Me-Stew
I have nothing to put in my stew, you see,
Not a bone or a bean or a black-eyed pea,
So I'll just climb in the pot to see
If I can make a stew out of me.
I'll put in some pepper and salt and I'll sit
In the bubbling water--I won't scream a bit.
I'll sing while I simmer, I'll smile while I'm stewing,
I'll taste myself often to see how I'm doing.
I'll stir me around with this big wooden spoon
And serve myself up at a quarter to noon.
So bring out your stew bowls,
You gobblers and snackers.
Farewell--and I hope you enjoy me with crackers!
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Related quotes
Test My Appetite
Some prefer and choose perfection,
To convey ideals...
Promoted to instill.
With a showing of a knowledge...
In a hope that this appeals.
And then there are those,
Who have chosen to be real.
Grounded and solid of sound minds.
To find they are critiqued...
By those of the pretentious kind.
'It is not proper etiquette,
To dip biscuits in stew.'
~Hey...
I am here to eat.
Not to see what others do.
And IF you're looking for a silver spoon.
To eat your stew?
You go and do that.
And my biscuits will be in your stew too!
In these times,
I will nourish first...
Before rehearsing any refinement,
I've learned from the past.
But today does not work.~
'It is not proper etiquette,
To dip biscuits in stew.'
~Hey...
I am here to eat.
Not to see what others do.
And IF you're looking for a silver spoon.
To eat your stew?
You go and do that.
And my biscuits will be in your stew too!
Go ahead!
Test my appetite!
I dare you.
Leave that stew.
And I'll show you what can be done with it.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Have Learned To Live Alone.....
i always know how to create a happy world
i do not have to wait for a designer of
a happy interior
there is no place for a home maker here
i can manage
i cook a stew of happiness here
put them in a bowl
there is no recipe or choosing of
ingredients or even
measuring the quantities of salt and pepper
to be put there
whatever is available
i cut and make part of the menu
if it is hard, i soften it
if it tastes bland, i add salt and
seasoning
and if i want it sweeter
i do not have to ask for an opinion
i put whatever is my
dream and liking
i have learned to live alone
and happier this time
you must see me
perhaps next year
and i will not invite you
anymore
to enter my
new house
if you give me a ring
i will not answer it
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If a man looks upon your wife pluck out his eye and cook it in a goodly stew. If he eats the stew his manhood will wither and fall off in the next moon.
You In The Stew
In my “Stew” my “Stew of Goo” I will have control over you.
Yes, I will control you with my evil spell, I will control this doll with named
Mel.
I will say things that are not NICE, because you see I took your Power
and I control the Dice!
Everything is “neat” in this “Game of Deceit”
This Game where I control everything.
Yes, I took your power that you willfully gave to me,
that was Deal, don’t you see? ? ?
Don’t tell me you want your Power in tack,
You chose me as your mother! !
So I can talk behind your back! !
Now, now, you say “Why would I do that? ”
Because you had to find
yourself and get back on track…
See how would you ever know who you really are,
Why, you think you came into this world “Complete” like Sarah Star? ? ?
You needed my “Evil” ways to make you strong,
Sooo someday
You can thank ME when I am long gone…
Now, now you realize it wasn’t about ME,
why it was all about
YOU,
yes you finding You—
“YOU in the Stew”
Written 2006 & 2010 By Christina Sunrise
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Chameleon Stew
Well, it's leaping lizards
And chicken gizzards
In my left over stew
Oh my, what am i to do? ? ?
The chicken gizzard's are tough
The chewing is rough!
The chameleon's have again changed hue
Oh, what am i, to do, with this left over stew? ? ?
poem by Theodora Onken
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Brother And Sister
"SISTER, sister, go to bed!
Go and rest your weary head."
Thus the prudent brother said.
"Do you want a battered hide,
Or scratches to your face applied?"
Thus his sister calm replied.
"Sister, do not raise my wrath.
I'd make you into mutton broth
As easily as kill a moth"
The sister raised her beaming eye
And looked on him indignantly
And sternly answered, "Only try!"
Off to the cook he quickly ran.
"Dear Cook, please lend a frying-pan
To me as quickly as you can."
And wherefore should I lend it you?"
"The reason, Cook, is plain to view.
I wish to make an Irish stew."
"What meat is in that stew to go?"
"My sister'll be the contents!"
"Oh"
"You'll lend the pan to me, Cook?"
"No!"
Moral: Never stew your sister.
poem by Lewis Carroll
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Sue In The Stew
In my "Stew" my "Stew of Goo" I will have control over you.
