The Barbecue
When summer evenings are nice and hot,
The thing to do is find a spot,
Where a barbecue can be set up,
So everyone can come and sup,
Relax with a bottle, and sit for a spell,
Which would be really nice and would end the day well,
And enjoy the light hearted, cheerful chatter,
With friends, who to you, truly matter.
Right!
The table's set, the flares are lit,
The music should be a real hit
The friends have arrived, the drink if flowing,
Laughter starts, the barbecue's glowing,
The cooking has started, the aroma's divine,
Everyone is getting along fine,
When!
The barbecue begins to smoke,
The chef, who's coughing begins to choke,
The chops are burnt the spare ribs too,
Everyone's looking very blue,
Conversation has now come to a halt,
What has happened, who's at fault,
There's thick smoke spiralling into the air,
It's now giving everyone a scare,
People are suddenly beginning to panic,
Good heavens, they are going manic,
What can be done, the food is no more,
The wine has been spilt all over the floor,
Everyone is utterly desolated,
For the poor old barbecue has disintegrated,
On top of that, it has started to rain,
It is really driving the guests insane,
The garden's looking a real shambles,
It really is just one of those gambles,
That the weather will go and change her mind,
But it's left such devastation behind.
The hostess takes a deep breath and swallows her pride,
Waves everyone goodbye, takes it all in her stride,
Clears up all the mess, and calls it a day,
But will book another date and just hope and pray,
That the weather forecast might treat them well, so
With friends once again, they can dine alfresco.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Related quotes
Upon Visiting A Dying Woman In The Hospital At Room 108
actually the barbecue
is more than what it appears to be
its scent of meat
and the hotness of the spice
and delicacy of
the sauce
it is the front of something
that is hidden
there is something behind its shape
and odor
i cannot speak to you about it
so i offer you that
pork barbecue
i know that hunger that
does not want to be fed
time fills that
grief
that cannot be appeased
the barbecue is cold
set aside in one of the corners
of the table
grease is solidified
no one
not one from those who see
the emaciated body
of the dying woman
wants to take
the bite
someone does
but eventually there is that
obstruction in the
throat
and so the tongue
expels that piece
of pork barbecue
again
what a waste!
yet we can never voice
this matter out
the eyes speak a lot
but you know then
they have no voices
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Plain Cacophony
when i walk alone Colon
i remember being treated for free barbecue
by my sister during her student days,
(it may not be important to you but it is
to me, for it was the first time that i have
had a free barbecue
with white rice wrapped by coconut leaves)
nothing significant really like it is an ordinary day
but there is one thing that i cannot tell you
i have seen stars there,
people who shine ordinarily without anybody knowing
that they are stars in their own right,
ordinariness felt
something that pleases you when you walk
and no one knows you
independent, open, nothing significant
you become real.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Didn't Know That Butchered Animals Do Not Feel Pain
sexy, so sexy,
and meaty and
tasty....
tenderloin steak,
spare ribs,
pork barbecue,
menudo,
sausages, and
chicharon, and
brain chops
sexy, so sexy,
butchered meat
feeling no pain
well cooked and
too spicy on my
table.
do i hear
the sound of red
blood dripping?
send it the specialty of this house.
sexy, so sexy,
and meaty and tender and juicy....
that is how i want things to be.
