ode to an EGG
A fried egg means many things to me
A boiled egg does not entice me quite as much
An omelette with some onion and some cheese
Speaks love made with a 'masters touch'
The fried egg is full of grease and sleaze
And it never comes alone
Though it arrives in a white holy frock
It won't leave your arteries alone
It arrives in the morning on a piece of toast
A bit like a prayer, but without the 'holy ghost'
In the evening it sits heavy on a plate of chips and peas
And though it means well
It clogs your pipes sends them all to hell!
The Egg is in short quite diffident at times
Hiding behind two slices of bread
At other times it shines sublime
As 'eggs benedicte it is quite refined'
Taken with 'high tea' and people in high places
Sometimes it breaks down
Scrambles in dispair leaving by the back entrance unaware
After 'recovery' it returns watery poached and bare
Slipping away without a care
' Give us this day our daily egg '
Was once our prayer
Then the media denouced too much of it a 'health scare'
And so it fell into remission
Not just because of bad emissions
Though of late this serves as a warning
Between bad gas and global warming
So the egg has fallen out of favour
Fallen out of lunch boxes
That stunk a coach for hours
Rotted in the back of fridges
Splat on politicans wishes
overpowered the scent of flowers
And though the love affair is over
After days and months and hours
Of gross excess
I must confess
The fried EGG still tastes the best!
myrtle egg white aka
yvette smith
I
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dont Quote Me On That
Its all eggs bacon beans and a fried slice.
Did you see the one, yeah yeah,
The one they wrote in the paper just the other day,
Well, well would you believe it,
Well what I said, they took it all the wrong way.
Now youve gotta be careful, bout what you say,
Cos theyve got a bad habit
Were you reading in between the lines?
Or is that what I said? , now I just cant remember
They seem to have a very good memory though
But as far as Im concerned, as as far as Im concerned
You don;t have to be black white, chinese or anything really
Just enjoy, shut up, listen and dance...
Its all eggs bacon beans and a fried slice
Dont quote me on that, dont quote me on that
Dont quote me on that, please dont quote me
Dont quote me on that
Dont quote me on that
Hey hey, you know something, I said I liked that guy,
But thats not what I read in the paper
I dont have anything against them,
Its just eggs bacon and a fried slice
Dont quote me on that dont quote me on that
Dont quote me on that please dont quote me
Dont quoe me on that
Dont quote me on that.
You know, now we get worried about what we say
We shouldnt be that way
You know, I dont care who comes,
Cos as far as Im concerned,
Its, eggs bacon beans and a fried slice
Dont quote me on that
Dontr quote me on that
Please dont quote me
Mama mama, you know Im still friends with mickey
They say I shouldnt like him anymore, because Im all white,
Well hes allright by me
Dont quote me on that
Please dont quote me
Dont quote me on that
Dont quote me on that
Now what I do, I bring all my old friends along to see the show
And if you have the wrong ideas well,
Its all eggs bacon beans and a fried slice
Dont quote me on that oh no
(dont quote me on that)
Please dont quote me
(dont quote me on that)
I never said that
(dont quote me on that)
Thats not what I meant
(dont quote me on that)
Well I suppose you could take it that way
(dont quote me on that)
But thats not what I meant to say
(dont quote me on that)
Wont you give me another chance
(dont quote me on that)
Please please
Dont quote me on that....
Id like to say thank you to pete, peter tosh
And all the other people who come and they believe in us for the fun and the music
Cos all Ive got to say to you press now is
Its all bacon beans and a fried slice
Eggs bacon beans and a fried slive
Go to maggies caff
132 liverpool road
Just down the road, just round the corner
Only theres not much corner
Its just chairs and tables and theyve even got a space invaders machine...
A cup of tea, thats fine for me,
Cos its all eggs bacon beans and a fried slive
Are you sure you turned that tape recorder off?
Are you sure? ,
Are you sure?
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Untitled 23
i stab
the fried banana
with a fork
pieces eaten
with joy in my heart
i stir coffee with cream
hot water inside the cup of white porcelain
i hear the ringing
of the door bell
and i do not mind
who is it what is it
i expect no one
this early morning
as i begin to piece together
broken glasses of memories
i dare love no one
and i dare no one to love me
there is an island of coffee with creams
inside the cup of porcelain
no one stirs it
except myself
i feed myself piece by piece with
a fried banana stiffened with bread crumbs
deep fried and well cooked
self, selfish upon itself
on a Maunday Thursday
the silence creeps like soft feet of a white butterfly on my arms
the windows are open
the air is free to go inside and play and be wary about its own molecules
the door is closed
no one is allowed to get in at this hour of my reflection
a day as mirror
a self as shadow cast upon a self upon a self
there is no language from the body
this time
only fools, only fools,
rising above themselves
saving life on some memoirs
a biography of another bigot begotten by this ghoul.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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2 Weeks
14 Days left
336 hours
Until the end of this chapter
The chapter of hell in my life
2 weeks until I leave
8 hours a day
8 hours of hell in this school
Dealing with ignorance driven by people
Pushing back judgmental walls
After all 8 years in this prison
All I have is 2 weeks,14 days,336 hours left inside this hellhole
Now I can’t figure out what to do
Skip graduation, or stand on the stage and face the music?
