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Gefilte Fish

My version of a Jewish folk song;
the 2nd stanza should start slow,
then get faster & faster to the end.

Gefilte fish, I love you;
I love you, gefilte fish;
I swear by the stars above you,
You're such a tasty dish,
Hey!

You once were free
Out in the sea,
Until somebody caught you,
But now, wise guy,
'You'll see that I
Will eat you 'cause I bought you,
Hey!

Gefilte fish, I love you
I love you, gefilte fish

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poem by John Bliven Morin
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Now More Than Ever Needed

Anything to fault,
Will do great things...
For those insecure.
Those who wish,
To 'dish' and sting.

Anything against,
A forward movement done.
Anything to focus,
On the personal life lived...
By someone.

Indecisive and unsure.
Argumentitive with negativity,
That lures.
And then they come to criticize,
Any good deed done by anyone...
Just to mention it is despised.

Anything to fault,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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New Menu

It seemed I would dine on heartbreak
Every night that I came to know
Until you came knocking on my door
Brought me a new menu to live by
Dining on kisses and laughter
With a side dish of a best friend
The old meals became forgotten
Where a new pallet was brought
And I’ll make that call sometime soon
Delivery to my door from your menu
Come knocking again any night
Bring to me a healthy dish to eat
Let us dine on a meal for two
Conversation starters followed by a kiss
And the laughter we drink together
It seemed I would dine on heartache
Then you found me or I found you
And now in the night we dine
On something we can call healthy
Chosen from our menu

poem by Matthew Holloway
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Colloquy

In the broken light, in owl weather,
Webs on the lawn where the leaves end,
I took the thin moon and the sky for cover
To pick the cat's brains and descend
A weedy hill. I found him groveling
Inside the summerhouse, a shadowed bulge,
Furred and somnolent.—"I bring,"
I said, "besides this dish of liver, and an edge
Of cheese, the customary torments,
And the usual wonder why we live
At all, and why the world thins out and perishes
As it has done for me, sieved
As I am toward silences. Where
Are we now? Do we know anything?"
—Now, on another night, his look endures.
"Give me the dish," he said.
I had his answer, wise as yours.

poem by Weldon Kees
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Eventual Demise...by Talile Ali

caught in the maelstrom of fate and delight
moving thru waves till their far out of sight
dancing and swirling from north to south
avoiding the hook with the bait in its mouth

some say whats happening to them is a dream
not really that bad and soon to be cleaned
will anyone miss them as they fade into myth
from uncountable numbers to bones in a dish

mystical magical powerful ones
moving carefree in the rays of the sun
splashing about on a journey of years
what once was so tiny is so massive and sheer

so many people depend on their yield
trapping and netting their catch in the field
filling their stores to the brim with their flesh
no longer free, they await someone's dish

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poem by Talile Ali
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New Prince New Pomp

Behold, a seely tender babe
In freezing winter night
In homely manger trembling lies;
Alas, a piteous sight!
The inns are full, no man will yield
This little pilgrim bed,
But forced he is with seely beasts
In crib to shroud his head.
Despise him not for lying there,
First, what he is enquire,
An orient pearl is often found
In depth of dirty mire.
Weigh not his crib, his wooden dish,
Nor beasts that by him feed;
Weigh not his mother's poor attire
Nor Joseph's simple weed.
This stable is a prince's court,
This crib his chair of state,
The beasts are parcel of his pomp,
The wooden dish his plate.

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poem by Robert Southwell
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Fish ‘n Chips - Food of Life

Oh how I crave for fish ‘n chips:
Our fine cuisine of world renown.
I dined on such a subtle dish
When QEII received her crown.

Oh how I need some fish ‘n chips;
I'll queue in pouring rain or snow!
What better way to warm my hands,
As soggy chips make fingers glow.

We Brits are famed for culinary finesse,
Like steak ‘n kidney pud no less;
Wondrous tripe; cottage pie;
Bangers and egg in lard to fry!

But fish ‘n chips - the crowning glory -
A dish to trounce the great kebab!
You think I care for chicken masala?
It's cod and chips that grow my flab.

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Dark Temptation

When the sweet dish
just melts in one’s mouth
one then tends to cherish
the tasty chocolate mousse

When one drinks milkshake
especially the chocolate one
one says, ”What a tasty make! ”
and asks” How was it done? ”

When one eats a chocolate cake
they say, ”The cake was damn good”
they ask”Please tell us how it was baked
So that we can make it if we could”

But what is the main ingredient
in these superb deserts?
“Its chocolate”- THE BRILLIANT
that adds magic to these deserts

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poem by Hansika Subramanian
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August 15

The fifteenth of August is august
For, we Indians feel gusto of freedom-
an emotional gust: terrible gusto.
Kings paid once; princes restored, hence
Peace (piece?) for all echoes in halls
Outside roll away chariots
Over the labouring class-corpses;
whom death is peace; dearth is wealth.
Gusto of August is of chicken-fry 'nd Rum
And the chicken-hearted dream of Ram 'nd Rum.
Many cry for a dish of fry
But the dish is with the wry.
Battered Tri-colours shattered
And the Colours in hands severally try
To flutter along the gutter roads.
Rum and Ram make many 'hurrahs'!
In the halls over which Silence shroud.
Silence, aged sixty-four, with pointed guns emerges
Slitting doors of emergency.
No cry, no slogans, bow all, lie all

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poem by Nasarudheen.P. Param
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Loopholes

It's known and shown,
Those habits grown.

You come too early,
And you...
Announce you can't stay late.
But then,
Every minute you're around...
You hesitate to conversate.

What is it you're wishing?
Should we investigate?
Are you wishing we dish less?
Does this irritate?

You're living a life that's full of loopholes you hold.
You need to lick them quick.
Get rid of those sitting to nitpick.

You're living a life that's full of loopholes you hold.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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