Peanut Butter: My Old Friend.....[Personal; Food]
I had a peanut butter sandwich today
which made me think of all the way....
sssss my life has been touched by that
stick-to-your-mouth sludge of peanut fat.
Not 'touched' in the sense that's it's shaped my life,
but when I open a jar and take up a knife
or a spoon, I can picture times of enjoy-
ment as an adult consumer and as a boy.
Of course I'm lucky in that I generally enjoy food
even if I'm in a rare bad mood.
I assume pb was a common snack in my childhood,
though I'm not sure it was. My memory is not that good.
But I do remember my Mom made cookies from it;
I helped her. And the first cooled cookie I'm sure I bit,
paying some attention to the crisscross pattern on top,
or the sometimes-present big chocolate drop.
And when I visited my childhood neighbor, Helen, it's a good bet
that sometimes a peanut butter sandwich I would get.
[But I really better remember that Helen's kitchen at times had cake.
I assume her mother, Betty, the cake did make.]
At Halloween there were pb 'cups' made by Reeses.
Chocolate and pb. It's good they were small pieces!
As an adult pb has been with me off and on.
Probably when I shared a home with my brother Don,
and when Shannon, my daughter, was young (that makes me smile) ,
and when I lived in a storage garage for a short while.
I used to put it on plain warm toast, but
perhaps mixed-with-vanilla-ice cream I enjoyed it most.
I can't tell you how it would taste on sliced tomato,
but I can say it wasn't good when tried on mashed potato! !
And as I type today there's an unsealed jar nearby.
My wife cautions me against too much, but I'm not sure why.
From time to time it's a treat on cereal or bread,
but usually it's just a spoon of it I stick into my head.
poem by Bri Edwards
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Related quotes
You Put Your Chocolate In My Peanut Butter!
Hey you, you have too much hair and we dont like what you wear
And you have really bad breath so were gonna beat you to death
Because there is plenty of us and only one of you weve got plenty
Of reasons and heres just a few you put your chocolate in my
Peanut butter I was walking and you were in my way you looked
At me without my permission you never even apologized you put
Your chocolate in my peanut butter thats good enough reason for
Me to bash you put your chocolate in my peanut butter thats good
Enough reason for me to smash no justice / theres just us / so trust us
You put your chocolate in my peanut butter you put your chocolate in
My peanut butter you put your chocolate in my peanut butter you put
Your chocolate in my peanut butter
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peanut Butter Lovers
Chocolate,
And marmalade...
Is a taste craved by some.
Who may just rave...
About the flavor that comes.
But...
Those who prefer their peanut butter,
Alone...
Spoon it from a jar protected,
As if its diamonds they own.
Peanut butter,
When it's discovered.
Is loved like nothing other,
To soothe one's secret druthers.
It is licked quick from the lips.
And it isn't there long.
Those addicted to their peanut butter,
Have stacks in their homes.
Oh yes, it's peanut butter...
When it's discovered.
Is loved like nothing other,
To soothe one's secret druthers.
Chocolate,
And marmalade...
Is a taste craved by some.
Who may just rave...
About the flavor that comes.
But it's peanut butter,
Loved like nothing other.
It can make one stutter,
When it is discovered.
Oh yes, it's peanut butter...
When it is discovered.
Is loved like nothing other,
To soothe one's secret druthers.
Those peanut butter lovers,
Are different from the others.
Those peanut butter lovers,
Are different from the others.
Those peanut butter lovers.
Keep your chocolate and that marmalade.
Peanut butter lovers,
Are different from the others.
Those peanut butter lovers,
Are different from the others.
Those peanut butter lovers.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What I love is a peanut butter and pickle sandwich. I'll just have peanut butter and bananas, then peanut butter and pickles. Peanut butter and chocolate I don't recommend.
quote by Dianne Wiest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peanut-Butter Sandwich
I'll sing you a poem of a silly young king
Who played with the world at the end of a string,
But he only loved one single thing—
And that was just a peanut-butter sandwich.
His scepter and his royal gowns,
His regal throne and golden crowns
Were brown and sticky from the mounds
And drippings from each peanut-butter sandwich.
His subjects all were silly fools
For he had passed a royal rule
That all that they could learn in school
Was how to make a peanut-butter sandwich.
He would not eat his sovereign steak,
He scorned his soup and kingly cake,
And told his courtly cook to bake
An extra-sticky peanut-butter sandwich.
