"carbonara" poems
There’s a scurrying sound of something, burrowing,
Down in the depths of the dungeons, hurrying,
Skittering, pittering-pattering, scattering
When there’s a footstep, hear them chattering:
‘Here come the lords, and here comes the vassal,
Tripping their way through Cockroach Castle.’
Here come the ladies, all in their finery
Tripping and sipping the wine from the winery,
Trailing their silks, their satins and bustling,
Up in the ballroom, while the rustling
Army beneath the sounds of their razzle
Is down in the depths of Cockroach Castle.
Spilling their millions up in the glooming
Out from the flagstones, terror is looming,
Up on the awnings, hung from the ceiling
Under the swish of the skirts they’re stealing,
Dropping in hair, and burrowing faster,
Cockroach Castle is set for disaster.
Suddenly all of the room is screaming
Flapping of hands, the roaches are teeming,
Myriad hordes in the Carbonara,
Candles are tipped from the candelabra,
Choking smoke from the candles guttered,
Flames leap up from the ones that stuttered.
Clothing and flags and the awnings razing
Silks and satins flare up, and blazing,
Roaches in eyes and ears, they’re rasping
Clogging their throats, to leave them gasping,
There isn’t a lady or lord, or vassal
To come out alive from Cockroach Castle!
David Lewis Paget
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
kumikinang ang mamahaling parol na nakadambana sa bintana ng mansion na nasa loob ng isang malaking subdivision. nagniningning ang patay sindi nitong kulay na umaaliw sa balana. salamat sa malaking pakinabang na kanyang kinita nang walang anomang pakundangan sa dugo at pawis ng mga abang manggagawa.
nasa kanyang sala naman ang mataas na Christmas Tree habang sa paanan nito nakahandusay ang kahon-kahon na magagarbong mga regalo. malayong-malayo ito sa barung-barung ng mga nagtitiis sa siphayo ng dusa at karalitaan.
ang mahabang lamesa na nasa kanyang komedor ay talagang pinagpala sapagkat nakapatong dito ang hiniwang hamon, keso de bola, spaghetti, carbonara, lasagna, ubas at ang lahat ng masasarap na pangarap ng isang batang kalye na kumakalam ang sikmura habang tinitiis ang ginaw ng Disyembre.
matapos ang kanyang masaganang Noche Buena ay mauupo sya sa kanyang malambot na sofa na di halos mabilang ang libong halaga. dun n'ya iinumin nang buong pagmamalaki ang mamahaling brandy o di kaya naman ay whiskey.
katabi ang kanyang pamilya sabay-sabay silang manonood ng misa habang nakatuon sa higanteng flat screen na telebisyon. ang homily ng ingleserong pari ay patungkol sa pag-ibig sa kapwa at pagbibigayan.
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 4:32 AM UTC
You are my sun, the planets and the asteroids in between,
actually, make that the energy that embraces the sun,
the elements and trace elements that make up each planet...
(Oh, my stars!)
You are each perfect petal that unfurls ever so slowly in the morning light,
actually, make that the light that kisses each dew drop which
awakes each petal with that sweet kiss...
(Oh, blush, my buzzing bee!)
You are that raindrop that refreshes my parched soul that's stranded in a desert,
actually, make that the mirage that proves to be an oasis
as my eyes widen in wonderment with the reality of You.
(Oh, shucks, my sweet breath!)
You are my golden compass whenever I get lost in the wilderness,
actually, I wouldn't mind getting lost, if it means
that I get lost in your soulful, beautiful eyes Forever
(Oh, you cheeseball, you!!)
You are the chocolate ganache frosting on that chocolate cake,
actually, you are the powdered sugar on my honey-dipped doughnut
that brushes my lips, the perfect complement for hot, hot coffee
(Oh, honey bun!!)
You are the--
Sweetcakes??
You are the freshly ground pepper that dusts softly on my carbonara, I'm just
Ahem!!!!
