The Food Of Love
What would you like for supper,
Some steak, with chips and peas,
Maybe, a nice brewed cuppa,
Or me, with lips that please.
You could have something spicy,
Like a curry or sweet and sour,
But these can be a bit spicy
And not good, at this late hour.
Perhaps a glass of beer, or shandy,
Or a brandy to fill the gap,
But, of course, that might make you randy,
Hey! Have that as your nightcap!
There's me, I'm sweet and slender,
And tender like the steak,
And if you put me in a blender,
A fantastic meal, I'd make.
There's food enough for your pleasure,
So don't say you aren't well fed,
When you start to realise I'm a treasure,
You could have 'hot crumpet' in your bed!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Steak Number 3
[parody of mistake no. 3 by culture club]
The first steak I ordered,
It wasnt very hot.
I had to send it back,
Let em have one more shot.
But the second steak I ordered,
Well it was lousy too.
Now I really hate to say it,
But theres one thing that you gotta do.
Make me steak number three, yeah.
Make me steak number three.
Make me steak number three, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Make me steak number three.
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fish ‘n Chips - Food of Life
Oh how I crave for fish ‘n chips:
Our fine cuisine of world renown.
I dined on such a subtle dish
When QEII received her crown.
Oh how I need some fish ‘n chips;
I'll queue in pouring rain or snow!
What better way to warm my hands,
As soggy chips make fingers glow.
We Brits are famed for culinary finesse,
Like steak ‘n kidney pud no less;
Wondrous tripe; cottage pie;
Bangers and egg in lard to fry!
But fish ‘n chips - the crowning glory -
A dish to trounce the great kebab!
You think I care for chicken masala?
It's cod and chips that grow my flab.
Oh how I yearn for fish ‘n chips,
All poshly wrapped in the Daily Star,
Then caked and drowned in salt ‘n vinegar -
And stinking out my brand new car!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Food food food food food food food of life
Food food food food food food food of life
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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My Favourite Food
Here are some meals, which I really love to eat,
When, at the dinner table, I take my seat.
Lasagne served with a slice of garlic bread,
Is one of my real favourites, it has to be said.
Chunky chips and a tender gammon steak –
A really lovely meal for me, this would make.
Chilli con carne, served with pilau rice,
I also consider to be really rather nice.
A deep pan pizza, especially chicken supreme,
Is guaranteed to set my hungry eyes agleam.
Chicken of any kind, especially southern fried,
Is always a big hit with me, it can’t be denied.
Another of my favourites, is all-day brunch –
On this popular dish, I very often munch.
Britain’s favourite dish, bangers and mash,
I’m always extremely willing to give a bash.
Given lashings of sausage casserole,
I’m guaranteed to scrape my bowl.
I simply love a really good Indian curry,
And will gobble one up in quite a hurry.
The thought of a delicious mixed grill,
Always gives me such a real thrill.
And lovely, tender lamb chops,
For me, are pretty hard to top.
But, cooked to perfection, a Sunday roast,
Is the meal that I really love the most!
So, now here’s a selection of puds,
Which I consider to really rather good.
All of these are lovely and sweet,
And always go down an absolute treat!
At the offer of any fruit crumble,
You will never hear me grumble.
In a slice of gooey, chocolate fudge cake,
I’m always more than happy to partake.
And luscious, creamy tiramisu,
Is one of my favourites to.
A scoop of any flavour of ice cream,
Always goes down an absolute dream.
Offered a bowl of thick, creamy rice,
I wouldn’t need to be asked twice.
Of puddings with lashings of jam,
I’ve always been a particular fan.
At the sight of a fresh strawberry trifle,
My excitement, I have to try and stifle.
A slice of lemon meringue pie,
You will never see me pass by.
I adore hot, sticky, gooey, treacle tart,
It’s a pud which always warms my heart.
Chocolate, cream filled, profiteroles,
Are always guaranteed to fill a hole.
A toffee nut sundae, served in a tall glass,
Is a sweet which I consider to be pure class.
A pastry pie, with any fresh fruit filling,
For me, has always been rather thrilling.
If I was served up any of these, I’d be thrilled,
Even if I was sat right in the middle of a field!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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To Be or Not to Be?
To be or not to be on diet?
That is the question!
I think I won’t.
I better prefer an entrecote.
I certainly love to eat,
My favorite dishes are so sweet.
I never ignore a cake.
How delicious is a juicy steak.
Sandwiches with caviar,
Spaghetti and meatballs,
Pilaf and goulash,
Cucumbers and fish …..
Why should I lose weight?
To eat is never late.
