food

Love in the Time of Cauliflower

Please marrow me, my beloved sweetpea,
so that we may beetroot to our hearts.
Lettuce have the courgette of our convictions
and our love elevated to Great Artichoke.

Don’t leek me feeling this way, my dear,
such lofty asparagus can’t be ignored.
I am a prisoner, trapped in your celery;
Don’t make me go back to the drawing broad beans.

We all carry emotional cabbage:
love is chard and not inconsequential,
but may our passion be uncucumbered
so that we reach our true potato.

Oh, how your onions make my head spinach,
reduce me to mushrooms, broccoli, defenceless.
Only you can salsify my desire,
and I, in turnip, will radish you senseless.

love poem, inadvertently written with auto-carrot switched on

Biscuits: A Love Sonnet

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
Splendorous hobnobs, bourbons, custard creams
arrive unbidden in my nightly dreams
and occupy the waking thoughts of days.
I love to dunk thee in my cup of tea
at breakfast time and at elevenses,
at three o’clock and half-past sevenses,
and at supper time thou dost comfort me.
Thou art there for me and never grumble,
thou make me feel like I’m not a misfit,
thou dost pick me up whene’er I stumble.
For thee, the whole of my life I’d risk it,
for I love the way that cookies crumble
and none shall take my beloved biscuit.

The Great Famine

The day the driver from Ocado
was late with her escargot,
Margot exhibited great bravado.

She had an insight into the plight
of the starving of Africa
as she waited patiently
for her celeriac and paprika.

She could see how
civilizations might fail
through focaccia gone stale
and for want of some kale.

And she thought to herself sadly
of those who sat drably
sipping on the dregs
of last night’s Chablis.

With some charity or other,
she set up a small direct debit
and then stoically rustled up
a smoked haddock rarebit.

Metamorphosis

while eating a Müller® Fruit Corner
(blackberry and raspberry edition),
Greg read an article in a magazine
entitled ‘You are what you eat’
and the very next day woke
from unsettling dreams to find
he had turned into yogurt

as he oozed his way across the bedsheet,
Greg wondered what to do about the 10 a.m. board meeting