"parsnips" poems
No sprouted wheat and soya shoots
And Brussels in a cake,
Carrot straw and spinach raw,
(Today, I need a steak).
Not thick brown rice and rice pilaw
Or mushrooms creamed on toast,
Turnips mashed and parsnips hashed,
(I'm dreaming of a roast).
Health-food folks around the world
Are thinned by anxious zeal,
They look for help in seafood kelp
(I count on breaded veal).
No smoking signs, raw mustard greens,
Zucchini by the ton,
Uncooked kale and bodies frail
Are sure to make me run
to
***** of pork and chicken thighs
And standing rib, so prime,
Pork chops brown and fresh ground round
(I crave them all the time).
Irish stews and boiled corned beef
and hot dogs by the scores,
or any place that saves a space
For smoking carnivores.
21.8k
We embarked upon a titanic voyage to a new world.
It’s said that behind every great man there's a great woman; But a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.
7 bells rang late that night, as our ship stuck fast; between the devil and the deep blue sea.
Fingers frantic! tapping code…—-…
Sailors quickly battened down the hatches and stowed away the Riff-raff, for they knew fine words would butter no parsnips, Better here than there in third class.
Some fiddlers on the deck played “Nearer My God to Thee", As the bubbles rose from beneath the sea, come buckle down boys for the devils to pay, come hell or high water he’ll have his pay.
Mothers row, land lubbers row, it's time to leave this god forsaken place. pulling hard for freedom.
Ten steel decks split and snap, as they join the ***** and hundreds either shriek or pray; as La dolce vita slowly ebbed away.
Mercifully the cacophony descends ever silent, as fifteen hundred souls become neither fish nor flesh, rotting from the head down.
Save our souls •••- - - •••. … — …
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 4:15 PM UTC
spring planting, spring harvesting, spring garlic
One of the great joys of having a job in agriculture
is to think days, weeks, even months ahead,
One of the great joys of having a job in poetry,
like a fireman, a patient planter of love,
you wait to be called,
then becoming by being,
part of an all consuming burning
come spring, take advantage of the cool, wet weather of spring
to put in multiple crops of peas and lettuce, also a great time
to get your perennial vegetables,
like asparagus and rhubarb, started
the planting cycle is not an either/or,
come harvest thy labored fruits,
nine crops to harvest come March,
kale, pick leaves as needed,
leeks, best left in the ground
and harvested as needed,
parsnips, purple sprouting broccoli,
rhubarb, spring cabbage, spring cauliflower,
and of course, my personal fav,
Spring Garlic
Garlic, like like love, is generally planted in the fall,
before the frost and harvested the following late summer.
But from March to May,
once the ground has truly thawed,
the young lover plants, spring garlic or green garlic,
can be harvested.
it’s a long bus ride to Western Canada
where the garlic spring has come,
ain’t complaining lots of time to write foolishness
and plant a few good bus poems in northern ontario
and even michigan,
the window slides, and the seeds scattered,
but at every bus poet stop,
those that need it,
planted many inches deep
April 2 naught how I wish I was nineteen again
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 4:02 PM UTC
Keep your feet on the ground even though your friends
flatter you. (Movies have pause, friends don’t.)
Traveling this year will bring your life into greater
perspective. (Actions speak nothing, without the motive.)
People enjoy having you around. (Appreciate this.)
Your emotional currents are flowing powerfully now.
(Movies have pause, friends don’t.) Listen to yourself more often -
you are thinking about doing something.
Impossible standards just make life difficult. (Actions speak nothing,
without the motive.) Don’t do it, it won’t help anything.
May you have great luck. You are admired for your
adventurous ways. (Everything has beauty but not everyone sees it.)
Right now there is energy pushing you in a new direction. (Hard words
break no bones, fine words butter no parsnips.)
People in your background will be more co-operative than normal. You
are the master of every situation. Listen to yourself more often.
(When the moment comes, take the top one.)Your emotional currents are flowing powerfully now. (Everything has beauty but not everyone sees it.) Encourage your peers. (For hate is never conquered by hate.)
You will be successful in your work. (Appreciate this.) Use your head,
live in your heart. (Hate is conquered by love.)