And then one day he took a bit
And started chewing with delight,
But found his mouth was stuck quite tight
From that last bite of peanut-butter sandwich.
His brother pulled, his sister pried,
The wizard pushed, his mother cried,
'My boy's committed suicide
From eating his last peanut-butter sandwich!'
The dentist came, and the royal doc.
The royal plumber banged and knocked,
But still those jaws stayed tightly locked.
Oh darn that sticky peanut-butter sandwich!
The carpenter, he tried with pliers,
The telephone man tried with wires,
The firemen, they tried with fire,
But couldn't melt that peanut-butter sandwich.
With ropes and pulleys, drills and coil,
With steam and lubricating oil—
For twenty years of tears and toil—
They fought that awful peanut-butter sandwich.
Then all his royal subjects came.
They hooked his jaws with grapplin' chains
And pulled both ways with might and main
Against that stubborn peanut-butter sandwich.
Each man and woman, girl and boy
Put down their ploughs and pots and toys
And pulled until kerack! Oh, joy—
They broke right through that peanut-butter sandwich
A puff of dust, a screech, a squeak—
The king's jaw opened with a creak.
And then in voice so faint and weak—
The first words that they heard him speak
Were, 'How about a peanut-butter sandwich?'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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I eat peanut butter
I eat peanut butter from a jar
Sitting quitly naked at the bar
Wired in frankincense and cheap olive oil
You can never spot where Ive hidden my old boil
I eat peanut butter with a spoon
Hanging on a telophone from the moon
Looking everywhere for the third rock in my drawer
cause I'm followed by the elaphant whose getting rather cold
I taste peanut butter with marmalade
Its sutured with nectrines with astringent taste
Surrounded by a gang of malefactent tea cups
Coming from Buenos Aries on the back of maple syrup
want to ride the posse of little bitty irishmen?
I lick peanut butter from outerspace
I was born southside so it goes to my waist
I lick peanut butter from a dress
Its my wifes who i never met
I take peanut butter to a zoo
Watching the contortions of the Gaia philharmonic
Exasperating riddles which their tvs cant decode
While swimming in the puzzles of a Lincoln camry ford
Bet you wished their was some Peanut butter
to explain this ghastly poem?
poem by Kevin Patrick
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A Jar Of Peanut Butter
You, Me, And A Jar of Peanut Butter
Friday, April 10,2009
Barren landscape spread shore to shore
Passages opened an unspoiled door
Covered now fertile grounds with peanut butter
Succulent tender treat sounds you now mutter
Cries delight the more you utter
Crazy I know but do I stutter?
Warm yet juicy passion’s pink
Youthful fountains from hence I drink
Dinning on fruits garnished sweet little kitten
Taste no haste love bug now I’ve been bitten
Speaking words I’ve never heard
Singing softly the mocking bird
Peaches delight and O’ so eatable
Quite the storm you are so incredible
I so like the taste of peanut butter
So the much for hearts do flutter
As I rub it on your smooth belly
Added now it too guava jelly
Sandwich made sounding fallacious
Elegant debutant our lady gracious
O’ I love it the peanut butter banquet
Feasting cause wires to short circuit
Clear wrapping covers beautiful flowers
Mine to embrace and massage for hours
Nestled peanut butter between airspace
Extricated by tongue from a secret place
Removed I did from her sweetshop
Finished now I shed a teardrop
Lapped ever morsel up like an animal
Feeding time for this fine young cannibal
Concluded clambake of visitation conjugal transience
Feasted on bounty of such magnificence
How I love to ingest peanut butter
A thought shakes me makes me shutter
Listen up for concise I speak and never I stutter
Zesty, testy, smooth, and creamy peanut butter
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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If you don't mind smelling like peanut butter for two or three days, peanut butter is darn good shaving cream.
quote by Barry Goldwater
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's nothing better than good sex. But bad sex? A peanut butter and jelly sandwich is better than bad sex.
quote by Billy Joel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peanut, Butter, and Jelly
Peanut
The sky is lit
with someone walking in the mist
Butter
Romantic honey moon trips
Peanut and Butter
Together Forever
Hate can't separate them
They stay together
Side by side
Peanut Butter forever
Thick and thin
With Jelly by their side
The three friends stay together
Forever
Peanut, Butter, and Jelly
Stay together
Forever
poem by Jason Colon
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The Peanut-Butter Cookie 2
-How old was he?
-About my age.
-Tell me about him, again.
