"seafood" 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
I want to go back, back to my New Orleans
This place that I call New Orleans is actually Louisiana
But still, the gorgeousness of this dirt and grime
The live oaks stretching over the 6-lane wide streets,
Touching leaftips, making a canopy over the passerbys
Crepe myrtles showering streets with lacy pink faerie dresses
Smells of beignets and seafood fill the French Quarter
Intense, consuming, warm, loving sun burning through your shirt
In New Orleans to say horses sweat, men perspire and women glow
is to be ridiculous.
In New Orleans everyone sweats like pigs.
As for the grime I mentioned, this exists mainly in
the sidewalks cracked by live oaks which make an adventure of every walk down the street
And in any semi-deserted street
To have a Mardi Gras or St. Patrick's Day without a parade and citywide party is to toss aside traditions and the New Orleanian way
The New Orleanians are welcoming, hearty and heartwarming, tough and unafraid to talk to a stranger on the streets.
An old black man once greeted me with 'konichiwa' as I walked past
A middle aged white man once struck up a conversation with us as he realised we had shared the same ferry earlier in the day
An old asian woman conversed familiarly with our family at Cafe Du Monde simply because we are Vietnamese as well
A teenaged white boy waved at us as we drove past him jogging
A different old black man stopped and serenaded my siblings, mother and me with his trumpet just because we smiled
Several young mothers and women have stopped my mother to gush over my siblings and me, usually when we were very small
I, myself, have given directions to a tourist or two, lost near Cafe Du Monde or the levee,
And I hope that the warm smiling spirit of the Big Easy will remain forever immortal.
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 7:33 PM UTC
The human mind is an interesting thing
Mine is very
As it tends to wander
I mean
Explore
I have been told by an authority
My wife
That she's never seen one like it
Although how she can see a mind
I don't know
She has seen a lot in her life
Both with and before me
She was a Travel Agent
She's been to Turkey
I like turkey
I made an interesting stuffing for turkey once
It was during my time in the seafood retail business
In a fish market
It, the stuffing I mean, had shrimp, scallops and crayfish in it
My wife didn't like it much, she's of Irish heritage
She's been to Ireland too
Twice
Once in college and once with her family
Ireland is where Delorian made his cars in the 1980s
Before he was arrested for trafficking in *******
I have not been to Ireland
I have been to France, Belgium and England
I stayed in Waterloo Belgium for two weeks
In the 80's
When I was 25
Waterloo is where Napoleon was finally vanquished
Beaten by an Englishman
They have a monument, the lion, on top of a big hill there
I had to climb it twice
The first time I forgot my camera
I got a new camera recently
A Pentax
I have had several since Waterloo
The camera hasn't been anywhere interesting
Just my back yard
I use it to take pictures of birds
At our feeder
In the big maple tree
On the ground
There is even a turkey that comes in our yard
My wife's been to Turkey
She was a Travel Agent
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 11:11 AM UTC
Moments like these racing through me:
Looking out the bus window,
stacks of lights
in square, blinded blocks of cement.
Golden trees
turning brown and barren.
But moments like these,
I'm miles away, I'm someplace else.
Moments like these passing me by:
As I wonder through streets,
alleyways wafting in dark sewerage;
Seafood bistros glaring at me.
My hips sway, my feet sink
into exotic sand, sunshine warm.
Floating effortlessly along the dead concrete,
opening my tiny door; this nutshell abode.
And I can’t breathe here
without moments like these.
They are the broken pieces
of my longing heart.
Slowly keeping me together
in these moments’ reality.
Moments like these, slipping, speeding away:
Like endless traffic in angry madness,
in cities that awaken in darkening hours.
The tranquil silence in my heart
guides me to your faces.
One by one I dream for each;
For all the things we want, the good things we need;
For happiness, love, success.
Each thought embedded, embroidered
into moments like these:
Sitting on a bed, millions of miles away,
a cold, rainy day –
A heart beating for moments not these.
