And Mushy peas for J.T.Ellison
A fragrance carried on the breeze
which sets my saliva to flow.
Aroma guaranteed to please.
The finest fast food that I know.
Traditional English fish and chips
served up with salt and vinegar.
The smell can make me lick my lips
although I smell it from afar.
Kebabs, Chinese and Pizzas too
appeal to some but not to me.
There’s only fish and chip will do
To suit my mood adequately
Fine English food for Englishmen
I can enjoy time and again.
14-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Down the Chippy
Tasty chips sizzling away
an aroma that can't be beat
'Salt and Vinegar Sir? '
what a tasty treat.
When we were little kids
going to the chippy was a delight
Fish n Chips once a week
usually on a Saturday Night.
The Chippy was on our road
you could smell Fish in the air
'can we have a bag of Scratchings'
a bit of spare Cod if we dare.
The Fish and Chip shop
as British as cups of Teas
who can resist a bag of chips
and some nice Mushy Peas?
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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2. Frying Tonight
Fish chip and mushy pea suppers
Newspaper vinegar drips
A shower of dark brown malt liquid
Helps salt crystals stick to your chips
The smell is a stunning reminder
Of many an outing since gone
When fish chip and mushy pea suppers
Were quickly devoured every one
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fish And Rice
Daniel phoned me today
with his usual two year old exuberance
which comes naturally when you are two
and comes naturally when you're fifty two
until you extinguish it with old damp habits,
and he said
'Fish! Fish! I like fish very much!
Daddy, fan fan, fan fan', (Chinese for rice)
and yes Daniel has already mastered
three languages, English, Mandarin and enthusiasm
the last of which he is most adept at.
Well I thought he was enjoying his fish supper
but not so, and I should have known,
this exuberance could not be the result of food
unless perhaps a rare taste
of smooth creamy chocolate.
No he was feeding fish,
fish with an appetite for rice?
No, but no one had told him the ingredients of fish food
or me for that matter
and of course he was right,
as far as the fish are concerned
this was indeed the rice of life.
And he was now suddenly very upset
standing in the corner, arms folded, despondent
what happened? I asked
I am told by my reporting wife
that there had been a message I had missed,
and should have known.
Feeding fish is more essential for happiness
than eating fish,
and on his return home, freely swimming happy fish
should be waiting for his love and bliss.
poem by David Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Taste Of Food
In food is a certain quality of taste,
May they abstain and be erased.
For food manages my godly life,
Just as the fish manage with strife.
In this food, in that food we collapse
And honour a feast with some gaps.
The food we eat as dinner shall be kind
To the sleep we carry throughout the mind.
What food do you cook with expertise?
Fish and meat will certainly cease!
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I believe 2012
When moonlight filters through the trees.
I sometimes hear sweet melodies.
Carried towards me on the breeze.
Music guaranteed to please.
It comes from where the fairies dance.
I'm not afraid to take a chance.
To follow it and steal a glance.
Which would do nothing but enhance.
My belief that fairies do exist.
A fact that others may resist.
Despite the legend that persist.
Although I am a realist.
And not some dreaming fantasist.
I claim to be a pragmatist.
Wednesday,15 February 2012.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Twilight in Valencia for M lady Onelia
The sun goes down and daylight fades
as love sick swains sing serenades
beneath fair ladies balconies.
Their voices carried on the breeze
to reach the ears of old women.
Who are no longer beautiful
and don’t appeal to younger men
Though now demure and dutiful.
they had their hey day in the sun.
When they had suitors by the score
So now they listen just for fun
It doesn’t matter anymore.
But still they smile remembering
Duennas can’t see every thing.
27-Oct-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Finn's Favorite Fish (Long Tongue Twister)
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food fell flat.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food falls for fluid.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food fed Finn's favorite fish.
Finn's favorite fish falls for Finn's favorite fish's favorite food.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food falls for Finn's favorite fish.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food fills Finn's favorite fish.
Finn fishes for Finn's favorite fish's favorite fish food for Finn's favorite fish!
poem by Rebecca Ryan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Is it really like fishing?
They say there is many fish in the sea to choose from.
But have you ever gone fishing?
They say do not worry they are like fish you lose one then get a fresh one.
But have you actually gone fishing?
They say you can be picky when fishing your fish.
But have you been in the sea and fished?
They even say some actually smell like fish.
But have you really smelled a fish?
They say there is plenty of fish in the sea.
But have you actually gone and counted the fish in the sea?
They say once you catch that perfect fish, you are bound for a good life.
But have you caught that perfect fish they all speak of?
They say some fish can be beautiful.
But have you seen any beautiful fish?
How can one compare a fish?
They are not alike.
How can one say it is as easy as finding a fish?
It is not a simple task.
How can they say there are so many fish in the sea?
When there are so many fishers who have yet to catch.
Can you really compare life and love to a fish?
The answer is of course not.
You can’t.
Impossible.
Unreal.
Not imaginable.
Unbelievable.
Unrealistic.
A fairy tale.
poem by ReubenJames Rodriguez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Overweight with Food
Are you just a tub of lard and
Vastly overweight?
