My Writers Circle

Poets Corner => Review My Poetry => Topic started by: Mark H on April 07, 2012, 02:42:01 PM

Title: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 07, 2012, 02:42:01 PM
All comments very welcome.

M

One Hundred Pounds

The table seems too low and too small;
only suitable for children or jockeys.
I'd like to swipe the clutter
(a bud vase, wine and water glasses,
     salt and pepper pots the size of my fist)
onto the floor to make room
     for the oversized menus.

The theme from Hawaii Five-O is playing.
Artisan breads and dipping oil arrive.
The music changes to the theme from Bonanza.
I look around at dozens of chattering couples;
quaffing and troughing, seemingly oblivious
to the aural abomination.

She is talking to me about something:
our upcoming trip to York; or the merits
of urban bee-keeping; or … whatever.
I pick up my fork and stab myself in the eye.
Not literally as that would ruin the night,

simply an imaginary stabbing, just enough
to shake off this feeling of folly.
Title: Re: £100
Post by: indar on April 07, 2012, 09:20:18 PM
Hi Mark,
On behalf of America I apologise but in our defense it was never intended to be restaurant music. Consider yourself lucky the most recent trend has not yet reached your shores: restaurant noise. The most upscale are in the Gaslamp district here in San Diego. They center around an open kitchen in which cooks, busboys, waitstaff, managers, bartenders all slam equipment, rattle who-knows-what, smash a glass or two at regular intervals and scream at one another in an orchestrated attempt to keep the volume at maximum. If its a really trendy place the waitstaff insults the patrons: "if you can't make up your mind what you want get out of here there's other people waiting to be seated". The clamor would drown out the bad music.
Urban bee-keeping: fascinating.
Title: Re: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 08, 2012, 04:03:49 AM
Indar

Where will it all end?! My WGW (wife-girlfriend-whatever) is relatively sensible and would claim that she prefers substance over style, but when her raspberry frangipane was served, not on a plate but on a small square windowpane, she was no even shocked.

In England we like being insulated by waiters. We then have a reason not to tip.

Mark
Title: Re: £100
Post by: ma100 on April 08, 2012, 04:38:05 AM
I so can relate to this, though I would like to have heard a mention of the dim lighting trying to disguise what is actually on the plate, wooden chopping board, metal skillet, dipping bowl or empty salt and pepper.

Good stuff.
Title: Re: £100
Post by: 510bhan on April 08, 2012, 06:37:59 AM
£100 -- did that include the wine? If it did you got off lightly! ;D ;D ;D

But surely you had a wonderful evening didn't you dahling?

Love the last line. :) :) :)
Title: Re: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 08, 2012, 06:44:49 AM
Thanks Ma.

The restaurant in questions is pretty good. If only they could resist all the cobblers.

I just hope they don't get to hear about the "restaurant noise" thing Indar mentioned. Thinks ... I wonder if there is money to be made selling that restaurant noise on CD (or mp3) so that pretentious twats could enjoy it at home. I could happily do the insulting waiter voice over.

M
Title: Re: £100
Post by: ma100 on April 08, 2012, 06:49:10 AM
There is worse coming from America mate. I watched one of those programs where the CEO wonders why his restaraunt business isn't doing as it should be. The waiting staff and chefs burst into tone death singing and dancing every hour on the hour.  :o The shocked faces on the customers was a sight to behold, one guy nearly choked on his forkful. ;D

Have you also noticed the waiting staff ask if everything is alright the moment your mouth is full?
Title: Re: £100
Post by: 510bhan on April 08, 2012, 06:49:53 AM
Really Mark? Do you think you could manage that? ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
Title: Re: £100
Post by: Tom 10 on April 08, 2012, 08:31:26 AM
Wonderful stuff well written.  Very enjoyable to read.

Is there a drive-thu option as this place? :) :)

Everyone knows the theme from Bonanza should never be played in connection with dining -- unless it is synchronized with the delivery to my table by two waiters of the 32 oz strip steak.

folly / jolly.

T





Title: Re: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 08, 2012, 11:03:26 AM
Thank you all for your comments. And how do we feel about a poetry themed restaurant?

I waited lonely as a diner
with dreams of goat's cheese piping hot
when all at once I saw the price
and to my feet I quickly got.

William Moneysworth.
Title: Re: £100
Post by: indar on April 08, 2012, 11:51:03 AM
Eat

If but some vengeful chef would call to me
from the grill and laugh:(mwahahaha)
"thou suffering thing, know that thy salad
is last week's greenery, that thy stringy steak
is my business' profiting".
Then would I clench myself and head for the john
steeled by the sense that I had dined here
on the Penny Saver's coupon.

