Long Dill Poems
Long Dill Poems. Below are the most popular long Dill by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dill poems by poem length and keyword.
Gush Potatoes
2 cups of sour cream
5 Tablespoons horseradish
1?2 cup of white cheddar
1 Cup of grated parmesan heavy cream
3 tablespoons of lemon juice
1 tablespoon of lemon zest
1 Tablespoon of red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon of of fish stock
4 cloves of minced garlic
4 green onions
1/2 cup of minced herbs
( thyme, rosemary,, parsley, dill,oregeno and tarragon)
2 grated hard boiled egg yolks
--------------------------------------------
mix smooth set aside
in a casserole dish add 10 cups of cooked white potatoes
cover with sace mix evenly
bake 350 degrees for 35 to 45 minutes
)---------GREENS ALLEGRO--------(
4 cups of drained cooked mustard greens
(recommended( GLORY)
2 cup of steamed bell pepper
red and yellow
2 cups of caramelized onions
3 tablespoons of minced garlic
1/2 cup of pumpkin seeds
1 cup of chopped smoked turkey meat mixed with
about 1/4 cup of cooked bacon
1/2 cup of crushed sundried tomatoes
in a wok add olive oil and sesame seed oil mix
add garlic and peppers and onions
stri fry and add pork
1 cup of chopped ham and cooked bacon and turkey meat
add mustard greens
stir fry
add tomatoes
and top with pumpkin seeds
serve with tart pickled onions
)-----------> Honey, rum, Brown sugar Carrots<--------------(
ATONAL
Steam 15 cleaned carrots until tender
in a casserole dish
add the carrots
1 cup of crumbled feta
3 Tablespoons of rum
5 Tablespoons of mango juice
3 Tablespoons of Pineapple juice
1 cup of golden raisins
1/4 cup of honey
2/3 cup of brown sugar
1/4 cup of lemon juice
1 teaspoon of cumin
1 teaspoon of cayenne
1 tablespoon of dried cilantro
1/2 cup of cooked ground lamb
1 cup of pistachios
add carrots
in a bowl
add spices and brown sugar
mix honey rum and friut juices in a sauce pan
bring to a simmer allow the alcohol
to boil away add lamb
pour over carrots
crumble feta
attop carrots
sprinkle nuts a-top
cover with foil and bake
at 350 for 25 to 30 minutes
Adagio Meat corner
slow cooked beef
------------------------------
serve with roast lamb , roast pork, roasted beef, grilled shrimp and fish
Strawberries, kiwi, and with a vanilla bean cream pastry on a almond nut cookie tart for dessert
Paired with a Moscat de Asti
38.4154017°, -76.5341214°
A waterwheel, raceway, grinding stones (bedstone and runner stone), gears, shafts, and a hopper for grain, Diet. The crested honey buzzard is a specialist feeder, living mainly on the larvae of social bees and wasps, and eating bits of comb and honey(qilaat)Inuit The People at Funks Pond.Analog-to-digital conversion.absolute event.a combination of shutter speed aperture
that determines the amount of light reaching the camera's sensor. manufactured by Kurtis Kraft in 1949 and 1950.Punganur Made cars and had a Milling Mill on the Creek. in the 1930's they built Sports cars and sold hovercrafts in the 1933 the sold shares of there company to the public. They became famous when the wife woman began infusing honey with vanilla beans:infused honey is made by adding whole Vanilla Beans to our raw and unfiltered honey. It's a perfect balance of sweet and vanilla taste.They shut down the company
and moved all the equipment to an undisclosed place Selling the Motor Company to Frank Muntez
Expenditures/costs negotiated/spent before filming begins, including source material rights (for adaptations) and salaries for director, producer screenwriter, and actors.
Whammy Bar ( Little Black Egg.....)
Funks Pond(revamp)
(RUMOR HAS IT) Ernest T. Bass was involved in an interracial relationship with black model Donyale Luna_ they had a child in 1967 he never recognized the child. In 2001 his unrecognized granddaughter began tossing stones at a Mall in Mississauga Canada. It was said she was sing "The Creeks to Dry" skip along in bootie shorts, a white tee shirt and a sleeveless blue jean vest. It was said that she had large beetle bugs in her purse. Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!)
Written By: Pro.Tuum Proximus Maritus
and Doctor Uxor Eius Est
of Wobble Board Fame Inc.
Red Cow Music and Lyric Company
British White Recording Academy
Belgium Blue Sound Prep Inc.
all Produced and Ex-Produced
By Black Angus "Jumpan-Pumpin"
with permission by Star Anise Leather Co. LLC
Copyright Pending
Patent approved
"Cheezey-greazy sour Dill
with Yeasty rolls: Man thats
deliisous!"
