Gourmet Meals Aka My Wife, The Cook …… [a Poem Suggested By My Wife; Personal; Food; A Little Long] - Poem by Bri Edwards
My wife’s cooking is spontaneous,
using no paper recipes, extraneous.
Her “recipes” come from her cook’s mind,
using what, in the kitchen, she does find.
She uses no measuring devices, but.......
does use, at times, a pinch of spices.
Her cooking may come CLOSE to “gourmet”;
home-cooking, if asked, is what I’d say.
This poem’s a result of her request.....
to have me say which meals I like best.
I wrote one poem, dashed off in a hurry,
but I forgot to mention her yummy curry.
[She THEN mentioned her skills-bonanza;
hence I’ve added THIS poem’s first stanza.
AND perhaps, her cooking, gourmet may be.
I eat whatever is placed in front of me! ]
At times I’m accused of not savoring my meals;
food on my plate has no time to spoil.
Most of the plants and meats she cooks are organic,
and often are cooked with olive oil.
She’s compared me to a ravenous dog.
At least she does NOT say: “Food you waste! ”
She is skilled with knives and pots and pans;
rarely does she cook in haste.
BUT she’d probably say: “Meals Bri enjoys most....
are those needing little time to cook.”
She pleases me with salmon, and sometimes codfish,
caught in the wild with net or hook.
I gobble (up) the fried rice (made with pre-cooked rice) , and the pasta (with pre-made sauce) . Oh boy!
These are but a few of the meals.....
which, each night with her, I do enjoy.
Pork and chicken she cooks well. I prefer them....
with NO bones to get in my way.
And well-cooked veggies, of at least two colors,
make for a tasty meal display.
Anything containing ground beef is nice;
adding eggs can make it even better.
Carrots and broccoli we have a lot,
and beets sometimes to make meal redder.
Some foods she rarely cooks, BUT.....
, when she does, for me they are a treat,
are potatoes (purple, white, or red/orange) and corn and peas;
they just can’t be beat!
Desserts, at home, are VERY RARE; sometimes..... she makes hotcakes, which are mildly sweet.
BUT, JUST ONCE, cake, pie, and ice cream,
FOR a WHOLE DAY, I’d love to eat.
(March 10 + 17,2014)
Poet's Notes about The Poem
[ man does not live 'by bread alone'; a man needs pie, or cake, or ice cream once in a while, to be satisfied! ]
April 11,2014.............an update. as some of you may know, i am 65 years old (birthday coming up, but PLEASE don't send gifts!) . along with being this old, sometimes comes more forgetfulness than was experienced at an earlier age (mine at least) . SO, here is what i did a day or two ago. i forgot that i had submitted this poem; i even forgot that i had probably sent it to my wife already. anyway, i thought i would send the poem which this one incorporated into itself in stanzas...............well! this is getting COMPLICATED TO EXPLAIN. yesterday (or the day before) i opened my poem notebook (paper one) and typed from it the poem entitled 'Meals I've Enjoyed, Prepared By My Wife' (3-10-14) . that is the poem which [almost word-for-word is inside THIS poem, but the first one had this beginning:
'This is a rare poem topic, in that it was suggested by my wife,
who rarely shows any interest at all....in my poetry pursuits.
But i guess that's fair, given i've little interest in her life.
Oops! I'd better watch what i say; she may feed me walnut shells, and oak roots! '
THEN the 'first' poem continued with what are now stanzas 3-10 in this, the 'second' poem, but in the original ('first') were stanzas 2,3, and 4 (in the first poem i had longer lines, each of which for the second poem i broke in 'half'.
i hope this all made sense to you, OR you didn't waste your time bothering with it. bri :)
oh yeah, the reason i wrote the second poem is that........well, that's explained in this 'second' poem's 2nd stanza! ! !
Comments about Gourmet Meals Aka My Wife, The Cook …… [a Poem Suggested By My Wife; Personal; Food; A Little Long] by Bri Edwards
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You