Don’t do anything, it won’t help you. When the moment comes take the top one. Soon life will become more interesting.
Mar 16, 2011
Mar 16, 2011 at 2:17 PM UTC
a late harvest in Brigadoon
plucked from good earth
by strong hands
hauling
uphill, until
a gentle
slope
rewards
a stiff
back; easing
a grateful
burden
that levitates
famine
[ bushels ]
now
ziggarats
in a root
cellar
a Sumerian skyline
of parsnips and rhubarb
with fennel minarets
where Gilgamesh slept
in a pantry of pagan loot
underneath a corner room
at the very back
of a round
house.
where four seasons bunk with an almanac
mason jars of pickled beets
breathing their own blood
hanging gardens from the ceiling
of the Underworld
like fliers of missing children
on telephone poles
i go outside and wander off
you stay home
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
I am a gingerbread
sweet tangy ******* head
addicted to making
marmalade sunsets
playing funeral organs
cooking grass
on my BBQ
I stir with
olde english
marinade with you
on a bed of roses
on our hill
growing wild sassy
cooking stews
of parsnips wild onions
marmalade you and
the morning dew.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
i cooked a christmas dinner a proper christmas roast
i cooked it by myself i was the christmas host
i bought a great big turkey and a box of foil
to wrap the turkey in so it wouldnt spoil
i plucked it and i stuffed then placed in to cook
doing as it said in my little book
then i peeled the spuds and cut up all the veg
then i got the parsnips and cut them in a wedge
everything was ready it gave me such a thrill
never knew i had so much cooking skill
Mar 15, 2010
Mar 15, 2010 at 8:20 AM UTC
There are none so blind as those who will not see
A prophet is not without honour, save in his own country,
Let the cobbler stick to his last; the nearer the church
The further from God; speak the truth and shame the devil
Every bullet has a billet, curses like chickens come home to roost
Comparisons are odious we are light years of discretion away
A little tin god enough to make angels weep
Sitting on thorns telling **** and bull stories,
I'll sieze the nettle and foul my own nest
Straight from the shoulder the sinews of war
To smite hip and thigh cut to the bone playing
Merry with lotus-eaters an elephant never forgets
Pull devil, pull baker man proposes but God disposes
Theres nothing new under the sun
Pitchers have big ears and pride goes before the fall
Even a worm will turn as fine words
Butter no parsnips, still waters run deep
Physician, Heal thyself.
ELEETE J MUIR
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 6:30 AM UTC
My tongue is leathered
vvith glory
an oral j u m p r o p e
in the darkness!
Joy!!!
might you trip
&& break a femur
to make a meal of yourself?
Once prepared
alongside the parsnips && carrots
I relish your eyes
&& make no apologies
for being
Don't be sad
to be svvallowed
Some
are not as lucky
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 2:09 AM UTC
i cooked a christmas dinner a proper christmas roast
i cooked it by myself i was the christmas host
i bought a great big turkey and a box of foil
to wrap the turkey in so it wouldnt spoil
i plucked it and i stuffed then placed in to cook
doing as it said in my little book
then i peeled the spuds and cut up all the veg
then i got the parsnips and cut them in a wedge
everything was ready it gave me such a thrill
never new i had so much cooking skill.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 2:51 PM UTC
I am a gingerbread
sweet tangy ******* head
addicted to making
marmalade sunsets
playing funeral organs
cooking grass
on my BBQ
I stir with
olde english
marinade with you
on a bed of roses
on our hill
growing wild sassy
cooking stews
of parsnips wild onions
marmalade you and
the morning dew.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC
A Joy to Behold
Holding a new born baby
Close in your warm strong arms
Baby food dripping down your shoulder
And the constant ringing of sleep alarms.
A joy to behold.
Walking the dog in the dead of night
It alerted you at two in the morning.
Waiting at bedroom door with lead
No fuss just a wet sloppy warning.
A joy to behold.
You just sit down with an evening meal
After a hard day’s work – the ‘phone rings
A sales talk on something you do not want
Slam the receiver down, and then say nice things.
A joy to behold.
Stuck in traffic when you are in a rush
All you want to do is get there and back.