(c) Mel D. Ltd. 2010
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 9:46 PM UTC
You're little works of art
lined up there on my plate
You look so ******* ****
I want to masticate
I lick my lips and swallow hard
struggling to chose whats next
The perfect juxtaposition
between seafood and ***
Apr 28, 2010
Apr 28, 2010 at 3:13 PM UTC
Fresh caught fish and chips
at the harbor side shop - fog.
Tourists' photograph.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC
I write my shopping-list in rhyme.
It doesn’t take me too much time,
and always helps me to remember.
(I’ve been doing it since last September.)
Wholemeal bread
low-fat spread
strawberry jam
dry-cured ham
Cheddar cheese
frozen peas
free-range eggs
chicken legs
grape jelly
pork belly
lamb chops
lemon drops
fillet steak
chocolate cake
cookie mix
seafood sticks
tortilla chips
salsa dips
instant coffee
treacle toffee
dried sultanas
ripe bananas
runner beans
a bunch of greens
new potatoes
vine tomatoes
and (really urgent)
liquid detergent.
Now that I've written my shopping-list,
I hope there's nothing that I've missed.
And if you don't think much of the verse,
Consider this - it could have been worse!
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 7:34 PM UTC
A fortified wall is nothing against a surfing barracuda
during a bad dream full of bad intentions:
Wave-action makes you look drunk,
stumbling in the water, lazy as a jellyfish carcass on shore I stare at you.
I am with that girl
the one in the silvery bikini
and wet hair,
fanning on her clumsy shoulders in thin strands.
I'll be with her till the end. I'll make this stand. This stand against the wave coming in.
Turning around in the barrel of a wave,
you wave me in with you;
smiling up to your incisors. How cleanly
you are able to bite off chunks of meat.
The wave womps the **** out of you.
Thunder is under there, thunder
of waves, lightning of jellyfish,
brutalized clams,
hard-pressed sand,
all confused in the barrel of betrayal that is the wave,
while the wave yawns and grins.
Nothing can stand the wave,
I hope you ******* drown in there;
I hope that others just like you,
eat you,
that you become seafood.
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 10:10 PM UTC
Barbells and principles
Intensity through determination
Shape leading to conditioning
Veins with the muscle peak
Creating just the right physique
I have long to have muscles
No relation to seafood mussels
However, its nutrition with a name
Looking for results being the aim
I want a reflection that is my own body composition
The idea is to be solid and strong
Feeling muscular in where I belong
A dynamite me
For all to see
My dreaming mind
I am visualizing with all combined
Muscles are just fine
It takes years of perfection and that means time.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
I've picked on all those Christmas sweaters
and the letters we recieve
I've written about Santa and the Angels
and the things we all believe
But, I have never ever written
About the food we choose to eat
I've never picked on Christmas Turkey
and all the other kinds of meat
At our house for our Christmas dinner
We'd get turkey, maybe duck
It was always something different
And it wasn't just to save a buck
One year we sat down to dinner
something different every year
we had pig, goat and chicken
and one year we sat down to deer
Birds of every sort have fed us
We've eaten things I can't describe
But, with every meal we drink a little
to **** the taste, we must imbibe
One year we had some seafood
Drumsticks there to be had by all
Octopus, was on the menu
It fell off a truck back in the fall
To tell the truth , a Christmas Turkey
Is not something that we get
I love the surprise at the table
Eating what we've not had yet
What we get, our dad runs over
most times squirrel or a deer
We get more food when he's been drinking
So we always send him out with beer
I know that we once had rabbit
Thought it could have been a cat
Another Christmas Dinner surprise
And that is all I'll say on that...
Merry Christmas...enjoy your turkey
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
#forgotten longing
deep custard days gone by
my morning trip: the pool, always
then, to stay swimming in the ocean
favorite lifeguards who never stared me back
boardwalk seagulls, seafood season
shops with time like windy cobwebs
the hotel, our melancholy Ferris smell
that last painful sunburn pizza and
sadder September funnel cakes
vacation
where I now walk alone
crying for dreams past
not just things#
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 2:46 PM UTC
#Mastmaula - The happy go lucky little turtle
On the beaches of Konkan
Lived a few families of turtles
For ages it has been their home .