Why shouldn’t I eat?
I can stand on my feet.
Why should I care of my waist?
I so much enjoy the food’s taste.
I will not listen to anyone.
It’s the greatest fun
To eat fried mushrooms with sour cream.
Food is so good cooked on a steam.
Chickens in the oven I’ll bake,
Pancakes on the stove I’ll make.
Then I will drink wine
And my eyes will shine.
Someone will be surprised,
But some will be just enticed.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Canned Peaches
When we got to eat...
We ate spinach, peas and beets,
With sweet canned peaches!
No steak was plated!
But we knew the taste of it,
When mom fixed us cornbread.
And mama said,
Biscuits dripping dumplings...
May be next!
And on Sundays...
We thanked the Lord that week,
We even got fed!
When it came to treats,
We licked the spoon
That dipped those sweet canned peaches!
We loved them more,
Than probably we should.
But they tasted real good!
And on Sundays...
We thanked the Lord that week,
We even got fed!
A love for those canned peaches...
Is 'still' in my head!
When we got to eat...
We ate spinach, peas and beets,
With sweet canned peaches!
No steak was plated!
But we knew the taste of it,
When mom fixed us cornbread.
And mama said,
Biscuits dripping dumplings...
May be next!
But those canned peaches,
By themselves were best!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Spicy Pickle
I wanna tell you about a place
That’s very special to me
It’s called The Spicy Pickle
They serve food so deliciously
There’s salads, soups & sandwiches
With flavors of such delight
You can go there for lunch
Or dinner t’wards the night
They have little crusty pizzas
With what fixins’ you desire
Oh yes, they serve the food
That folks never ever tire
But the very best to me is
The ‘build your own’ meal
So many things to choose from
What a delightful deal
I hope you too will enjoy one day
Or even in the night
The wonderful Spicy Pickle
Where the food is made just right!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Blackeyed Peas and Fresh Carrots
Blackeyed peas and fresh carrots cooked,
Together...
Is a surprising combination that is delicious.
Boil a medium pot of water.
Add olive oil, salt, garlic and onion.
Soy sauce with a bit of lemon.
And butter too if you wish this to salivate.
Bring these ingredients together!
In at least a ten minute boil.
Add the blackeyed peas and carrots.
Lower the cooking heat.
And within fourty five minutes,
Enjoy as you eat!
Be careful.
You are going to want this everyday.
Over rice or mashed potatos.
Or perhaps...
With my,
Sweet and sour brown sugar baked steak.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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4. Shopping and Chopping
Have you got pigs liver?
Said a lady in my shop
No I said politely
But I have a nice pork chop
Could I have some kidney?
With a half a pound of steak
To make a lovely gravy
With the pie she was to bake
The scales shows two and sixpence
Three bob a little more
She didn’t want the piece of steak
I’d just dropped on the floor
I parcelled up her purchase
And placed it with her shopping
Put the money in the till
Then went back to my chopping
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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No gain without pain
Christmas shopping.
Again, the pain,
a thought so stark
will I even get
into the car park?
I only needed
to nip in,
a quick purchase
to make.
T'was deer steak
I wanted.
Oh dear, it's raining.
So I made a quick dash
oh, that was rash,
no deer steak
just rain
and a beef steak
to boot.
So I'll stay mute
about Christmas shopping.
poem by George BernardBloodyShaw
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Piece Of Cake
Come running. go for overkill.
If you dont come now, Ill be over the hill, all right?
Tell me, ''all right.
Got a sell-by date. soon be out of stock.
Pop me in your trolley you can start my clock. well, all right?
Tell me, ''all right.
I could be on your shelf, could be the risk you take.
Im a cup of hot coffee, Im a piece of cake.
Im the hot chicken in your superstore.
You can take me home if you can take some more, well, all right?
Tell me, ''all right.
I could be on your shelf, could be the bread you bake.
I can fill your larder, Im a piece of cake.
Show me rosemary, Ill show her wild thyme.
See you at the checkout or on the credit line. well, all right?
Tell me, ''all right.
Im your spicy filling, Im your low-fat spread.
Ill be your smooth rubber, be your pencil lead, all right?
Tell me, ''all right.