-There's not much to tell. I was standing on the curb. I didn't see him coming. Suddenly, there he was. I found myself looking into his eyes. They were gray, I think.
-And?
-He stopped. He opened the paper bag he was carrying and held it out. Obviously, I was supposed to help myself. The bag was jaded and looked like it had seen alot of action, that particular morning.
-The cookies!
-Yep, the cookies. It wouldn't be nice to refuse. In those days, people still worried about such things.
-Courtesy is the most efficient form of coercion. Everybody wins.
-Be that as it may, I reached into the bag and took out-surprise-a peanut-butter cookie. I knew it was a peanut-butter cookie. It was sandy blond and had hatch marks from a fork on top.
-So you ate the cookie?
-Unh-unh.His hands were filthy, the little urchin, my doppelganger. But I waved the cookie around as if I was delighted to have it, and wanted, at that moment, nothing more. It seemed the nice thing.
-So what happened to him?
-How should I know? Suddenly he was gone.
Awful! Is consciousness just circular memory? Is reality?
-Gone. He moved on. Rejoined the parade.
-But he wormed his way into your menagerie of long-term memories-
-I guess.
-It's sad, you know.
-Why do you say that?
-Because he was so young and so poor. He's probably not even alive. He probably died of starvation. A protein deficiency.
-That's morbid. He may be quite alive and kicking. He may have won the lottery for twenty million and have eighteen grandkids.
-You're right, I guess. I just assumed...
-Don't. It tells more about the person making the assumption than about reality. People always assume tragedy.
-You're right, of course. How did it end?
-I heard my mother calling.Looking over my shoulder I saw the statue of Billy Penn-way up, the sun glinting off his hat. Then, there was my mother. In the flesh. Big as life. She grabbed my wrist and hustled me on. She was mad. Because I got away, I guess.
-And that was that?
-And that was that.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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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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Recipe For Chocolate Chip Cookies
Chocolate Chip Cookies
¾ cup sugar
¾ cup packed brown sugar
1 cup butter, softened
2 large eggs, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
¾ teaspoon salt
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips
Preheat oven to 375 degrees
Get a large bowl for
¾ cup of sugar
¾ cup of packed brown sugar
1 cup of softened butter
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
And 2 large beaten eggs
Mix by hand in large
Get a small bowl for
2 ¼ cups all- purpose flour
1 teaspoon of baking soda
And ¾ teaspoon of salt
Stir all ingredients together in large bowl
Drop dough in rounded tablespoonfuls
On to ungreased cookie sheet
Bake the cookies 8 to 10 minutes
Or until light brown
Remove from cookie sheet
And then enjoy
poem by Kelsey Isham
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The Dark Temptation
When the sweet dish
just melts in one’s mouth
one then tends to cherish
the tasty chocolate mousse
When one drinks milkshake
especially the chocolate one
one says, ”What a tasty make! ”
and asks” How was it done? ”
When one eats a chocolate cake
they say, ”The cake was damn good”
they ask”Please tell us how it was baked
So that we can make it if we could”
But what is the main ingredient
in these superb deserts?
“Its chocolate”- THE BRILLIANT
that adds magic to these deserts
the dish then due to chocolate
becomes a temptation
and even though one is not hungry to eat a plate
he cannot undergo any restrictions
As just the sight of chocolate
makes one’s mouth to water
one is just then unable to stop oneself
and eats it like a mad-eater
It’s the taste, the taste that makes it different
the taste that’s beyond description
Hence chocolate is and will be and will always be meant
to be:
THE WORLD’S GREATEST TEMPTATION
poem by Hansika Subramanian
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Chocolate Is A Food Group
I love chocolate.
So should you.
Milk chocolate,
Dark chocolate.
It's good for you, too.
Chocolate cake,
Chocolate candy,
Chocolate pie.
Take away my chocolate
And I might die.
White chocolate,
Hot chocolate,
Even chocolate soup...
Any chocolate lover knows
Chocolate is a food group.
poem by Rich Reitz
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I remember my childhood
I remember my childhood
Whenever I am in the mood
I remember my childhood
With the bad and the good
I remember my childhood
With the variety of available junk food
Funny, the old want to be young
While kids endeavour to be old and strong
Girls wanted to grow up fast as women
Boys wanted to grow up fast as men
Before they could walk right or learn
Those were good times
With very little crime
We had fun with little a dime
How is that for a rhyme?
