Craving A Taste Of Kiwi
last night I lonesome had
irresistible urge to eat kiwi
craving a taste of kai kiwi
the earth is giver of all life
from the soil comes food
native foods New Zealand
that same food is cooked
in oven beneath the earth
but expatriate here will find
no hangi traditional feast
nor any food of home forest
stream sea or gardens kiwi
years since eaten white bait
fresh silver jewels of Buller
River in my far home town
kumara tasty potato sweet
no traditional delicacies
grace my table no hangi
cooked meat vegetables
placed on bed hot stones
in bottom of dug hangi
hole no birds fish kiwi
wild herbs roots mixed
no food cloth covered
before mound of earth
traps heat around food
Maori tourism visitors
eat as guests hangi food
no taewa tutaekuri pass
lips deep purple potato
no rewena pararoa pass
lips potato Maori bread
my father puha gathered
a leafy vegetable green
to be found growing wild
after heavy Buller rains
kowhitiwhiti watercress
also smiling he harvested
greenlip mussels off rocks
at seashore neap low tides
greenlip mussels I ate
as kuku patties paua
from mother of pearl
shells in far away land
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
Remembering Favourite Foods
last night we late cooked
an old time kiwi favourite
yes hot baked beans on
toast with a side of marmite
on toast to keep it company
sweet simple kiwi luxuary
can’t buy my favourite band
Watties Baked Beans legendary
settled for a can of Heinz yes
you guessed it baked beans
in hot tomato sauce with melted
cheese in hot baked beans mixed
I had Sanitarium kiwi Marmite
on toast another kiwi favourite
as my side dish winter dynamite
real kiwi boys palate to excite
it is simple home foods we miss
Sanitarium Weet-Bix favourite
New Zealand's No.1 breakfast
cereal loved by kiwi generations
milk over golden wheat biscuits
with a sprinkling of brown sugar
acquired taste Marmite spectacular
my beloved ETA salt and vinegar
potato chips can’t find here miss
Cadbury Crunchie Bar local star
milk chocolate over a honey comb
center a delicious treat by Cadbury
Brunswick Sardines in soybean
oil or spring water and Canadian
sockeye salmon other favourites
sacrifice living here I really miss
but for a real kiwi smile happy
Watties Baked Beans legendary
spaghetti or beloved baked beans
are my choice “it must be Watties”
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Overweight with Food
Are you just a tub of lard and
Vastly overweight?
Do you think that when you die you'll
Need a piano crate
To act as coffin for your frame? -
Chosen as you die in shame, with
Only you to take the blame
For years of eating much the same:
A daily calorific fest
Gourmands of your ilk digest!
Is your heart in final fling and
Nearly set to burst?
Are your arteries bunged and clogged and
Feeling now the worst
For wear? - your aneurysm fit to blow
While blood as thick as rising dough
Cries 'Halt! ' to any hope of flow:
A dreadful state to put on show
In front of any nurse!
Best you hail a hearse.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Small legendery joke
Maori fella walks into a dairy and asks for a tin of cat food. Indian dairy owner says 'Oh no - I am hearing about you Maori fellows and how you put cat food into pastry and call it meat pie. Please bring cat into shop for me to see and you can have cat food'. Maori fella says 'oh man, I don't even know where the cat is right now - probably chasing birds.' Indian dairy owner says 'No cat, no cat food'.
Maori fella sulks away from shop. Same guy comes in a week later and asks for a tin of dog food for his dog. Indian dairy owner gives him the same run down, 'No dog - no doggy food'. Maori fella is really upset and storms off. He comes back a couple of days later with a big plastic bag and slams it on the counter. The dairy owner says 'Oh what is this being please' and opens the bag and is overcome by the foul stench which from the now open bag. Maori fellah says, 'It's a bag of sh*t man, I want some toilet rolls! '
poem by Racina Rodriguez
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Take The Rope From My Throat That I May Sing My Song Children Of Mokomoko
I’m a Pakeha! I’m a Pakeha! I’m a Pakeha!
To you!
To me.
I’m a kiwi.
Jump up and down! Jump up and down! Jump up and down!
Knock heads off stone statues!
Spray paint emblems of Britannic Queen.
Banter! Banter! Banter! Racist Slogans!
Frog march in gardens!
Decapitate under trees.
Shit on land you claim as yours!
