I was about five years old when I was eating soup in our kitchen, and as I was lifting the spoon towards my mouth, it bent and broke in half.
quote by Uri Geller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sun & Soup
You hold the spoon
over the tureen
watching the soup
drip back with a plop.
You know Francis
will enter soon,
and stand watching
over you, him being
master of the kitchen,
wondering if you had
dipped your finger
and tasted the soup
with your tongue
and say, I hope you
haven’t dipped your finger
in and tasted, it isn’t
the done thing;
and he’d give you
such a look, as if you would,
as if Mother had not
taught you kitchen manners
with its dos and don’ts;
and as you look up
at the high windows,
sunlight leaks through
the coloured glass pane
throwing its golden finger
across the tureen’s hold.
poem by Terry Collett
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Sexual Soup
A man so sick that the sexual soup
cannot save him -
the chicken soup of sex
which cures everything:
tossed mane of noodles,
bits of pale white meat.
the globules of yellow fat
like love...
But he is a man so sick
no soup can save him.
His throat has healed into a scar.
Rage fills his guts.
He wants to diet on dust.
I offered to feed him
(spoon by spoon)
myself.
I offered my belly as a bowl.
I offered my hands as spoons,
my knees as tongs,
my breasts as the chafing dish
to keep us warm
I offered my navel
as a brandy snifter.
"My tongue is gone," he said,
"I have no teeth.
My mouth is with my mother in the grave.
I've offered up my hunger to the air,
my nostrils to the wind,
my sex to death,
my eyes to nothingness & dust."
"What do you lust for then?"
I asked.
"I lust for nothing."
poem by Erica Jong
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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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One spoon of soup in need has more value than a pot of soup when we have an abundance of food.
I was wrong: So what. todays idiocy
I say that it’s impossible.
You cannot eat soup with chop sticks
Though it is highly probable.
Someone will try to prove he can.
To demonstrate his cleverness
and show he is a better man.
What will it prove should he succeed?
That I’m mistaken in my view.
I will be happy to concede
.
the victory to some buffoon.
Who can eat soup using chop sticks.
I still prefer to use a spoon.
I think soup should be eaten hot
I do not like cold soup a lot.
20/06/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Black Cold Coffee
Captain midnight and Captain cruise
out on the ocean
like a storm of bad news
it took three monkeys in a plastic mac
to fit inside a paper sack
And they're cooking up an alibi
cooking up some steam
out in the madness
somewhere in Orleans
they had a plan,
they had a plot
beggars and blues was all they got
Black cold coffee
black Irish soup
cold on a silver spoon
she's dancing through hoops
Baby's wishing on a wishing well
she's moving up
and ringing her bell
can't fly to heaven
on a persian rug
so put some coins in the old sailor mug
They travelled up together
from the coast
east of Aldgate
silently like ghosts
they had a scam,
they had a scheme
for drunks and bums counting beans
Black cold coffee
black Irish soup
cold on a silver spoon
she's dancing through hoops
Solo
Black cold coffee
black Irish soup
cold on a silver spoon
she's dancing through hoops
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've done my time in being broke in Indonesia. Eating Goat soup. Australia's a developed country, you've got a lot of taxes, rents are high and its quite difficult to survive as an artist especially when you are just coming up.
quote by Andrew Jack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's a Soup Spoon
I see a spoon.
I have a bowl of icecream.
It's a soup spoon.
My icecream melts!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Roasting
The seas of roasting chickens
Gang up on the mouth, to slaughter
Them is wise, more intelligent
Than themselves, who watch and listen
In ways of the Academy;
After tonight the walls of heaven collapse
For their taste and the taste buds work splendours.
Much eating occurred after me,
Most of the wasting accomplished nothing.
My boiling soup acutely spun
Under the weight of heaven and hell.
Those chances slim,
These windows thinner,
And my soup a broth for dinner.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Food For Thought
She hid it
but it became clear to her
even as a child
she was obsessed with food-
all the world and her relationships in it-
became things to be tasted;
consumed.
In her twenties she did not date men
she tasted them
and became bored
with them as one becomes
bored with the routine
of every day the same meal;
food was orgasmic to her
in its variety
but too,
this was something she had to hide
because being that way also
had its guilty side;
all day long
she thought about what she would eat
that night
and the next day
or even reliving
a last meal
re-tasting it in her mouth
it all seemed natural to her
because it seemed to her
others seemed to share as well
foods power.
It was a need to take
the outside in
to feel it in her mouth
swallow it down
tongue on texture
then a final act
of it resting inside her
as she digested it,
sometimes bulimically
to assuage guilt
it being hidden heavings
in bathrooms, hers and those
of her friends
but always returning
to the need to fill up the Empty
to feel full
filled
to make it through some nights
eating
to assuage grief
sometimes to celebrate
often late at night secret eating
munching, ingesting
taking in
gorging on
cake and ice cream
chocolate
and potato chips
even beer
or liqueur
with exotic
items like mangos
and papayas
all carefully laid out before her
because she liked the ritual of it
the handing
the smells
the preparations and the cooking;
fork and spoon lifting high
to the altar of her mouth
to her wide lips
resting briefly upon her fiery tongue
to the savoring
the plunging onward
into the alimentary canal
to its final
warm resting place
inside.
