Salad Poetry
neruda's chicken
nuggets
whitman's elbow
macaroni
william's mayonnaise
dickinson's olive oil
a little of elliot's salt
and robert's
frost, brautigan's
catfish, lowell's skunk,
sea canes of walcott,
bishop's broccoli
with armadillo meat
yeat's yeast bread
an afternoon of friends
in a party with
robinson
spring ice storm on
mountain road in the poconos,
as mayer says the grace.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Up and In the Poconos
Up and in the Poconos,
Some people go to fly their kites.
Blown high and held tight.
And up and in the Poconos,
Some people do whatever they like.
When night arrives.
'Cause up and in the Poconos,
You can feel the peace that is right!
And no one's uptight.
You can boat, climb a mountain or...
Just fish.
And just sit and relax.
To do whatever you wish.
Since when up in the Poconos,
Nobody knows your business as it is!
Discreet with fresh air to breath.
In complete amenity that's indulged.
When up in the Poconos,
Nobody knows your business as it is!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Out Of Chicken Nuggets
I could not make this up,
But...
I saw a woman going nuts,
Because her favorite restaurant...
Ran out of chicken nuggets.
She went ballistic when she learned this.
And was televised throwing a fit.
She broke the glass at a drive up window.
And punched the clerk because of it.
Some folks just can not handle stress.
And many aren't accustomed,
To being told 'no' and not yes!
And some today are clearly needing mental rest.
Yet...
There ARE some things people should not address.
And this is an example,
Of what one should not have done...
So publicly to get off her chest!
I could not make this up,
But...
I saw a woman going nuts,
Because her favorite restaurant...
Ran out of chicken nuggets.
'They ran out of nuggets!
And she found a reason to lose her mind! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Catfish Friend
If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, "It's beautiful
here by this pond.I wish
somebody loved me,"
I'd love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, "I wonder
if there are any catfish
in this pond?It seems like
a perfect place for them."
poem by Richard Brautigan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Olive Fire
An olive fire's a lovely thing;
Somehow it makes me think of Spring
As in my grate it over-spills
With dancing flames like daffodils.
They flirt and frolic, twist and twine,
The brassy fire-irons wink and shine. . . .
Leap gold, you flamelets! Laugh and sing:
An olive fire's a lovely thing.
An olive fire's a household shrine:
A crusty loaf, a jug of wine,
An apple and a chunk of cheese -
Oh I could be content with these.
But if my curse of oil is there,
To fry a fresh-caught fish, I swear
I do not envy any king,
As sitting by my hearth I sing:
An olive fire's a lovely thing.
When old and worn, of life I tire,
I'll sit before an olive fire,
And watch the feather ash like snow
As softly as a rose heart glow;
The tawny roots will loose their hoard
Of sunbeams centuries have stored,
And flames like yellow chicken's cheep,
Till in my heart Peace is so deep:
With hands prayer-clasped I sleep . . . and sleep.
poem by Robert William Service
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One Meat Ball
(l. singer-h.zaret)
The little man walked up and down
To find an eating place in town
He read the menu through and through
To see what fifteen cents could do
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, he could afford but one meat ball
He told the waiter near at hand
A simple dinner he had planned
The guests were startled one and all to hear
That waiter loudly call
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, this here gent wants one meat ball
Little man felt very bad
One meat ball was all he had
And in his dreams he hears that call
Ya gets no bread with one meat ball
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, you get no bread with one meat ball
Well, he could afford but one meat ball
One meat ball, one meat ball
All he could afford was one meat ball
One meat ball
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Catfish
(bob dylan, jacques levy)
Lazy stadium night,
Catfish on the mound.
strike three, the umpire said,
Batter have to go back and sit down.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Used to work on mr. finleys farm
But the old man would not pay.
So he packed his glove and took his arm
And one day he just ran away.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw that ball like catfish can.
Way up where the yankees are
Smoke a custom made cigar.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw that ball like catfish can.
Reggie jackson at the plate
Seeing nothing but the curve.
Swing too early or too late,
Got to eat what catfish serve.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road
The chicken was undecided on whether to cross the road,
she was a short sighted chicken
who, not being able to see across the road
couldn't quite understand the advantages
of being on the other side.
