Poetry and food. why is there so little cross over?

Question

I often think that recipes could be so much more fulfilling and poetry could explore sensual pleasures beyond the tired old rut of boy/girl trauma. Does anybody out there cook like the bard?

Answer 1

Me! Me! Pick Me!

DISCLAIMER: No animals were harmed during the writing of my poem. TD

*****

Oh what a great feast it will be,
I serve the traditional way,
Exactly at quarter to three,

Pate’ with a spread of green peas,
Some hot soup, or maybe sorbet,
Oh what a great feast it will be,

Then I’ll make fish, not too fishy,
A leek and red onion entrée,
Exactly at quarter to three,

Next comes beef from Kansas City,
Brisket smoking since yesterday,
Oh what a great feast it will be,

The baker bringing something sweet,
Cut flowers for center bouquet,
Exactly at a quarter to three,

Ready to blanch, fry, broil and heat,
Stir, add, blend, melt, mix and puree,
Oh what a great feast it will be,
Exactly at a quarter to three,

*****

Answer 2

great Stuff, Sir Thomas, merely great Stuff! even although I omit the Koran connection, on account that's my expertise that the Koran (the spelling that Yahoo solutions spell verify seems to approve of) replaced into written Circa seven hundred advert, (CE in case you like, because of the fact the Jehovah's Witnesses want to apply) Apostle Paul's writings prepare very lots approximately what it potential to be a Christian. Giving thank you is amazingly considerable. even although i could in no way propose to take a seat in judgement of that for which you need to ask forgiveness. merely you and God comprehend what you may or would possibly not have accomplished that's sinful. even even though it does not harm all of us to be somewhat greater grateful daily for each thing. Even the flaws that take place that we don't comprehend. in line with risk enormously those issues. because of the fact the flaws that mission us the main are the flaws that prepare us the main. A scientist learns not something from the test that works. Gratitude is declared to be the healthiest of all human thoughts.

Answer 3

Arthur Rimbaud, La Maline (The Sly Girl):

In the brown dining-room, its perfumed air
Full of the smell of wax and fruit, at ease
I gathered a plate of who knows what Belgian
Dish, and marvelled in my enormous chair.

Eating I listened to the clock – silent, happy.
The kitchen door opened with a gust,
- And the serving girl came in, who knows why,
Shawl half-off, hair dressed cunningly.

And, touching her little finger tremblingly
To her cheek, a pink and white velvet-peach,
And making a childish pout with her lips,

She tidied the plates to put me at my ease:
- Then, just like that – to get a kiss, for certain –
Whispered: ‘Feel: It’s caught a cold, my cheek...’

Charleroi, October 70

There is also a poem by Apollinaire called The Meal which is very good, but I can't find a translation in English. And you can also read DFA's poem just above me. It is brilliant, but he does not know it.

EDIT: Oh, look, somebody is following us.
TD, you can't make a leek soup without killing a leek or two.

Answer 4

here is one I wrote about food we catch ourselves, I don't cook my food, it spoils its taste
hope you like it:

Birch forest of my youth, I am drunk with your shade
and walking through emerald moss discover a glade
I pause briefly, dizzy with scent of wild honey
aim my trusty 12 gage and splatter... a bunny,
I feast on warm carcass savoring bone shards
when suddenly I spy a young deer at mere twenty yards,
I chamber a slug trembling with delight,
sight, pull the trigger and savor recoil's bite,
howling to the moon with anticipation I shiver
and with my bare hands rip out its liver
still steaming in cool morning air,
I take the first bite and I know why I am here
the universe makes sense, stars will show the way,
tomorrow I will eat even bigger prey

Hope that helped
EDIT: Annabella, my little broccoli, vee meet yet again. You are being too kind vis a vis my verse. I am humbled. clicks heels and departs.

Answer 5

How like a winter hath my absense from thy kitchen be...
What freezers have I felt, what dark fridge's seen...
What cold December's frozen legs of lamb everywhere...

And yet...this time removed, was winter's time, the teeming Autumn, big with rich turkey increase...bearing the wanton soup of the day away...like windowed wombs after their Lord's decease...

(How's THAT for some "crossover," baby...wink...)

Answer 6

This retarded question can only be answered by the current heavy weight champion in BBQ sling shooting Mr. TD Euwaite.

Answer 7

He makes good mole sauce.

He needs to let it simmer gently then stir a bit more.

Answer 8

I have two hands in the air!
does that give you any idea?

Answer 9

becuase we all visit god everyday%