Thomas Hangover
Title: Re: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 08, 2012, 12:11:23 PM
If


If you hold your fork when all about you
are losing theirs and blaming the Ossie beer.
If you can sip your soup when all men slurp
but make allowance for their slurping too;
If you can wait for waiters and not tire of waiting
or being lied about by waiters waiting for the chef,
or being hated by the waiting waiters who hate waiting,
and yet don’t look too good,
nor talk to wise
to the Sommelier

you'll be a diner my boy.

Rhubarb Kipperling
Title: Re: £100
Post by: indar on April 08, 2012, 12:38:32 PM
Untitled WIP (suggestions welcome)

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as that entree.
And me whose hungry mouth is prest
Against my linen napkin lest
The company with whom I sit
that lift their skinny arms to pray;
drive me (upon whose bosom crumbs have lain);
who intimately lives without restrain
to make a total fool of myself.

Jaws Killjoy
Title: Re: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 08, 2012, 01:00:43 PM
The Service Charge of the Pie Brigade

Half a pie, half a pie,
     half a pie scoffed;
all in the café of death
     munched the six hungry.

Forward for light lunch!
    Charge for the table!
Into the café of death
     trundled six hungry.

Waiters to right of them,
waiters to left of them,
waiters in front of them,
all bloody ignoring them.

Boldly they chewed and well,
the food was as hot as hell,
the prawns had an offish smell,
yet they lived this tale to tell,

avoid the café of death.

Alfred Lord Microwave
Title: Re: £100
Post by: SparkyDashforth on April 08, 2012, 01:02:53 PM
Hi Mark

really enjoyed the poem. It was full of of-the-wall imagery!

Some delightful moments in the thread also :D :D :D

Great stuff

sparky
Title: Re: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 08, 2012, 01:11:05 PM
Thanks Sparks.

As Indar did a Thomas Hardy I feel obliged to do a Poe.
Title: Re: £100
Post by: indar on April 08, 2012, 01:49:37 PM
Will we be eating crow?

roasted crow
coddled crow
creamed crow
Title: Re: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 08, 2012, 01:56:47 PM
I don't get that one. Is it Shakespeare?
Title: Re: £100
Post by: SparkyDashforth on April 08, 2012, 01:57:32 PM
Russell Crow?

 ;D
Title: Re: £100
Post by: indar on April 08, 2012, 02:08:22 PM
Poe's Crow
Title: Re: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 08, 2012, 02:18:28 PM
He had a crow and a raven?!
Title: Re: £100
Post by: SparkyDashforth on April 08, 2012, 02:20:27 PM
"He had a crow and a raven?!"

Craven  :D
Title: Re: £100
Post by: indar on April 08, 2012, 02:20:53 PM
Crow is close enough isn't it----poetic license and all?
Title: Re: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 08, 2012, 03:17:47 PM
Poe it is then.

The Vulture

Once whilst in a tea shoppe dreary
     thinking long on cheese scone theory
and eating quaint and curious cakes
     just like the ones my mamma makes
I smiled at rap-tap-tapping Peg
     the waitress with the wooden leg.

Nicely Painted Po
Title: Re: £100
Post by: SparkyDashforth on April 08, 2012, 03:22:21 PM
You guys are good at this stuff.  Think I prefer Marks muse to Poe!

 :D
Title: Re: £100
Post by: indar on April 08, 2012, 03:25:17 PM
Quote
The Vulture

Once whilst in a tea shoppe dreary
     thinking long on cheese scone theory
and eating quaint and curious cakes
     just like the ones my mamma makes
I smiled at rap-tap-tapping Peg
     the waitress with the wooden leg.

Havesomemore quoth she
Title: Re: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 09, 2012, 12:34:33 PM
Peg smiled right back a knowing grin
     and spittle glistened on her chin.
She was indeed an ugly lass
    and rumours spake of excess gas
with fondness for a cabbage tart
     resulting in a tell-tale fart.

Sorry but, inevitably,  it could only end that way.
Title: Re: £100
Post by: SparkyDashforth on April 09, 2012, 12:39:39 PM
So deeply touching Mark
I can almost smell these images :D

Title: Re: £100
Post by: indar on April 09, 2012, 12:42:07 PM
Quote
Sorry but, inevitably,  it could only end that way.

yes, polite speech must be abandoned in service to art.
Title: Re: £100
Post by: indar on April 09, 2012, 01:24:14 PM
Ozzie Mandibles

I met a traveller from suburban land
Who said:  vast and cavernous buffets of stone
Stand side by side on restaurant row. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and smear of cold compote
Tell that here lies a man whose passions led
( yet he survives), to an amazing feat
Two handed gorging despite the mocking crowds
And on a paper napkin these words appear:
"My name is Ozzy Mandibles, king of steam tables
Look on my works, ye picky eaters, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level housing tracts stretch far away

Perserved N. Ice Shellfish
Title: Re: £100
Post by: SparkyDashforth on April 09, 2012, 01:35:20 PM
Brilliant Indar

Ironic Byronic and a real tonic :D
Title: Re: £100
Post by: indar on April 09, 2012, 01:40:45 PM
Why thank you Sparky, Shelly not Byron would resonate to this work. But really you must do a Byronic gastromic.
Title: Re: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 09, 2012, 01:55:21 PM
Fatty Khan

In Xanadu did Fatty Khan
a stately burger-dome decree:
Where Heinz, the sacred ketchup ran
o'er bread buns measureless to man
down to a cup of tea.

