Tag: Friday Poetry

Friday Poetry for 15 December 2017

Friday Poetry for 15 December 2017

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusrssyoutubeby feather

Another from the deep vault, the date on this silly piece, according to the original file, is 02 November 1999, and it concerns possibly the greatest food ever created, pizza. Once, years before this poem, while a university student, I ate pizza for twenty-three (that’s 23) consecutive meals. Oh, not all from the same pizzeria, and not all with the same toppings, and not all at the same temperature. It is, it is, a glorious thing to be the pizza king.

 

Ah, pizza

Food of the gods

But no other food

Puts more people at odds

Anchovies, sausages

Mushrooms and cheese

Onions, green peppers

Pineapple, chick peas

Toppings galore

A list without end

How to decide

Between you and a friend

Tomatoes and ham

Ground beef, pepperoni

Baked in an oven

On a platter that’s stony

Or perhaps in a pan

Or a hot barbecue

One thing about pizza

There’s no limit for you

To cook or to slice

In sauce or in spice

The food of the gods

Is never the same twice

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmailby feather
Friday Poetry for 08 December 2017

Friday Poetry for 08 December 2017

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusrssyoutubeby feather

From the vault. The note in the original file is that it’s on the occasion of my almost ten-month-old son’s third cold. He’ll be turning 19 shortly.

 

Few things shake your soul

Like a baby with a cold

Pick me up, put me down

Turn me over, turn me around

Go away, come here, go away

No, wait, I want you to stay

I’m tired, can’t sleep

I’m hungry, won’t eat

I’m thirsty, won’t drink

Just pour the milk down the sink

Short naps in the bed

Rub my tummy, rub my head

Daddy’s tired, needs a rest

Mama-mama (likes her best)

Cry and scream, scream and cry

Daddy needs a quiet place to lie

Mommy’s home, at last, at last

Pass the baby, quickly, fast

Daddy sits and sighs, he’s rather glad

Then comes the scream, I want my dad!

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmailby feather
Friday Poetry – A Blank Verse Sonnet

Friday Poetry – A Blank Verse Sonnet

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusrssyoutubeby feather

Tell me again how there’s no global warming.

Oh right, we’re supposed to say climate change.

I see, it was cold where you are today,

And god is taking care of everything.

Sorry? It’s warm and it’s supposed to be?

Well, of course, you must still be correct then.

What difference a few billion humans,

A few thousand years of shaping the world?

Isn’t it nice to live consequence-free

And know nothing you do really matters?

Your kids will inherit the same old world,

Still turning the same as it always has.

But if you’re wrong, maybe clean up a bit?

Or at least try not to shit where we eat?

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmailby feather
WP Facebook Auto Publish Powered By : XYZScripts.com