Mum would call us for biscuits and cakes
While we played games and learnt from mistakes
We all went anxiously to school
To see what best pranks any of us could pull
I remember my childhood
I was always polite and not rude
I remember my childhood
If I could then you should
We as kids all had dreams
Which we shared as a team
We all loved to rock but hated homework
I mean what was the point of so much paperwork
And what is really bizarre
Is that I was always after
The bedtime stories from Mama and Papa
I also enjoyed the view of the nightly stars from afar
Same way I loved presents at Christmas and Easter
Mama always used to say
A gift no matter how little will lift anyone's spirit any day
I remember my childhood
And the adventures in the woods
I remember my childhood
With all the includes and excludes
I remember my childhood
And till today there are still things I've never understood
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.co.uk
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Nora Sullivan
In their cottage in Claraghatlea she lived with her only brother Dan
And she was way beyond mid life when i was a young man
Her name was Nora Sullivan one who was good and kind
And people of her type are rare and always hard to find.
She lived to a fairly good age and though her I'm never more to see
The mental pictures of her are etched in my memory
A mentor of my childhood years and a privilege to know
I spoke to her for the last time some twenty years ago.
She was a devout lady and religious in a good way
And of any other person she never had bad to say
When I return to Millstreet I will not see her again
But good and fond memories of her till my own end I'll retain.
I always will remember her for her warm smile and kind eyes
And she was an honest person so honourable and wise
The pathway to a moral life she always did pursue
And to her God and her higher self she always was so true.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Weird Food Combos!
Consider a roll, with a bacon and fried banana filling;
To take a bite, would you consider yourself willing?
Worcestershire sauce poured over cheese on toast,
Is a concept which, to me, seems really rather gross.
Apple pie, topped with a melted cheddar cheese slice,
Is something, which is considered, by some, rather nice.
Chilli and dark chocolate, I think is really delightful,
But marmite and chocolate, strikes me as just frightful.
A sandwich filled with strawberries and double cream,
May be rather squidgy, but, to me, it would be a dream.
A meal served to me, with both chips and sprouts,
Is not something which I would definitely rule out.
For bacon and marmalade sandwiches, I would not rush,
But there are some people, who think that this is just lush.
It seems really popular, and I wondered what you’d make,
Of dipping French fries in custard or chocolate milkshake?
Years ago, from a supermarket chiller, I very happily chose
A pack of yoghurts: the flavours included lavender and rose.
Apparently, an omelette is good, spread with strawberry jam;
Although, you may prefer yours, filled with just cheese or ham.
A little nutmeg lightly sprinkled over hot boiled potatoes,
Is said to add depth to the taste – but it’s a strange combo!
Hot creamy custard poured over crisp, golden fish fingers,
Produces an unusual aftertaste which, in the mouth, lingers.
Raspberry jam, spread on chicken, which is barbequed,
Is another unusual combination, but is a well liked food.
Crackers topped with peanut butter and horseradish sauce,
Is not one of those combinations, which I think I’d endorse.
Apple sliced up, and mixed with chunks of fresh tuna,
Is something I may try much later, rather than sooner.
Ham which has been marinated in fresh orange juice,
Is adored by some, because of the flavour produced.
Some people love to mix different foodstuffs up together,
And they produce new exciting combos, which is so clever.
I'm glad that people experiment, and try tastes, which are new,
And invent some amazing concoctions, on which we can chew.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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I've hung out in the writer's room a few times, but the fact is we've got such a good writing staff, I don't want to get my peanut butter fingerprints on anything.
quote by Patton Oswalt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All in a Day's Work
One or two pieces of candy
A few potato chips
A spoonful of rocky road ice cream
Going past my lips
A sliver of apple pie
To see if it tastes as it should
A morsel of a cookie
Just to make sure it is good
A bite of chocolate cake
Two nibbles of a pastry roll
I don't think of this as snacking
For me, it's quality control
©2006
Brain Or No Brain That Is The Question
I had to go to the hospital today.
They x-rayed my head two days ago,
now I had to go back for the results,
to find out whether I had a brain or not.
I wasn’t sure you see,
for if you shone a light in one ear,
the light came out the other ear,
which made everyone think
there was nothing to stop the light in-between.
So now, one can only assume
that if I did have a brain
it must be the size of a peanut.
Of course, I will not know that
until I get called to go in for my appointment.
However, if it is that small
I’m not going to tell anyone.
8 October 2007
poem by David Harris
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