People Into Quiche
Do you mind passing to me the quiche?
'Oh...
So,
You're into quiche?
You know what they say about those into quiche? '
I can not wait to hear.
What is it that 'they' say?
'It is said...
People into quiche,
Are passionate.
Artistic!
And quite loving.'
I've never heard that before.
Here...
Why don't you take my piece of quiche.
I'm not seeking a companion.
And you...
Are obviously more into quiche than me.
I am more into black eye peas and carrots!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ms Le Quiche
Tired of wrapping up her naps,
Tied tightly to keep them held in place.
And showing up everywhere.
She knew in her heart,
She had to buy herself...
Some 'good' hair!
To end her anguish and despair.
And that she did.
Anchored to her scalp,
As the wind would blow.
She now glowed as her flowing mane,
Tossed to bounce around below her shoulders.
She made sure the people would know...
No longer will her naps trap!
She's be the 'girl'...
With the swiveling hips.
Flowing lucious hair!
And the one noticed...
To be 'that' girl on the go!
'Excuse me,
But...
Is your name Bertha?
Bertha Jackson? '
Oh no!
You must be mistaken.
My name is Boo'Keisha Rayon.
'I apologize.
There is 'something' about you,
That reminds me of Big Butt B.'
No...
That's not me.
My firends call me Boo-Boo Le Quiche.
I just bet they do.
Ms Le Quiche.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I don't always prepare such rich meals. Sometimes I'll just serve a simple quiche, salad and dessert for dinner. During the week I try to eat lightly.
quote by Paul Lynde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silverfish
A silverfish is not a fish
also not part of any quiche.
It lives in houses below par
that's where the roaches also are.
So grab the mop and fullstrength bleach
go after all the bugs in reach.
And keep your home in shape A-one
and do not rest until it's done.
And if you see a fish that twinkles
and doesn't have too many wrinkles
out of the water, on dry ground
just step on him, without a sound.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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a Thunderstorm claps outside
There’s a thunder storm that claps outside
and lightning bolt after lightning bolt flashes past
and the first big drops fall
slamming on the roof
and there are cats and dogs
that finds shelter
and cosiness inside,
but it’s far better
to sit right against you
and to get a portion
of your own
spinach and feta quiche
poem by Gert Strydom
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Nouveau Riche
I’d rather be a nouveau riche
than some impoverished veteran.
I’m looking for a nouveau niche
that’s hopefully a better ’un
than that which I now occupy,
without resources that the rich
have, whether old or nouveau––I
don’t really think it matters which.
Too long I’ve been a nouveau poor.
It isn’t fun, you don’t get used
to poverty, the only cure
that gives my poverty a boost
is taking out new credit cards
that have a pleasing plastic glow,
ignoring all the crass canards
I hear from those to whom I owe
a fortune. They must know I won’t
repay them––can’t when nouveau poor!
Repayment cannot be my wont
till I have nouveau riche allure
to help me keep up with expenses,
impoverished by nouveau schemes.
Till creditors come to their senses
I can’t fulfill my nouveau dreams,
a man who, though a nouveau poor,
would rather he were nouveau riche,
though unrealistic, to be sure,
more real than those men who eat quiche.
12/27/99,3/30/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Tomato
My love is a tiny red cherry tomato
That has found it's way into my heart by way of,
'An omelette'
'A cheese sandwhich'
A kittenish quiche
A side salad, that slid in through the side entrance
A tiny glistening punnet that flirted with the light
A drink carton full of bloody juice
A red nose that passed itself off as a tomato
A tin of Italian agraphobic plum tomatoes
A pizza
A pie
A spicy tomato pasta
A bed of floating tomatoes in a home made punch
A seed which grew secretly from my garden bed
Into a vine
Ready to pick
This tomato love is mine
It also came into my heart by way of
A tin of soup
A bottle of ketchup
And alot of sauce
My love is born
Not yet filing for divorce
Yvette Smith march 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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In the gardens of Margaret Robberts
In the gardens of Margaret Robberts
white roman pillars runs
in rows down a lane
and there’s a green domed roof
that throws a long shadow.
Between the plants there are fairies hiding
and their homes are forsaken,
camped off with silver wire
and as if she has escaped
one blows on a copper magical flute.