You are the freshly ground pepper that dusts softly on my carbonara,
actually it would be bland and incomplete without you and---
Hey, babe!
huh?!
*I'm on dense mode right now, what are you really trying to say?
Come on, spill it, I NEVER hear it from you...*
Ummm, ummm...I...I...
I mean, I--
Out with it, come on!! You can do it---"I...."
Hoo! Ok, I...
I can do this---
I...
(Note to self: This is IT!!!!!)
I--
Yesss...?!!
I
am
the empty, wanting glass and you are the refreshing drink that fills me up,
actually,--
***~BOINKKKKKkkK~ !! I'm walking away now!!
Geez, if you can't say IT without all the Fluffy, duffy, Fluff,
see me walking away for now...I need the Skinny, the skeleton!
Sometimes one just needs to Hear it, you know?!
Oh, and I love you,in case you didn't know...but see me walk!***
Hey, honey bunny, smoochie sweetie pie?
...still walking away~~~~
I...
huff, huff, huff~~
I am walking towards you...
Huff, puff, puff and hufff~! (note to self: Walk on, walk on...)
I said I'm walking towards you...
~bump~!
and
I...
Love
You.
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 1:09 PM UTC
One morning, Howard was deciding what he was going to cook for today's lunch. Howard was not the worlds best cook, he mainly enjoyed buying ready meals to eat, Fishermans Pie was his dearest. But today was to be different; a change; he would make something from scratch. He decided that Carbonara met his fancy, so he got up from his wearing sofa, and made his way to the half filled book cabinet. 'How to make Pasta', the book read. It was a result for Howard. He clinched his hands on the closed book, and bought it into the front room.Howard opened the book to the contents and turned to page 21, 'Carbonara Chicken Special'. Howard firstly read the ingrediants needed, then popped to the local convinience store to fetch the things he needed. When he eventually started the meal, he was on task and ready to go. So he prepared the sauce, and the pasta, and the chicken. Then put it in the oven, a fourty-five minute wait.Howard was knackered by this time and thought he'd have a quick lye down..."BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP"!!!!!!!!!!!!! This incredibly loud noise was coming from the smoke alarm, startaling Howard! He rushed to the kitchen to discover masses of smoke dominating the room. Howard glanced up at the the clock to discover that he had been sleeping for over an hour. The pasta was ruined and had to be thrown away.Howard was starving though. So he went over to the freezer, grabbed a microwave fishermans pie, and heated it up. As he sat down to eat the meal, he thought to himself; ' Well I gave it a go, one step closer eh'. Then digged into his seafood.
Feb 27, 2010
Feb 27, 2010 at 4:37 AM UTC
"
Forged by Mom's tender hands,
In the fiery lair of the kitchen where I was once a squire.
We swayed our aprons like a hero’s cape,
Bravely marched through the crucible’s draconic breath.
We unsheathed our wooden spatulas,
Raised our mighty metallic forks,
And lined our legion of spices, ready to make the dish.
Like witches,
We simmered the water with salt from the Baltic Sea,
And oil procured from the labyrinth of shelves.
As we waited for it to rattle with bubbles,
Our sweat poured like the pasta we threw,
While we smacked our iron pan into the horns of the oven.
It screeched an ear-piercing clang,
And we retaliated with our hearts beating a battle cry as we started for war.
My general ordered me to lay a grease trap.
Minutes passed; it sizzled,
The pan fired back boiling oil,
But we stood like walls—unyielding, fierce.
Brave onions leapt into the fray,
Sacrificing themselves, leaving us to grieve in tears
As the battle raged on.
The onion’s bittersweet, crispy breath inspired the garlic to follow,
Crackling in courage as it joined the heat.
Soon, bacon met the fire—
Crisping, releasing the smoky guardian from the labyrinth’s depth,
While mushrooms from the Elven forest charged in the clash.