Amongst them lived Mastmaula a young and adventurous turtle
To explore the surroundings he loved, popular and lovable , a friend to all .
Many a times he would stray away and had to be fetched by the elders in the group .
He loved visiting the homes of the fishermen who lived by the sea.
Particularly fond of cabbage fed by the fisherwomen .
Amusingly he was also fond of music .
And loved to dance
The fishermen went fishing by the day
And would celebrate the catch and their life by evenings .
Music played and seafood savoured in almost every home.
Mastmaula was sure to visit, the fisherman 's house when there used to be a party.
One of the evenings , there was one going on in one of the houses , music was loud with party lights on.
And ,the food yes cabbage in colours, purple and green ,
Mastmaula knew would sure be part of the menu.
The fisherman's family had guests coming from afar
The occasion , an engagement ceremony .
As the music went on , Mastmaula went turtle and began to spin.
And sure he did have a few amazing moves , which caught the guests' eyes
And one of them ,fancied carrying Mastmaula to their home.
The host opposed but the guest's 7 year old daughter Mili loved Mastmaula and wanted him to be part of her family . The host reluctantly obliged.
Soon , it was dark and a bale of turtles were out to fetch back Mastmaula home. They knew where to find him.
Reaching the party venue and not finding him there they panicked and soon swelled in numbers.
The fishermen family knew it was time to call their guest ,who had taken away Mastmaula .
The guest hurriedly came back with Mastmaula in a little basket and placed him down .
Mastmaula was overjoyed to reunite with his family and promised them all that he would never stray away and be careful of his visits alone to the fishermens homes.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 11:44 PM UTC
Bill played piano down by the bar,
moldy old show tunes
gray-haired folks listened to,
in youth they'd played over...and over.
He once told me he was terminal,
diagnosed with months left,
and had just one request
of his own to be met
before accepting eternal rest -
peace in the kiss
of a handsome young man
who's powder blue eyes
might make him feel young again.
I thought he would weep,
and heart aching, obliged,
gratified by the smile,
sweet joy it seemed to bring him...
'till Sarah stuffed a dollar
in the tumbler of tips
he kept perched on the edge
of the piano he played -
he'd won their wager
he could get the
straight kid to kiss him.
Sarah cooked in the kitchen
and I always wondered
what sort of mother
named her son -
Sarah Vaughn -
then heard the sparrow sing
on the radio, laughing
because the one I knew
squawked like a crow
and dressed
in wigs and woman's clothes
when work was finally done.
The coincidence seemed
a delicious, karmic prank,
payment for some past-life indiscretion.
Michael studied flamboyance,
raised to high art in sweeps of his hand,
head tossed back, as if to keep pace
with legs was annoyance.
Adolescent innocence ended
when I realized the only other
guy employed there
who was straight like me -
was really a she -
chest wrapped real tight.
May 1, 2010
May 1, 2010 at 9:38 PM UTC
I like the smell of cut grass and dew in the morning.
Sunshine and rainbows and when the sky's dawning.
Coffee and baked bread, and crunchy leaves in the autumn.
Singing and dancing, and anything that cures boredom.
Roast chestnuts in winter, and painting and reading.
Skipping stones on the water, warthogs and weeding.
Going on adventures to places unseen by my eye.
Also, cheese and onion crisps and chocolate, at the same time.
The smell of the rain and a good thunder storm.
Blue sky and the starlings when they gather in a swarm.
Anything purple, walking my dog in the evening.
Randomness and laughter, all of these are appealing.
I like music, my long hair and wearing a hat.
My high tops, my guitar, cheese and also my cats.
I like the drum of the rain on a caravan roof.
The thud on the ground from a horses hoof.
The warmth of the sun upon my face.
The crackle from a log burning in the fireplace.
I love my family and friends, and my happy places.
Meeting new people and putting smiles on their faces.
I like birds, all animals and frost on the window.