Written By:
Huba Datl Chol
Circa 1969
Revised the other day(2023)
A nascent hodgepodge
of gobbledygook from me,
or alternatively yours
nada soo true lee,
this incipient harm
less bumbling in das scribe
hubble wordy monster prithee
lee, nonchalantly, and lovingly
enjoys generating inscrutable mish
mash vocabulary,
which vapid unsolicited
largesse - from this dip see
dude dill ling, jabbering, dee
pull hoar rubble casket base,
and quacking rub bush pre
mere ring this harried
styled and swiftly tail
lord gibberish - dee
lib writ lee doth
write play full lee
to maximize obfuscation, dee
fie interpretation, and que
zook lee (quizzically)
silently ha...ha...ha
dis Matt chew wing,
chuckling, unremarkably
lamb baa sting king, she
push lee, dauntingly we
sill lee (weaselly) undermining
comprehension, whar ye
dear reader feel trapped
without a turn key
continually sliding into this
old rotten Goth theme be
have (behave) Ural
sink - as aye blithe lee
undoubtedly matter hoof
act corroborate with (be
leave me you) this
"FAKE" sniveling dee
mean nor (demeanor), the least
bit concerned if ye
unfairly find mine cumber
some harried style i.e.
spooner than later
lore or mess free
dissociation, viz parched
stream of consciousness me
thinks meandering into
an oxbow lake hee
ping (by Dickens) yar rye
ha (Uriah), where yar
tried patience probably
didst syrup pass smoldering rage
against this may pull leaf tree
cooly le (treacly)
slap dash helter
skelter brash poppycock
bereft, devoid, and fee
bully, sans ex tolling extra help
pings of gibberish glee
fully - totally tubularly
gloating how thee
moost experience
utter frustration re:
garding figuratively wading,
thru thicket of faux pre
tent shuss verbiage
omitting even so mooch
as a fore warning from
this one percent nee
and dare dearth hull
(Neanderthal) - as re:
veiled from genetic test
23andme, an
endeavor taken by me
eldest sister, - whose
first name iz a male lee,
Harris - hyphenated with Mug gee
Hen (McGeehan).
The wrapes of Grath adorn the path that slammer klingks had tread
when turning spades in everglades to flosticate the dead.
Along the way the snorbels bay at freebled sprutelned
that boogeymen had once again uphove above the shed.
The buildings tall that housed the krawl are pictured carved in stone
and all that’s left is now bereft of wrapes that might atone
for scabs that feed our wrinkled breed, distraught and lying prone.
Yes, flonk replaces merpeled traces deep inside, alone.
There’s no retreat from incomplete, so durbies never dared,
but streaped instead beneath their bed with franjent fangs unbeared;
they knew the past could never last although the trumpets blared,
for doogies, stripped, were ill equipped, no longer bald or haired.
Like cavaliers with gougejent spears, well triggered for a tiff,
slank vankulures with silver spurs embussed for grimp and griff
(no question why, for “we can’t die”, the oft regleated riff);
with little fuss the blunder bus krunged glimpfly off the cliff
and fetid breet of grim defeat gave Grath its final whiff;
the catapult had one result, all life lay lazelled stiff.
The plastic waves that washed the graves, now homeland for the rutch,
though faring worse when quenching thirst with warples in the hutch
were nonetheless, as frunks confess, so pleasant to the touch
exturbing sinks that watered wynx and onetime life as such.
Like burning blotters slurping waters, skindles sipped their fill
from koozing cracks between the tracks inhumed beneath the hill,
then spawned the spores of Grathic wars that profit from the kill;
their victory tales, like crimson crails, reside in dung and dill.
Those scrilly clouds that cowed the crowds neath radiation snapes
left little less than watercress beneath their coffin’s drapes;
yes, those unborn cannot adorn the pallor of the prapes
so scrundlemun tinge bibberun, we ones who reap the wrapes.
Yes, now-abandoned hetzelspan were once in time embroiled
with merikained that firps extained until the weather roiled.
What more, perchance, can happenstance inflict upon the koiled
when pendlesnips are in eclipse and wrapes of Grath are soiled?
The Quirkes of Success
Film Featuring stars
Fictional and enformative
Feature film Proposal
Exploits of Business
filmed in Cerro Gordo
a dipiction of business
and the exploits of capitalism.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
The story is that she got pregnant in the back of a cigerrette delivery truck. The driver is a vendor and deliver. His name is Paydraa, she named her daughter pavon, after the truck and father. Pavon is a fish.