You know something is going to happen
The chap behind you didn’t see you – whack!!!
A joy to behold.
You fetch your loved one from the supermarket
With a thousand bags for you to carry.
She has spent all your wages in a flash
And you wonder about the girl you did marry.
A joy to behold.
Watching your garden turn to weeds
After a heavy fall of the never ending rain.
Pulling them out with roots the size of parsnips
Your back aching, pulled a muscle once again.
A joy to behold. True a joy to behold.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 4:48 AM UTC
Imperial ales coerced our high gravity choices one day.
Bleeding, drenched and on full alert,
I limped from the Tuck's bank to the brewery.
With one pole wet, my whistle was next;
I needed hoppy nourishment, salty pretzels and a stool.
Lacking fish or gear, I imagined it would be difficult
to explain my appearance, but I didn't give a **** I come as is.
To my 3 o'clock a smoke ring silhouette vacuumed my
exhale like spooling cotton candy from 3 feet away;
I took a breath and inhaled her dandelion seeds.
A tattoo of a paper airplane on her wrist was faded from afar,
yet as she flew closer the ink appeared fresh, 2-3 weeks old.
Her hair smelled of patchouli, parsnips, an Asheville scent.
Closer now, I recognized a look of love or disgust in her eyes.
Can't tell em' apart anymore, as the prior wears a disguise,
eventually becoming the latter.
She asks my name and I ask the barkeep for two double IPA's.
We don't need a racetrack to run in circles anymore.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 9:52 PM UTC
Holding a new born baby
Close in your warm strong arms
Baby food dripping down your shoulder
And the constant ringing of sleep alarms.
A joy to behold.
Walking the dog in the dead of night
It alerted you at two in the morning.
Waiting at bedroom door with lead
No fuss just a wet sloppy warning.
A joy to behold.
You just sit down with an evening meal
After a hard day’s work – the ‘phone rings
A sales talk on something you do not want
Slam the receiver down, and then say nice things.
A joy to behold.
Stuck in traffic when you are in a rush
All you want to do is get there and back.
You know something is going to happen
The chap behind you didn’t see you – whack!!!
A joy to behold.
You fetch your loved one from the supermarket
With a thousand bags for you to carry.
She has spent all your wages in a flash
And you wonder about the girl you did marry.
A joy to behold.
Watching your garden turn to weeds
After a heavy fall of the never ending rain.
Pulling them out with roots the size of parsnips
Your back aching, pulled a muscle once again.
A joy to behold. True a joy to behold.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
wash the cabbage
peel the parsnips
down to church
for morning worship
Esmerelda at the *****
on the triangle (Bermuda)
Captain Morgan,
Mathew, Mark, Luke and when
we've read the verses one to ten
the vicar drones on once again
I'm going down the pub.
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 4:35 AM UTC
Holding a new born baby
Close in your warm strong arms
Baby food dripping down your shoulder
And the constant ringing of sleep alarms.
A joy to behold.
Walking the dog in the dead of night
It alerted you at two in the morning.
Waiting at bedroom door with lead
No fuss just a wet sloppy warning.
A joy to behold.
You just sit down with an evening meal
After a hard day’s work – the ‘phone rings
A sales talk on something you do not want
Slam the receiver down, and then say nice things.
A joy to behold.
Stuck in traffic when you are in a rush
All you want to do is get there and back.
You know something is going to happen
The chap behind you didn’t see you – whack!!!
A joy to behold.
You fetch your loved one from the supermarket
With a thousand bags for you to carry.
She has spent all your wages in a flash
And you wonder about the girl you did marry.
A joy to behold.
Watching your garden turn to weeds
After a heavy fall of the never ending rain.
Pulling them out with roots the size of parsnips
Your back aching, pulled a muscle once again.