I can tell you really respect it!
Best land management policy!
Pakeha and extinct Moa!
Make all nation’s children everyone
learn Maori at school.
Learn!
Anything?
You never did.
Show some real Maori mana!
Traditional Full-Face Tattoo!
Wear it with leather-jacket boots tribal patch.
Go on. Kick my head in!
I know you want to!
Idyllic days.
Before Pakeha
came and spoilt everything.
Maori all mates together.
Left.
And then?
There’s no white one.
For you to eat.
Left each other.
Just the way it used to be.
Cook’em in a hungi in the ground with hot smouldering stones.
Perfect. Yum Yum. Pork. Pakeha (meaning white pig) .
Those Nineteenth Century Pakeha.
They were too tough.
And these twentieth century ones.
Too fat and lazy.
They don’t do anything.
They can’t
have
no Maori rights.
See.
We are.
One people.
New Zealanders. (Not by Law Couzie Bro. You got de extra rights!)
On your racist census forms.
Where it says
Pakeha (meaning white pig) / European.
I know.
It doesn’t. Represent!
Mean me!
I’m
Not Pakeha.
I’m
Not European.
I write other!
Born here! Birthright?
But them very bad white land appropriators don’t belong here!
Any more. (Ignore Pakeha blood in your own veins!)
This land is ours. Is ours. Is ours.
Non-Maori second-class leeches on our land.
Without freedom. (Exorcism Pakeha blood out of Maori veins!)
Of speech. (Make peace with yourself. Own warring internal blood lines!)
Word Pakeha gives me a belly-ache.
I haven’t got a belly-full
of beer on doll-dollars!
My belly.
Is full.
Of Coffee.
Pounding Ulcer Points.
Stick it down your own throat.
I want to sing my song.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem references specifically one of many 1990’s Maori Land Protests.
Quote from Urban Dictionary. “Generally translated as referring to a white or pale appearance, pakeha has been variously described as meaning white pig, white maggot, or even white ghost, which may be in reference to the pakepakeha, a pale-skinned forest-dwelling people of pre-European Maori mythology.”
Quote from Uncyclopedia, the content-free encyclopedia. “Pakeha, pronounced 'Land-stealing-honky-bastards', is a common New Zealand Maori food. It is an introduced species, that arrived on sailing ships, around 1770, and began taking over the land. It has been deemed a pest, and while sometimes lovable and cuddly, some of the species are arrogant and aggressive. Pakeha is a food best served with Puha, a form a thistle, and kumara, a sweet potato.”
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Syrup Sponge
Pour a pint of cream
Upon my spongy bulge!
Scoop me with a
Hefty spoon;
Taste my essence -
Do you swoon?
Feed your self-esteem; indulge
In me until you burst -
Death by syrup sponge - you're cursed!
And as the count in inches gain
Upon your weary waist, the strain
Will tell, but you'll not care -
Steeped in sponge, you're unaware!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food
food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Taste Of Food
In food is a certain quality of taste,
May they abstain and be erased.
For food manages my godly life,
Just as the fish manage with strife.
In this food, in that food we collapse
And honour a feast with some gaps.
The food we eat as dinner shall be kind
To the sleep we carry throughout the mind.
What food do you cook with expertise?
Fish and meat will certainly cease!
poem by Naveed Akram
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Salad is Incompatible with Life
Yes, my waist is fifty inches -
Big for me because I'm short.
And yes, I like my cheddar cheese
When partnered with a vintage port.
Okay, okay, that double cream
Is always served with pud,
And cake and biscuits with my tea
Are just no bloody good
For my poor hardened arteries,
But see my point of view,
Please dear wifey if you please,
A Salad makes me spew!
I'd rather eat a bowl of air
Than crunch away on greens;
Drink water from the toilet bowl
Or nibble on my jeans!
But salad! Are you there?
You know it makes me snappy -
So let me fill my face with grub,
Stay fat, and die young happy!
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Hunger, The Pang
Our mother earth gives
For one good grain sown
Hundreds of fresh grains
For our food in return.
How many sweet fruits
For a life time she gives
For one seed she takes
As one tree it grows?
Any animal on the land
Or any bird on the air
For its morrow's food
Does it take all the care?
For the food on the ground
How a crow makes a sound
Of 'caw' to call crows around
Just to share what it found?
