Related quotes: It’s not every day a...

Old for New

It’s not every day a spud jumps out
and asks you to take it home for tea,
but this old King Edward potato did
and it wanted to be chips for me.

He said that he had been discarded
because of his sell by date.
I told him that this was no reason
to become chips upon a plate.

I asked him if he’d considered genetics,
and he said that it was too late.
His extended shelf life was now over
and he’d go out in style with a steak.

“With tubers sticking out your head, ” I said,
“you could produce potatoes by the score.
All it takes is a few months in the soil
and nature will do the rest for sure.”

“Are you saying that I will live again? ”
“Yes, but not exactly as you are,
you will first become a fresh green shoot
and then a lovely white flower.

You will then attract the butterflies and bees
who will kiss new life into you,
and when your flowers pass on your genetic code,
you’ll grow into potatoes new.

If one of your descendents did this every year
instead of being a plate of chips.
Your genealogical line could live on forever
because you chose genetics.”

“Do you know I really like the sound of this,
you’ve filled me full of good cheer,
so if I could trouble you to put me in the ground,
my descendents will see you next year.”

poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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

poem by Talile Ali
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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!

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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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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A Modern Day Miracle

Where could you find an example
of true faith in the twentieth century?

‘Faith Like Potatoes’ to plant
in El Nino, in drought, in dust
a never grown before potato crop?

Angus Buchan, a farmer, in Durban

South Africa declared before 35,000
“To hell with El Nino! We are going
to plant this year! And we are going
to plant potatoes.” Fool or Man of Faith?

The Wisdom Of The Modern World
Scientists warned farmers not to plant!

“Do not plant this season unless
you have irrigation.” Angus had none!

Planting planting potatoes in dust
would be a massive massive risk!

It would require a miracle!

Did Angus expect a miracle?
Or was he an experienced potato farmer?

Angus was a maize and cattle farmer!
He had never grown potatoes!
No farmer could grow potatoes in drought!
Not in drought without irrigation!

But all farmers and men of faith
know a crop, a harvest is grown,
from a seed, a seed of planted faith.

Angus prayed and prayed
during the planting and he knew;
in his heart that the Lord;
wanted him to plant potatoes.

Angus expected a modern day miracle from God!

God has complained men lack faith!
To dream their dreams large enough!

Angus planted potatoes in dust on his farm in drought!
Without irrigation without water on his farm in faith!

Angus hired two extra farms, planted potatoes in their dust!
If the potato crop failed, Angus would loose everything!

“Faith is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not yet seen.” Hebrews 11: 1.

Potatoes grow under the ground
and are not seen until the harvest!
Angus planted in faith; reaped a miracle of faith!
“because the righteous one will live by reason of faith.” Galatians 3: 11.

“The condition for a miracle is difficulty,
however the condition for a great miracle
is not difficulty, but impossibility.” Angus Buchan

“Seek and you shall find knock
and the door shall be opened to you.”

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Fussy About Food

I’ve always been really fussy about what I eat,
But I’ll tolerate most foods, if the cook cheats!
It really depends on how a food has been cooked,
Whether or not, it has a place in my good books.

Examples of my some of my most hated foods,
Are sliced roast beef and apples that are stewed.
I’ll eat beef that’s been minced up into a pie,
And apples diced into a crumble are also fine.

Fresh coriander leaves, I definitely will not touch,
But cooked in a curry, I don’t mind them so much.
On potatoes that have been boiled, I’m not that keen,
But eating mashed potato or chips, I can be often seen.

Egg and cress sandwiches, by me, are never approached,
But I love eggs that are hard boiled, fried or even poached.
I dislike the taste of carrots that have been picked fresh,
But with the taste of tinned carrots, I’m really impressed.

I’m not so keen on either petit pois or garden peas,
But with the taste of mushy peas, I’m very pleased.
In pies and pasties, I hate to have a filling of cheese,
But I’ll devour a slice of cheese on toast with ease.

I’ve been a fussy eater pretty much all of my life,
And, caused my mother much trouble and strife.
When I was small, I often left much of my dinner.
My mum often worried that I would get thinner.

Like many other children, my main course
Often ended up, smeared with tomato sauce.
The enjoyment of a meal, this often improved,
And frayed tempers were also often soothed.

If there was a certain food, which I did really hate,
My mum would still insist putting it upon my plate.
Even with it on my plate, I still didn’t like the taste,
So that particular food would inevitably go to waste.