Wrap a donut round him thrice,
and close your mouth with holy dread,
for he on honey-dew melon fed
and drunk the shakes of Paradise.

Sammy Trailer-trash Coleridge
Title: Re: £100
Post by: SparkyDashforth on April 09, 2012, 01:56:55 PM
Yikes of course its Shelly!  Duh

The crappy poetry thread is rapidly becoming the most readable poetry on the site!
Title: Re: £100
Post by: SparkyDashforth on April 09, 2012, 01:58:20 PM

Love it!!!



"Fatty Khan

In Xanadu did Fatty Khan
a stately burger-dome decree:
Where Heinz, the sacred ketchup ran
o'er bread buns measureless to man
down to a cup of tea.

Wrap a donut round him thrice,
and close your mouth with holy dread,
for he on honey-dew melon fed
and drunk the shakes of Paradise.

Sammy Trailer-trash Coleridge"
Title: Re: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 09, 2012, 02:46:20 PM
The crappy poetry thread is rapidly becoming the most readable poetry on the site!

Ahem  ::) This is NOT the crappy poetry thread thank you very much. This is Mark's deadly serious poem about overpriced restaurants thread!

If I should belch, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of an Indian restaurant
that is forever England.

Babbling Brooke
Title: Re: £100
Post by: indar on April 09, 2012, 02:56:50 PM
How could anyone call the following "crappy"

The Make-bile of Burger Bee

I WILL arise and go now, and go to the Burger Bee   
And a super-size Triple order , of beef and pink slime made;   
a giant slurpy will I have there, and fries in coagulating grease,
      And dine alone in the Bee-loud glade.   
   
And I shall have soft-serve there, for soft-serve comes dropping slow,         
Dropping from the auto-dispensers to cups of styrofoam   
There the neon's all a glimmer, the patrons a strange, green glow,   
      From the buckets of buffalo wings.   
   
I will arise and go now, for always night and day   
I hear sizzling grease with low sounds promise more.   
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,   
      I hear it in the deep intestine's core.   
 
W. B. Eats
Title: Re: £100
Post by: SparkyDashforth on April 09, 2012, 03:06:27 PM
 :D Exactly
Title: Re: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 09, 2012, 03:09:31 PM
Nice one I.  :D

Come on Sparks, why not try your hand at Shakespeare.
Title: Re: £100
Post by: indar on April 09, 2012, 03:22:20 PM
Quote
Nice one I. 


Thanks Mark, I have the Rhubarb Kipperling as my inspiration.
Title: Re: £100
Post by: 510bhan on April 09, 2012, 07:57:48 PM
Love all this pastiche -- a sort of poetic quiche/kitsch [not sure how it's pronounced] ;D ;D ;D
Title: Re: £100
Post by: Mark H on April 11, 2012, 01:16:06 PM
Sonnet and Tomato on Rye

Shall I compare thee to a piece of cheese?
Thou art more crumbly and you smell like feet.
I'm sure that's rind I see upon your knees
and veins of mouldy blue lead to your feet.

Your frizzy hairdo seems as dull as Brie
and breath like Gorgonzola you emit,
while from your ears drip drops of yellow ghee
and cascade o'er your Mozzarella tits.

But thy eternal Cheddar shall not grate,
nor serve with Branston Pickle on some bread.
Welsh rarebit seems a nasty sort of fate
perhaps we ought to smoke thy curds instead.

So long as men can eat, or eyes can see,
so long lives cheese, and cheese gives life to thee.

William Cheeseboard
Title: Re: £100
Post by: SparkyDashforth on April 11, 2012, 01:20:40 PM
Deliciously cheesy! :D
Title: Re: £100
Post by: indar on April 11, 2012, 01:23:48 PM
The gauntlet is down....
Title: Re: £100
Post by: indar on April 12, 2012, 02:29:53 AM
Sonnet 116

Let me not to the mucilage of gluey grinds
Omit condiments. Grub is not grub
Which is so altered it can rise
Or bend by its own will with the power to remove:
O no! We're supposed to eat this, Mark!
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the start to every wrenching barf,
Whose chemical contents are unknown,
Let not slime's drool, through greenish lips and cheeks
Within this blended sickly compote come:
Unrefridgerated for hours and weeks,
Botchulism even to the edge of doom.
   If this be error and upon me proved,
   I never cooked: no man will ever love.

Will Shake-n-bake