The 'Potato' Poem
I love potatoes chopped up into chunky chips.
I love spicy potato wedges, served up with dips.
I love potato slices which have been fried in a pan:
Of sautéed potatoes, I am the world's biggest fan.
I love potatoes which have been pummelled and bashed
With butter and milk to make a real light, fluffy mash.
Jacket potatoes, I find a bit dry, but with a nice filling
Such as chilli, to give them a try, I am more willing.
With breakfast, I love hash browns or potato cakes,
And I love potatoes mixed up with leeks in a bake.
Crispy, golden potatoes, served up with Sunday roast
Are among the kinds of potato which I love the most.
Mixed in soups and casseroles, I love potatoes diced.
On top on minced beef hotpot, I love potatoes sliced.
Fluffy potato stuffed inside a crispy potato croquette
Is also rather nice, and, for me, it is another safe bet.
I love potatoes cut into crisps: the slices, wafer thin,
And, as a starter, I simply love loaded potato skins:
I do adore a delicious dish of Bombay potato curry:
For me, it is a taste which I won't forget in a hurry.
I like potatoes diced up with creamy mayonnaise,
Served up with salad on really hot summer days.
But I don't like potatoes which have been boiled:
From potatoes, cooked this way, in horror, I recoil.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Related quotes
One Potato
One potato, two potato
three potato four.
We need some potatoes
to help feed the poor.
Too many hungry babes
are being born today.
When their mother's milk runs dry
they'll have to find a way
to keep their bellies full.
No time for play.
One potato, two potato,
three potato, four.
You say into each life
a little rain must pour?
I say the rain's that's falling
are tears from the eyes
that run down children's faces
from hunger pains and cries
that elude the ears of rich ones
that never ever buys
potatoes for them all.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Hot Potatoes
My baby woke me up this mornin
She said get down that labour exchange,
And if you dont come home with a job son,
Youll get no dinner to-day.
You gotta secure me a weekly workin wage.
Youll get no more fancy cookin,
Youll get no more apple pie,
Youll just get those plain hot potatoes
To satisfy your appetite.
La la la la la la potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way that you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes, yeh,
I want your lovin every single day.
I said I dont need your fancy cooking,
I like the simple things in life,
Just give me those plain hot potatoes
And Ill be well satisfied,
Theyll satisfy my appetite.
La la la la la la potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way that you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes, yeh,
I want your lovin 60 minutes an hour,
I want your lovin 24 hours a day,
I want your lovin 7 days a week.
Yeh, yeh, oh yeh.
I want your love, I need your love,
But all I get is hot potatoes
When I come home late at night
To satisfy my appetite.
Dont give me no more potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes,
I want your lovin every single day.
I want your lovin
La la la la la la potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way that you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes, hot potatoes, yeh.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Modern Day Miracle
Where could you find an example
of true faith in the twentieth century?
‘Faith Like Potatoes’ to plant
in El Nino, in drought, in dust
a never grown before potato crop?
Angus Buchan, a farmer, in Durban
South Africa declared before 35,000
“To hell with El Nino! We are going
to plant this year! And we are going
to plant potatoes.” Fool or Man of Faith?
The Wisdom Of The Modern World
Scientists warned farmers not to plant!
“Do not plant this season unless
you have irrigation.” Angus had none!
Planting planting potatoes in dust
would be a massive massive risk!
It would require a miracle!
Did Angus expect a miracle?
Or was he an experienced potato farmer?
Angus was a maize and cattle farmer!
He had never grown potatoes!
No farmer could grow potatoes in drought!
Not in drought without irrigation!
But all farmers and men of faith
know a crop, a harvest is grown,
from a seed, a seed of planted faith.
Angus prayed and prayed
during the planting and he knew;
in his heart that the Lord;
wanted him to plant potatoes.
Angus expected a modern day miracle from God!
God has complained men lack faith!
To dream their dreams large enough!
Angus planted potatoes in dust on his farm in drought!
Without irrigation without water on his farm in faith!
Angus hired two extra farms, planted potatoes in their dust!
If the potato crop failed, Angus would loose everything!
“Faith is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not yet seen.” Hebrews 11: 1.
Potatoes grow under the ground
and are not seen until the harvest!
Angus planted in faith; reaped a miracle of faith!
“because the righteous one will live by reason of faith.” Galatians 3: 11.