There are red roses
blooming beautifully
and a citrus odour
coming from the lemon trees
and three boys are proud
of the lemons that they are carrying
and I wonder what is going to happen
when they eat some of them.
In the small chapel
I take my hat from my head
and there are beautiful verses
on the walls
and a round stained glass window
with a golden cross
and points pointing
like a white compass
in all directions
that is possible to determine.
We say a silent prayer
and walk to the bell tower
where you hold the chain
for a photograph
and you pay for cool drink,
chicken pie and spinach quiche
and we are exhausted
from the summer heat
and everything becomes peaceful
and I look at you
while you scatter pink rock salt
over your food
l’Envoi
Later we walk to a place
where angels hang on fine strings
and you sit and relax
on a bench with one painted
against the wall
while I try to catch
everything with the camera
and you smile more beautiful
than any angel,
with rays shining out of your golden eyes
and there’s a cute sunhat
on your head
and your locks fall in auburn strings
past you slender shoulders.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Multiracial Festival of Love
We are going to celebrate this Valentine’s Day
In style, New York’s style
On top of the pile
Of the black and white snow
On Eastern Parkway
Not too far from the subway
Let’s clean up the graffitis
Let’s fly the balloons and the confettis
The streets will be wrapped with a giant rainbow
Soul food everywhere, hot patties and pâtés cordés
On every corner; griots, hot dogs, hamburgers
Including Asiatic and African cuisines
Bring more lasagna, more appetizers
More soda, all kinds of rice and beans
More quiche, more kool-aid
More punch and more lemonade
Play the music, twist and crack the knees
Rock and roll and chase the bees
Oh! This is our way of celebrating Love
With the blessings of the spirits above
Love has no color, Love is colorless
Cupid is wearing James Brown’s vest
He is getting down with Erotika and the rest
Do you get it? Love will forever remain the best
By the way, love is like the air
It is a spirit that is floating in the atmosphere
No one can touch it, no one can see it
One can only feel it, enjoy it
And make the best of it.
We are going to celebrate this lovely day
With friends since there are no strangers
In the festive valley
The children are happy; the women are dressed like flowers
And the gentlemen are doing what they always dream
Of mimicking all the time, you know what I mean
Don’t be too prosecutorial, don’t be mean
Have fun while guarding your self-esteem
The spirits are with us, they are colorless
How about that! There is only one race
Turn of the lights, touch your face
Tell me what you feel, love is like a mess
No one can truly describe it
Paint it, color it
And make the best of it.
Let’s enjoy today as if tomorrow
Will never come
Let’s chase the sorrow
And welcome
Everyone, Love is in the air
Let’s be happy, just and fair
Let’s celebrate Valentine in style, New York’s style
On top of the pile
Of black and white snow
Inside the circle of a heavenly rainbow.
poem by Hebert Logerie (February 2011)
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I Really Mish My Teesh
I always looked after them whilst growing up,
Until I was about twelve years old,
Now at night they are stored in a cup,
The very thought of that leaves me so cold.
I started adulthood with 32 teeth,
All perfect in every way,
White on top, the same underneath,
Not one of them showed signs of decay.
I brushed them on occasion if I felt the need,
But mostly I left them alone,
Mainly after a bevy or perhaps a feed,
Main thing is they were all my own.
Dental hygiene was there but it wasn't great,
But so what, they weren't that bad,
Despite all the warnings I have to now state,
My attitude was totally mad.
I kept being told I had really bad breath,
But I never took heed of the link,
When they said in truth it smells of death,
I blamed it on the fags and the drink.
I ignored the warnings they were under attack,
A decision I would live to regret,
Before I knew it they were covered in plaque,
With oral problems I was now beset.
I kept getting toothache time and again,
It's an affliction that is truly ill gotten,
How did I manage to stand that pain,
Knowing it was my teeth, which were rotten.
The sweet things the booze and the cigarettes,
Had left my teeth in tatters,
It's entirely my fault as nobody forgets,
Looking after them should be all that matters.
I could no longer smile, as I felt so ashamed,
My teeth were worn out and black,
My gums were sore and terribly inflamed,
Too far gone to find a way back.
I couldn't enjoy my food any more,
Cold drinks were a thing of the past,
Eating anything had became such a chore,
I now wish I had made my teeth last.