And then the guilt
always the guilt
about what she had done
then on to the next day obsession about her weight
the battle of the bulge
of the unwanted thickening sure to come
of the terrifying knowledge
her eating at night
it would show up
decorating her waist line
her hips,
her thighs
crime and punishment come alive
visible for all to see.
She reveled in her pregnancy
eating herself
to 51 additional pounds
and not losing all of them back
despite furious exercise;
ultimately welcoming mother hood
because cooking for her kids kept her in touch
with food
and after all
no mother
was expected to be thin;
and then escalator down
she gradually gave up
food had won
and she knew
that with advancing age
she could not lose back the years.
In despair, kids and husband now gone
she decided that it was not the food she'd been carving
all those years
rather it was a feeling of being filled up
being loved
food was just a poor substitute
And dear reader you ask what then?
She fell in love with a younger man
half her age
and he reciprocated.
the excitement of his loving her
made her feel for the first time in years
love
and gradually over a year
she lost the need for food
as a crutch.
More and more it became
for her a thing past.
Oh she did not suddenly become a size two
but she did become a better her
more energy
and she needed that energy
becoming more and more thrilled
with whom she then was.
And yes, the two did last;
food not so much exiled
as becoming for her
only a once over-indulged
repast
from her past.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Sky Seasoning
A piece of sky
Broke off and fell
Through the crack in the ceiling
Right into my soup,
KERPLOP!
I really must state
That I usually hate
Lentil soup, but I ate
Every drop!
Delicious delicious
(A bit like plaster),
But so delicious, goodness sake--
I could have eaten a lentil-soup lake.
It's amazing the difference
A bit of sky can make.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Spoonful
By willie dickson
Could be spoonful of diamonds
Could be spoonful of gold
But I want a spoon ot your precious love
To satisfy my soul
Chorus
Men lies about it
Some are wild about it
Some dies without it
Everythings right about spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
Could be spoonful of coffee
Could be spoonful of tea
But I want a spoon of your precious love
Thats good enough for me
Chorus
Men lies about it
Some are wild about it
Some dies without it
Everythings right about spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
.
Could be a spoonful of water
Searching from the desert sand
But just a spoon of that fortifies
Saved you from another man
Chorus
Men lies about it
Some are wild about it
Some dies without it
Everythings right about spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's better to have no spoon than to have no soup.
Seeds and soil
Rabindranath Tagore was born
With a silver spoon in the mouth.
He got connections and the Nobel Prize.
Subramini Bharathi was born
With no silver spoon in the mouth
And being great lived low.
Seeds and soil together contribute.
19.04.2007
Both are Indian Poets, one a Bengali poet and the other a tamil poet.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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That which you put into your soup kettle, comes latter onto your spoon.
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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In Dark Shadows.
the pepper pot
towards the nun
on her right.
The salt follows
once more given
a gentle shove.
To understand
another’s need
without them asking,
an elderly nun
had said.
A nun is reading
from a high desk
in the refectory.
Some book on Cromwell,
a life, back whenever when.
She sips her soup,
the French soup spoon
held in her right hand.
The nun on her left
passes the water jug.
Offers to pour.
Sister Felicity nods
and smiles.
The nun pours
a liberal amount
then puts down the jug.
Opposite an elderly nun
dribbles soup,
her shaky hand
missing the target.
Nan did that.
How can one forget?
She remembers
her grandmother’s
slow decline;
the slippery slope
down to the side ward
in the dank hospital.
Onion soup. Too hot.
She blows to cool.
Sunlight reaches down
through high windows.
Worlds explode
in dark shadows.
poem by Terry Collett
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5-Second Rule
A piece of Peggy’s favorite
Chocolate candy fell from her
Fingertips as she was about
To put it in her waiting mouth;
It landed on the kitchen floor.
She quickly bent her head downward
While at the same time bellowed out
“5-second rule! ”, then proceeded
To kneel and swiftly scooped it up
And popped it into her mouth.
The following morning Peggy
Lays quietly in a strange bed
While a nurse is taking her pulse
And the doctor enters and smiles.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Spoonful
By willie dixon
Could fill spoons full of diamonds,
Could fill spoons full of gold.
Just a little spoon of your precious love
Will satisfy my soul.
Men lies about it.
Some of them cries about it.
Some of them dies about it.
Everythings a-fightin about the spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
Could fill spoons full of coffee,
Could fill spoons full of tea.
Just a little spoon of your precious love;
Is that enough for me?
Chorus
Could fill spoons full of water,
Save them from the desert sands.
But a little spoon of your forty-five
Saved you from another man.
Chorus
Cats squirrel (traditional)
(instrumental)
song performed by by Cream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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