Grateful for Traditions
Thick the gravy made did sit.
With turkey giblets tempting,
The licking of awaiting lips.
Dressing prepared,
Next to a glazed honeyed ham.
With collard greens smelling good,
As the potato salad nestled close
To chit'lins and delicious candied yams.
Pumpkin, apple and sweet potato pies...
Filled the air with anticipation,
As the black-eyed peas and rice
Were passed by!
Heads are bowed in prayer...
Giving thanks for blessings,
And grateful for traditions!
Feeding a heritage nurtured well,
When families gather...
For these feasting eating missions!
'Grandma...
Will you tell grandpa to stop talking,
And pass the fried chicken...please! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Nutritious
That banana cake taste,
Grandma use to bake.
And was loved?
Is gone with the deep dish apple pie.
That smothered blade steak.
Served with black eye peas,
Collard greens and candied yams.
Sometimes with peach cobbler,
With rich vanilla icecream.
That too,
Locks in memories.
Those golden brown biscuits,
Fresh from the oven.
Buttered.
And topped with homemade,
Strawberry jam.
Or that cornbread no one can resist.
That too...
Is gone with the deep dish apple pie.
And today...
As grateful as I am,
To witness the arrival...
Of another Thanksgiving Day to celebrate.
I've never seen so many butts and thighs so wide.
And none of us who ate at grandma's,
Waddled from the table.
No matter what we ate.
Or nibbled all day...
On the honeyed ham,
Turkey sandwiches, potato salad...
Turnips.
Or just to sit to sip on eggnog.
None of us who ate at grandma's,
Waddled from the table.
Or stretched spandex!
Maybe fast food is fast!
But it sure is not nutritious.
Forget delicious.
It's just addictive and quick.
That's it!
And when we ate at grandma's...
We knew something whipped up with love,
Was coming out of the kitchen.
And not to sit too long,
Waiting for a decision made to eat.
And none of us,
Who came to eat to leave...
Did a waddle from the table.
Or stretched spandex!
'Why didn't you mention,
My fried chicken? '
I didn't even get a piece, grandma!
'Next time,
Eat!
And stop running your mouth so much.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Collard Green Romance
At one time...
One would have to beg grocers
To get collard greens in their stores.
Now the major food chains,
Have them propped up like kings and queens...
Among the lettuce, cabbage and corn!
They have obtained such notoriety today,
You have to have patience when someone
Grabs the last bundle.
And that person would not have admitted,
A leaf of a collard green bush in their neighborhood!
I saw these times coming.
'Cleo' didn't have the market on this!
When I finally can find Collard Greens...
Stocked like precious gems near the avacados.
I go to the suburbs.
Pig feet, chitlins', hamhocks, snouts and hoofs,
Are there!
Like it's a Negro Christmas going on!
Or...
Someone's been passing around my grandma's recipes!
When I cook my Collard Greens...
I season the water with dashes of salt, pepper
And garlic powder.
I slice one vadalia onion and a small potato.
I add three teaspoons of apple cider vinegar,
One teaspoon of lemon juice.
Two tablespoons of Olive Oil...virgin!
Cover and bring this crap to a boil.
Fill kitchen sink for the Collard Green bath.
This is where the true romance begins!
With baking powder, salt and celery seasoning...
Gently lift your Collard Greens and place them,
Stalk first into the warm and inviting water!
Rub each leaf between your hands under the water.
And while you are there...
Alone with your Collard Greens,
Glad you did not have to go to battle to get them.
You rinse them and begin to slice their leaves,
Grabbing them into a bunch...
And placing those cut leaves in a bowl.
When this task is done,
Put those greens in a pot that, hopefully...
Smells like an exotic preparation for royalty!
Turn down that boiled heat...under the pot!
To medium cook...
And let them do so for about 45mins to an hour.
Never rush cooking Collard Greens.
Oh...
When I want my Collard Greens,
To taste better than any on the scene!
I use baby smoked turkey butts.
In the boiled prepped water,
With the other sizzling seasons!
Any turkey butt will do...
But those baby butted turkeys,
Make gobbling up Collard Greens so delicious.
Enjoy!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If You Want to Keep Your Peace Secured
I've been in one spot for twenty one years.
Mended from several heartbreaks.
And dried my own tears.
I know I've lost my mind...
At least a few times or more.
And the few people I knew had little to say.
Or bothered to knock on my opened door.
