Tag Archives: Potato

Ode to a Potato

Oh, potato;

how much could I love thee?

Let me count the ways:

chipped, sautéed, mashed;

bashed, hashed, or ketchup dashed;

baked, faked, wedgied, caked;

au gratin, replacing the lemons in tarte tatin;

fried, roasted, boiled, or raw;

croquetted, saladed, dropped upon the floor;

swimming strongly with leeks in soup,

bubbled and squeaked

in an inedible gloop;

jacketed, still packeted,

grated, unplated,

(a style, I think, that is so overrated);

curried, unhurried,

waffled, omeletted, loaded,

sweet, sour, by tomatoes goaded;

weekly, daily, by the hour,

my potato love thou hast such power.


No, I shall not eat

my potato love;

as long as there are

stars to see in sky’s above;

I shall always keep you near to me;

your earthy ways do so endear to me;

by my side your hide will stay;

for ever and a lifelong day –

or at least, perhaps, maybe, until,

thou too muchly hast decay,

and the whiff of you

dost make me ill.

Never say ‘Goat’ on a boat

Never say ‘Goat’ on a boat,

if you are a poet

trying to keep things afloat;

never say ‘Orange’ either,

but for a completely different reason;

and never say ‘po-tah-to’

when ‘po-tay-to’ will do;

you might get a sinking feeling,

and you might just lose the crew.

Potatoes and Poets

Poets like potatoes,

and potatoes like poets;

what is more,

a poet can be found in potatoes,

but not in a potato;

a potato, it should be said,

cannot be found in a poet.

It’s all just letters and words,

don’t you think?

Upon Onions

Unwittingly, I had, unknowingly, unearthed… the unique opinions of onions.

Many-layered, and liable to bring tears to the eyes of even the hardest of heads.

I was under-whelmed (and over-charged) when I had bought them – but, now, I knew that their contribution to all things was invaluable (and valuable, too).

Onions – I will never look at them in the same way ever again.

Though I still can’t look a potato in the eye.