i don't mind the pain too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Neighborly Guy
Baptist churches and brotherhood
In a tired, aging town
A moribund neighborhood
Where faith and fraternity are found
Cleveland Ohio’s a rust belt town
Ordinary citizens, still work out the days
Life comes and goes, has ups and has downs
But some neighbors are different in unusual ways
Take Anthony Sowell, a neighborly guy
A smile bright as the sunrise, none brighter or quicker
Liked to sit on his porch, by and by
Sippin’ from a bottle of King Cobra Malt Liquor
Had a few girlfriends over, seemed a regular guy
Neighbors came over for barbecue at times
Always said “good mornin’ and evening” and “hi’
Scrounged up ol’ metal for nickels and dimes
Neighbors at times notice odd scents
Of dead things or spoiled meat
Seemed to be coming from beyond a fence
Of a sausage maker just down the street
But Anthony sowell, a neighborly guy
Had compliant companions who sat quietly inside
Four on the couch slowly rotting
and three on the floor where they died
A few in the hallway
several upstairs in the bed
One in the bathroom,
on his workbench, a severed head
Anthony Sowell, a neighborly guy
was led in handcuffs through his front gate
Left his neighbors imaginations to fly
As to what was in that barbecue they ate
Anthony seemed such a neighborly guy
Some said they’d forever feel sickened
Some said they’d never eat barbecue again
Some said it tasted a little like chicken
poem by David Whalen
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Summer Melanoma
‘That's nice, ' I said, as Juno bathed me
In her sun.
Soon, a bronze Adonis - ogling girls!
It must be done!
I rolled over; bared a snowy skin
To bake and burn and sear beneath a din
Of ultraviolet rays…
Now I'm on the ward, I count the days to
Lesser pain, torrential rain; accepting
I'm a fool to be so vain!
I bore an awful mole, you see -
A growth, a blighted entity
Presenting as an ugly melanoma!
Oh! how tricky life can be
When unprotected by the sea, to
Sizzle with a barbecue aroma!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
All rights reserved
summer summer summer summer summer
summer summer summer summer summer - what a bummer
summer summer summer summer summer
summer summer summer summer summer - what a bummer
summer summer summer summer summer
summer summer summer summer summer - what a bummer
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Have I got swine flu?
Your coughing and sneezing
and your head is pounding away
but you can't go to the doctors
if you do there will be hell to pay.
It used to be plain old influenza
you could get rid of it in a week
but this thing is related to a pig
so watch out for the signs of a squeak.
I think i may well have got it
because I've begun to wallow in mud
and I hate the smell of bacon
but I'd eat truffles all day if I could.
The diagnosis isn't looking good
I've been told to stay in and not go out
still they say it should clear up soon
but I'll be left with a tail and a snout.
I'll probably end up in a slaughterhouse
just a piece of meat on a hook
then on to the local butchers shop
as pork sausages all ready to cook.
So if your feeling under the weather
and you think you have got swine flu
if I was you I'd keep it to yourself
or you could end up being eaten at a barbecue!
poem by Kevin Halls
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We sat around and I fed them barbecue and whiskey. And pretty soon everyone started to compete with each other on the guitars. It seemed the more everyone drank and ate, the more everyone got into it.
quote by Gary Allan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When it rains it pours
Rain is a strange thing
when you want it
it never comes,
and when you don't
it arrives in bucket loads.
Like at a barbecue
it will put a stop to that,
but you need it for your plants
so you won't get none for weeks.
You go out in just a t.shirt
and you get soaking wet,
but the weatherman said
it will stay dry all day.
I wonder if the weather people
told Noah it wasn't going to rain?
Don't worry I bet they said,
just the odd shower possible.
Rain stops sporting events
waterlogged pitches,
rain stopped play at Cricket
no Tennis at Wimbledon.
Grown ups dislike rain
but it doesn't bother kids
adults walk around puddles
but children just dive on in.
Rain can ruin holidays
sat in a caravan all week,
but you can guarantee one thing,
on your last day the sun will come out!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Friends
Friends will stick up for you, not put you down.
Friends like when you smile, not when you frown.
Friends treat you respectfully, not call you names.
Friends are always truthful, they don't play little head games.
If i had real friends, they would be nice.