And today! TODAY...I get visitors.
Who claim to be my friends.
But I also know this much too well...
Folks only come around,
When they are near a dead end...
With no money to spend!
So I sat listening to 'them' ask...
'How have you been? '
And when I said I was doing great...
I was given from them big fake grins!
And I offered to them my hand and said...
'I'm so glad ya'll came by!
I need a loaf of bread.'
They quickly got up and left!
And that is how I have managed,
To keep my peace of mind.
Especially in a place...
Like this hometown of mine!
I can't wait for that fresh gossip,
To go around a few times!
And...
If you,
Any of you
Want to keep your peace secured...
Tell folks you ain't got a dime!
That will do it!
Unless...
You just happen to be cooking,
Collard greens with fried chicken wings.
Potato salad and yams,
WITH ice tea?
Unexpectedly?
You 'then' have folks,
You can't get rid of fast enough!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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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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I'm good in the kitchen. I can cook seafood, collard greens, black-eyed peas.
quote by Monique Coleman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thanksgiving
The people in our country have set aside a day
to celebrate with family, a day on which they pray
that giving thanks for all they have will make them think again
that many are not as fortunate and then they'll say Amen.
The table set before them will whet their appetite.
The turkey and the dressing and yams will bring delight.
The cornbread and the cranberries are ready for the eating.
The adults and the children once again are meeting.
When the dinner's over, the best is yet to come.
The pumpkin pies with whipped cream and then the men succumb
to watch a football game or two until they fall asleep.
And when the dishes all are done with leftovers in a heap,
Mom will hand them out to all so later they'll ingest
the tasty morsels for a second time.
Thanksgiving is the best! !
Happy Thanksgiving to all my readers.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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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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Carcinogenic Potato Chips...by talile ali
me and my dad
we use to walk
about the town when he
should be at work
and me in school
eating potato chips
and drinking soda pops
talking and walking
and walking and talking
i always wondered why
my dad never took me back to the
school house where i ran away
so that i could be with my daddy
now i hear that chips are filled
with alcolids
500 times more carcinogenic than
cigarettes
now i have prostate cancer
and i may pass away
my love is scared to death
it has to be that way
could i blame society
for allowing this to be
carcinogenic potato chips
could be the death of me
how good things are so often
turned into bits of insanity
and all of this and heaven
so to reign on me
Copyright © 2009
poem by Talile Ali
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Before' The Beans
Take one turkey butt,
And put it in boiling water.
Make sure you had put in olive oil first.
With a little butter, oregano and basil leaves.
Then add two tablespoons of soy sauce.
A pinch or two of brown sugar, salt and red pepper.
20 minutes!
That's all you want to give it 'before' the beans!
Speckled Butter Beans.
With kidney and black eye peas.
Add them with sliced carrots and celery.
Turn down the heat,
To medium for approximately 45minutes.
And serve this with brown rice.
If you are into chicken...
Fried wings would be delicious.
For the better of the best tastes,
The 'smoked' turkey butt is great for that!
NOTE: 'Yes' this is my own original recipe.
Enjoy!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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Preparing Dinner
I watch the pot on the stove
Water is overspilling
The rice is cooking
With bubbles galore
I smother chicken in sauce
Sauce that is made up of green pepper, black pepper and onions
Accompanied with that is the All in one spice.
Watch out for the toilet paper
The spices start talking
The chicken gets fried
The smell of breyani echoes through the house
I chop the potatoes as well as the carrots
I open up McCain veggies
And distribute it with the food
I put more spices in and the McCain veggies
Gets assimilated into the food
The pot is filled with colours
The steam fills the house
The brown chicken starts talking to the yellow potatoes
So does the carrots
The rice is strained
It rises to the core
I use tastic rice
Because it is the best out of them all
I set the table with plates
And it is ready to be filled
One by one they get dished out
First the rice (centered) and then the potatoes and chicken
Ice cream is served as desert
Coca-Cola is poured into glasses
The sweet taste bubbles in my mouth
The hot food burns my mouth
While the cold drink soothes its pain
I smother tomatoes and onions with vinegar
And serve them next to the food
The sauce gives the tongue extra kick
And goes down with a good drink
poem by Lee John Siebritz
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Tender Buttons [Apple]
APPLE
Apple plum, carpet steak, seed clam, colored wine, calm seen, cold cream, best shake, potato, potato and no no gold work with pet, a green seen is called bake and change sweet is bready, a little piece a little piece please.