People passing by the chicken
stopped to ask if she wanted to get across the road
but the chicken just clucked, indecisively,
looking very concerned as to her own
demise if she should attempt to.
After all, should she transverse the road
and avoid oncoming vehicles
she would then be stuck on the other side
but should she not, then she may well
feel unfulfilled, unaccomplished.
Not wanting to disappoint,
let down, or cause a disturbance
the chicken did a little shake,
a little flutter and hop, skipped
and jumped across the road.
A local lorry came hurtling towards her,
she saw the headlights, heard the horn
but too late! There were chicken bits
all over the place while a local
reporter took notes, writing:
We'll never know why the chicken
tried to cross that road in heavy traffic
but she was pronounced dead
on arrival at the local hospital.
They'll be no live chicken tonight.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Veggie Poetry
steamed okra
round, red, shiny tomatoes
violet onion, some white spring ones
and hot chili
with black pepper
some olive oil
and rosemary herbs for flavoring
a little salt
a little sugar
suit to your exquisite, exotic asian taste
add some more other
herbs and hot spices
mix them in a bowl
shed some tears
for summer salt
add some green lettuce
and black olives
and pickles to taste
pick some
then chew
do not swallow yet
take your time
enjoy your veggie poetry
do not take any meat
or poultry
now take your time alone
eat
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thank You Mr.Robert Frost
Thank you Mr.Robert Frost
For 'The road not taken'
That showed me the route..
But a road many travelled taken
Sounding vehicles of noisy, dusty smokiness
A space of all trees felled
And there the lurching, ditching pits
Venturous like your route of 'yellow wood'
True many times trodden on black
This body mine painful to carry
Through the agony of a road black
Still follow you sir, challenging as you say
Along a road of hurdles my life
Everyday waddles towards a temple resort
And I mind not my strife
Thank you Mr.Robert Frost
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Robert Frost
A Note to Robert Frost's
A Prayer in Spring
Pleasures from flowers
Give spring to the air
A pleasure like no other
At this time of year
Robert Frost has a way
Of taking us there
I wonder if he wrote these things
Before or after a thankful prayer
As happy as a bee
Or the darting bird over there
Each a simple reminder
Of the creators care
Captured a new each year
In the fresh spring air
Nick Krakana
April 2nd 2012
poem by Nick krakana
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Catfish Girl
Catfish girl, makes it feel so fine
Catfish girl, always pulling on my line
When I see her smiling face, She get me every single time
Yeah she does.
Catfish girl, I miss you Lord I feel so blue
Oh my Catfish girl, Oh and every little thing that you do
Oh Catfish girl, I only want to be with you.
Oh Catfish come on now...
Aint' that the prettiest thing you ever did see.........
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One of my favorite things is mayonnaise and I have to tell you that. I love mayonnaise, but I don't eat it any more. If I do I put light mayonnaise on it, which I know is still not good but it's a lot better than the other one and I don't eat it that much.
quote by Mike Ditka
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Catfish
Lazy stadium night
Catfish on the mound.
Strike three, the umpire said,
Batter have to go back and sit down.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Used to work on mr. finleys farm
But the old man wouldnt pay
So he packed his glove and took his arm
An one day he just ran away.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Come up where the yankees are,
Dress up in a pinstripe suit,
Smoke a custom-made cigar,
Wear an alligator boot.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Carolina born and bred,
Love to hunt the little quail.
Got a hundred-acre spread,
Got some huntin dogs for sale.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Reggie jackson at the plate
Seein nothin but the curve,
Swing too early or too late
Got to eat what catfish serve.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Even billy martin grins
When the fish is in the game.
Every season twenty wins
Gonna make the hall of fame.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Neighbours
My neighbour has a field of wheat
And I a rood of vine;
And he will give me bread to eat,
And I will give him wine.
And so we are a jolly pair,
Contentedly unwed,
Singing with supper as we share
Red wine and crusty bread.
Now venison is mighty meat
And so is trout and hare;
A mallard duck is sweat to eat
And quail is dainty fare.
But such are foods for festal day,
And we will not repine
While on the table we can lay
Crisp bread and rosy wine.
A will to till one's own of soil
Is worth a kingly crown,
With bread to feed the belly need,
And wine to wash it down.