Do you think that when you die you'll
Need a piano crate
To act as coffin for your frame? -
Chosen as you die in shame, with
Only you to take the blame
For years of eating much the same:
A daily calorific fest
Gourmands of your ilk digest!
Is your heart in final fling and
Nearly set to burst?
Are your arteries bunged and clogged and
Feeling now the worst
For wear? - your aneurysm fit to blow
While blood as thick as rising dough
Cries 'Halt! ' to any hope of flow:
A dreadful state to put on show
In front of any nurse!
Best you hail a hearse.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I were to play somebody who ran a fish and chip shop, I would not work in a fish and chip shop for three months. Staring at chips is not going to help me in my performance.
quote by Ben Kingsley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Am I a Heretic?
Abide with me fast falls the eventide.
My boredom deepens momentarily.
There must be more to life than the T.V
I sometimes watch but I choose carefully
The darkness deepens lord abide with me.
Boredom remains the ancient enemy
I have to choose so therefore I decide
Only to watch what I want to see.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee.
Then and only then do I watch T.V.
Most programmes offered don’t appeal to me
I can go without watching very easily.
Help of the helpless oh abide with me.
Books are my salvation as they ought to be
I have a collection of fine poetry
I can choose what suits my mood easily.
Wednesday,31 March 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Salad is Incompatible with Life
Yes, my waist is fifty inches -
Big for me because I'm short.
And yes, I like my cheddar cheese
When partnered with a vintage port.
Okay, okay, that double cream
Is always served with pud,
And cake and biscuits with my tea
Are just no bloody good
For my poor hardened arteries,
But see my point of view,
Please dear wifey if you please,
A Salad makes me spew!
I'd rather eat a bowl of air
Than crunch away on greens;
Drink water from the toilet bowl
Or nibble on my jeans!
But salad! Are you there?
You know it makes me snappy -
So let me fill my face with grub,
Stay fat, and die young happy!
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trinculo [sees Caliban]: What have we here? A man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish. He smells like a fish, a very ancient and fish-like smell, a kind of not-of-the-newest poor-john.
line from The Tempest, Act II, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare (1611)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Fishing For A Friend
when you go to fish
go fishing for the finest kind
which good anglers always do.
if you're looking for a fine fish
you must choose the purest lake
in which good anglers fish.
if you catch a fine fish
try not to let it get away
good anglers real them in.
you must bring your fish home
a fine fish will quench your hunger
after a long day fishing.
(January,2010, Omar Ibrahim)
(revised by MR.Ronald Peat)
poem by Omar Ibrahim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Men More A Fool Than Beasts
Whenever the food was served to a dog,
It was done after a stroke of the bell.
The sight of the food induced its saliva.
The sound of the bell induced the saliva.
When the bell rang with no food to follow
Then too came out the saliva from it.
Women excite men; things they wear excite.
Names they bear excite; so do female voice.
Man is conditioned by sex perversion.
Women not in sight, then too will excite
Him anything that sounds feminine.
More a fool than a dog is the learned man.
12.09.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Like Smells
i like smells...
woodsmoke, and food,
black coffee in the morning.
the smell of rain,
of mud, of wetness.
the smell of the walls
of the cave, of the stone,
of the moss...
the smell of sex, of arousal,
of a woman's neck.
the smell of pine needles,
of an old house,
of fresh turned earth...
the smell of old books,
of old dogs, of shadows
without form...
i've even become accustomed
to the smell of death!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I am empty, old, poor, but smell good
got a fresh one... everytime we look for food,
vegetable, milk, fish, and even our eyes want
to see fresh beautiful women and handsome
gentlemen... a part of us is something that
tells that we came from fresh origin
remember when the first time we meet our
husband and wife... they were so sweet and
tender.... like a first morning dew, waiting the
early morning to come, beneath the horizon
dawn of the earth and sky
it is the present that tells the past, for today
is the present and it tells that iam fresh until
you lost your appetite of what is today
today is what you saw, in the yesteryear's, for
it does not close my dear, it is only your eyes
that closed, ages... is moment to live....a state
of wisdom to share...a grit.... to hold on too..
with you
as you steer at me...iam old....rotten...broken...
yet so sweet to smell... like as years gone-by,
the smell remind you the fragrance you want...
is yourself that lives in me......it is in me that.....
is in you.... we smell
poem by Antonio Liao
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AE01 growing fish
fish lips barely off water
filtering food crumbs
floating like carpet
fish pond feeding time,
amazing appears as unit
focus to food, giant vacuum
swirling mass of fins, bubbling
some jump with open mouth
catching whatever it pass by
total chaos, survival of fittest
soon nets come for collection
feed them now, to feed you later
poem by Manonton Dalan
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all That Fancy Food
'ALL THAT FANCY FOOD'
After all that fancy food at Christmas in the past,
Turkey stuffing Xmas pud things that do not last
Full brekkies in the morning, snacks again at noon
Eating and drinking all day long until we see the moon
Now really what I fancy now festive time is gone,
Is plain food so English to peg me back to norm
Good old Egg and chips will get me back to form.
Dave Bennett
poem by David Bennett
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