A little piece please. Cane again to the presupposed and ready eucalyptus tree, count out sherry and ripe plates and little corners of a kind of ham. This is use.
poem by Gertrude Stein
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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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Silver
Nirvana- Silver
Mom and dad went to a show
They dropped me off at Grandpa Joe's
I kicked and screamed, said please don't go
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Had to eat my dinner there
Mashed potatoes and stuff like that
I couldn't chew my meats too good
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
She said, well, don't you start your crying
Go outside and ride your bike
That's what I did, I killed my toe
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
After dinner, I had ice cream
I fell asleep and watched TV
I woke up in my mother's arms
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
I wanna be alone
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Potato Pie
Oh lord I feel fine today
Im walking on cloud nine today
Im over that line today
Happiness is finally mine today
I guess Im just a lucky guy
And Im prepared to tell you why
Its strictly on account of my
Sweet potato pie
Im the fellow that she loves the most
The main reason why she left the coast
Shes my little girlziña
That much hotter that a jalapeo
Tender like a night in june
Sweeter than a honeymoon
Brighter than a silver spoon
Just as crazy as a loon
Softer than a lullabye
Deeper than the midnight sky
Soulful as a babys cry
My sweet potato pie
I used to see her around the neighborhood
I wonder how she grew up so good
She belonged to freddy and he was bad
And I never was ready to make him mad
Im glad I had to wait awhile
A little bit too juvenile
I needed to refine my style
A silk suit and a crocodile smile
So let the whole damn world go by
cause I just want to testify
From now on its me and my
Sweet potato pie
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grandma Didn't Spend A Dime To Find Logic
Those who believe they can predict Mother Nature,
Are the same ones who perceive,
They can create the flavor and taste...
Of Grandma's award winning Sweet Potato Pie.
Only to realize,
Such predictions are a waste of time...
And money spent,
Educating themselves to 'be' Grandma.
When Grandma didn't spend a dime to find logic.
Grandma had a mind of her own.
Satisfying each and everytime AND was unpredictable!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Suggestive Modifications
Suggestive modifications,
Seldom reflect a credible ability.
Selected suggestive modifications,
Has a lot to do with the picking and choosing...
That which best represents one's taste!
And one's identity to that frame of mind,
Others too find suitable with a limiting done...
To one's own comfort zone.
'What are you saying? '
Am I not the only one eating collard greens?
'Don't be silly.
Of course you are.
No one else brought them.
And the way you are eating them,
No one has a chance to taste...
How delicious they are.'
I know.
And I am not here to see them wasted.
Passed to me the hot sauce.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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C5H8O4NaN
If you have not acquired a taste for Chinese food?
That's perfectly okay!
I haven't strayed too far away from a piece
of fried chicken with a side order of collard greens...
Every now and then!
It was almost a 'sin' not to when I was a kid growing up!
It was an 'accepted' tradition!
When my grandmother would 'make' us eat
Her delicious treats!
'I never understood that at all!
Weren't we suppose to hate,
What she would make
Us eat? ? '
Back then?
I will say this...
You may ying and yang all you wish,
To mock those Chinese dishes.
But a recommended taste for Chinese dialogue,
May boost your future's outlook...
As well as your diet!
With or without C5H8O4NaN...
Monosodium glutamate.
As well as an enhanced appreciation for the culture!
It always helps to be somewhat prepared!
And substitutions for salt...
To add flavor,
Is available!
No greasy fatback is used in their recipes!
Most of them are steamed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Fury Of Cooks
Herbs, garlic,
cheese, please let me in!
Souffles, salad,
Parker House rolls,
please let me in!
Cook Helen,
why are you so cross,
why is your kitchen verboten?
Couldn't you just teach me
to bake a potato,
to bake a potato,
that charm,
that young prince?
No! No!
This is my county!
You shout silently.
Couldn't you just show me
the gravy. How you drill it out
of the stomach of that bird?
Helen, Helen,
let me in,
let me feel the flour,
is it blinding and frightening,
this stuff that makes cakes?
Helen, Helen,
the kitchen is your dog
and you pat it
and love it
and keep it clean.
But all these things,
all these dishes of things
come through the swinging door
and I don't know from where?
Give me some tomato aspic, Helen!
I don't want to be alone.
poem by Anne Sexton
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