We told her if she'd wish to change the name she could. She just smiled and said,'Oh the dreid tomatoes, the onion powder, garlic powder, I guess the lemon zest, yeah dried lemon zest.
some ground fritos and cheetos in mi flour mixture.aratio: ratio, change mi mixture! I so silly mi fish is mi fish! Instead she explored the option of naming him after the Ventana de Piedra in Argentina. The legend is told that a colony of farting ants ate the green and blue stems of these veggies, and since the saltine nature of the soil effected there waste it would turn the whole section of salinate matrail the color of the leaves that the ants had eaten. Over a million years the area had become crustilezed from the coloration of the ant turds. She named the Son, Ventuia Del Greeco. Who's nick name is "Red" or "Red Snapper".
I bought some cubain tobbacco seeds, some champenge grapes from france and
Japenese indigo. He talked to a man in the desert, he begged the man in the desert. He asked the man if he could name his product after the town that had been ghost up. He bought the MINING town and the ghostes, may have been the measurments in feets not metrical.Well they came up with Lolah's Cubain Cigars, Cerro Gordo's Ghost pepper sauce. They distill a dill and junipter seed and cream with bacon and anchoives. They put it in bottles that looked like liquer bottles, this was a distill sauce for cooking. It was yuck as a drink, but great as a marinade.. They grew indigo in the caves as a joke. they harvested it as a joke. Te manufacted it in corousety. They sold it as a joke and prospered joking about there hunch.
There was pity for one second for the victim in this case,
when 'Hilly', 'Bee' and me were walking to our drinking place.
We were slobbering in thought for what keeps us all afloat,
then 'Hilly's' eyes flew open wide - "Is that a hundred dollar note!"
A hundred 'bucks' was lying there upon the unknown nature strip.
'Should we hand it in' 'Bee' mentioned with a quivered bottom lip,
but the vote was three to zero when 'Hilly' mentioned that the 'brass',
"Would buy a slab of VB plus half an ounce of 'grass".
'Bee' and I ain't into drugs but seeing 'Hilly' found the cash,
we brought ourselves the VB and let 'Hilly' buy his 'stash',
then walked to the Catholic Church and sat around the back,
where we drank our first three cans and 'Hilly' opened up his 'pack'.
I watched him lick his papers, and stick together three or four,
and roll his 'grass' just like a 'snag' but then he broke the law.
He lit the 'joint' and took a drag, but then went 'glassy eye',
and from this point was senseless, and believed that he could fly!
Not only did he flap his wings; 'Hilly' thought that it was hot,
and stripped down to his birthday suit displaying what he's got.
'Bee' and I laughed at his antics 'til he ran out on the street,
and done his style of ballet dancing 'round, everyone he'd meet.
No matter how we tried to help him 'Hilly' stuffed the plan,
with a big grin on his dial and shouting out 'peace man!'
It might be alright for 'Hilly' thinking all the worlds at peace,
but that became a different matter with intrusion of p'lice.
Because we're in the company of a bloke whose floating high,
the coppers threw us in the van for what I don't know why!
But said they wanted statements from the pair of us, that's all,
while 'Hilly' stumbled out some garble 'bout making a phone call.
Now under legal obligation 'Hilly' dialed and then he spoke,
and in a very short time at the desk there stood a bloke.
The copper said, "Are you the lawyer, for that doped up dill?"
"No" the bloke replied - "I've got pizza's here for David Hill".
Writing my first Sonnet was like a pregnancy.
I knew I wanted to give birth to one
and took on the parental responsibility
knowing it wouldn't... or shouldn't take nine months.
There'd been no morning sickness nausea
but there were times when I wanted to change my mind.
"Too bad, kiddo," I thought. "You gotta see this through.
because you can't put Humpty Dumpty back inside his egg
once the shell has cracked and broken."
Determined not to have yet another unfinished poem
take up space in a notebook, I persevered
spoiling myself with ice cream, chocolate fudge slivers,
a few cherries, and a liberal squirt of caramel sauce.
I indulged myself with a reward after the first verse.
I've never liked dill pickles, so when I couldn't find
the right rhyming word for verse two, I didn't eat those.
Pregnancy or not, I wasn't going to suffer puckered lips
because my muse refused to be pregnant with me.
She'd have made a useless midwife anyway.
Said she'd be back when she got a birth announcement.
I suffered alone and pushed this baby out
with the same force a laborious woman uses to birth a child.
No epidural in the spine, although I did partake
in a bottle of wine during the entire nascence process.
"LOOK," I screamed. "After fourteen hours of labor
it's an eight-pound boy."
Actually, it was more like eight hours of labor
to deliver a fourteen-line Sonnet, and lots of anxiety.
I took comfort knowing this baby wouldn't need breast feeding.
Now that it's here, it will be reread a time or ten...
a line edited here or a tweak somewhere.
It will be mollycoddled, burped, and pampered
but not with the naked butt baby kind.