“The condition for a miracle is difficulty,
however the condition for a great miracle
is not difficulty, but impossibility.” Angus Buchan
“Seek and you shall find knock
and the door shall be opened to you.”
poem by Terence George Craddock
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My Love (2)
I love to undress it,
but sometimes I can't wait,
and have it from the oven,
on a steaming hot plate.
It likes to be soaked
with butter, beans, or peas.
Oh, the scrumptious potato,
it does like to please.
But it also plays it cool
in front of the salad.
It knows how I like it
when she teases my palate.
But to be honest I prefer it
when it's wallowing in gravy,
Mmm, those tasty hot potatoes
will drive anyone crazy.
Doesn't it smell voluptuous
with salt and vinegar
when dressed in an open
newspaper wrapper.
And when it's fluffy and soft,
with milk and butter,
it's so seductively adorable,
there's nothing better.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Potato Bug Exterminators
During the summer of 1883 we were walking along past a large field of
potatoes in North Oxford, where we beheld the strange spectacle of a
pair of bipeds drilling their offspring to march up one potato row and
down the other, so as to annihilate the enemy, who had assembled in
vast armies, dressed in yellow garments, and who were committing
fearful depredations on the fruits of the husbandmen, until the valuable
auxilliary forces rushed to the rescue of the farmer, o'erwhelming the
enemy and with one fell swoop, bringing on them consternation and
ruin dire. It appears that the foe, or their progenitors,
had been citizens of Colordo in the far West. And that,
having conquered all before them, they sought another
World to conquer here.
When we do trace out nature's laws,
And view effects, and muse on cause,
For the future there's great hope
If we our eyes do only ope.
With joy they will often glisten,
If to truth one doth but listen ;
But people often turn deaf ear
And what is useful will not hear.
Now for a minute, lend your luggs [sic],
Our theme, it is potato bugs.
Just buy a pair of young peafowl,
Their voice may be like to screech owl,
But soon as the potato shows
You there will find the peafowl goes,
Up one row and down the other
Like loving sister with brother.
And you will find that down their muggs
Have disappeared potato bugs,
Theres no more need of Paris green
For they will keep potatoes clean.
And faithful they will work all day,
For to them 'tis gay sport and play ;
No more you need their voice bewail,
But admire beauties of the tail.
poem by James McIntyre
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Love's Menu: Pommes de Terre Frites
Fried potatoes is a dish
Good as any one could wish:
Cheap it is, and appetizing;
Turn a saint to gormandizing:
Good and cheap and tasty too,
Just the thing for Love's Menu.
Love is dainty, and his food,
Even though common, must be good:
Love hath little to disburse,
So his fare must fit his purse:
Love hath fickle appetite,
We his palate must invite:
Crisp and hot, the price a sou,
Fried Potatoes, Love's Menu.
poem by William Gay
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The Potatoes' Dance
(A Poem Game.)
I
"Down cellar," said the cricket,
"Down cellar," said the cricket,
"Down cellar," said the cricket,
"I saw a ball last night,
In honor of a lady,
In honor of a lady,
In honor of a lady,
Whose wings were pearly-white.
The breath of bitter weather,
The breath of bitter weather,
The breath of bitter weather,
Had smashed the cellar pane.
We entertained a drift of leaves,
We entertained a drift of leaves,
We entertained a drift of leaves,
And then of snow and rain.
But we were dressed for winter,
But we were dressed for winter,
But we were dressed for winter,
And loved to hear it blow
In honor of the lady,
In honor of the lady,
In honor of the lady,
Who makes potatoes grow,
Our guest the Irish lady,
The tiny Irish lady,
The airy Irish lady,
Who makes potatoes grow.
II
"Potatoes were the waiters,
Potatoes were the waiters,
Potatoes were the waiters,
Potatoes were the band,
Potatoes were the dancers
Kicking up the sand,
Kicking up the sand,
Kicking up the sand,
Potatoes were the dancers
Kicking up the sand.
Their legs were old burnt matches,
Their legs were old burnt matches,
Their legs were old burnt matches,
Their arms were just the same.
They jigged and whirled and scrambled,
Jigged and whirled and scrambled,
Jigged and whirled and scrambled,
In honor of the dame,
The noble Irish lady
Who makes potatoes dance,
The witty Irish lady,
The saucy Irish lady,
The laughing Irish lady
Who makes potatoes prance.