That answer has left me then came back
In just 2 week I’ll be gone never to set foot inside again
In just 14 days I’ll leave and never turn back
In just 336 hours, my face will be erased from this place
2 weeks until I graduate from 8th grade
Why now, it must end sooner
In just 2 months I’ll be in high school
2 weeks…
14 days… 336 hours…
The memory of me will be gone
poem by Marcellus Watts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eat It
How come youre always such a fussy young man?
Dont want no captain crunch, dont want no raison bran
Well, dont you know that other kids are starving in japan
So eat it, just eat it
Dont want to argue, I dont want to debate
Dont want to hear about what kind of food you hate
You wont get no dessert till you clean off your plate
So eat it
Dont you tell me youre full
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Get yourself an egg and beat it
Have some more chicken, have some more pie
It doesnt matter if its boiled or fried
Just eat it, eat it, just eat it, eat it
Just eat it, eat it, just eat it, eat it, ooh
Your table manners are some cryin shame
Youre playin with your food, this aint some kind of game
Now, if you starve to death, youll just have yourself to blame
So eat it, just eat it
You better listen, better do what youre told
You havent even touched your tuna casserole
You better chow down or its gonna get cold
So eat it
I dont care if youre full
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Open up your mouth and feed it
Have some more yogurt, have some more spam
It doesnt matter it its fresh or tanned
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Dont you make me repeate it
Have a banana, have a whole bunch
It doesnt matter what you had for lunch
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
If its gettin cold, reheat it
Have a big dinner, have a light snack
If you dont like it, you cant send it back
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Get yourself an egg and beat it (oh lord)
Have some more chicken, have some more pie
It doesnt matter if its boiled or fried
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Dont you make me repeat it (oh no)
Have a banana, have a whole bunch
It doesnt matter what you had for lunch
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Anyone
Every face sing we had to happen, every
face is you
Every smile that I force on someone sends me
to the edge
Coffee breaks I take because, I need more
time to clear the fuzz
Take me back twenty first street
Troubles times that I find myself in, double
without you
Such a lose that I try to replace sends me
to the edge
Living breaks I take because, I need more
time to get a buzz
Take me back twenty first street
I think I'm losin', losin' my mind
Just anyone means nothin's done just yet
I need my time to heal
Just anyone is next to none without
The reasons I could feel - Just anyone
All the times that we tried to make it
Now those days are through
All the times we were forced to fake it send
me to the edge
Coffee breaks I take because, I need more
time to clear the fuzz
Take me back twenty first street
I think I'm losin', losin' my mind
Just anyone means nothin's done just yet
I need my time to heal
Just anyone is next to none without
The reasons I could feel - Just anyone
Spending hours trting to find myself-
Redemption, wrong direction
No more power to control my - Isolation no solution
Every voice that I know is not the same
Every word taht I read calls out your name
So many days looking for you but in vein
A losin' game and I'm to blame
Just anyone means nothin's done just yet
I need my time to heal
Just anyone is next to none without
The reasons I could feel
Just anyone - Just anyone means that I can't
afford to face the facts
Just anyone - Just anyone means that I can't
afford to be just anyone
song performed by by 1208
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gift
Love given
Ridden
Lived in
Loved in
Lost in
Love fallen
Broken
Stalling
Spoken
Woken in smoke filled rooms
Full of old whispers calling to
Love taken
Mistaken
Forsaken
Love wounded
Love preacher
Love teacher
Love prayer
Love giver
Lover taker
Love sinner
Love maker
Love over
Too soon
like a gift forgotten
Your face in the mirror
Much older
yvette m smith sept 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wonky Spoon Cafe
She makes a decent apple pie
at the Wonky Spoon Cafe
where eggs are easy over
and chips all deep fat fried.
Full English breakfast every day,
the bacon is real good
but how she scowls is scary
and turns folk off their food.
She makes the cream turn sour
and customers all cringe
as they slurp their mugs of tea
and eat their mushy peas.
Her face can scare most patrons
but worse, far worse than this
her husbands manic chortles
can cause their bums to hiss.
So if you'd like a pasty,
don't try the Wonky Spoon
for though the food is passable
the atmosphere is cruel.
She nails down all the cutlery
and though she lends out plates,
God help you if you dare return
a single plate too late.
She'll scold you and berate you
call you thief and more,
she'll bar you from the cafe
and throw you out the door!
