"gourmets" poems - Hello Poetry

Le Poirier de la "Casalonga" Il était long comme l'espoir, Lové sur le mur de granit Qu’il entourait de ses grands bras. Il semblait un serpent narquois, Et n'était certes pas très beau, Mais, bien le meilleur des poiriers. Quand venaient les jours de Juillet Les poires commençaient à tomber, D’abord, bien vertes de couleur ; Puis, aux premières journées d'août, Les tendres et jaunes à croquer Comme de grandes plaines de blé. L'on pouvait entendre tomber Ses poires avec un bruit mat, Qui pleuvaient drues, même la nuit Et tapissaient le sol herbeux. C'était la saison des gâteaux, Des confitures et des compotes. Les abeilles venaient butiner Les poires qui jonchaient le sol Et voletaient autour des mains Des gourmets venant soupeser Les plus fermes et les moins brisées. Qui tombaient parfois de bien haut. Cher Poirier, vaillant ouvrier, Aux branches tant ployées de fruits Que tu en paraissais voûté, Tu nous donnais sans rechigner Tant de poires, au parfum vanille Bien plus que nous pouvions manger. Paul Arrighi ( Corse /Corsica)

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Aug 11, 2016

Aug 11, 2016 at 8:20 AM UTC

paul-daubin

Le Poirier de la "Casalonga"

Le Poirier de la "Casalonga" Il était long comme l'espoir, Lové sur le mur de granit Qu’il entourait de ses grands bras. Il semblait un serpent narquois, Et n'était certes pas très beau, Mais, bien le meilleur des poiriers. Quand venaient les jours de Juillet Les poires commençaient à tomber, D’abord, bien vertes de couleur ; Puis, aux premières journées d'août, Les tendres et jaunes à croquer Comme de grandes plaines de blé. L'on pouvait entendre tomber Ses poires avec un bruit mat, Qui pleuvaient drues, même la nuit Et tapissaient le sol herbeux. C'était la saison des gâteaux, Des confitures et des compotes. Les abeilles venaient butiner Les poires qui jonchaient le sol Et voletaient autour des mains Des gourmets venant soupeser Les plus fermes et les moins brisées. Qui tombaient parfois de bien haut. Cher Poirier, vaillant ouvrier, Aux branches tant ployées de fruits Que tu en paraissais voûté, Tu nous donnais sans rechigner Tant de poires, au parfum vanille Bien plus que nous pouvions manger. Paul Arrighi ( Corse /Corsica)

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Got stuck with so many dishes. Cuisines, cushions, comfort as we chewed Platter stuffed with salads Reminisced our salad days Table is now in choc-o-block Trouble died in our belly [ not with just belly fillers ] Captured the moments of styled forks and spoons Bewildered with Greek gourmets Then finished of in long dreams in siesta Blurred with sleep Woke up to our surprise; out there Our table looked like the Last Supper Table!

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Mar 17, 2016

Mar 17, 2016 at 4:40 AM UTC

mark-david

Table

Got stuck with so many dishes. Cuisines, cushions, comfort as we chewed Platter stuffed with salads Reminisced our salad days Table is now in choc-o-block Trouble died in our belly [ not with just belly fillers ] Captured the moments of styled forks and spoons Bewildered with Greek gourmets Then finished of in long dreams in siesta Blurred with sleep Woke up to our surprise; out there Our table looked like the Last Supper Table!

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::::::Just a Poem:::::: The world will end The Earth will bend Waters will get thirsty Ants will grow hefty The sun will melt No pain will be felt The clouds will usurp the sky Fishes will walk and fly Trees will run and walk Flowers will sing and talk Animals will become wise As with great heat the Moon will arise Rivers will flow out from earth Water will be the measuring unit of wealth Stories will not be told Not when old senile grasses will bear forth gold And mountains will be heaved by valiant men As they bore forth silvers and diamonds vomiting children Famers will plant Crimson stones and harvest rubies Ripping their husbands apart, and searching for crystals, would be feminine hobbies Lions will be used for transportation, since their claws will turn wheels Crocodiles will evacuate their aquatic tenements and head for the hills After losing their flight, birds will trek to volcanic regions for recreation As venoms of snakes will be used for mummification Just when planetary bodies muss up after drinking muscatel And Comets will go wiggling the Universe searching for Meteors to tell Asteroids will be **** women Visiting Earth on intervals to eat the luscious renascent three-legged men Children will converged forging a bulwark with each fiery horn Ones fixed by a one-tooth worm just about the time they were born This is a gory war; it will commence when a star will fall Exactly when vim-less monkeys will bellow a rehearsed rodomontade in the butchery hall As venerated corpses of Rats receive posthumous worship Those villains were holy miscreants, who sent many to death-sleep Their posterities are honored; infamous miscreated Rats, with flagrant mien But as foretold by the corpulent Prophets, shortened will be the tyrannous Gopheric reign For they will be swallowed by gigantic-goliath gourmand Hippopotamuses Their description are ineffable to words, they are of enormous sizes And aeons from now those gourmets will swallow the earth! And oh! Unreal it will all seem Because you think this screed is just a Poem! Composed by SirKelvin Poem 99, ©SirKel 2016