When big cooked rice balls
An elephant in its mouth takes
A part of it on the floor spills
That feeds hundreds of ants.
But when a have on this earth
For his self, the food he hoards,
Doesn't the have-not's mouth
Go unfed for days countless?
The food in a pompous feast
A junk of it goes as rubbish.
If this goes to the poor atleast
Will that not fulfill God's wish?
The worst pain in the world
Is what the hunger gives
But this can be solved
If all follow the crows.
poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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Some food
Some food is
Medicine...
Medicine is some food...
Some food is poison...
Some food is Tenson...
Some food is Fear...
Some food is lovely...
Some food is Bland...
Some food is sweety...
Some food is spicy...
Some food is nothing...
Food is not only food
A good eatable medicine...
At only some food...
Some food...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Food is god
Food is god
for poor people...!
God is not
Only food...
Rich home
Dog is eat
Nice food...
That food is god...?
yes that also
A god...
Good food is
God...
What is good food...?
Given good health
Always good food...
So...
Non veg
Or veg...
Every good food
Is god...
Simply sit
Silentely eat food
With out hot
And cool drinks...
Food is not only
Poor's god...
With each and
Every one also
food is god...
Give respect and
Take food...
Happley too try too
Thank for god...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Vangie's Cuisine...
Food, food, food…Vangie’s food…
You can find them in FACE BOOK
Mouthwatering cuisine of Filipinos food
Let’s get together and have a look…..
Pretty Vangie is the cook
Using delicate hand to cook the food
Her expertise is out of this world
Nothing can beat her skills of food….
I look at it everyday
To see what’s the menu for today
Tummy now that was once empty
Is now full of what she cooked for that day! ! ! !
-xxx-
poem by Rachel Hill
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I Love Ramen
because i havent made myself lunch not yet
but no reason to fret
i know what i will make
it will be great
o how i love this food
sometimes i eat and say o dude
its even better then cake
this food is no fake
it is the food that i like to eat
but it needs to cooked under much heat
this food is something you might not expect i dont know
but i think it is time to show
the great food i love RAMEN!
poem by David Knox
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A Food For Everything!
Meals are the food for the body;
Knowledge is the food for the mind;
Meditation is the food for the spirit;
Music is the food for the love of heart;
Dreams are the food for the consciousness;
Prayer is the food for the Almighty;
Love is the food for the living heart;
Thoughts are the food for the brain;
Colourful ink is the food for the pen;
Ideas are the food for the stories;
Truth is the food for the will;
Sun’s energy is the food for the plants;
Plants are the food for the living beings;
But one man’s food is another man’s poison!
poem by Ramesh T A
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To Seek Food
Hunger is to seek food,
Food has one eye and one ear.
The food we abstain from are the heads,
The food is caring over us, and we maintain
Our lives with the food of the day.
Liquors are taken as food,
With a brain too bright,
A table and a cook is required,
Forming my life as a whole.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A buffet to Remember
It was a buffet to remember
With a lovely Hawaiian theme
Food so fresh and flavorful
It was truly a food critic’s dream
Shrimp so sweet and tasty
Dipping sauce perfectly mixed
The platters were so beautiful
With everything that was fixed
A pig cooked to perfection
We couldn’t wait to eat
So much food to put on our plate
Hard to carry it to our seat
The perfect way to celebrate
Harold’s 100th birthday
Grabbed our plate and filled it up
It was just like a holiday!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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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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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!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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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Young Years Of Kiwi Dragons
Weet-Bix and Marmite grows
into Kiwi friends Kiwi beers
great legendary Kiwi Years
“Our wings were flying in the sun....
Dreaming of a wind that would make us sail....
We had the moon and sun behind us....”
there were no horizons that could bind us
no stars galaxies big enough to swallow us
no supernovae in cosmos could out shine us
we burned super stars movers shaking our universe
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Food
Food food food
All are here for food
All evolve from food
All act for food
All think about food.
All know no food
No existence.
Food come from rain
Rain ensues from sacrifice
Sacrifice rooted
In prescribed action
Prescribed action
Originate from knowledge
Knowledge proceed from you
You my dear not destructible.
So long as you are there
Food is there
You are all pervading
You are infinite
I the finite
Long for you
Through the food
Supplied to me
Only by you
And the food
Itself you.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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