I don't always prepare such rich meals. Sometimes I'll just serve a simple quiche, salad and dessert for dinner. During the week I try to eat lightly.
quote by Paul Lynde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
People Into Quiche
Do you mind passing to me the quiche?
'Oh...
So,
You're into quiche?
You know what they say about those into quiche? '
I can not wait to hear.
What is it that 'they' say?
'It is said...
People into quiche,
Are passionate.
Artistic!
And quite loving.'
I've never heard that before.
Here...
Why don't you take my piece of quiche.
I'm not seeking a companion.
And you...
Are obviously more into quiche than me.
I am more into black eye peas and carrots!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Lesson of Life (Thanksgiving)
(dedicated to Ms. Elī na Garanč a, a great mezzo-soprano)
This autumn is so relief
I hope it is a purely day
I have spiritual sense
Inside my very heart
I would like to attend
The ceremony or travel
Long distances with my family
I hope we have a large dinner too
We are as a family
Gather together
Yes, it’s the time
To a family reunion
I invite my all family, all friends
We are happily cooking together
We are happily eating together
We are happily talking together
Sweet potatoes
Pumpkin pie
Cranberries
A turkey
When crops are gathered
We are all thank God
We would also celebrate
National Unity, the harvest
I share what I have
With those who don’t have
I provide free meals
For the poor, old people, homeless
I prepare meals for them
I serve meals for them
I give meals for them
I sing Prayer of Thanksgiving with them
(inspired by Thanksgiving Celebration)
poem by Ahmad Shiddiqi
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Torrents Drenched With Turbinado Sugar
Your lips,
When kisses taste sweetened...
Reminds me,
Of torrents drenched with Turbinado sugar.
Harvested raw and fresh,
From the rich lava whipped grounds...
Found,
On the Islands of Hawaii.
And I yearn to have this melt upon your tongue.
As I enhale deeply the warmth of your breath,
Spiced.
I've used some on the baked chicken.
On the tossed green salad!
Made with Romaine, garden tomatos...
Vadalia onion, mixed peppers, lemon juice and love!
To delight my taste buds,
After my dance inside your inviting mouth.
And rushing to bare us both...
To prepare in our sharing of dessert!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Point Of View
Thanksgiving dinner's sad and thankless
Christmas dinner's dark and blue
When you stop and try to see it
From the turkey's point of view.
Sunday dinner isn't sunny
Easter feasts are just bad luck
When you see it from the viewpoint
Of a chicken or a duck.
Oh how I once loved tuna salad
Pork and lobsters, lamb chops too
'Til I stopped and looked at dinner
From the dinner's point of view.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let's Have a Party.
Let's have a party, invite the family around,
Tell them it's teat time, and come south bound;
We'll have it as a barbecue, so b.y.o some meat,
But we will supply salad, drinks, and also sweet.
Let's have a party, but dress up in a costume,
Don't say who you are, we have to assume;
And the food will be served as a supper too,
With Chicken, no wine, and some dessert will do.
Let's have a party for children, on Friday,
Seeing its a birthday, the kids will go hooray;
Let's put up streamers, have finger food too,
After all the games and food sing happy birthday to you.
Let's have a pre wedding party, for bride and groom,
Go out to dinner, let's try the sunset room;
We'll book a smorgasbord dinner, make it for forty,
Then come back to our place after, for tea or coffee.
Let's have a Christmas party, all family and a friend,
We'll sing lots of carols, and have a story at the end;
Each bring 1 present, for under the christmas tree,
And thank God for Christmas from you and me.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Dinner @ Grandma's
Dinner at my Grandma's can drive a kid to fits,
The last time she fed me pig poo and olive pits!
This time was even worse; she cooked a big brown snake!
The food was a nightmare, though I was wide awake!
Caterpillar cornbread, a sliver of liver,
Bumble bees mixed with peas! How can I forgive her?
She force-fed me spiders, a hedgehog and a half,
'Eat those sweet lizard feet, ' she told me with a laugh.
My eyes ran out of tears, from all this child abuse,
She even made me drink a glass of onion juice!
Poison ivy salad that made my insides itch,
I'm starting to believe that grandma is a witch!
I begged and I begged, but of all the twisted things,
For dessert she brought out some buttered beetle wings.
Dinner at my Grandma's can drive a kid to fits...