So with my neighbour I rejoice
That we are fit and free,
Content to praise with lusty voice
Bread, Wine and Liberty.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crow Black Chicken
(laurence wilson)
Well, I went on the mountain
And I gave my horn a blow
Thought I heard some purty gal say
Yonder come my beau
Crow black chicken and crow for a day
Crow black chicken and fly away
Crow black chicken and-a ...
I like chicken pie
Well, the hardest work that ever I done
Is plowin a field of rye
The easiest work that ever I done
Was eatin chicken pie
Chicken crow for midnight
And chicken crow for a day
Along come an owl, lord, have mercy
And stole my chicken away
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mushera Fog
It steals down the mountain the Mushera fog
Across the mountain road and cloaks Togher Bog
On damp and wet days in Winter and the latter Fall
The traffic goes up and down road at a crawl
From the high road a steep dropp down the mountain side
And to drive fast there in the fog is a wish for suicide
But what a beautiful drive on a pleasant Spring day
When the hawthorns are in their white flowers of the May
A beautiful view of the countryside for miles around
As you drive up and down the high road on the higher ground
But from mid Fall to early Spring on damp weather of low cloud
The high Mushera road is cloaked in a gray shroud
As the low clouds of rain down the mountain side blow
For to cloak Togher Bog and the valley below.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The only difference between a dead skunk lying in the road and a dead lawyer lying in the road is that there are skid marks around the skunk.
quote by Patrick Murray
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eating Together
I know my friend is going,
though she still sits there
across from me in the restaurant,
and leans over the table to dip
her bread in the oil on my plate; I know
how thick her hair used to be,
and what it takes for her to discard
her man’s cap partway through our meal,
to look straight at the young waiter
and smile when he asks
how we are liking it. She eats
as though starving—chicken, dolmata,
the buttery flakes of filo—
and what’s killing her
eats, too. I watch her lift
a glistening black olive and peel
the meat from the pit, watch
her fine long fingers, and her face,
puffy from medication. She lowers
her eyes to the food, pretending
not to know what I know. She’s going.
And we go on eating.
poem by Kim Addonizio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chicken With a Twist of Deliciousness
I bought thin breasts of sliced chicken.
Thinking I would make a chicken soup.
So I then cut the breasts,
Preparing to create a meal...
I believed would be the best.
When I had this thought...
Season and sauté the breast.
Simmer them quickly,
In olive oil next.
Add I did...
Broccoli, onions and green peppers.
With carrots and celery...
Thinking perhaps some cauliflower,
And Soy sauce too...
Was needed in this aromatic stew.
This I did.
Before I lowered the heat,
And covered this with the frying pan lid.
I said to myself...
This needed a touch of brown sugar.
A splash of apple vinegar,
And a dash of lemon for taste.
Mine,
Of course!
I'm suggesting this,
Before it is ready to plate.
I think this took twenty minutes to cook.
But the smell of it increased my appetite.
And I couldn't wait,
To devour each morsel.
Knowing I had cooked up something,
Bonafide to get me hooked!
Oh yes!
I've already named it,
Chicken With a Twist of Deliciousness!
If you want some,
You will have to make your own.
None of this I am eating,
Will a dropp of it you get!
Oh,
Before I forget.
Add some basil, dill, oregano and garlic too.
I like to use red pepper as well.
You can try that,
If you wish to lick the dish!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode to Salt
This salt
in the salt cellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
I know
you won't
believe me
but
it sings
salt sings, the skin
of the salt mines
sings
with a mouth smothered
by the earth.
I shivered in those
solitudes
when I heard
the voice
of
the salt
in the desert.
Near Antofagasta
the nitrous
pampa
resounds:
a
broken
v oice,
a mournful
song.
In its caves
the salt moans, mountain
of buried light,
translucent cathedral,
crystal of the sea, oblivion
of the waves.
And then on every table
in the world,
salt,
we see your piquant
powder
sprinkling
vital light
upon
our food.
Preserver
of the ancient
holds of ships,
discoverer
on
the high seas,
earliest
sailor
of the unknown, shifting
byways of the foam.
Dust of the sea, in you
the tongue receives a kiss
from ocean night:
taste imparts to every seasoned
dish your ocean essence;
the smallest,
miniature
wave from the saltcellar
reveals to us
more than domestic whiteness;
in it, we taste finitude.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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