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AuntShecky
10-18-2007, 11:18 AM
Let's have a thread with your original poems which contain
topics concerning food and drink (both --to use the Jeopardy! term-- "potent potables"--and non-alcoholic beverages.) Here's one by your boring auntie to get the party started:


Making A Toasted Cheese Sandwich

When you have nothing

the philosophers tell you to be happy with

the little you have

take delight in the simple things

philosophers say


Well, I have a slice of cheese

and two slices of bread

what could be simpler

or cheaper

than that

I'd prefer wheat bread

healthy whole grain

with a hearty bite

and some Swiss

neutral like the country

and therefore harmless

though subtly nutty

and not as pully

as mozza-pizza

but snappy enough

to melt into what

product researchers call

"mouth-feel"

What I have

is a square

of store-brand synthetic

processed stuff

that's tasteless

and bland

and therefore one

hundred per cent

American

imposed between a pair

of machine-cut sponges

to pop into

the toaster-oven

That's right I'm making

this the old-fashioned way

not like the greasy-spoon staple

drowned in margarine

and slapped on the same griddle

that burned burgers

through three shifts

and called

"grill" cheese


Nor would I be crazy

enough to consider

the wacky Heloise-style

hint of wrapping it in foil

and cooking it at the same time

as doing the ironing

nobody's that efficient


and besides -- what about the crumbs

escaping from the Reynolds' Wrap armor

and mixing with the

inadvertently-washed Kleenex

in the pockets

of your pants


No, when it comes to

toasting cheese sandwiches

I'm a purist though not a true

vegan, having been known

to consume your occasional fish

the communal omelet

and of course

cheese

So I'm standing guard

in front of the countertop appliance

that's like an abandoned wife

whose husband left her for

a younger, flashier microwave

and I'm watching the coil

turn red

in embarrassment or rage


You'd think I were some snooty

chef from the Cordon Bleu

fussing over a feast

for some fastidious dignitary

the way this social-climbing sandwich

has commanded my attention


But you've got to watch

you've got to know

the precise moment

when to flip

or one side burns

and the other side stays pale

and the cheese, inside,

doesn't even warm up,

let alone melt

and you can bet

somebody will complain

about the crumbs

on the floor

you've got to watch

Though I'd much prefer

to look out the window

and see the sky stretch

and change into its evening wear

that isn't quite basic black

and definitely not blue

and in the brush to catch

a glimpse of furry beings

sniffing the twilight air

while hustling for a meal

they can afford

to be curious and brave

now that it's dusk

and the sportsmen have all

gone home or to a diner

for a quick beer

and a burned burger

There are no hunters left

except for Orion

amid the sharp and witty stars

and the Moon

rumored to be made of green cheese

playing Toastmaster to the night

and raising a shimmering glass

that spills a silver spotlight

over the dance floor of the field

which in the cold morning

will melt into bits

of glittering confetti,

these frosty crumbs

of moonlight in the grass

with the Cosmos taking its

simple delight

in the things it has

both little and big

though when you're talking

about the Universe

and its timeless banquet

size doesn't matter

while I'm inside --

in the kitchen --

toasting cheese


Aunt Shecky
All rights reserved.

blazeofglory
10-18-2007, 11:41 AM
Let's have a thread with your original poems which contain
topics concerning food and drink (both --to use the Jeopardy! term-- "potent potables"--and non-alcoholic beverages.) Here's one by your boring auntie to get the party started:


Making A Toasted Cheese Sandwich

When you have nothing

the philosophers tell you to be happy with

the little you have

take delight in the simple things

philosophers say


Well, I have a slice of cheese

and two slices of bread

what could be simpler

or cheaper

than that

I'd prefer wheat bread

healthy whole grain

with a hearty bite

and some Swiss

neutral like the country

and therefore harmless

though subtly nutty

and not as pully

as mozza-pizza

but snappy enough

to melt into what

product researchers call

"mouth-feel"

What I have

is a square

of store-brand synthetic

processed stuff

that's tasteless

and bland

and therefore one

hundred per cent

American

imposed between a pair

of machine-cut sponges

to pop into

the toaster-oven

That's right I'm making

this the old-fashioned way

not like the greasy-spoon staple

drowned in margarine

and slapped on the same griddle

that burned burgers

through three shifts

and called

"grill" cheese


Nor would I be crazy

enough to consider

the wacky Heloise-style

hint of wrapping it in foil

and cooking it at the same time

as doing the ironing

nobody's that efficient


and besides -- what about the crumbs

escaping from the Reynolds' Wrap armor

and mixing with the

inadvertently-washed Kleenex

in the pockets

of your pants


No, when it comes to

toasting cheese sandwiches

I'm a purist though not a true

vegan, having been known

to consume your occasional fish

the communal omelet

and of course

cheese

So I'm standing guard

in front of the countertop appliance

that's like an abandoned wife

whose husband left her for

a younger, flashier microwave

and I'm watching the coil

turn red

in embarrassment or rage


You'd think I were some snooty

chef from the Cordon Bleu

fussing over a feast

for some fastidious dignitary

the way this social-climbing sandwich

has commanded my attention


But you've got to watch

you've got to know

the precise moment

when to flip

or one side burns

and the other side stays pale

and the cheese, inside,

doesn't even warm up,

let alone melt

and you can bet

somebody will complain

about the crumbs

on the floor

you've got to watch

Though I'd much prefer

to look out the window

and see the sky stretch

and change into its evening wear

that isn't quite basic black

and definitely not blue

and in the brush to catch

a glimpse of furry beings

sniffing the twilight air

while hustling for a meal

they can afford

to be curious and brave

now that it's dusk

and the sportsmen have all

gone home or to a diner

for a quick beer

and a burned burger

There are no hunters left

except for Orion

amid the sharp and witty stars

and the Moon

rumored to be made of green cheese

playing Toastmaster to the night

and raising a shimmering glass

that spills a silver spotlight

over the dance floor of the field

which in the cold morning

will melt into bits

of glittering confetti,

these frosty crumbs

of moonlight in the grass

with the Cosmos taking its

simple delight

in the things it has

both little and big

though when you're talking

about the Universe

and its timeless banquet

size doesn't matter

while I'm inside --

in the kitchen --

toasting cheese


Aunt Shecky
All rights reserved.

You have commingled amazing and juxtaposing stuffs to stock your poem with and the impact is marvelous. So simple yet so profound, and you entertain us and at the same time teach indirectly and that is all that a poem must be. Unfortunately most do not have both so intermingling.

AuntShecky
10-22-2007, 12:29 PM
thank you very much, Blaze of Glory, for your comment.