But, the people I call friends always bring tears to my eyes.
poem by Jean Pullman
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Roses Blue
I think of tears, I think of rain on shingles
I think of rain, I think of roses blue
I think of rose, my heart begins to tremble
To see the place shes lately gotten to
Gotten to, gotten to
Shes gotten to mysterious devotions
Shes gotten to the zodiac and zen
Shes gotten into tarot cards and potions
Shes laying her religion on her friends
On her friends, on her friends
Friends who come to ask her for their future
Friends who come to find they cant be friends
Because of signs and seasons that dont suit her
Shell prophesy your death, she wont say when
Wont say when, wont say when
When all the black cards come you cannot barter
No, when all your stars are stacked you cannot win
Shell shake her head and treat you like a martyr
It is her blackest spell she puts you in
Puts you in, puts you in
In sorrow she can lure you where she wants you
Inside your own self-pity there you swim
In sinking down to drown her voice still haunts you
And only with your laughter can you win
Can you win, can you win
You win the lasting laurels with your laughter
It reaches like an arm before you sink
To win the solitary truth youre after
You dare not ask the priestess how to think
How to think, how to think
I think of tears, I think of rain on shingles
I think of rain, I think of roses blue
I think of rose, my heart begins to tremble
To see the place shes lately gotten to
Gotten to, gotten to
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Child's Game
the games that you play
are the same games that i am playing
writing poems
watching movies
reading stories
reading poems
taking the night
out with not so
close friends
enjoying the
music at the bar
some beer and
some barbecue
a little laughter
some pretenses
some truths to
tell sometimes
going home late
and wanting some
sleep till noon,
what is it that i am doing?
i am hiding from misery
this program on pain reduction
this art of losing and finding
and losing till it hurts no more
these children games
of hide and seek
breaking up and
becoming friends again
in such a short
time
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Good Friends in Life...
’Tis nice to have good friends in life;
They share your emotions of yours;
They help to balance joy and strife;
They are your loving choice!
’Tis nice to have someone to greet,
And talk to you in pleasant ways;
Someone who offers you a seat,
When you’re tired in case!
’Tis nice to have a soul to share
Your feelings of sorrow and joys;
Someone who shows you, he does care,
When you have choked a voice!
’Tis nice to have a guy who jokes,
A gal who argues for your sake;
A someone, who can surely coax,
But who is ne’er a fake!
’Tis nice to have a heart of love,
Who thinks of you, more than you do;
A hand that pats you truly, ‘Wow! ’
And sometimes at you ‘boo! ’
’Tis nice to have someone to hear
Your stories and your pranks and bear;
A someone who is far, yet near,
Pays for you, your bus-fare!
’Tis nice to have someone to smile,
And make you laugh, despite your tears;
Someone quite strong and yet docile,
Who takes away your fears!
Good friends can make your life wholesome,
Bestow the verve and zeal you need;
Good friends are souls always welcome,
And guide you well indeed!
Good friends are friends for life although,
Life takes them through its maze of own;
Good friends have comforting words, oh,
You feel you’re never alone!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-8-2008
poem by John Celes
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I'm The Widow Of An Alcoholic
He was mild mannered and I loved him so much,
When we met I knew he was the one,
If I was ever in trouble he was always my crutch,
But inside he was a smoking gun.
We'd enjoy a beer and a glass of fine wine,
Enjoy burgers at the barbecue,
With friends and family we'd usually dine,
Then the odd drink became more than a few.
The man we loved became snappy,
Saying things we could not understand,
He would suddenly become so unhappy,
Soon his comments would get out of hand.
He'd shout at the children for just breathing,
Leaving them totally fraught,
His behaviour would then have me seething,
Which would leave us all feeling distraught.
The following day when he got out of bed,
I would try to take him to task,
When I asked him about those things he'd said,
His reply was always, '' please don't ask ''
Was it pressure of work or was it just me,
My excuses became pretty lame,
Because I loved him I refused to see,
It was him who was entirely to blame.
He started to come home smelling of drink,
To say obnoxious is me being mild,
I had to find out just what was the link,
We did not deserve being reviled.