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Mar 17, 2018

Mar 17, 2018 at 5:56 PM UTC

SirKelvin

Just A Poem

::::::Just a Poem:::::: The world will end The Earth will bend Waters will get thirsty Ants will grow hefty The sun will melt No pain will be felt The clouds will usurp the sky Fishes will walk and fly Trees will run and walk Flowers will sing and talk Animals will become wise As with great heat the Moon will arise Rivers will flow out from earth Water will be the measuring unit of wealth Stories will not be told Not when old senile grasses will bear forth gold And mountains will be heaved by valiant men As they bore forth silvers and diamonds vomiting children Famers will plant Crimson stones and harvest rubies Ripping their husbands apart, and searching for crystals, would be feminine hobbies Lions will be used for transportation, since their claws will turn wheels Crocodiles will evacuate their aquatic tenements and head for the hills After losing their flight, birds will trek to volcanic regions for recreation As venoms of snakes will be used for mummification Just when planetary bodies muss up after drinking muscatel And Comets will go wiggling the Universe searching for Meteors to tell Asteroids will be **** women Visiting Earth on intervals to eat the luscious renascent three-legged men Children will converged forging a bulwark with each fiery horn Ones fixed by a one-tooth worm just about the time they were born This is a gory war; it will commence when a star will fall Exactly when vim-less monkeys will bellow a rehearsed rodomontade in the butchery hall As venerated corpses of Rats receive posthumous worship Those villains were holy miscreants, who sent many to death-sleep Their posterities are honored; infamous miscreated Rats, with flagrant mien But as foretold by the corpulent Prophets, shortened will be the tyrannous Gopheric reign For they will be swallowed by gigantic-goliath gourmand Hippopotamuses Their description are ineffable to words, they are of enormous sizes And aeons from now those gourmets will swallow the earth! And oh! Unreal it will all seem Because you think this screed is just a Poem! Composed by SirKelvin Poem 99, ©SirKel 2016

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While Mr. Bartlett was heard to declare, "I will be famous. I've found a new pear!" He was nothing compared to Mr. Newton, Who found the first fig tree with some fruit on! When next in a biscuit, he rolled it*, Enhancing its flavour. Gourmets extolled it! Next came a gardener who saw the rain Run off apples he grew. Leaving no stain! Seeing their clean red skin, remarked "Oh Gosh!" The right name for this brand is "MacIntosh!" Next came a woman who reached her zenith When they named a green apple, "Granny Smith!". With even complexion, and no rumpling, ‘Twas an apple perfect for making a dumpling! Then a little girl not to be outdone, Said to her Father in a bit of fun, I’d like to name that sweet English plum. I’ll call it Victoria, after my dear old Mum! Next a sweet, red cherry, they named Bing, After a soft crooner who loved to sing, Who cares if it's true? At least it’s romantic. Besides, let’s not be too pedantic! Was this how most fruit names were given? First, folks found they were resolutely driven To put their name to a specific fruit. Then came others who quickly followed suit! Whether we like the results, most agree, It's how some things are named. Will always be! But should you develop a fruit like a pear, Your name must be worthy for it to bear. Can you imagine the grief begotten If your name should be Ava Rotten?! Rhymer . February 2nd, 2018.

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Feb 2, 2018

Feb 2, 2018 at 8:55 AM UTC

denis-barter

A Fruitful Compendium.

While Mr. Bartlett was heard to declare, "I will be famous. I've found a new pear!" He was nothing compared to Mr. Newton, Who found the first fig tree with some fruit on! When next in a biscuit, he rolled it*, Enhancing its flavour. Gourmets extolled it! Next came a gardener who saw the rain Run off apples he grew. Leaving no stain! Seeing their clean red skin, remarked "Oh Gosh!" The right name for this brand is "MacIntosh!" Next came a woman who reached her zenith When they named a green apple, "Granny Smith!". With even complexion, and no rumpling, ‘Twas an apple perfect for making a dumpling! Then a little girl not to be outdone, Said to her Father in a bit of fun, I’d like to name that sweet English plum. I’ll call it Victoria, after my dear old Mum! Next a sweet, red cherry, they named Bing, After a soft crooner who loved to sing, Who cares if it's true? At least it’s romantic. Besides, let’s not be too pedantic! Was this how most fruit names were given? First, folks found they were resolutely driven To put their name to a specific fruit. Then came others who quickly followed suit! Whether we like the results, most agree, It's how some things are named. Will always be! But should you develop a fruit like a pear, Your name must be worthy for it to bear. Can you imagine the grief begotten If your name should be Ava Rotten?! Rhymer . February 2nd, 2018.

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