As I’ve got older, I’ve acquired an improved appetite,
Much to my mother’s extreme relief, and total delight.
Now, as an adult, my dinner plate is often cleaned,
And, hardly ever is a single morsel left, to be seen.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Memories of the Greater Good

Get out of the way.
Just let me take the bullet for you.
One mistake
That is all it takes.
Then it all over.
Waking up sober.
The reality.
Get ready.
Hold on to my cape.
Let me give you my escape.
Go before it's to late.
Don't look back.
Their is not time to second guess.
Just react.

The rain washes all these thoughts away.
I was just looking into another photograph in a my album.
The memories have each their own little sound.
As a bird chips in a melody.
So do these great harmony.

They're you were.
Sitting by the pool all alone.
So I just went right up and started talking to you.
Breaking the ice with a smile.
I had no since of style.
The shyness I fought through.
The fog moved.
So focused on getting to the bottom of what was wrong.
What was this pretty attractive young girl moping around for.
Then I met him.
And It all became so clear.
The face of many beings.
Each a different narcissist.
A falling out, the had already been spread.
It started to grow.
It started to sprout.
Peeking it ugly head out of the ground.

It was too late things were put into motion.
With love as my devotion.
I made a sacrifice, the first of many.
I took a dive and let him beat the hell out of me.
For I was smart enough to know what would happen next.
His evil intentions shown.
No longer was he in control.
The spell had been broken.
He hated me, he tried to destroy me many times.
Personally, mentally, objectively.
I took his girl right before his eyes.
It didn't last long but it didn't matter because it was to protect her.
It was to make her stronger..
She would no longer believe any of his lies.

He could no longer hide behind his ego.
He was exposed.
That was the first of many stabs and jabs I took at him.
Mortal enemies.
By his character.
The code he live by.
They say judge not, unless you want to be judged.
But the things he did I couldn't just look the other way.
I should have left someone else be the hero of the day.
Then maybe she would be with me.
But for the greater good was my destiny.

I already knew it before I intervened.
Even now I don't think I would have changed a thing.
For there was happiness in which I brought.
Their was never another a broken smile from her.
Not like that one.
Always laughing, always looking to be entertained.
Seeking the next best thing.
Loneliness would never settle well.
And this was her down fall.
Not by him but other men.
Quick to jump on the band wagon.
She was damaged, by a blonde hair, blue eyed demon.
So pretty on the outside.
Some say he looked liked johnny depp.
I don't see the resemblance.
But just maybe.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Misson Motherland

(m - weikath / helloween, l - weikath)
So far from our system we came here throught space
To leave poisoned spheres for your race
Our knowledge we trade for the time shared on eatrh
To take and give for what its worth
On our screens
Weve been shown your world
Plead for your welcome you wont get hurt
Mission motherland
Another chance
With sunlit soil and air to breathe
Is there any place for us to live
To grow descendents to be free
You gave us resources
You gave us advice
To deal with the unknown to get humanize
Weve shown your dimensions
And brought you on ways
Youve never seen yesterday
Hand in hand
We will march througth time
So much more to research and find
Mission motherland
Another chance
With sunlit soil and air to breathe
Is there any place for us to live
To grow descendents to be free
When you hear these words
Weve taken cold refuge in freezers
To keep us live
What we did not know
Your central star called sun
Sends lethal rays to earth
Say how many of us died in the streams of light
Faceless bodies, morbid cries
Doomed our colonies
Wake us when
Youre healed the world
Save our souls
When will we be as as one again
And fulfill what we understand as
Mission motherland
Another chance
With sunlit soil and air to breathe
Is there any place for us to live
To grow descendents to be free

song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big Jack Loves His Food

Jack went to his doctors
he hadn't been for a year
twenty five stone he was
due to his love of chips and beer.
The doctor said he was now obese
and he would have to lose weight
Jack was told to eat more salads
and to stop drinking ale by the crate.
But Jack was now depressed
because he really loved his grub
his favourite meal was pie and chips
washed down with ten pints in the pub.
But he knew he was far too heavy
and the doctor was probably right
but he wanted one last big meal
down the pub that very night.
But alas Jack ate far too much
and couldn't stop filling his face
and after one pie too many
he exploded into outer space.
But even though Jack was gone
and this must have been his fate
you could say he did achieve something
he got rid of all that weight!

poem by Kevin Halls
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Take Me Home Again

Take me home again
where the soft breezes blow,
where the flower gardens
stand full of colours row by row.
Where the dark rich soil
makes everything planted in it grow.