It's better when she feeds me Goat Guts and Garlic Grits!
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
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Hey Dad
Remember the bird house you built so well…
Or the skunk sharing with me his perfumed smell?
And how you fixed all the broken bikes
So that there was fun for each of six tikes?
Then when each old TV had a quirk,
You found just the tube to make it work.
In winter you fixed every sled.
In summer oh those times when you said,
'Let's go for fun and fishing at the lake
To eat as much potato salad as mother can make.'
And your place at the dinner table was just right
To preside over lively, loving meals every night.
Hey Dad, I'll never forget your wise advice.
I just wish you could come back and live twice.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Greedy poem Gannet
I stuff my face with poems here
The meals served up in reams
I indulge in wordy gluttony
I'm bursting at the seams
But still you serve me more and more
Just like a pushing Aunt
I eat and eat all that I can
But finish? I just can't
You cook and bake and fry and grill
The most delicious food
I want to at least try it all
So you don't think me rude
Even 'back of cupboard' tins
Will not go out if date
And if you all stopped cooking
All the meals would still taste great
There so much here to be consumed
Enough to feed the planet
I savour all I can
As I'm a greedy poem gannet
I've started cooking recently
To add into the mix
I have a mind of recipes
Do try the meals I fix!
poem by Stevie Taite
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Smasher - Devourer
Fear me not but fear my hell
Man made me so I could kill
Praise me in the name of war
I destroy both rich and poor
I am the way, prepare for salvation
I am the way, prepare for salvation
Strength in time of suffering
Man alone is a weakling
Ascension is what you ask
I will be the fall of man
I am the way, prepare for salvation
I am the way, prepare for salvation
Salvation...
Those of you who dare to stray
I will tear your mind away
Those of you who dare to stray
I will take your life away
Salvation...
I am the way, prepare for salvation
I am the way, prepare for salvation
Salvation...
song performed by by Fear Factory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meet Me After Dinner
Meet me after dinner.
After all has been dished and served!
Meet me after dinner here...
If you have the nerve!
My ex-wife is a memory,
And my boyfriend has long been gone.
Only they could bring that 'freak' out of me...
That sweet freak!
Others deny and hide discreetly,
As they get their own groove on.
~Day and night long!
Not caring who says,
What they share is wrong! ~
Yeah...
You meet me after dinner.
I can picture you gnawing,
On those big beef bones!
Finish what you're doing.
I'm the one you should be screwing.
Meet me after dinner here...
And let's stop faking,
We don't desire naked love making.
Meet me after dinner,
And release those phone moans.
Your mate doesn't hear,
Or care who's heart is breaking!
Since I yearn for you,
With me alone!
Nibbling on your neck,
I want to hear you coo...
In licked whispers
Sighing,
In passionate delicious croons.
I do. Yes..I do.
Reflected in silhouette,
Our beads of sweat glistens.
Under the glow of the moon!
Meet me after dinner...
And I'll have dessert,
Perked and ready...
In the master bedroom!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Simple As That
You go to work, work hard all day
At the end of the week, you collect your pay
Thats just where its at
Its as simple as that
You pay your bills the best that you can
But the rising cost sure hurts a family man
While the rich man gets fat
Its as simple as that
And the money goes so fast it aint funny
Your minds made up to get that house on the hill
But you just dont know if you ever will
Because you cant get the cash
Its as simple as that
Cause the man from the bank, he wont give you a loan
Without putting a morgage on all that you own
A tit for a tat
Its a simple as that
And the money goes so fast it aint funny
Before you know it the kids are all grown
And married off with kids of their own
And its all in the past
Its as simple as that
Youve reached the autumn of your life
And all thats left is you and your wife
And a dog and a cat
Its as simple as that
And the money goes so fast it aint funny
song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Dimples Denting
I planted kisses on her bisquits.
That's what she wished,
And I obliged.
I did not know what this had meant.
She mentioned passing condiments.
And during the meal she burned incense.
When she stirred the gravy...
I complimented her,
On dimples denting her thighs!
Amazed and surprised...
How much she could do with her toes!
And how athletic she was with those!
'Careful...
I'm sensitive! '
She did confessed...
I was her only dinner guest!
And dessert she planned to serve...
Was going to be the best taste I deserved.
As I noticed the bolted locks on her door...