Yes, I will control you with my evil spell,
I will control this doll with named Mel.
I will say things that are not NICE,
you see I took your Power and I control the Dice!
Everything is "neat" in this "Game of Deceit"
This Game where I control everything.
Yes, I took your power that you willfully gave to me,
that was Deal, don't you see? ? ?
Don't tell me you want your Power intact,
You chose me as your mother! !
So I can talk behind your back! !
Now, now, you say "Why would I do that? "
You had to find yourself and get back on track...
See how would you ever know who you really are.
"Why, you think you came into this world complete like Sarah Star? ? ? "
You needed my "Evil" ways to make you strong,
you can thank ME when I am long gone...
Now, now you realize it wasn't about ME,
why it was all about YOU,
Yes you finding You—"YOU in the Stew"
Written By Suzae Chevalier in 2006 & 2010
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good Life
real life
still life do
good life
real life
an art dealer's stew
good life
a shut up life
keep the breath
skin tight
good life
paint life
portrait hanging loose
good life
tune life
a melody
to choose
good life
food life
keep the stew up boil
good life
feel life
wrapped in arty's foil
good life
real life
still life do
good life
real life
an art of dealer's stew
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Black Widow
These words he speaks are true
We're all humanary stew if
We don't pledge allegiance to
The Black Widow
The horror that he brings
The horror of his sting
The unholiest of kings
The Black Widow
Our minds will be his toy
And every girl and boy will learn to be employed by
The Black Widow
Love him
Yes we love him
Love him
Yes we love him
He sits upon his throne and picks at all the bones of his
Husbands and his
Wives he's devoured He stares with a gleam
With a laugh so obscene at the virgins and the children
He's deflowered
Love him
Yes we love him
Love him
Yes we love him
Love me
Yes we love him
Our thoughts are hot and crazed
Our brains are webbed in haze
Of mindless senseless daze
The Black Widow
These words he speaks are true
We're all humanary stew
If we don't pledge allegiance to
The Black Widow
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Govt. Health Warning.
'I'm terrified of cheese, ' he said,
'And rather scared of hats, '
'The cheese will make me sneeze,
You see, and hats just drive me bats! '
The doctor gave a little smile,
'I've news for you! ' he said,
'Tonight you'll eat some Irish stew,
Tomorrow you'll be dead! '
'Beware of gorgonzola!
Beware of Danish Blue!
Beware of wearing hats at all!
Beware of Irish stew! '
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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The Candy Man
Come my child,
Come & play for a while.
I have candy & sweets for you,
If you’re a good boy I’ll give you cakes too.
Eat, eat as much as you like.
Don’t worry about anything my little tyke.
For tonight we shall eat & eat,
And have us a great little feast.
Of food beyond your wildest dreams,
Just stay here with me, for all as it seems.
And stay, stay just for a while.
So says the little candy man,
Watch for the little candy man.
For he may eat you, in a stew, or a can,
Or he’ll eat you alive in a frying pan.
Come, come my child,
Come & play for a while.
As I sharpen my forks & knifes,
I am so lonely for you see, little child I have no wives.
So you keep me company in my great little feast,
All I’ll need is little more salt & a little yeast.
First I’ll cut you up & drink your blood,
Skin you nice & throw it in the mud.
There you go in the oven to bake,
As I watch your dead little eyes still awake.
Come, come my child, & play for a while.
So says the little candy man,
Watch for the little candy man.
For he may eat you, in a stew, or a can,
Or he’ll eat you alive in a frying pan.
poem by Yazzy Nixon
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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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Black-eyed Susan
Black-eyed susan
You make us nervous
Because were very aware that you do not care
Oh, black-eyed susan
What dont you believe in ?
No is always easier than yes
Whoo !
Black-eyed susan
You must insist :
You are a born-again atheist, oh
Oh, heavy-rings on
Bitten fingers
Black-eyed susan sometimes
Shakes to break
So, watch it
Oh ...
Black-eyed susan
Rest and do nothing
cause its the only thing that you do quite well
Aah ...
Black-eyed susan
Rest and do nothing
cause its the only thing that you do quite well
Aah ...
Black-eyed susan
Rest and do nothing
cause its the only thing that you do quite well
Aah ...
Black-eyed susan
Please remember
We were the first
We were the first
Oh ...
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Green Energy
I was born only yesterday and i know nothing!
For my life is like a shadow to you;
But, deep down in my heart, i do love you.
I am like a watered plant in the garden of love,
And with the sunshine watching over me always;
But, i will spread around my branches of love over you.
I love my country and you love your country,
I love my stew and your love your stew,
I love my home and you love your home,
So search for me with your love and i will be there! !
