POETIC BLOOMINGS

POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.

GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – SURVIVOR

July 17 – The odds are against you. And you know that the challenges presented to you daily, will make or break your stay on this “island”. Do you have what it takes to survive? Yes, we are talking about camp food! This exercise requires your cast iron stomachs to look past the edge of your plate and write a camp poem – dinner style!

 

STAYING ON THE TRAIL

July 16 – THE LAKE : OTTAVA RIMA (FORM)

July 15 – CAMP OLYMPICS

July 14 – IT’S RAINING (INSIDE)

July 13 – SENSORY OVERLOAD

July 12 – PICTURE PERFECT

Single Post Navigation

43 thoughts on “GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – SURVIVOR

  1. Camp stew and chocolate whip
    Camping wild means simple food,
    mostly out of a tin or two –
    ravioli, washed down with pop
    or mince and tomato makes a good glop.
    Beans and spam or sausages
    plus of course hot beverages.
    The kettle and the camp stove
    plus frying pan enough to contrive
    a meal sufficient to survive.
    But mere survival is not enough:
    chocolate relieves a diet of mostly mush.
    tabasco adds a little spice
    to everything in paradise.

  2. connielpeters on said:

    Camp Food

    The oatmeal will do at the craft time for paste
    The omelets they serve are not know for their taste
    Free protein, they said, of the bug in my stew
    And raw dough won’t kill ya, you know that is true.
    I think they use coffee for fuel for the bus
    The casserole meat, they refuse to discuss
    Cook waves her knife when her food we keep dissing
    I’m worried that the stray cat has gone missing

  3. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

    At first I was agog,
    excited by the scene.
    My plate contained a hot dog
    beside a pile of beans.

    I turned into a hog
    and couldn’t wait to glean
    another scrumptious hot dog
    and tasty side of beans.

    But now I’m in a fog
    and feeling rather mean.
    We’re only eating hot dogs.
    We’re only eating beans.

    The menu leaves me clogged.
    My face is turning green.
    I can’t eat one more hot dog
    or face a can of beans.

    Our leader should be flogged
    if he remains so keen
    on serving putrid hot dogs
    with vile, disgusting beans.

    © Susan Schoeffield

  4. Wm Preston on said:

    THE RESIDUE OF AN UNVARYING DIET

    Many beans
    make
    musical screams.

    copyright 2014 (though I don’t know why I bother), William Preston

  5. FORAGING

    Euell Gibbons you had this plan,
    (you were the natural eatin’ man!)
    out there stalking wild asparagus,
    in your thinking you took care of us.

    But turn the cameras to off,
    and E.G,’s menu’d might make you scoff.
    Big Macs, Slurpees, Malomars,
    Whoppers, Chalupas, Chocolate Bars,

    salted snacks in plastic wraps,
    mouthfuls full of fast food crap.
    With cameras on, a bowl of twigs,
    and pure lake water by the swig.

    Maple leaves to make you yearn,
    for the days in which you’d burn
    this foliage, they don’t taste half that bad.
    it’s the only roughage that he had.

    Dripping sap from tapping trees,
    fresh honey from the hives of bees.
    Tapping trees, will fill the bill,
    but the bees will sting you (yes, they will).

    Forest critters are off limit,
    they’ll claw your ass, they are not timid!
    Hiking here will stoke your hunger
    but your search for food will put you under.

    So, when on expeditions pack
    every kind of super snack.
    Screw the clothes, bring loads of food
    (you’ll be well fed – just in the nude)

    Mr. Gibbons, we salute you,
    your advice was more than fruitful.
    You’re long gone, we have not forgotten you,
    but just look where all that clean livin’s gotten you.

  6. It’s a Crap Shoot

    Breakfast eggs cooked toasty brown
    See-through bacon, crisply tasteless
    Powdered milk not quite all mixed
    What ta’ heck is that pile of mush?
    Time to turn off the taste buds

    Lunch time bell stirs stomachs over
    What surprises will be on our plates
    Never seen a hot dog that color
    What’s that chunky stuff in the beans?
    Chew and swallow; we’ve gotta’ eat

    Surely dinner will bring better food
    I think this might be Salisbury steak
    Whipped potatoes with mushroom gravy
    And a veggie that looks like a veggie
    It looks good, but doesn’t taste so great

    I think at free time I’ll call up my mom
    And beg for a survival box of yummies
    After she hears about the food we eat
    She’ll surely make a trip out this way
    If I’m lucky, maybe she’ll stay and cook

    ‘Cause right now our meals are a crap shoot
    Some crap and the rest should be shot

    © 2014 Earl Parsons

  7. Pingback: Enough Is Enough | Words With Sooze

  8. We Got Served Weeds for Dinner

    The bugle sounded three times for the evening meal
    and we sounded like a herd of buffalo running across the plains
    as we headed to the dining hall.