I started to find alcohol all over the house,
In wardrobes and under the stairs,
Half empty bottles hidden by my spouse,
When confronted he'd say, '' who cares ''
He wouldn't talk he'd refuse to discuss,
His only comment was, '' I've nothing to say ''
Apart from the fact I was making a fuss,
About nothing as things were okay.
His friends and family then disappeared,
They just couldn't take any more,
His alcohol problems were far worse than feared,
What is happening to the man we adore.
He then lost his license he could no longer drive,
After that he lost his employment,
As time went by his health took a dive,
He was losing his sense of enjoyment.
We all tried our best but it was never enough,
Then came the physical abuse,
It was then I decided, yes it was tough,
I wouldn't listen to another excuse.
We gave up our life we gave up trying,
Though we'd struggled for so many years,
We could no longer watch the man we love dying,
He was confirming all our worst fears.
He gave up his children he deserted his wife,
Before we knew it he'd become overawed,
His addiction took over his entire life,
When alcohol became his one God.
Drink will destroy you if you lose control,
It will fill your whole life with regret,
On all those around you it will take it's toll,
That's something you must never forget.
Yes it's addictive but you can get assistance,
But that decision must come from ''YOUR'' heart,
If you continue your denial and total resistance,
Your whole world will be torn apart.
The misuse of booze affects far more than you,
There are many others who will end up abused,
You'll end up in the gutter that much is true,
For your addiction you will stand accused.
Alcohol is a killer so don't be misled,
It isn't all about fun and frolic,
How do I know that you'll end up dead,
‘' I'm The Widow Of An Alcoholic ‘'
Kabul Weather Forecast
Weather Forecast in Kabul.
Rain in Kabul, the weather woman on TV said.
and I wondered if that was a good or bad thing.
Slippery roads and confused drones, what do
I know? Perhaps the rain is just what the poppy
fields need right now. Weather forecast on T. V
is pure entertainment, all respectable channels
have a person with a map who looks confident
when trying to predict the tomorrow. Danish
bomber pilots listen to weather forecast too,
will there be sun over Libya? Kaddafi hasn’t any
more planes left, we are now bombing his tanks.
No-fly –zone? I didn’t know tanks could fly. Rain
in Chad, that’s sad, they like Kaddafi he has been
helpful to this poor country. Never mind all that
he’s a despot and so says all of us.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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I Better Be Good
If I ain't cool
My daddy gonna send me
To Military School
If I ain't nice
My girlie gonna freeze me
With cold shoulder ice
If I'm real late
My teacher gonna use me
For alligator bait
So, I better be good
I better be good
If I jump on the gas
The cops are gonna jump
All over my back
If I smoke too much
Doctor says he's gonna
Put my lungs in a crutch
If I'm caught without my pants
Consuelo's dad is gonna shoot
Until he sees me dance
So, I better be good
I had better be good
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
Nice, nice, nice - you better be
Nice, nice, nice - you better be
Nice, nice, nice - Uh, uh, uh, uh
Nice, nice, nice
Nice, nice, nice
Nice, nice, nice
You better be nice tonight
If I spray it on the seat
Lady gonna tie a big knot
In the meat
If I spewey too fast
Lover's gonna stick
My Wrangler in a cast
If zipper grabs skin
I'll know I had it out
When I shoulda kept it in
Ow.
I better be good
I better be good
I better be good
Ooh.
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
Nice, nice, nice - you better be
Nice, nice, nice - you better be
Nice, nice, nice - Uh, uh, uh, uh
Nice, nice, nice
I'd better be nice tonight - yeah
Nice, nice, nice
Nice, nice, nice
Nice, nice, nice
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meals that I remember
At Camps bay the wind is blowing
and the waves leap and thrust
against the jetty,
where my eyes
roam over the big boats.
There’s a restaurant
that fries snook on the coals
and serve it with lemon slices.
My mouth still waters
when I think of Henk and Frikkie
each preparing a pot on the grill
and the aroma that makes
everyone much more hungry.
When I was ill on my birthday
and I and Lood fried stake and sausage
and I later ate it at work,
I knew how nice the food
from a braai really is.