If you set me to simmer, if you grill my steak--
You can bowl me over, Im a piece of cake.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Campfire Meal
There is nothing like a meal
From a flaming hot campfire
It cooks the kind of food
For which you’ll never tire
A slow cooked smoky brisket
The best you ever got
Along with homemade biscuits
Cooked right in a iron pot
The beans are so hot and spicy
Your taste buds will yell hooray
The food is so delicious
I don’t know just what to say
The sweet corn and potatoes
Are cooked on the campfire too
Grab a plate and get in line
That’s just what you want to do
It’s the cowboy way of cooking
I’ll grab some firewood
Join us at the Rockin L & H
Where nothing else tastes as good!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Food For Thought
Milk and honey
Your lips are milk and honey oh oh
Overflowing
You get my juices going
Sweet and tasty
Your love is sweet and tasty oh oh
Skin so creamy
Your bodys soft and dreamy
Food for thought
You give me food for thought
Filling me up with your love
I cant control my hands
Champagne kisses
You give me champagne kisses oh oh
Cool my passion
Slow down my fast reaction
Hot and spicy
Your love is hot and spicy oh oh
Somethings burning
Down in your life Im turning
Food for thought
You give me food for thought
Filling me up with your love
I cant control my hands
Food for thought
You give me food for thought
Oh dont let me down
Ill starve without your love
Starve without your love
Starve without your love
Starve without your love
Starve without your love
Starve without your love
Somethings cooking
I know that somethings cooking oh oh
In your kitchen
I feel my hunger rising
So feed my senses
Come on and feed my senses oh oh
Im not starving
I need a second helping
Food for thought
You give me food for thought
Filling me up with your love
I cant control my hands
Food for thought
You give me food for thought
Oh dont let me down
Ill starve without your love
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Some food
Some food is
Medicine...
Medicine is some food...
Some food is poison...
Some food is Tenson...
Some food is Fear...
Some food is lovely...
Some food is Bland...
Some food is sweety...
Some food is spicy...
Some food is nothing...
Food is not only food
A good eatable medicine...
At only some food...
Some food...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Hey Santa
(Verse1)
hey santa
can you bring me something good
(something good something good)
hey santa
can you bring me something sweet
(something sweet something something sweet)
like chocolate kisses or candi canes
gumdrops and butterscotch
fruity flavored chewy rings
(Verse2)
hey santa
can you bring me something nice
(something nice something nice)
hey santa
can you bring me something new
(something new something something new
like a diamond bracelet or diamond ring
how 'bout a shiny new
baby blue convertable
hey santa
can you bring me everything
(Verse3)
Hey santa
can i sing this song to you
(sing to You sing to you)
hey santa
can you make my wish come true
(make it true make it make it true)
can you fill my stocking
with lots of treats
boxes of red and green
underneath the christmas tree
hey santa
can you bring me everything
song performed by by Ashanti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Have A Cuppa Tea
Grannys always ravin and rantin
And shes always puffin and pantin,
And shes always screaming and shouting,
And shes always brewing up tea.
Grandpappys never late for his dinner,
Cos he loves his leg of beef
And he washes it down with a brandy,
And a fresh made cup of tea.
Chorus:
Have a cuppa tea, have a cuppa tea,
Have a cuppa tea, have a cuppa tea,
Halleluja, halleluja, halleluja, rosie lea
Halleluja, halleluja, halleluja rosie lea.
If you feel a bit under the weather,
If you feel a little bit peeved,
Take grannys stand-by potion
For any old cough or wheeze.
Its a cure for hepatitis its a cure for chronic insomnia,
Its a cure for tonsilitis and for water on the knee.
Chorus
Tea in the morning, tea in the evening, tea at supper
Time,
You get tea when its raining, tea when its snowing.
Tea when the weathers fine,
You get tea as a mid-day stimulant
You get tea with your afternoon tea
For any old ailment or disease
For christ sake have a cuppa tea.
Chorus,
Whatever the situation whatever the race or creed,
Tea knows no segregation, no class nor pedigree
It knows no motivations, no sect or organisation,
It knows no one religion,
Nor political belief.
Chorus.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sugar Snap Peas
Sugar snap peas,
I plant thy rods.
To enable your journey...
With tentacles to grab tight.
In this garden,
You will make home.
Search as you climb and bloom.
Roam and stretch within the room,
You make yours and ascend!
Sugar snap peas...
Near fresh soiled cucumber seeds.
Growing with you slow...
To enhance the sweet organic taste!
Tp please separately,
Or in a fixed mixed blend.
On this day in the month of May.
In late Spring...
The sunset will bring,
A brightness upon your pods.
And ready you will be picked to eat.
Rather cooked or raw...
Under the coming early Summer heat!
Sugar snap peas,
Sweet.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Wail of the Waiter
All day long, at Scott's or Menzies', I await the gorging crowd,
Panting, penned within a pantry, with the blowflies humming loud,
There at seven in the morning do I count my daily cash,
While the home-returning reveller calls for 'soda and a dash'.