III
"There was just one sweet potato.
He was golden brown and slim.
The lady loved his dancing,
The lady loved his dancing,
The lady loved his dancing,
She danced all night with him,
She danced all night with him.
Alas, he wasn't Irish.
So when she flew away,
They threw him in the coal-bin,
And there he is today,
Where they cannot hear his sighs
And his weeping for the lady,
The glorious Irish lady,
The beauteous Irish lady,
Who
Gives
Potatoes
Eyes."
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Potato Heaven
Though a thousand miles away
I hear roots sprout from ground to ground
potatoes growing all around
likened unto Jacks magic beans
I'd love to watch them grow
simply because you told me so
you told me how healthy they can be
as part of this humanistic
depleting society
the varieties are plenty
soups, salads, casseroles
even pancakes too
potato heaven for me and you
the thought of a belly full
makes me want to go
a vacation, my family along
to the great state of
IDAHO
poem by Matt Mondschein
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I have taken the marshmallows off the sweet potatoes, however. They would make a big pan of sweet potatoes and cover it with marshmallows. My kids would love it if I would do that for them!
quote by Edie Brickell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meat & Potato Man
Meat and potato man
I like my steak well done, my taters fried
Football games on monday night
Its just who I am
A meat and potato man
I like my coffee black
Oltv shows
My women hot and my beer ice cold
Its just who I am
A meat and potato man
I dont like caviar, sushi bars,
The irs or phony stars
Im a haggard fan
A meat and potato man
I like my fishinholes, lightninbugs
Flatt nscruggs, and my womans love
Its just who I am
A meat and potato man
I like my wrangler jeans, cowboy boots
Cornbread and beans and country roots
Its just who I am
A meat and potato man
I dont like politics, hypocrites
Folks with poodles dressed like kids
Im a hounddog fan
A meat and potato manyeah, thats what I am,
A meat and potato man
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meat And Potato Man
meat and potato man
I like my steak well done, my taters fried
Football games on monday night
Its just who i am
A meat and potato man
I like my coffee black
Oltv shows
My women hot and my beer ice cold
Its just who i am
A meat and potato man
I dont like caviar, sushi bars,
The irs or phony stars
Im a haggard fan
A meat and potato man
I like my fishinholes, lightninbugs
Flatt nscruggs, and my womans love
Its just who i am
A meat and potato man
I like my wrangler jeans, cowboy boots
Cornbread and beans and country roots
Its just who i am
A meat and potato man
I dont like politics, hypocrites
Folks with poodles dressed like kids
Im a hounddog fan
A meat and potato manyeah, thats what i am,
A meat and potato man
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the morning we received some very thin coffee. For lunch we had potato soup with a few pieces of meat in it, in the evening we had a very thin meat soup with some potatoes in it.
quote by Leon Askin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old for New
It’s not every day a spud jumps out
and asks you to take it home for tea,
but this old King Edward potato did
and it wanted to be chips for me.
He said that he had been discarded
because of his sell by date.
I told him that this was no reason
to become chips upon a plate.
I asked him if he’d considered genetics,
and he said that it was too late.
His extended shelf life was now over
and he’d go out in style with a steak.
“With tubers sticking out your head, ” I said,
“you could produce potatoes by the score.
All it takes is a few months in the soil
and nature will do the rest for sure.”
“Are you saying that I will live again? ”
“Yes, but not exactly as you are,
you will first become a fresh green shoot
and then a lovely white flower.
You will then attract the butterflies and bees
who will kiss new life into you,
and when your flowers pass on your genetic code,
you’ll grow into potatoes new.
If one of your descendents did this every year
instead of being a plate of chips.
Your genealogical line could live on forever
because you chose genetics.”
“Do you know I really like the sound of this,
you’ve filled me full of good cheer,
so if I could trouble you to put me in the ground,
my descendents will see you next year.”
poem by Orlando Belo
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Zen does not confuse spirituality with thinking about God while one is peeling potatoes. Zen spirituality is just to peel the potatoes.
quote by Alan Watts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was raised almost entirely on turnips and potatoes, but I think that the turnips had more to do with the effect than the potatoes.
quote by Marlene Dietrich
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fussy About Food
I’ve always been really fussy about what I eat,
But I’ll tolerate most foods, if the cook cheats!
