door, ,
knowing she had an interview at 4.
Waiting in the lobby remembering what to say,
she bumped into doll Melodie Mezoree’.
“Wow, it’s Melodie Mezoree’ how are you today? ”
“Oh great nice to see you Big Tomato,
I was just on the radio show! ”
Big Tomato replied, “I will talk about how I can fly-
how I can fly way up in the sky.”
Then Big Toe walked in,
he was happy to see Big Tomato with a grin.
Both of them shook hands,
and Big Tomato talked and sang,
on the mic behind the stand.
It was Big Tomato’s big day,
every child listened to what she had to say.
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Tomato
My love is a tiny red cherry tomato
That has found it's way into my heart by way of,
'An omelette'
'A cheese sandwhich'
A kittenish quiche
A side salad, that slid in through the side entrance
A tiny glistening punnet that flirted with the light
A drink carton full of bloody juice
A red nose that passed itself off as a tomato
A tin of Italian agraphobic plum tomatoes
A pizza
A pie
A spicy tomato pasta
A bed of floating tomatoes in a home made punch
A seed which grew secretly from my garden bed
Into a vine
Ready to pick
This tomato love is mine
It also came into my heart by way of
A tin of soup
A bottle of ketchup
And alot of sauce
My love is born
Not yet filing for divorce
Yvette Smith march 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Rashers of bacon—
sun has made an omelet
Autumnal breakfast
haiku by Mark Heathcote
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How Should Mornings Be?
a cup of roasted coffee
a toast of bread
butter and marmalade
a slice of orange
some lima beans
a little music
some prayers
how nice would a morning be
overjoyed
by your presence
sipping same things all over again
with us
how can such a morning be so boring?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Watermelon
On a summer’s day
A slice of watermelon
Under the hot sun.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Making Breakfast - a study in consciousness
Breakfast. Slick operation. You could
make it in your sleep..
you’ve refined the quantities,
the cooking and the timing
like a pro..
and eating it – you’re even more
brilliant at that – you can
eat breakfast, read the paper,
listen to the radio or tv,
half listen to the wife and kids,
make and take those cellphone calls;
then bestow a salty bacon,
sweet marmaladey kiss on several lips
or cheeks – and off..
But today something gotten to you:
the sun is shining; all’s well with the world;
this isn’t Monday breakfast, this is
Saturday breakfast…
You find yourself making breakfast
as if you’d never made it in your life before;
you hear the cereal on its way
from the packet to the bowl;
smell the coffee before drinking it;
never has the toast been browner, crisper,
eggs more eggy, tomatoes so.. well, tomatoey;
sweet meeting salt in tasting mouth..
the world’s made new today; and
somehow, you feel as if
you know that much more about yourself;
some sure sense of direction
seems to fill your heart and mind;
you’re on good terms with
the Creation as of now.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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