I'll sing it to sleep when I'm the one needing a lullaby,
and I'll be glad it doesn't cry for a two am bottle.
I won't worry about it getting sick or growing up too quickly
because ten years from now it'll still be my baby.
Birthing a child is difficult work but we both survived the labor.
and my firstborn is not crumpled in a basket, lying on the floor.
we were talking about the good ole days
and wondered how these people would remember us
we got on a conversation about food and
those special items we liked from our favorite
grandma's.
we came up with some new recipes and
founded some new ways to
show the people we love
how to eat some real good food!
mockey : mockey
4 cups of self rising flour
1/4 cup of UNCOOKED gritS
1 CUP OF DICED MUSHROOMS
1/2 cup of parmesan cheese ( canned)
1 cup of crab meat
3/4 cups of red bell pepper diced
3/4 cup of diced green onion
5 T of crushed garlic
1/2 cup of chopped cooked bacon
3 T of chopped dill
3 T of lemon zest
3 T cayenne pepper
2 T thyme
5 T olive oil
2 eggs
1 & 1/2 cups of buttermilk
………………………………………………………………………………………..
oyster mockey: mockey
3 cups of self rising
1 cup of chopped oyster
5 T olive oil
1 CUP OF MINCED MUSHROOMS
1/4 cup of cooked bacon
1/4 cup of grits (uncooked)
2 tablespoon of cayenne pepper
1/3 cup of green onions
5 T crushed garlic
3 T lemon juice
1/2 cup of parmesan cheese (canned)
3 eggs + 5 Tablespoons of a malt liqueur
1 & 1/4 cups of buttermilk
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
make a batter cook on a skillet until edges are golden brown, serve with
scrambled eggs and a yogurt sauce...
yogurt sauce
2 cups of plain yogurt
6 T fresh chopped dill
5 T chopped fresh cilantro
5 T crushed garlic
1/4 cup of lime juice
1 hot pepper (crushed and seeds removed)
4 T honey
5 T candied ginger
6 T chopped cucumber
she played her bassoon to the tune of " Mockey: Mockey-
Who loves me more" her brother played the piano, Her boyfriend
the bass, four others had Violens, and the guy who played trumpet
asked him boy friend to play the lictric bass, and I mean" they
were getting it in"!
Here we sit all cold and wet, please do not start to fret. Let me snuggle up to you, I promise not to chew. I think these new glass jars, really came in a box from mars. Some say this stinky pickle juice, tastes like it came from a big moose. I don't care if you're sweet or dill, you will always be my thrill. We both may be green, so we can't help our jeans. I will love you until the end, you will always be my best friend. Guess we can't get out of this pickle we are in, so let's just say amen.
(Two talking pickles stuck in a jar.)
Written Date: 2/16/2020
3 Place STRAND CHOICE Z, any form, any theme Contest Judged:4/4/2020 sponsored by: Brian Strand
Don (ta) Ask Me 'Bout Exacerbation Of Trumpeted "FAKE" News
written September 19th, 2018, and following words still ring (more true) today – exactly six years later.
The then forty fifth prez
of United States of America
best get sent packing
to Lake woebegone
forced to coexist amidst University
of Pennsylvania Dutch
men in breeches
(May Apple lie)
swampy netherlands awash
with bipedal hominid
sucker punching leeches
where within every
whirled wide webbed
nook and cranny
Nietzscheism reaches,
and survival of fittest
iz basic credo,
and dogmatic ethos,
analogous to an apprentice teaches
a most frightful distortion of facts
and make up mistruths
indiscriminately bandied about
said alarmist blatant LIES
blithely stated with dangerous clout
appearing oblivious and totally
clueless without a doubt
punctuating with doubt Thomas
pettifogging questionable details
FALSE exclamations
generating fear with mindless
ignorance exaggerating protocols
as he doth emphatically flout
begetting, engendering,
and inflicting emotional gout
nothing accomplished by
hash tagging him a "LOUT"
and more opprobrious affect
would ensue anew
undeservedly praising him,
whose animus toward
Democrats would brew
but no matter what (tick)
tack toe taken,
he got nary a blue's clue
about vital issues,
which lack of insight
even Scooby Doo
would agree, heck the Americans
may as well install an emu
with more positive
forthcoming results,
cuz dis dope head like hellacious,
ludicrous, pernicious evils
in Pandora's box flew
his every actions
destroying essential glue
that sets this country apart
approximating Democracy, where hue
mans comprise melting pot,
whether Eskimos (er...
rather Inuits) in their
(fast melting) igloo
gentile, heathen, or Jew
experience limitless
pasta billet teas
applying their new
dill (aptitude) reaching
titular status of parvenu,
especially trumping proper, "P's"
and most every "Q"
before Wharton peer review.