Ailments are many when you choose not to brush,
Yet they can all be avoided with ease,
By cleaning every day you will keep them plush
You'll avoid the risk of disease.
Visit the dentist; it's never too late,
They will help you to keep your teeth pure,
Don't listen to those who say, its just fate,
When they're gone there's no miracle cure.
Your adult teeth are the last ones you'll get,
Make sure they stay healthy and clean,
If you treat them well you can safely bet,
You will keep them totally pristine.
It's easy to avoid future dental strife,
All you need do is take care,
You must accept that your teeth are for life,
Look after them and they'll always be there.
I watch them lying in a glass every night,
While I lie hear and suck on my quiche,
Being unable to chew will never feel right,
‘' I Really Mish My Teesh ‘'
Ethelred
Ethelred had toasted bread
Each night before he went to bed.
And every day when he got up
Hot Chocolate filled his morning cup.
Then before he went to School
A Bacon Sandwich was the rule.
His Mother made his lunch each day
Which took about an hour I'd say.
Two Sausage Rolls and three Pork Pies
Four bags of Crisps as a surprise.
Some Sandwiches of Roasted Lamb
A fresh baked Quiche of Cheese and Ham.
Then for Dessert a Chocolate Cake
With Clotted Cream she'd always make.
His School was forty yards away
A healthy walk you just might say.
But Ethelred would always stop
At McIntyre's his favorite shop.
Some Sherbet Lemons or a Dip
Into his School Bag he would slip.
Then he would saunter on his way
Prepared to face another day.
At School he'd join his Classroom line
In readiness to start at nine.
His Mum had written him a note
And placed it in his Overcoat.
It asked his Teacher to refrain
From making him do 'Games' again.
'Ethelred's not well' it said
'Could he do Cookery instead? '.
His Teacher thought that it was wise
In view of his enormous size.
That Ethelred should still take part
In exercise to help his heart.
They set off for the Football Field
Where very soon it was revealed
That Ethelred would still not play
He'd left his kit at home today.
His Teacher would not be gainsaid
Nor change the plans that he had made.
Ethelred was much too fat
And needed help to alter that.
So, off he hauled him to the Gym
With clear intent, to make him slim.
He'd start him on the Vaulting Horse
Which he would reinforce, of course.
Young Ethelred looked on, bemused
His Mother wouldn't be amused
At Teacher's plans to make him fit
In fact, she wouldn't hear of it.
He needed building up, she thought
Not turn into the skinny sort
Who suffered from perrenial ills
And spent their lives digesting pills.
But Ethelred felt that he should
Obey the Teacher if he could.
So even though he had no kit
Prepared himself to go for it.
He removed his shoes and socks
And headed for the vaulting box.
Determinedly he built up speed
Forgetting all about the need
To leave the ground and make a vault
A pretty catastrophic fault!
He hit the box with dreadful force
Destroying it, at once, of course.
But even then he did not stop
He hit the wall...And then went POP! !
And so, a word now, to the wise;
DO NOT MIX FOOD AND EXERCISE! ! ! ! ! ! !
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
poem by Owain Glyn
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Strizhevskaya
Strizhevskaya likes food that fresh,
as do so many of her friends,
eschewing fish and cattle flesh,
which carnivores who don’t offends
until they see that ethics may
be quite compatible with taste,
which she believes to be the way
demanded by the Torah, laced
with wine, and many kinds of cheese,
which both de rigueur are for her
and all her friends who’re glad to seize
the Sabbath as a friendly burr,
the special holy moment when
Jews should be eating only food
that turns young Hebrew boys to men
and makes sure that the girls are Jewed
with eco-friendly partners who
to Torah words are most attentive.
Food-consciously she gives this crew
to be good Jews a great incentive
that I applaud although I eat
dead fish, dead cows, dead fowl, dead sheep,
which help me greedily to greet
the Sabbath bride before I sleep.
replete with meat of beasts that chew
the cud and have a cloven hoof,
which matters greatly to this Jew
before he takes his shabbos schluf.
Inspired by an article in the LA Times, May 9,2009 by Mary MacVean and Duke Helfand (“‘Eco-kosher’ Jews have an appetite for ethical eating, ” describing the food habits of eco-friendly kosher Jews, including our friend Nadya Strizhevskaya:
As is the custom, the guests observed the holy day of rest with a meal, but with a twist: They were sharing a 'sustainable' Sabbath dinner on this Friday evening, with food that was locally grown, mostly organic and intended to elevate their practice of Judaism.