Take me home again;
to the place where my dreams began,
where the sun shines the year around
and the air is fresh and fragrant.
Where every face wears a smile
and peace reins supreme there.

Take me home again
when this crazy war is over
so I can begin to dream again.
Where I can rest my head and forget
how cruel this world can be.
Let me live again in peace and harmony.

26 February 2011

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ox Cart Man

In October of the year,
he counts potatoes dug from the brown field,
counting the seed, counting
the cellar's portion out,
and bags the rest on the cart's floor.

He packs wool sheared in April, honey
in combs, linen, leather
tanned from deerhide,
and vinegar in a barrel
hoped by hand at the forge's fire.

He walks by his ox's head, ten days
to Portsmouth Market, and sells potatoes,
and the bag that carried potatoes,
flaxseed, birch brooms, maple sugar, goose
feathers, yarn.

When the cart is empty he sells the cart.
When the cart is sold he sells the ox,
harness and yoke, and walks
home, his pockets heavy
with the year's coin for salt and taxes,

and at home by fire's light in November cold
stitches new harness
for next year's ox in the barn,
and carves the yoke, and saws planks
building the cart again.

poem by Donald Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Helen and You and a Bag of Chips

After school
after tea
of bread and jam
a mug of tea

and a slice of cake
you met Helen
under the railway bridge
in Rockingham Street

and she was holding
Battered Betty her doll
in her arms
and she said

Betty wanted to come
she gets lonely
stuck at home
ok

you said
as long as she's quiet
and doesn't cry
all the time

she won't
Helen said
does your mum know
you're out?

you asked
of course
Helen replied
but she said

not to be late
or come home
in the dark
you'll be safe

I've got my six-shooter
with me
you said
tapping the toy gun

tucked in the belt
of your jeans
I told Mum
I was with you

and she said ok
I don't think
she'd let me out
otherwise

a train clattered
over the bridge
over head
let's go

you said
and the three of you
walked up and along by
the Trocadero cinema

she talking about
Battered Betty's day
and what Carmody
had said at school

and how he smelt
of B.O. and cabbages
you watched the people
passing along

the New Kent Road
a constant stream
passing back
and forth

and still Helen talked
as you walked
Carmody's just a fink
you said

take no notice
what he says
and she clutched your hand
with her free hand

not clutching the doll
and you both ran
across the road
and stood outside

the Odeon cinema
gazing at the still photos
in the frames
of what film was showing inside

don't fancy that
you said
too much kissing
and women crying

and boring men
what's wrong with kissing?
Helen asked
better than men

shooting guns
or riding horses
over yellow deserts
making women cry

you looked at her
with her large eyes
behind her thick lens glasses
watery as lakes

and her brown hair
plaited into two plaits
sure
you said

how about a bag of chips?
she nodded then said
I've got no money
don't worry my dad

gave me 6d
for polishing his shoes
the other day
you said

ok
she said
and you walked down
towards the Neptune fish shop

and asked for 6d of chips
and the man
with the one eye
scooped chips

into a bag
and you gave him
the money
and Helen sprinkled

salt and vinegar over them
and you both went outside
and stood together
and shared the bag of chips

and each chip tasted
hot and salty
and warmed your insides
and Helen kissed your cheek

with her greasy warm lips
and said
thank you for these
and you said

no problem
anything to please
and you felt
the damp kiss

there on your cheek
and you smiled
to yourself
thinking

I won't wash that off
for a week.

poem by Terry Collett
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When I First Lost My Impatience

I felt dirty and betrayed,
When I first lost my impatience.
I felt...
Used and so unclean.
I knew I had been stripped,
Of an innocence I would never have again.

To be vicious, cruel and mean...
Was all I saw and knew,
As a child growing up...
To be exposed to seeing these scenes.
People were being cussed out and talked about,
For not sharing their potato chips! Seriously.

I didn't know exactly why,
My impatience had been taken away...
In the manner it was done.
But I grew to understand there was a purpose.
And even if I shared all my chips...
I can always buy another bag. I learned!

Today I have discovered,
I have more patience than I have ever had.
And some who have come to test me...
Are surprised I am not so quick,
To give them a taste of impatience.