It really depends on how a food has been cooked,
Whether or not, it has a place in my good books.
Examples of my some of my most hated foods,
Are sliced roast beef and apples that are stewed.
I’ll eat beef that’s been minced up into a pie,
And apples diced into a crumble are also fine.
Fresh coriander leaves, I definitely will not touch,
But cooked in a curry, I don’t mind them so much.
On potatoes that have been boiled, I’m not that keen,
But eating mashed potato or chips, I can be often seen.
Egg and cress sandwiches, by me, are never approached,
But I love eggs that are hard boiled, fried or even poached.
I dislike the taste of carrots that have been picked fresh,
But with the taste of tinned carrots, I’m really impressed.
I’m not so keen on either petit pois or garden peas,
But with the taste of mushy peas, I’m very pleased.
In pies and pasties, I hate to have a filling of cheese,
But I’ll devour a slice of cheese on toast with ease.
I’ve been a fussy eater pretty much all of my life,
And, caused my mother much trouble and strife.
When I was small, I often left much of my dinner.
My mum often worried that I would get thinner.
Like many other children, my main course
Often ended up, smeared with tomato sauce.
The enjoyment of a meal, this often improved,
And frayed tempers were also often soothed.
If there was a certain food, which I did really hate,
My mum would still insist putting it upon my plate.
Even with it on my plate, I still didn’t like the taste,
So that particular food would inevitably go to waste.
As I’ve got older, I’ve acquired an improved appetite,
Much to my mother’s extreme relief, and total delight.
Now, as an adult, my dinner plate is often cleaned,
And, hardly ever is a single morsel left, to be seen.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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“Fredericksburg, Texas” (Summer 2006)
a warm July afternoon
a German biergarten
open café
a simple beer
Spaten
in a glass
you had water.
(beer makes you sleepy in the warm afternoon) .
there was red and white
cabbage, kraut, and kale.
the meat
bratwurst, kalburwurst, and rostbratburst.
served on a plate with cold cooked, sliced potatoes
I didn’t eat.
You had a Reuben with the same cold potatoes.
It didn’t matter.
We shared as we always do.
The music
on the stage
was one guitar
one musician
skillfully playing the blues.
(you know I love the blues)
and you smile
but
this is an afternoon with you
looking deeply in my eyes.
in the heart of Texas.
the hills of Texas.
and you sit there
thinking about us
the places we’ve been
together
in this small world
and
the places we’ll go.
poem by Keith Sutton
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Potato
My love is a potato
Crude with piggy black eyes
Slit in the side and soiled by sod
My love is the rough handled skin
That follows the relentless storm
The tempestous waves
That raged and rent its first soft form
My love is a potato
The first and almost last known outcast
In a jungle school
His head was wedged like a spud
Mounted on a sinew of neck and bristle
His face sunken into flesh
His eyes two dark slits of piggy black lust
That lit up like a fool
I left him standing at the gate, after school!
My love is a potato after the mash and the kill
And the spill of the innocent milk of the martyr
The final slab of the butter
My love is a potato
Not quite a heart
Battered down
And worn
But after the storm
A sweetness and softening
And love is born!
yvette smith march 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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For Merit
To Parmentier Parisians raise
A statue fine and large:
He cooked potatoes fifty ways,
Nor ever led a charge.
'_Palmam qui meruit'_-the rest
You knew as well as I;
And best of all to him that best
Of sayings will apply.
Let meaner men the poet's bays
Or warrior's medal wear;
Who cooks potatoes fifty ways
Shall bear the palm-de terre.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Lets Call The Whole Thing Off
George and ira gershwin
You say either
And I say either
You say neither
And I say neither
Either, either, neither, neither
Lets call the whole thing off
You like potatoes
And I like potatoes
You like tomatoes
And I like tomatoes
Potatoes, potatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes
Lets call the whole thing off
But oh, if we call the whole thing off
Then we must part
And oh, if we ever part
Then that might break my heart
So it you like pajarnas and I like pajamas
Ill wear pajamas and give up pajamas
For we know we need each other
So wed better call the calling off, off
Lets call the whole thing off
So if you go for oysters
And I go for oysters
Ill order oysters and cancel the oysters
For we know we need each other
So wed better call the calling off, off
Lets call the whole thing off
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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