Oh groan and grumble and whine, not again???? Do I really have to do this?
Oh! So your time is too valuable to leave an ode to a favorite or un-favorite food? Silly and childish you say? Well, readers, I’ll have you know that last Saturday, my new best friend in the whole world, Adlibb3d left a haunting poem about fish sticks in the comment section, and within hours, he was Freshly Pressed.
Perhaps, but I’m going out on a limb to proclaim that Le Clown is not the only one with the power to catapult a virtual unknown to the heights of stardom. Okay, maybe he is, but whatever. Just leave me a poem already.
First up, everybody’s favorite~ Tripe!!!!
Today I make a dish with Tripe!
It’s sure to be a winner!
Watch me prepare it later on Skype
So you can make it for dinner!
I stole this image from Google
The caption simply read thus:
“The heaping bowl of tripe was the standout dish”
All I can add to this is a disbelieving What the Fu……????
I’m not even going to bother with a rhyme here, but I’m really dying to know what else was served at that meal.
Our next poetic honor goes to Awesomesausage, a word coined by one of my other best fake friends, Arthur, from Pouring My Art Out. He’s such a dear young man. He called The Cheeky Diva “Awesomesausage”, and when the tears dried, I wrote this poem. Click over to his blog to see some totally badass work,- art , songs and words. Go on, I put in the link, the least you can do is click.
So what is “Awesomesausage”?
Is the question on your minds
It’s what The Cheeky Diva is!
I am truly one of a kind
My pal Art thought “awesomesauce”
just wasn’t quite enough
so he added “age” to that kickass word,
It’s fitting but it’s tough
Adding “age” gives me my edge
For I’m older now and wise
Oh barf who am I kidding
seeing that makes me want to poke out my own eyes
Dear Arthur sings my praises
And for that I’m surely grateful
For he is one most righteous dude
His blog is Awesomesausage by the plateful
And since I promised you haggis, here is the mother of all food poems, featured in
A Horace Poem
Much to his dad and mum’s dismay
Horace ate himself one day
He didn’t stop to say his grace
He just sat down and ate his face
“We can’t have this!” his dad declared
“If that lad’s ate he should be shared”
But even as he spoke they saw
Horace eating more and more:
First his legs and then his thighs,
His arms, his nose, his hair, his eyes
“Stop him someone!” Mother cried
“Those eyeballs would be better fried!”
But all too late for they were gone,
And he had started on his dong…
“Oh foolish child!” the father mourned
“You could have deep-fried those with prawns,
But H was on his second course;
His liver and his lights and lung,
His ears, his neck, his chin, his tongue
“To think I raised him from the cot
And now he’s gone to scoff the lot!
” His mother cried what shall we do?
What’s left won’t even make a stew…”
And as she wept her son was seen
To eat his head his heart his spleen
And there he lay, a boy no more
Just a stomach on the floor…
None the less since it was his
They ate it – and that’s what haggis is
Alright kids, now sparkle like a brooding, day walking vampire filled with angst and a love of baseball and girls with droopy eyelids~ gimme them food poems!
- Hey crazy people! Let’s write some more bad poems about food! (thecheekydiva.com)
- [15 Words or Less Poems] Peephole (laurasalas.wordpress.com)