I love the look of the countryside when it's covered in snow.
A cobweb with raindrops, taking photos and nature.
My book collection, seafood and the blue of a glacier.
I like making cakes, playing risk, and flowers and trees.
Writing poems, walking, reading, and I love bees.
I like the crash of the sea, and the trickle of a stream.
The sunset in Africa, crypic crosswords and a good dream.
I like a lot of things, as you can see.
There is a lot more you don't know about me.
Maybe another poem will pop into my head.
Always at the time when I should be in bed.
When it does I'll write it down somewhere to show.
Then more things about me you shall know.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC
Prancing prawns jive on
Rainbow trout salsa in streams
Salmon riverdance! :-)
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
Lobsters
@2014 Linda Barrett
They sit in the cramped corners
of the water tank
face each other
armored claws bound
with thick rubber bands
These shelled warriors
take on boxer’s stances
wait their chance
to attack each other
in impromptu bouts
They step over one another
pick fights for dominance
of their watery ring
Some desperate crustaceans
decide to make their escape
reach out for the tank’s top
but fall over backwards
onto each other
Those lucky ones
usually win
when the Seafood man
in his white coat
pulls them out
makes the champions
of someone’s dinner.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
After being whale vomited, did Jonah swear off eating fish?
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
My wife agreed to marriage counseling before the great divorce,
and of course, she picked the counselor. This is it; one session, one shot at redemption. I waited with bated breath for the day to arrive.
It did. We met at his office, where hope was dashed to shreds like a ship
on a coral reef, like dreams of domestic bliss made of glass and shattered on the kitchen floor with no broom to sweep them up.
We shouldn't get lawyers and go to court. We should have a funeral and sing, Rock of Ages, because divorce is the death of a family.
The room is nice and cold as ice, and he's friendly, boisterous, and bold, but here's the clincher, he wore an eye patch. Maybe he had surgery or some type of injury, but everything he said was drowned out by the voice in my head that screamed, "He looks like a pirate, and no ******* pirate is going to tell me how I should have been a better husband." I quickly scanned the room for a cage where he kept his parrot, which usually sat on his shoulder and sang old songs of the sea. I glanced at his right hand, but conveniently it was hidden by the desk. Now I was sure. It wasn't a hand at all, but a hook, that he used to scratch his *** or to spear the shreds of broken lives left over from a long day's work. His hand was probably a casualty, lost on a voyage to a shark he tried to advise.
I leaned over and whispered in my wife's ear, "Where did you find this ******* nut. Long John Silvers?" The humor eluded her like the sunken treasure did the old sea dog that sat across from me. I swore if he said, "Aye aye matey." I would smack him, and jack his ship, and maybe my wife and I would sail south to the Caribbean, not to the ride at Disneyland, Pirates of the Caribbean, but to the islands, where we would lie **** on the sandy beaches and drink Pina Coladas, or some other fruit-filled umbrella drink, until we were so drunk we couldn't see straight, and all our problems would sink like the setting sun into a brand new horizon. But the old scalawag had no pirate lingo, so the hour came and went, our money was poorly spent, and it was lunchtime, and I was bent on seafood.
Jul 24, 2024
Jul 24, 2024 at 11:31 PM UTC
We've got bagpipes and buskers,
cannons, and clip.
Lots of marijuana, and tons of tall ships.
Plenty of seafood, and point pleasent park.
It looks pretty lame, until the streets become dark.
Weve got the Citadel hill, and pavilion kids.
lockups, and lockdown. All things that we did.
Plenty of days, where we fell on our *** ,
smokin dope in the glade, and layin on grass.
With colt 45, and 151.
Alexander keiths, and malibou ***
Weve all jumped a fence, and swam chocolate lake.
No other province could handle the risks that we take.
Cause were crazy,obviously, were maritimers.
Dartmouth, and spryfeild.. Hell, our schools are the worst.
But its halifax, Nova scotia.
We do it our way.
Live like the east coast,
Cause i do everyday.
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
Our first date you took me to eat gumbo
At a seafood place
And I threw up.