A joy to behold. True a joy to behold.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
I've no idea what you could mean
or what you're trying to say,
my mind is sweet and squeaky clean
it's just not made your way,
Courgettes and carrots, parsnips too,
or even a creamy plantain,
I certainly won't mention a marrow,
that's just you boasting again
Ahhh the insinuations
the rhetoric, and rhyme
not saying what is meant
each, and every time
The witty repartee
and closeted nuance
knowing just what to say
taking a risqué chance
Squeaky clean, a facade
as carrots into men
fishing with a fishing rod
but only, now and then
Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 7:01 PM UTC
Last week my cat parsnips died. he got run over by a garbage truck. people say that cats have nine lives but parsnips musta had only had one.maybe if he was all black he woulda survived. I cried and I cried but mom and dad told me to shut my trap .parsnips is gone but one day I will see him again. I wish that I got run over by the garbage truck then I wouldn’t be alone
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 5:28 AM UTC
My cat parsnips has one eye I don’t know why
Mommy says cos he probly got into a fight with a dog
Daddies friends hate parsnips one time they came to our house with their dog.His name is gobells. gobells wanted to eat parsnips but parsnips is clever and ran up a tree and didn’t come down for a week . one time parsnips had no food so I gave him some left over pizza .I like left over pizza. parsnips loves left over pizza. me and him are best friends
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 5:26 AM UTC
bleed from finger tips
pressed into plastic keys
repeat routine regularly
until wrunged and wrinkled
some of us are just built wrong
you hear yourself say out loud
dream of escape to Aokigahara
where the trees whisper your name
and even darkness is palpable
you can taste it on your lips
the hemlock firs surrounding
dirt and parsnips on your tongue
your skin itches and you are
wildly uncomfortable in the vessel
sleep now, the forest demands
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
I've seen sand flooding through city streets like a torrent of hot gravy drowning sprouts and beetroots, park benches and church rooves.
Or maybe more like the final sprinkle of salt, baptising the parsnips and chicken breast in some sick meal time ritual.
It bursts through stained glass windows, choking the streets and preserving the locals. It rains down.
They used to mix it into a paste and mould it into city scapes - arches topped in humble salute through holes in the clouds.
Nowadays they melt it down and make office blocks out of the stuff, 500 metres in the air propped up like a million glossy middle fingers.
We bake it into computer chips and pluck digits from the stars. We predict eclipses and the dances of the planets with only slightly more accuracy than Ptolemy.
It'll come again, and nothing can slow it down
Dec 5, 2019
Dec 5, 2019 at 5:42 PM UTC
A Dangerous Place
Not new; the world
A risky place:
Too many schools of thought;
Their base defective.
Schools, which in themselves are seeking
Thought that knows thought’s ever-rules.
Kipling’s twain which never meet;
Krishna’s castes all separate;
Towers fall on Babel Street.
Not new.
Impossibility out there:
Worlds of danger everywhere;
Dangers that we can’t escape
Except by staying put
Content with parsnips.
A Dangerous Place 5.9.2004 Our Times, Our Culture; Birth, Death & In Between; Arlene Corwin
A Dangerous Place #2
Two thousand four come/gone.
Two eighteen still anonymous.
Am I apocalyptic?
World the warmest since…forever.
Messiurs Putin, Trump and every nuclear dictator,
Arsenals as big as ever.
What we were afraid of then
Is now in multiples.
Viruses that won’t give up,
Fighting each development.
Small to middling large eruptions
Under, over, on the surface.
Coverings and dryings up;
Methane gas, folk that pass
Leaving matches in the grass;
Flarings unintentional.
My old bones susceptible
To substances and circumstance they never knew.
Nature duping us.
Boo hoo? Or ballyhoo?
Is there something new awaiting?
Something generating happiness,
Content with standing-stillness? Wellness?
Who can tell,
Things being as they are:
Not fine, with every sign
An indication
That we’re going in the wrong direction.
Sorry!
A Dangerous Place #2 2.1.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Corwin
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 1:07 PM UTC
It started off innocuously enough. An argument over the correct length and shape that parsnips should be cut. Differences in vision over simple practical matters can quickly expose much deeper fissures. She felt compelled and her brain quickly went into overdrive; feeling consumed by a clarity of vision that she had rarely had since childhood. She opened an incognito window on her web browser and started looking at flights to Irkutsk, Florence and newcastle upon Tyne. All places she had a fleeting connection to. She updated her CV, and checked her eyes with a pocket mirror, noting that her eyelids had a slight purple tinge. She went downstairs to get a glass of water and saw that she was alone.
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 6:03 AM UTC