And, come with your Green Energy to touch my muse.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Halloween
Witches brew their Halloween stew
and stir the pot this day.
Ghosts and goblins prepare themselves
to eerily pass our way.
Skeleton bones rattle and shake
and come alive in the night.
Once again we're reminded of death
as the moon casts its light.
A chill in the air is felt by all
and a shiver runs through man.
Let us hold on fervently to our life
and defy this unearthly plan.
This night shall pass. Dawn will appear
and the Halloween stew will disappear.
All will be as it was before
this eerie night of the year.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Heartburn Stew
I threw my woman power in a pot of stew
And waited for my love to come.
But not a single word did I hear from him,
So I tried the stew on my dog
But he wouldnt even eat it.
I put my light heart on a matching silver plate
And waited for my love to come.
But not a single footstep was heard near the door
So I ate the plate myself
And got a heartburn.
Heartburn, heartburn plate,
Heartburn, heartburn cake.
I toasted my pride and covered it with apple jam
And waited for my love to come.
But not a single sign of a stir or a breeze
So I soaked the bread in my milk
And I gave it to the birds.
Heartburn, heartburn plate,
Heartburn, heartburn cake.
I watched the clock ticking, ticking away to my past,
Eight years old, birthday and raindrops.
Not a single line from my dad or my mom
So I laid the cake on my cat
But she wouldnt even touch it.
Heartburn, heartburn stew,
Heartburn, heartburn blues.
What do I want with a heartburn, I ask you,
Dont try to give me the word.
cause I ask a clever question
And I get a silly answer.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heartburn Stew
I threw my woman power in a pot of stew
And waited for my love to come.
But not a single word did I hear from him,
So I tried the stew on my dog
But he wouldnt even eat it.
I put my light heart on a matching silver plate
And waited for my love to come.
But not a single footstep was heard near the door
So I ate the plate myself
And got a heartburn.
Heartburn, heartburn plate,
Heartburn, heartburn cake.
I toasted my pride and covered it with apple jam
And waited for my love to come.
But not a single sign of a stir or a breeze
So I soaked the bread in my milk
And I gave it to the birds.
Heartburn, heartburn plate,
Heartburn, heartburn cake.
I watched the clock ticking, ticking away to my past,
Eight years old, birthday and raindrops.
Not a single line from my dad or my mom
So I laid the cake on my cat
But she wouldnt even touch it.
Heartburn, heartburn stew,
Heartburn, heartburn blues.
What do I want with a heartburn, I ask you,
Dont try to give me the word.
cause I ask a clever question
And I get a silly answer.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Found poem 7
What does happen occasionally
is that Kenny gets an idea for a dish
and writes on the specials board
- yes, there is a specials board -
something like Indomalekian Sunrise Stew.
(Kenny and his oldest son, Charlie,
invented the country of Indomalekia
along with its culinary traditions.)
A couple of weeks later, someone
finally orders Indomalekian Sunrise Stew
and Kenny can't remember what he had in mind
when he thought it up.
Fortunately, the customer doesn't know, either,
so Kenny just invents it again on the spot.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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If It Makes A Better Stew
Medicate to get your groove on,
If it makes a better stew.
And the taste of it is 'super',
With a knowing of this too.
Medicate to get your groove on,
If it makes a better stew.
And the taste of it is 'super',
With a knowing of this too.
Why not,
Create your own stupor.
Why not,
Pace inside your coop.
Why not,
Minimize beliefs.
And...
Maximize that duping,
To yourself that you do.
Medicate to get your groove on,
If it makes a better stew.
And the taste of it is 'super',
With a knowing of this too.
Why not,
Create your own stupor.
Why not,
Pace inside your coop.
Why not,
Maximize that duping,
To yourself that you do.
Why not,
Minimize beliefs.
And...
Maximize that duping,
To yourself that you do.
Why not,
If the taste is 'super',
And this makes a better stew.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cauldron
Beneath the cauldron, the fire crackles
while above it and old witch cackles
as she stirs her brew and popping in ingredients.
Web of spider, eyelash of newt,
wart of toad and little boy blue’s flute.
She looked around and cackled some more
as the bubbles in the cauldron multiplied more.
She added even more ingredients;
toenail of bat, stinger of bee,
skin of snake and droppings of mole.
The old witch continued to stir her stew,
as it must be served piping hot.
She then mumbled incantations over the bubbling brew.
The problem was who would eat it.
She turns and looks my way with a big bow in hand.
Shaking my head, no thank you,
get some other mug to have your stew.
27 January 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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