The holy grail of Filipino-style Carbonara sauce rained on the battlefield,
Uniting the fallen, boiling *** and all,
Turning the *** into a smooth, white, creamy ocean with a steaming, smoky, crisp aroma.
We scooped our pasta water and drained the rest,
Baptized the *** with silky, snake-like pasta,
Adorned it with grainy black pepper,
And sprinkled it with golden cheese,
A finishing touch for our dish.
We cheered in victory as we prepared the feast,
Our kingdom rejoiced in tears at each slurp and each lick of our savoury dish.
As laughter echoed and stories flowed,
Mom crowned me the Carbonara knight,
A token of triumph for a job well done.
"
-Klausyuer: The ****** Poet
Oct 6, 2024
Oct 6, 2024 at 4:05 PM UTC
tick, tock
i forgot my wristwatch
i'm losing track of time
tick tock
and you're just there,
right in front of me
twirling carbonara noodles with your fork
the sauce messily covering your lips
tick tock
it has been a long time since
you expressed your stories, your dreams
your philosophies, your blusters
tick, tock
i answer you with smiles
with glances that appreciate
the tiniest details about you
tick, tock
your worn out black cardigan
your varicolored necklace
your white tank top
your chaotic food choices
tick, tock
not again
just stop
quit staring
tick, tock
**** it, i can't finish my meal
tick, tock
you smiled at me
tick, tock
you blushed
tick, tock
you laughed at me
tick, tock
again,
i'm falling
in love
with you
tick, tock
deeper
tick, tock
moments
they hit me
like a train
tick, tock
just tell me
when will i see you again
tick, tock
i don't want this to end
tick, tock
take me with you
tick, tock
ugh **** it
tick, tock
you ask me what's wrong
tick, tock
i shake my head
as response
tick, tock
time is running out
tick, tock
i push my plate away
dropped my spoon and fork
they clattered
tick, tock
i stand up
i lean for a kiss
tick, tock
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 2:36 PM UTC
_Demon and stration
Devil in the station
Deemed as action
Dew falls on its portion
So sign social interpretation.
To avoid war of faction
No matter what temptation,
do not cause discrimination.
Remember some diaspora
They played an opera
But we ever played biafara.
Some exiled to Accra
Without eating carbonara
Home is a home, just remember.
Its beauty looks like amber.
It's a steady stand like timber.
It's division divided like a chamber.
If stone throws from north,
the south will set forth.
And if it's from south,
the north will set forth.
Bring peace
Not to piece
But to prease
I asked you please
My fellow
Nigerian_
Jul 24, 2024
Jul 24, 2024 at 3:59 AM UTC
wet green moss and winter calves,
sly smiles and limoncello laughs;
carbonara grins and giggly eyes,
tiny cigarettes and wide open skies;
mournful ruins and teasing remarks,
sneezes in naples but bright roman sparks;
sleepy bus journeys and the back of your head,
etruscan bronze and paintings of bread;
late night laundry thinking of you,
heart rate climbing as you came into view;
you hear my bad puns and i love your low chuckle,
you grin at me and my walls unbuckle;
my stammering voice and your comforting gaze,
i will remember this time until the end of our days.
Dec 16, 2019
Dec 16, 2019 at 3:38 PM UTC
I loved you in a way I
will never love someone else in
The red dress, red lips, sweating
in the tube kind of way
The hot pants, giraffe top
Carbonara at midnight kind of way
Long walks on the boulevard
by the bund
Midnight kisses in the park
Your blonde hair in the sun
Pillars at Four Seasons
I fell in love with Shanghai
It addicted me
But I don't know if I
Fell in love with the city or fell in love
with the way we were
I returned, years later
Five carat. Hyatt by the bund. Soda at midnight
They say I was drunk, they stare in awe
On top of Shanghai
I finally let you go
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC
You are a stomach
full of carbonara, stale
milk in the morning
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 5:27 AM UTC