And the weary hansom-cabbies set the blinking sqautters down,
Who, all night, in savage freedom, have been 'knocking round the town'.
Soon the breakfast gong resounding bids the festive meal begin,
And, with appetites like demons, come the gentle public in.
'Toast and butter!' 'Eggs and coffee!' 'Waiter, mutton cops for four!'
'Flatheads!' 'Ham!' 'Beef!' 'Where's the mustard?' 'Steak and onions!' 'Shut the door!'
Here sits bandicoot, the broker, eating in a desparate hurry,
Scowling at his left-hand neighbour, Cornstalk from the Upper Murray,
Who with brandy-nose enpurpled, and with blue lips cracked and dry,
In incipient delirium shoves the eggspoon in his eye.
'Bloater paste!' 'Some tender steak, sir?' 'Here, confound you, where's my chop?'
'Waiter!' 'Yessir!' 'Waiter!' 'Yessir!!' - running till I'm fit to drop.
Then at lunch time - fearful crisis! In by shoals the gorgers pour,
Gobbling, crunching, swilling, munching - ten times hungrier than before.
'Glass of porter!' 'Ale for me, John!' 'Where's my stick?' 'And where's my hat!'
'Oxtal soup!' 'I asked for curry!' 'Cold boiled beef, and cut it fat!'
'Irish stew!' 'Some pickled cabbage!' 'What, no beans?' 'Bring me some pork!'
'Soup, sir?' 'Yes. You grinning idiot, can I eat it with a FORK?'
'Take care, waiter!' 'Beg your pardon.' 'Curse you, have you two left legs?'
'I asked for bread an hour ago, sir!' 'Now then, have you laid those eggs?'
'Sherry!' 'No, I called for beer - of all the fools I ever saw!'
'Waiter!' 'Yessir!' 'WAITER!!' 'Here, sir!' 'Damme, sir, this steak is RAW!'
Thus amid this hideous Babel do I live the livelong day,
While my memory is going, and my hair is turing grey.
All my soul is slowly melting, all my brain is softening fast,
And I know that I'll be taken to the Yarr bend at last.
For at night from fitful slumbers I awaken with a start,
Murmuring of steak and onions, babbling of apple-tart.
While to me the Poet's cloudland a gigantic kitchen seems,
And those mislaid table-napkins haunt me even in my dreams
Is this right? - Ye sages tell me! - Does a man live but to eat?
Is there nothing worth enjoying but one's miserable meat?
Is the mightiest task of genius but to swallow buttered beans,
And has man but been created to demolish pork and greens?
Is there no unfed Hereafter, where the round of chewing stops?
Is the atmosphere of heaven clammy with perpetual chops?
Do the friends of Mr Naylor sup on spirit-reared cow-heel?
Can the great Alexis Soyer really say 'Soyez tranquille?'
Or must I bring spirit beefsteak grilled in spirit regions hotter
For the spirit delectation of some spiritual squatter?
Shall I in a spirit kitchen hear the spirit blowflies humming,
Calming spiritual stomachs with a spiritual 'Coming!'?
Shall - but this is idle chatter, I have got my work to do.
'WAITER!!' 'Yessir.' 'Wake up, stupid! Boiled calves' feet for Number Two!'
poem by Marcus Clarke
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Ever Had a Nine-course Meal?
Ever had a nine-course meal to set you on your way?
Perhaps to start, a glass of wine aside a cheese soufflé.
The second dish could be of fish, so how about Paella?
Check with Chef to see it's cooked – you don't want salmonella!
Now for the third we'll hot it up with spicy beef kebab –
You know we wouldn't want the feast to feel a little drab!
Before the fourth, you'll need a lager – taken from the keg.
And in this cooling interlude, enjoy a chocolate egg
Before the launch of number five: a roaring Indian curry –
And since our table's near the loo, you'll have no need to worry!
But now to take the heavy stuff: a whopping great lasagna;
However, this is rather special – a recipe from Romania!
Risotto makes the seventh course with red Italian wine,
Then you'll benefit from dessert, with chocolate mousse divine!
Oh - and afterwards a stretcher as we serve course number nine!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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I draw your face
I draw your face
in my mind each day
in the same way
that I have seen you
paint faces on pieces of canvas,
trying to fill in
the small details,
but at times
the image fades into oblivion.
Sometimes while I drink
a Coca Cola
I play with the steak
and chips,
stuck in my thoughts
and I see your golden eyes sparkling,
your lips curling
and smile back at you
and see unknown people
smiling at me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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