A nasty piece of work,
there's no one can deny
but blow me down and whistle
she makes mean apple pie.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The food was interesting. My background is Russian, so cheese and potatoes are my love. There was plenty of that. And fried cheese! It is really, really, really good. And really, really, really bad for you. It's like an artery on a plate.
quote by Michelle Trachtenberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Onion
My love is an onion naked and white
Peeled back from itself
Into it's selves
It conceals many lives
My love is the layer upon layer
The years in which we grew
Slowly and in perfect symmetry
Up from that first shoot
Anchored in the earth of first passion
sculpted in time into one clear white orb
Invincible
immeasurable
The depth and breadth of you and I
Knitted in silkness of flesh and form
And at that first touch
The first severing of ties
A parting sorrow
brings a rivulet of tears to thy celestial eye
Twixt pain and joy,
True love is born!
yvette smith march 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chicken & chips
Chicken & chips
Often brought by fast food addicts
Who love the finger licking taste
Fried fatty food
Unhealthy but cheap
Eaten for hunger's sake
Shop owners
Laughing all the way to the bank
At the expense
Of junk food loving customers
Who just want to fill their belly
With a cheap box of fried chicken & chips.
poem by Sinclair Azubuike
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You are sitting on the veranda
You are sitting on the veranda
enjoying the breakfast
of eggs fried with tomato with toast
and huge cups of very special tea
that I had made for you.
Sweet innocence radiates from you
while you watch the blooming
purple irises, some white lilies, pink,
orange and ruby red geraniums
and birds fly down
from the pepper tree
to peck up the seed
that I had put out for them.
There’s a melody in your voice
while you give some toast with Marmite
to the dogs that gather
with twisting tails
to get their treat
and the morning is sweet
and our house is a moated fort,
a treasured place
where only we are locked in.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Weird Food Combos!
Consider a roll, with a bacon and fried banana filling;
To take a bite, would you consider yourself willing?
Worcestershire sauce poured over cheese on toast,
Is a concept which, to me, seems really rather gross.
Apple pie, topped with a melted cheddar cheese slice,
Is something, which is considered, by some, rather nice.
Chilli and dark chocolate, I think is really delightful,
But marmite and chocolate, strikes me as just frightful.
A sandwich filled with strawberries and double cream,
May be rather squidgy, but, to me, it would be a dream.
A meal served to me, with both chips and sprouts,
Is not something which I would definitely rule out.
For bacon and marmalade sandwiches, I would not rush,
But there are some people, who think that this is just lush.
It seems really popular, and I wondered what you’d make,
Of dipping French fries in custard or chocolate milkshake?
Years ago, from a supermarket chiller, I very happily chose
A pack of yoghurts: the flavours included lavender and rose.
Apparently, an omelette is good, spread with strawberry jam;
Although, you may prefer yours, filled with just cheese or ham.
A little nutmeg lightly sprinkled over hot boiled potatoes,
Is said to add depth to the taste – but it’s a strange combo!
Hot creamy custard poured over crisp, golden fish fingers,
Produces an unusual aftertaste which, in the mouth, lingers.
Raspberry jam, spread on chicken, which is barbequed,
Is another unusual combination, but is a well liked food.
Crackers topped with peanut butter and horseradish sauce,
Is not one of those combinations, which I think I’d endorse.
Apple sliced up, and mixed with chunks of fresh tuna,
Is something I may try much later, rather than sooner.
Ham which has been marinated in fresh orange juice,
Is adored by some, because of the flavour produced.
Some people love to mix different foodstuffs up together,
And they produce new exciting combos, which is so clever.
I'm glad that people experiment, and try tastes, which are new,
And invent some amazing concoctions, on which we can chew.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sad For Me
Please miss fried
He dont mean to be mean
He just needs to leave
He hopes he does not
Cause you inconvenience
Why cant you see?
He says, please dont be sad for me
Oh miss fried
Please believe youre his queen
He must fight for his dreams
Lovely miss fried
He will too miss you
He just needs to be free
He says, if I should ever cause you to
Bleed... dont pretend to be naive
Dont take him wrong, let him be
Sometimes he feels like he ought to be alone
He says, please dont be sad for me
song performed by by Gwen Stefani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wilma's Welcome
He sat the table, fresh kid,
waiting for his dinner,
pushing back the war
now so far away.
His big brother smiled
glad to see him safe,
when she walked in,
carrying a steaming plate
of the best fried chicken
either had ever seen.
The aroma awoke in his memory
soft Ohio nights,
God's righteous thunder rumbling
gentle rains cooling the hot August sky,
when Mom carried in our dinner,
fried chicken and mashed potatoes,
safety and love.
And looking at his brother's new wife,
he smiled and at last said,
'welcome to the family! '
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Here I Come-4
Holy holy is He
So merciful
Lion and King
Wonderful Counselor
Holy holy
Holy holy is He
Holy holy is He
Forever holy.
Most High God
Holy holy
Prince of Peace
Mighty Redeemer
King of Kings
Most High God
Holy holy
Holy holy is He
Holy holy is He
Forever holy.
Take my sins
As far as the east
Is from the west
Purge me
With your precious blood
Shelter me
From the storms
Cover me
With your glory
Holy holy
Holy holy is He
Holy holy is He
Forever holy.
You are so holy
You went to the cross
For me
So holy
You bled for me
So holy
You paid a price
I could not pay
Holy holy
Holy holy is He
Holy holy is He
Forever holy.
poem by Buxton Shippy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Won!
My partner and I
were having a drink
when the moon was hiding
behind the clouds.
A bottle of red wine
and cans of beer
with a squid and pork fried
and cheese
and cucumber with miso on top
were on the small table
infront of us.
At first we laugh
and talk
and laugh
untill I noticed
I was talking alone
my partner
with his head down
had fallen asleep...
I won!
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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