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.
Coincidence?
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!!!!
Gaaah! Can’t stop laughing.
Do people really eat this?
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.
~~~~~
Need I say more?
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,
Some parsely and some tartar sauce…”
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!
Related articles
- Hey crazy people! Let’s write some more bad poems about food! (thecheekydiva.com)
- [15 Words or Less Poems] Peephole (laurasalas.wordpress.com)
Are you selling your house today? I’m taking a break from writing to drop a few very bad, horrible, no good food poems on you today.
There was a recipe in a book.
It was craptastic fantastic, so I gave it a look.
Jalapenos, cheddar cheese, and creamed corn,
My famous dish called corn shit was born.
Family asks for it at every freakin’ holiday.
——-
Thanksgiving is a time for food.
But this year I’m not in the mood.
Turkey is out, chicken is in,
Pumpkin pie with ice cream will be the only win.
——-
Beans, beans, the magical fruit.
The more you eat the more you toot.
Oh, wait, I stole that.
Uhh…yumm? No not selling house. Grrrr… lowball offer of the lowest ball type. Home feeling very fluey, Tim Robbins taking good care of me. Wrapped me in my favorite argyle electric blanky and we’re watching tv and playing Scrabble.
I’m sorry about the lowball offer and the fluey feeling. Glad he’s taking care of you. You need to relax a bit. Jimmy Smits has succumbed to the Nyquil I slipped him and is sleeping on the sofa (he’s not even sick). I’ve been writing. Word count creeping up. Take care! Talk to you later!
Yes, it’s true! I left a poem here and within hours I was FP’ed! What Diva didn’t know, however, is that a friend of mine was here that same day and he DIDN’T leave a poem, and the next day he had his head chopped off by a helicopter rotor while simultaneously being struck by lightning and being hit by a meteor.
Do the poem people…just sayin.
Oh my god. I”m done. I am so done. You now have to give up this new found success and write all my blog posts, and my books, greeting cards and grocery lists. Crap! My gut is busted, and my head is off. Do you see what you’ve done here?
Just following the trail you are so brilliantly blazing, Diva!
Okay, this is just weird. I’m answering comments here, I’m answering comments on your blog, why don’t you just get yourself on Twitter already. Or are you? I can just imagine what a guy like you could do with a 140 character box.
brussel sprouts are so cute
but what brutes
they taste crude
and put me in a bad mood
I am not a poet cause my feet don’t show, cause they are not Longfellows–
Is this bad enough? I could probably do worse.
Oh that’s absolutely dreadful! Thank you so much! I hate brussel sprouts too. They taste like little wads of newspaper dipped in soggy wallpaper paste. Just awful. But they are cute, I’ll give em that. Like cabbages for Barbie, but I certainly don’t enjoy eating them.
cabbages for Barbie – lol- I am falling off my chair now–help, I can’t get up; cabbages for Barbie–I love and they do taste like newspaper dipped in paste
So glad I made you laugh! I’m working on an awards post…..keep your eyes peeled, you are one of my nominees!
I’m stuck on number 25
days a Hostess snack survives
make cakes fresh and put on hold
before a week they start to mold
If you don’t care for what I say
Check me out at noon today
For I will tell you what I know
Hostess products really blow
Sorry. I so suck at poetry, but had to try.
I said no skim milk!!! Ahem, excuse me…
Great um..poetry? Very concise. Nice use of not very many words. Can I have another one?
I was referring to my diva behavior now that I’m a star:
But here’s another one anyway: “You call this carrot cake?? I SAID NO RAISINS!!”
oh! Sorry. I had forgotten about your shrieking coffee episode. Very busy weekend. And yes you are a diva. Takes one to know one, right? I love your carrot cake poem by the way. Sure to be a classic!
Pingback: DP Challenge~ In Loving Memory « The Cheeky Diva