Arch and her husband, David Andorsky, passed around goat cheese - made at home - sprinkled with oregano, thyme and chives. Sarah Newman brought ratatouille made with her home-canned tomatoes and vegetables from a farmers market. The others, too, prepared food that was not only kosher and vegetarian, they explained, but provided a way for them to strengthen their ties to their faith and to live out a Jewish imperative to protect the Earth. The dinner reflected a powerful current in Jewish culinary consciousness: Growing numbers of people are choosing to express their values through the food they put on their tables, altering the most basic day-to-day decisions about nourishment. It's why Jenna Snow picked loquats from her yard - rather than buying them at the store - for the custardy cake called clafoutis that she made for the Sabbath potluck….
Strizhevskaya displayed her quiche, made with kale, peppers, onions, rosemary and marjoram - all from the Culver City market. 'When we go through this very long process of preparation, we become more at one with the creation all around us, ' Strizhevskaya told the group. 'We stop taking God's gifts for granted. For me, that's what Judaism is all about.'As dinner drew to a close, the friends sang the 'grace after meals' in Hebrew:
Because of His great goodness, we have never lacked food.... You are blessed, Lord, who provides food for all.
5/9/09
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Eerily In Need of More Rum and Cokers
Even though its been made clear,
The atmosphere stays eerily in need...
Of more rum,
And cokers.
Although others invited,
Join in to share their preferences.
Gin and tonic has been dropped.
And vodka with pitted olives...
Seem to have stopped,
Being the rage these days.
Beer with chasers of scotch,
Give peppermint schnapps new appeal.
When a numbing done to get drunk,
Gives some a reason to touch...
And feel beyond sober barriers.
'Harold...
Have you met my husband,
Keith? '
And the red wine with beef,
Satisfies over white...
Sipped with fish!
Depending on the 'dish' it is with!
*No I haven't...yet!
Should I?
Why?
What is he in to? *
'I had no idea this was 'pot luck'.
I would have baked a duck.
Or brought fried chicken wings.
May I taste that casserole?
Do you mind passing to me,
That delicious mix of carrots and peas...
Please? '
Even though its been made clear,
The atmosphere stays eerily in need...
Of more rum,
And cokers.
There are some 'cooler' folks...
Preferring sweetened munchies,
Socially!
Leaving rum and cokers,
A special breed of people when they meet.
'I had no idea this was 'pot luck'.
I would have baked a duck.
Or brought fried chicken wings.
May I taste that casserole?
Do you mind passing to me,
That delicious mix of carrots and peas...
Please?
These biscuits!
WHO did these biscuits?
They are wonderful! '
*Those are mine.*
~I am a cooker too, Harold.~
*That's good to know.
That's good to know,
Keith.*
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Voodoo People
Wherever I walk
It seems that I am
Following the voodoo people
In front of me
Because the only thing that I can see
When I look infront of me
Is that black shadow
That comes from
The voodoo people
Straight to the pavement
Just imagine if the voodoo people
Were roastbife
Everybody would be eaten it now
With mashed potatoes, peas, carrots and gravy
But unfortunately they are humans
Of bones and flesh
Just like me
But the only thing that is different
Is the color of their skin
The voodoo people sleep in bed
The same way that I do
And the voodoo people eat food
Just like me
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Artistic
Artistic
It's artistic
Grace in your movement
Is artistic.
Artistic
It's artistic
Sweetness in your voice
Is artistic.
Artistic
It's artistic
Gleam in your eye
Is artistic.
I'm filled with inspiration
In my dormant artistic pursuit...
With brush in hand
I'll paint your every move
With hidden treasure of words
I'll weave poems of what you say
And I'll move as you command
By the gleam of your eye.
poem by Tirupathi Chandrupatla
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Man o War
Why u screaming?
U know Im not a man of war
Break the gold chain that I gave u
Throw it down on the floor
Instead of this 7 page letter
I wish I had piece of mind
My friends tell me: u should go get her
But loving u, loving u, loving u
Is a waste of time
Oh yes it is, a waste of time - ooh
I need 2 get out of this city
I need 2 get u out of my head
I need 2 get away from the words that u said 2 me
Why u screaming? (ooh)
U know Im not a man of war
How could u think that i
Could put something inside of someone
That I put inside u, inside u?