Maybe it was a warning
Maybe it was food poisoning
Either way, I stayed
Because loving you was not rocket science
But it wasn't easy either.
Our second date you took me to the zoo
And as I glanced at the black and white stripes
That wrapped around every zebra, I thought
Hey. Sometimes you're only black or white
Always seeing
Always being one way or another
And never in between
It wasn't fair to me.
Maybe I should have left right then and there.
In the end, I stayed
Why did I stay?
Because loving you was not rocket science
But hell, it wasn't easy either.
Our third date you took me to the moon.
Metaphorically of course
Not literally
Because.. how could we?
Anyway, you took me to the moon and back
And baby, it was a blast.
Fires raging
Speeds changing
My heart racing as quickly as one possibly could.
The fourth date proved that loving you
Was more like rocket science than it was easy.
By the fifth and final date
Our flames had faded away.
All that was left was black smoke
And a bright, white light that I walked into
Because I knew that it was my time to leave you.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 8:17 PM UTC
Seafood stew
A basil, saffron brew
Sea Robin, Congre, Scorpion Fish
Pernod provides a hint of flavor licorice
Vegetables and shellfish help complete the dish
For authentic travel to Marseille
Ambrosia's put in play
Bouillabaisse
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 11:16 AM UTC
It’s starting to cool down here in Connecticut. Leaves are falling, like giant, burnt snowflakes (science says that trees send chemical signals to their branches to clip leaves away).
Peter borrowed a friend's toy-like, pea green, Fiat-500 convertible and we drove into the country to see the turning leaves. We hiked a bit too and stopped, in Mystic, for seafood.
I never realized just how theatrical trees could be, with their few, simple, chlorophyll tricks and how reflective still lakes could be. Wowzer, just - wowzer.
There are some things that should never be shared. Like a toothbrush, an iPad, lipstick, strawberry stroopwafels, a slice of pizza or a secret lover (that last one just sounded good). But life is good, I can share that. We’re young, dramatic sophomores with good hair products and we’re at it, working and playing hard.
Ahh.. ok, upon consultation, I have to add that some of us are in their mid-twenties with only a few good years left.
Did I mention that we climbed up a twisty lighthouse staircase too? Peter always thinks people should take the stairs, and not the elevators, “You want to have muscles and bones that work when you’re eighty,” He says. Since he’s closer to eighty than I am, when we’re not carrying furniture, I let him have his way. Of course, he’s never been to up Lisa’s 50th floor townhouse either.
My mom told me that they’re off to Poland again, over the holidays, for another tour with “Doctors without Borders” **** war). Lisa’s parents have (kindly) invited me to share their high-rise utopia again this year. Who knows, maybe Peter will have his chance to try those stairs.
Nov 4, 2022
Nov 4, 2022 at 3:30 PM UTC
Moby ****
may have been
a
big
BIG
fish
and Ishmael
didn't have it so easy
But I need, I dream
of the epitome
of a flawless
ideal
piece of whitefish
A Succulent Bite
A Taste of Right
Hand battered
Deep fried
A
crunch
into heaven
Mouth-watering
yet light
Next to
crisp
oh-so
crisp
fries
Draft Rootbeer
Foam
in a mug
of delight
Mmmm Mmmmm
Seafood
See, this food
tastes like hope
Up North
I salivate
thinking of its
taste
thinking of
perfection
Man
Oh, Man
They don't make it
like this
anymore
So
so
fresh
This piece
Creates a sense
of peace
Harmony
on your palate
It turns
you up-turned nose
down
to the aroma
of a fisherman's skill
Natural Salt
of this world
brings you to a world
of pleasure
in a nibble
A coming together
on my plate
Skin-lined
Red Skin
potatoes
Frothy
Quenching
Rootbeer
Whitefish.
Simple Things
I found this fine trip
Combined with waterfall air
to breathe deep
My taste buds
had
gone up in
smoke.
My tongue
realized with
surprise
the possibilities of life.
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 2:15 AM UTC