She immediately stripped and became topless!
And there the keys around her neck she wore.
I can not say which course was more delicious!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unwanted Guests
A mansion is built.
And unwanted guests,
Are reported to reside inside.
And there are those who claim,
This was not known.
Even though the unwanted guests,
Entertained, prepared the meals...
As well as took suggestions as to what to serve,
For choices of dessert.
And...
Tucked them all in bed at night!
To then leave,
On their own...
To wander freely around the mansion!
And yet,
It has been declared...
The guests who wandered freely around the mansion,
Were unwanted.
AND...
No one will admit,
They knew a mansion existed.
Nor have a clue who built it,
Or 'how' it got there.
I live on a fixed income.
And my every move is watched.
Even my approach to await a coming bus,
At a public bustop...
Is monitored as suspicious.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Elephant Bar
I have a simple question to ask you
Have you ever been to an Elephant bar?
Oh, you must, because it’s so quaint
One of my favorite restaurants so far
Why, everyone loves the Elephant
The statues in this place are so neat
And the food, oh such food they have
Each morsel is a scrumptious treat
I’ll tell you more about the food
Delicious in both taste and sight
Elephant size portions they advertise
They create meals that are perfectly right
Chicken salad that’s so good for you
They create the perfect blend of flavors
I always eat mine so slowly
Because it’s food that I truly savor
Take time from your busy schedule
No matter where you are
Because you MUST visit a restaurant
That is called The Elephant Bar!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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when you have forgotten Sunday: the love story
—And when you have forgotten the bright bedclothes on a Wednesday and a Saturday,
And most especially when you have forgotten Sunday—
When you have forgotten Sunday halves in bed,
Or me sitting on the front-room radiator in the limping afternoon
Looking off down the long street
To nowhere,
Hugged by my plain old wrapper of no-expectation
And nothing-I-have-to-do and I’m-happy-why?
And if-Monday-never-had-to-come—
When you have forgotten that, I say,
And how you swore, if somebody beeped the bell,
And how my heart played hopscotch if the telephone rang;
And how we finally went in to Sunday dinner,
That is to say, went across the front room floor to the ink-spotted table in the southwest corner
To Sunday dinner, which was always chicken and noodles
Or chicken and rice
And salad and rye bread and tea
And chocolate chip cookies—
I say, when you have forgotten that,
When you have forgotten my little presentiment
That the war would be over before they got to you;
And how we finally undressed and whipped out the light and flowed into bed,
And lay loose-limbed for a moment in the week-end
Bright bedclothes,
Then gently folded into each other—
When you have, I say, forgotten all that,
Then you may tell,
Then I may believe
You have forgotten me well.
poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
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Thus the public use of reason and freedom is nothing but a dessert, a sumptuous dessert.
quote by Johann G. Hamann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bitter Meals
cannot eat meals prepared by all hands
meals prepared of some hands cannot eat
taste of souls who prepared these meals
some prepared in love others anger swift deceit
taste of some meals sickens burns bitter not sweet
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whoever eats anything at a wedding luncheon? They make the food out of papier mache. My salad had been used four or five times this week.
quote by Peter Ruric
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To John Hamilton Reynolds
O that a week could be an age, and we
Felt parting and warm meeting every week,
Then one poor year a thousand years would be,
The flush of welcome ever on the cheek:
So could we live long life in little space,
So time itself would be annihilate,
So a day's journey in oblivious haze
To serve ourjoys would lengthen and dilate.
O to arrive each Monday morn from Ind!
To land each Tuesday from the rich Levant!
In little time a host of joys to bind,
And keep our souls in one eternal pant!
This morn, my friend, and yester-evening taught
Me how to harbour such a happy thought.
poem by John Keats
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Sonnet To John Hamilton Reynolds
O that a week could be an age, and we
Felt parting and warm meeting every week,
Then one poor year a thousand years would be,
The flush of welcome ever on the cheek:
So could we live long life in little space,
So time itself would be annihilate,
So a day's journey in oblivious haze
To serve ourjoys would lengthen and dilate.
O to arrive each Monday morn from Ind!
To land each Tuesday from the rich Levant!
In little time a host of joys to bind,
And keep our souls in one eternal pant!
This morn, my friend, and yester-evening taught
Me how to harbour such a happy thought.
poem by John Keats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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