Special thanks to Sarah Connor and Jane Dougherty for this uniquely wonderful gastronomical sonnet, composed on the spur of the moment via a Twitter exchange:
Shall I compare thee to a hot pork pie?
No ta, nor neither steak and kidney, please.
And yet the scent of gravy flutters by
With sweet effluves of pale green mushy peas.
I dare thee, taste this deep-fried cod and chips
The crispy batter and the tang of salt
Malt vinegar, the subtle tang that nips
The flavour crisp and sharp as Cupid’s bolt.
Yet Brexit’s nets are full of fish delights
Though we’re divided by the sund’ring sea
And Ot’ley’s chippers closed now Sat’day nights
I’ll rustle newspaper and think of thee!
When love’s young dream’s a hot and pink pork pie:
Though crust may crumble, love will never die.
I think you will agree this sonnet has everything: food, love, topicality and timelessness. Well done ladies, I believe the Bard himself would be impressed by this effort!
It all started with this tweet:
Thank you to everyone who has taken part in Sonnet Sunday! I’ve had so much fun I’m considering making this a seasonal occurrence. Take this as fair warning to prepare your best Easter sonnet, with all its frills upon it…
Featured Image credit: Terry Kearney, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons
Not a dry eye in the house!
LikeLike
This is sheer genius.
It should be awarded first pies!
Hearty congratulations to the authors from me and Dauphy!
LikeLike
First pies indeed 🥧 🏆 🥇 with a side of mushy peas!!
LikeLike
Only if you’re minted!
LikeLike
I never heard of a Yorkshireman who wanted his mushy peas minted!
LikeLike
Oh, I like a bit of mint sauce on my mushy peas!
LikeLike
Dauphy’s French influence no doubt!
LikeLike
It could be. I never thought of that!
LikeLike
Well done! 😀
LikeLike
I have read through the various contributions to these theme. I enjoyed them and admired their artistry. Not sure if what I’ve written is truly a sonnet but here is my attempt:
When First I Fell in Love
When first I fell in love I was too young
To know what love would do to my frail heart
Bound up into a song I’d never sung
I leapt into a world that fell apart
I thought the love you gave to me was true
It would endure until the end of time
You it seemed was me and I was you
Our words they formed a song in perfect rime
But then your heart it turned away from me
And left me in a desert all alone
You said that you still needed to be free
It seemed your love for me had turned to stone
And so our love it ended and I cried
Something new was born but something died
LikeLike
Very nice! Thank you for joining in the fun 🙏
LikeLike
Love it!!!
LikeLike
Oh, that tang! Ace!
It started with a tweet/ never thought it would come to meat
LikeLike
It’s the ‘sweet effluves of pale green mushy peas’ that gets me every time: who would not want that in their life? 🤣
LikeLike
Only a fool.
LikeLike
Well rhymed Nick….you’re excelling yourself.
LikeLike
Thank you, Don…particularly delicious when sung to Hot Chocolate’s It Started With A Kiss! Why they never settled on this lyric is, quite frankly, beyond me!
LikeLike
You’re saying it should have been ‘It Started With a Tweet’? …..nah, I’m just making something useful to say….
LikeLike
The Bard would not only be impressed, he would be jealous; this piece is just that good, you guys. After all, Valentine’s Day is all about the food. So many people miss that in love poems, it’s no surprise why it’s one of the days with the most strife.
Seriously, people, don’t forget the chocolate or the pork pie. A very well done sonnet. I enjoyed reading it greatly!
LikeLike
I agree! 👏🏻👏🏻🥰
LikeLike
Any poem that has pork pie and fish & chips is a winner!
LikeLike
Exactly: a recipe for love!
LikeLike
Maybe a pizza thrown in….
LikeLike
Lol wonderful
LikeLike
It’s great isn’t it? 🤣
LikeLike
It sure is lol
LikeLike
Wow; could anyone read this and not want to get a smackerel afterwards?
LikeLike
A whaterel?
LikeLike
https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=smackerel
LikeLike
Thanks! That’s the second time I had to use the Urban Dictionary today…I’m officially middle-aged 🤣
LikeLike
I’m older than you by two years +
My only advantage is that my daughter is six-years-old ;-)
LikeLike
Well my eldest is 8 but the language of the street is different in Slovenia…that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it!
LikeLike
You had to use the dictionary Ingrid. What ever is ‘effluves’ I thought? ‘A feeble electric discharge due to convection in a fluid dielectric under high voltage’ it says. Is this the lingo of sonnet writers Ingrid? Am I illiterate?…..
LikeLike
It is the timeless language of love, I believe…
LikeLike
Sheesh…the language of love’s getting rather scientific it seems…better brush up on my anions and zions…..
LikeLike
We live in a scientific age!
LikeLike
Come my little robot
Make my gears go grind
I’m all oiled up and ready
Let’s robot-intertwined
See why I can’t write sonnets?
I’m best at silly rhyme
Two robots intertwining
Describing this, I’m fine
Love in the scientific age…
LikeLike
Smiles! (K)
LikeLike
I believe that Willie S. would drool on his manuscript, reading this. Salute!
LikeLike
This is a great piece Ingrid. Bravo.
xoxoxo
LikeLike
Thanks Gabriela, though I can’t take credit for writing it!
LikeLike
My pleasure hon. I understood that. 🌹🌹🌹
LikeLike
Thank you for reading and for your kind comment 🥰
LikeLike
My pleasure 🥰
LikeLike