"poutine" poems
"Do you know who the prime minister of Canada is?"
"Hmmm isn't it Tim Horton?"
Sweating, shivering, and shoveling snow,
Looking up with relief as the flakes begin to slow.
Starting our mornings with pancakes drizzled in gooey sweet syrup
And greasy, cheesy, poutine being our last meal we eat up.
We hike up a green lush mountain just to see the view
And shoot down the slopes of silvery snow and feel as if we flew.
The rascally beavers are our vandals, the loons are our song,
The cougars reminding us that we are strong.
We are Canadian, eh?
But would we really want it any other way?
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC
Shoe fries, JoJos
Scalloped potatoes, Mashed potatoes
Baked potatoes, Hashbrowns, Tatertots
Latkas, Potato soup, French fries, Home fries
Diced potatoes, Potato chips, Curly fries
Potato pies, Riced potatoes, Spudnuts
Potato salad, Poutine
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 2:40 AM UTC
building purist æsthetic
proselytizing solar-powered heliolatry
commemorating historic concert
sensing dark forces
fokken lekker antwoord
pumping sensory overload
featuring high-tech dee-jay
admiring gelato micro-truck
laxing laying lazing
"doing something nasty"
continuing quality content
entering another cathedral
journeying without borders
"exactly one year
since visiting vatican"
appreciating full-time gigasphere
awaiting pyongyang performance
depicting unlikely crowdsurfer
foreseeing exponential improvements
furthering esoteric agenda
sensing profound incompatibility
data-mining people's infidelities
anticipating futuristic caffeine
perfecting invisible propaganda
researching mind-control techniques
polishing psycho-social weaponry
sensing social embargo
flourishing frantic fanfare
admiring longitudinal monument
parodying marketing slogans
cycling through österreich
eyeing dystopian disneyland
streaming crosswords extended-play
herding glass kittens
deleting idiosyncratic fragment
loremipsum-ing laconic loudmouth
receiving ultramodern telegram
eigo-ga wakarimasu ka?
guzzling duck-fat fries
encouraging panic selling
(juxtaposing past incarnations)
getting black-and-white privilege
renewing boutique account
relishing cinema poutine
re-entering hibernation mode
opening old windows
continuing zoo motif
absquatulating excessive excesses
nullifying originality claims
proliferating protean persona
disappearing sidewalk alphabet
shrugging opprobrious moments
enjoying vertical alignment
re-entering cyberpunk paradise
approaching island sun
soaring beyond monoliths
trivializing extraneous argy-bargy
decreasing character limits
dumping generic accounts
uglifying commit message
escaping into idiosyncracy
moonshining great lake
exuding idiosyncratic propaganda
living nineties' dreams
making occidental cuisine
envisioning idiocratic president
expropriating your time
ascending homely helix
singing fat lady
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
I wear white
I wear white
I wear white and stare right back at
the other end of the world
The hems of the loosely fitting traditions
Barely touch the ground anymore
I wear white
I wear white
White like the chalk on the blackboard switched from
right to left.
Aimless and bereft of the desert I once called mine,
I walk alone
I wear white, I wear white
As I have done for 14 hours
and 14 years
7000 miles on the screen and 2 more up there
to be precise. It faded for every mile
Just as it has been doing since the day Darwish died
I wear white, I wear white
A different breed of Semite than they're used to
Not walking but flowing almost
as contradictory as "poutine Arabesque"
The routine wears my jaw out
as the vowels twist from right to left
I wear white, I wear white
Not just quite there yet
Not even close
Not even halfway to the surface but then again
I suppose we've always been at ease at the depths of the sea
Pearls and black gold abound
I forget that sometimes in between
intermittent bouts and doubts of "3arabiyun ana"
As if that's what makes up the anatomy of an Arab
As if that's enough for you, Khaled
I wear white
I wear white
Or at least I tell myself I do
Leave myself open to the prospect
of life starting anew
Forcing myself to see it through
See life through your eyes
Or are they my own **** you ?
Tell me for the love of Christ
Call me by name and don't
bury me under the empty discarded photo frames
that you stockpile
I'm calling to you, Walid
And will keep on calling
And trying and burning and aching and failing and dreaming and irritating
like a bad itch
I sink under it all and push it all off step 3 repeat as necessary
I scream in the tongue that you deafen your ears to and pull at the beard you've tried to shave off
I pluck at the horizontal heartstrings you've tried to mute
Above all, I wear white...
And I fight.... I fight.....
I FIGHT
Apr 4, 2010
Apr 4, 2010 at 8:10 AM UTC
Life is made of moments
Some might be just a blip
But the whole sum of these moments
Make living life a trip
The big things rule
So some would say
But, not me, oh not me
It's the blips and all the little things
The things I want to see
I need all of the little things
To make my day seem right
I need to hear a snoring sound
When I turn out the light
Having kids is bigger stuff
Than I can list on here
It's little things that I will miss
When my loved one is not near
Like now, I miss the little things
That were part of my routine
With Titan gone and just us two
There's always more poutine
We order less when we go out
there's no one waiting at the stairs
It's nothing but, a little thing
That we miss now he's not there
A simple touch, a friendly word
An irritant at times
But, in life I miss the little things
They make life's mountain worth the climb
Missing friends, their silly jokes
You've heard a hundred times or more
These are just the little things
That I am waiting for
I miss them all, these little things
No matter , just how small
They make my life a treasure
And you know I miss them all
A word, a song, a photograph
A memory it brings
I think of all the larger stuff
But, I miss the little things....