Every meal that you prepare so deliciously,
surprises me with the things that you add
and I am like a king
when you are with me.
[Reference: Braai =>a Barbecue done in the South African way. Pot=>potjiekos. Something like a pot roasted stew. It’s prepared in a pot on a wood fire.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Scales Of Life Balance
Everything I did
when I was at school
was worthwhile at the time.
Even when I would take
the piss out of the teachers
Even when I was being bullied
I tried hard.
Sometimes I would play truant
with my friends
and we would hang around
the golf course and smoke hash
and drink Buckfast tonic wine
or Carlsberg special brew.
When I left school and
started work, that's when everything
went wrong for me, well not
everything, there were also good
things that happened.
Good, bad
Bad, good
Mostly good though
Everything balanced out in the end.
poem by Andrew Matthews
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Stretched
Your brine desire soaks the night
Golden flesh now supple and drying
You have brought the living rain
Verdant dreams where children laugh
Connected in blue bird glory
Robins prance in morning delight
Oatmeal and fruit
Coffee with real cream
Shower the notes of a sweet saxophone
Get use to a jazzy blues darling
Can we be a family?
You divorced so recently
The children are beautiful
I am old but resilient
Your thighs make me loose weight
You are a lioness in bed
She makes me paint her toenails red
Today she takes the children to a park
Love is a sparkle in the sun
Tonight we have a barbecue
The kids are starting to like me
I pray for her and them
I am being stretched
Really stretched
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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I Accept
I decline, to take your wine
But of your hospitality I will partake
As your gesture is true and very kind
So of your joy, I will not forsake.
I will sit with you, the whole night though
As you drink your glass of wine
I can be the student and you the guru
And from that happiness I will not decline.
As I had spoke, I will not smoke
But of your habit you should enjoy
And those words I will not revoke
Though myself smoking it does annoy.
Smoke your smokes, I hope I don't choke
As you puff on your cigarette or cigar
Enjoy that taste with pleasure's awoke
As for your smoking habit I will never debar.
I refuse to eat, any of your foods or meat
But thank you for asking about my appetite
And with that one question to you, I must conclude
That without eating today, I will not die.
So please enjoy your food, as any man would
We can still chat while you are eating
And when you are finished I hope it's understood
That you and I can then start our preaching.
I do agree, that you and I both are free
As we lived our lives the best we could
But then I think as I drink my coffee
Was there other places that we should of stood.
Let's look through the bible, and see what is vital
For man to live and love on this Earth
But then I understand life is but a vicious cycle
It ends and begins with death and birth.
I now say goodbye, please don't sigh
Hopefully someday soon we will chat again
When the sun is out and blue is the sky
And again you my friend I will commend.
I will knock on your door, as I have done before
As I arrive there hopefully as your guest
Then our memories again we will restore
And I will accept, at your own request.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Cheers my friends for single malt
Cheers my friends to single malt
1
It's color is amber it's taste like honey dew
Unpack the cartoon that's brand knew
Feel the bottle nice and rounded
Smell the fragrance of Niagra falls
Cheers my friends to single malt
2
It goes down the throat so very smooth
Crackling over ice like some diwali cracker
Let it simmer and breath for a while
Then sip it slowly with a smile
Don't stop gulp it down without a halt
Cheers my friends to single malt
3
It slowly takes you in it's vice like grip
As one swallows it bit by bit
Swirling away on the tounge
As it gurgel's through down my throat
Tasting better then a million vodka shots
Three cheers to single malt
4
In the highlands of Scotland it is brewed
Comes in wide and narrow bottle
So very viscous so very shrewd
One sip and you stop to brood
So pick up your glasses and pour them down
And say three cheers to single malt
5
Uncork the bottle with a sweet sound
Then watch your mind swim around
Feel the liquor cascading down the throat
Then it's just row row row your boat
Say three cheers to single malt
poem by Anuj Tikku
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