Even if I tried 2 (tried 2), tried 2 (tried 2)
I couldnt cuz I still smell like the last time that we ...
Loving u, loving u, loving u
Is a waste of time (a waste of time)
Oh, yes it is
Loving u - a waste of time (ooh-oh)
I need 2 feel wanted again
I need 2 feel love is alive, yeah
I need 2 hear u say
That u aint looking 4 another reason 2 make me cry
Why u screaming? (ooh)
U know Im not a man of war
Ive been trying 2 make u happy, baby
Ever since we were sophomores
(but loving u, loving u, loving u)
Is a waste of time, oh yes it is
Oh, is a waste of time, waste of time, waste of time...
If theres no future
Then there is no past
And all weve got is right now
Lets make it last
Make it last, make it last (ooh)
Why u screaming?
U know Im not a man of war
Break the gold chain (break the gold chain that I gave u)
Throw it down on the floor - oh baby
Instead of this 7 page letter
I wish I had piece of mind
(my friends tell me: u should go get her)
Tell me: u should go get her
(but loving u) loving u, loving u, loving u
Is a waste of time (a waste of time)
Oh, a waste of time - oh yeah
I need 2 get out of this city
I need 2 get u out of my head
I need 2...
I need 2 get away from the words that u said 2 me
I need 2... [...]
I need 2 feel wanted again
Oh, I need 2 hear no sin
Hear me...
(but loving u, loving u, loving u)
Why u screaming?
U know Im not a man of war
Break the gold chain that I gave u
Throw it down on the floor - oh baby
Instead of this 7 page letter
I wish I had piece of mind
My friends tell me: u should go get her
But loving u, loving u, loving u
Is a waste of time
U know Im not a man of war
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Piece of This
A son trying to help his mother who’s 83 in to the tub to bathe hears words that cut him to his very soul, “You must want a piece of this.” Now, as he hold back his hurt and wipe the spit of his face that his mother had spat on him thoughts begin to race through his mind. How could the woman who gave birth to me think that I would want to do that to her? She comforted me when I was afraid at night. She fed me when I hungry. Yes she was the first woman I loved just like any son would love his mother. But no I have no Oedipus complex. So no I don’t want a piece of that. Wow, this woman is the Grandmother to my son I wonder if I was not here and he was would she say to him “You must want a piece of this.” I know Alzheimer has taken over her mind and she is not the loving mother I once knew but it stills hurts to hear her say, “You must want a piece of this.”
A Few Easy Pieces
Piece of this
piece of that
Peace and bliss,
Piece of crap
Peace of mind,
Piece of cake,
piece of work
Piece of steak,
Piece of eight
Piece of the action
Piece of the pie
Peace and satisfaction
Piece in the valley
Piece of glass
piece of my mind
Piece of a….
That’s quite enough now! ! !
Let’s quit this dance
Let’s stop while we’re ahead…
Let’s Give peace a chance
poem by David Whalen
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My Black Eye Pea Stew
Did I mention,
My black eye pea stew to you?
Well...
This is what you do.
Boil your water,
Add sliced smoked turkey butt.
With seasons you prefer.
I like to mix in olive oil with butter first.
Before adding apple vinegar...
With Old Bay and a bit of salt,
Then soy sauce...
To allow my taste buds to burst.
Add your black eye peas.
Speckled butter lima beans.
Kidney and black beans too!
I also enjoy cooking with onions...
Green peppers, carrots and celery.
For a flavored taste,
You simply can not refuse!
Well...
You can 'try' making attempts.
But licking your lips,
Is not too convincing of a defense.
'May I get some more? '
You sure can!
After I get to taste it myself!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Black of Night
The black of night
Gives most people fright
But me
I feel free
In the black of night
In the black of night
Most people loose their sight
Because they cannot see
With out their precious light
In the black of night
Most people think the black of night is not right
But to me the black of night
Is one of the most grandest sights! !
Every day I wait and wait
Waiting to see that beautiful sight
Every day I wait and wait
For the black of night
poem by Michael Carlson
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