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 11:47 PM UTC
“Really, you have a favourite poutine place?” he ridiculed.
I could taste the judgement on his lips.
See the twinkle of superiority in his eyes.
Feel the scorn in his palms as he slapped my ***
He took a long drag of his cigarette.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 11:06 AM UTC
Carla said I must fast, no food, only water,
For the first three days of the New Year.
Your body yearns to have your mind in control, she told me,
This is the fatal flaw in all your attempts at happiness, she said,
If you ever stop searching for the source of your misery,
In a bowl of poutine or between the legs of an ingénue,
God this pathetic ability you have to impress young women,
Will you ever free yourself from the haste of ***
The burst and blinding flash of ******
I’ve seen you writhe and discharge,
Only to watch you tremble
And discover once again how alone you are.
Without ****** life is meaningless I explained,
And I watched the maple syrup slip, slide and curl
Into the center of my bowl of porridge.
******* Carla said,
If I lightly brush my fingernails up the side of your arm
You will shiver,
A faux ****** right here in this slovenly kitchen of yours,
*** in a carnival act, almost a trick,
Evolution isn’t your friend, she said, it doesn’t want you to think.
It wants you to **** and die,
To fertilize and retire
And so it offers you this cheesy reward,
An ****** an insult, in hopes you will fornicate and forget.
You have a mind, or a remnant,
Embrace chastity for year
And then thank me for the clarity,
Start with your fast, immediately, she said
Carla leaned into me
And picked up my bowl of porridge.
The sweet smell of syrup lingered forever.
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 6:23 PM UTC
For a very long time
I wasn’t proud to say I was Canadian.
Not to say that I was ashamed
Of the country that I was born in.
But it never really felt
Like Canada was my country,
It felt more like the country
That I happened to be living in.
I went about my life, ignorant
Of what makes my home so special.
But as time went on, I began to learn
About this Canada place.
I learnt about our laws,
Our people, and our history.
I learnt about our lands,
And revelled in their mysteries.
From the edge of the pond,
To the coast of the shimmering Pacific.
Here lies all that is Canadian.
A land of similarities that unite
Instead of differences that split.
Here lives a people of many races
A land of the free
And a land of diversity.
Home of real beer.
Where people put cheese and gravy on french fries
And don't call it weird.
We call it poutine.
Where maple syrup goes with everything.
Where it doesn’t matter if it's 40 above
All the better to get wet.
Or if it's forty below,
Put on a coat
And play in the snow!
A land where love is free,
What do I care what you like in the bedroom?
It doesn't matter to me.
This is a land of majestic mountains,
A place of powerful prairies,
And of forests of towering trees
As far as the eye can see.
This is a country
I'm proud to call home.
My Canada.
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 2:59 PM UTC
Don't fool with me,
make me feel like I don't know English.
Track me down and tell me it's easier to learn French.
Once you think you know French they tell you that you got it all wrong.
You need to know Canadian French. If it wasn't for poutine I'd build a wall around Quebec.
Any how if I didn't use enough modifiers with my Verb string me up
And who cares anyway, just some tired Academic that tries to say
he teaches people.
If anyone wants to say wrong again then the only thing they can do is teach. And like they say, if you can't do, teach.
In conclusion ( like I'm writing an essay). To which I state the dictionary's definition of Predication could use a little plain language, or maybe I should learn Chinese. Just for their beautiful Characters.
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 5:07 PM UTC
the competition is fierce
korea vs germany
just like the world cup
which korea won
i had sooo much chicken
korea brings classic
street food blood sausage
and spicy rice cakes
and fried dumplings just like in seoul
germany brings
kartoffelkloesse
bratwurst sausage
and spätzle
britian vs mexico
some quality smelling
smells that i smell
food times
britian cam with
fish and chips (ofc)
clam chowder
and the dinner-breakfast
mexico time
burritos and
tamales and
pozole galore
canada vs america
here we go
the canada and
south canada
canada arrives with
poutine (and lots of it)
wait,,, is that the only
thing you brought?
the rules were
to bring three dishes
my friend.
idiote
america arrives with
a burger w/ a side of fries
and thats it.
I SWEAR TO GOD-
nihon vs zhonggou
let's go
the asain super powers
anime vs cHiNA
kawaii uwu japan
brings three bentos
with OCTODOGS
YOOOOOOO
made in china
general tso
orange chicken
and mapo tofu
conclusion:
this is a who will win
whos gonna win
i need to go to the gym
Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 3:10 PM UTC
It tastes like something,
You’ve never experienced.
Its name is poutine.
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 8:13 AM UTC
To write a poem
Without a reason
Isn't as easy at all
It is like being in prison
While outside is a freezing fall
At least Im in warmth
Thought the prisoner then
This space is enough
This is how I'll defeat
Myself in the dark but a warm
A Prisoner's room
A cell and a loop
Of daily routine
Are just like poutine
For those people to fight
It's like energy light
It isn't easy at all
To write a poem about any thing
Because when there's no goal
You gotta create one and think.
The prisoner tried
To reason, believe
He started to fight
And relived a relief
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 12:58 PM UTC
canadian bacon is the best
just laying down some facts
poutine is also good
never really cared for the pea soup tho
america.
mcdonalds is ok
i prefer popeyes over
kfc but thats just me
mexico
i ate the corn husk of
a tamale once
carne asadas are pretty bomb
conclusion:
remove the cornhusk from the tamale
thicc bacon is good bacon
eat more fried chicken
Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 1:33 AM UTC