I have found a life I am determined to live.
One with a peace of mind...
And freed from 'identified' evil people.
Patience taught me how to observe first,
With my mouth closed and ears open to listen.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hot Potatoes

My baby woke me up this mornin
She said get down that labour exchange,
And if you dont come home with a job son,
Youll get no dinner to-day.
You gotta secure me a weekly workin wage.
Youll get no more fancy cookin,
Youll get no more apple pie,
Youll just get those plain hot potatoes
To satisfy your appetite.
La la la la la la potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way that you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes, yeh,
I want your lovin every single day.
I said I dont need your fancy cooking,
I like the simple things in life,
Just give me those plain hot potatoes
And Ill be well satisfied,
Theyll satisfy my appetite.
La la la la la la potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way that you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes, yeh,
I want your lovin 60 minutes an hour,
I want your lovin 24 hours a day,
I want your lovin 7 days a week.
Yeh, yeh, oh yeh.
I want your love, I need your love,
But all I get is hot potatoes
When I come home late at night
To satisfy my appetite.
Dont give me no more potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes,
I want your lovin every single day.
I want your lovin
La la la la la la potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way that you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes, hot potatoes, yeh.

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good To Yourself

I stopped at an all night diner
Ooh it seemed like a romantic thing to do
Yeah but Im lonely it aint like the movies
In the old days
I saw you sittin in the corner counting change
Like you were counting your daydreams
Then youe eyes they suddenly hit me like a railroad train
Oh sometimes I think I might be immune to a guy like you
But I cant walk away no I cant walk away
Oh tonight I see youre at the end of the line well me too
But we all gotta pay
I know youd be good to me
I know youd try to be good to me
But in the end baby cant depend on no one else
When the chips are down I have found
You better be good to yourself good to yourself
I guess Ive known you before maybe in high school
Or maybe youre just one more guy I went looking for
The boy next door
Or maybe Im the girl with the see through eyes
But I watch too many movies
I get tangled in the story of someone elses life
Baby who am I and who are you
Oh sometimes I go to bed at night
And I think that Im with you
Then I say a little prayer cuz I threw it all away
The other day you called up to see if I miss you
And all I could say was
I know youd be good to me
I know youd try to be good to me
But in the end baby cant depend on no one else
When the chips are down I have found
You better be good to yourself good to yourself
Night has a clever desguise
She makes me believe that Im lonely
I should know by now if I can make it to tomorrow
I can work it out
Cuz in the end baby cant depend on no one else
When the chips are down I have found
You better be good to yourself good to yourself

song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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I'm On A Diet

Oh body what have you done
I always fed you
Washed you
What is the meaning of this

You wanted fish and chips
You wanted pies
KFC McDonalds you got it
How could you do it to me

I gave up smoking for you
Bought bigger clothes
Worked out at the gym
You just ignored me

You grew hair on my back
My girth causes mirth
All saggy and fat
Now see what you get

No more McDonalds
Fish and chips or pies
All vegies and fruit
See how you like that

poem by Phil Smith
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Points

Counting points every day
To try and keep my weight at bay
Low cal this low fat that
Its all to keep me from getting fat

Meer morsels appear upon my plate
Were once was full my mighty plate
Green stuff coming out my ears
I should have buckteeth and rabbit ears

The weight is dropping really slow
I have such a long way to go
Rabbit food and plate so bare
About my weight I really care

Four months down the line
Lost loads of weight and feeling fine
No more grumbling about the food
That balanced diet done me good

Chellaston
06 04 2010

poem by Jim O'Donnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Hurts

I heard her footsteps on the driveway
whilst I was lying in our bed,
she’s been out all night again,
sleeping elsewhere instead.

I asked her why she does this.
but she turned and looked away,
she then said she wants a good time
and isn’t ready to live life my way.

She was too young when she married
and babies came along too soon,
but now they’re more independent,
her feet itch when she sees the moon.

I asked where our marriage was going
and she said that she just didn’t care.
All she wanted to do was live her life
in someplace where I wasn’t there.

So I asked her if she still loved me
and she said she never really did,
and the only reason she married
was because she was having my kid.

With tears I told her that I loved her
and there was no one else for me.
She shrugged and said that’s tough,
but she wanted to be set free.

So our marriage is now over
and the children live with me.
Their mother has gone forever
and that’s the way it has to be.