    We could see the mashed potatoes up ahead
    but today they were serving some green, leafy stuff
    which they made us take
    and we had to sit down and eat them first.

    We thought they were serving us weeds…
    Billy thought he had some poison ivy leaves in his
    and started to scratch himself all over.
    Mike thought he had rhubarb leaves,
    which are poisonous and you can’t eat them,
    he was starting to look a bit green.
    Jared, with the long stringy hair and he always wore black,
    said he had pot leaves in his –
    he gobbled his right up.
    And then there was me, Joe,
    and I never ate anything green in my life…
    I just stared at my plate and it seemed to stare back.

    Jared was done
    but Billy, Mike and I were just sitting there
    until Tom walked by and threw a bottle at me,
    “try this on your weeds” he said, as he kept on walking.
    We poured on this white goopy stuff
    and found out if we put enough on the weeds
    you didn’t even really taste them,
    they just kind of slid right down.

    Billy didn’t breakout in spots,
    Mike didn’t die and
    I survived my first green food
    but we were really happy when they let us get back in line
    for mashed potatoes with mystery chunks.
    Mystery chunks are better than weeds any day.

  9. Priti on said:

    Back to Basics
    Camping is about back to basics
    they told our eager hungry faces
    but I’d rather feed on this fresh air
    and graze on clouds that skim and swear
    digest the green with earthy dust
    than swallow what they serve to us

    The empty pangs my stomach feels
    I’ll fill with songs of minty breeze
    I’ll taste the salted pretzel glare
    and lick the daisies silken hair
    I’d really rather feed on air
    than swallow what they serve in there!

  10. CAMP MEALS

    Oatmeal, scrambled eggs and pancakes
    with blueberries on top.
    Lunchtime we ate beanie wienies
    until we thought we’d drop.
    Then dinner rich in vegetables.
    Did I eat them? I did not.

    I missed my home in Brooklyn
    where Mama’s meals were fine.
    In camp we had no lasagna.
    My mother’s was sublime.
    And when we asked for meatballs
    the answer was, “Next time.”

    The first snack in camp was yogurt.
    It turned my stomach green.
    At first it looked worth eating.
    I thought it was whipped cream.
    I missed Mama’s special cupcakes
    you find in camper’s dreams.

    With two weeks left of summer camp
    I’ll be happy as a lark
    to wake up when I want to,
    play stick ball in the park,
    hear my father whistle for me
    when day falls into dark.

    #

  11. Darlene Franklin on said:

    I find my poems tend to stories. . .lacking all the luscious sensory details most of you revel in. Still growing . . .

    MOM AND ME

    My mom would pack up grill and coals
    And take us a sight untold
    At campgrounds at both streams and lakes
    She lit the fires that made my days
    For flames to flare and sizzling meat
    Add icy pop, s’mores that can’t be beat
    ~I never bought a grill or coals~
    One camping trip with Dad and kids
    Made future tries ones I forbid
    Marshmallows brown on gas stove top
    Hot dogs burn black in the right pot.
    I don’t cook out—inside’s my thing
    But where indoors can children swing?

  12. (Poem w/image: http://lettheballoonssailmeaway.wordpress.com)

    Sustenance?!

    We ask for food at daylight’s end
    I guess we asked too much of them
    For here is THIS served up AGAIN
    It looks like glop, we all began,
    Well, it could be some salad greens
    Or maybe just those mashed up beans…
    Oh well, don’t care, ’bout what it seems
    We’ll go to bed with only dreams.

  13. A Camp Limerick

    There once was a camp called Granada,
    claimed their food was close to Nirvana
    but the night we ate sausage
    we all became nauseous,
    and we’re grateful they don’t serve tostadas!

  14. Pingback: GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – THIS AND THAT | CREATIVE BLOOMINGS

  15. Pingback: Pancakes – Enough for an Army | Metaphors and Smiles

  16. Pancakes – Enough for an Army

    Pancakes aren’t meant to be under-stirred
    whirred quickly and poured –
    not really meant to be made in huge batches,
    (portions enough for an army),
    but regardless of this truth
    the lumpy pancakes aren’t a problem.
    Crispy bits and soggy patches
    they’re are more than tolerable –
    in fact they’re nearly entirely enjoyable
    with plenty of rich butter,
    a great helping of real maple syrup
    and a generous heaping of fresh picked blueberries.
    This is a trio that can’t possibly be made to sour,
    with surety it’s certain to remedy this breakfast hour.
    Come one – come all, pancakes – enough for an army!

    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014

  17. Pingback: GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – AMPHIBIANS, ARACHNIDS AND REPTILIANS | CREATIVE BLOOMINGS

  18. Pingback: GRANADA CAQMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – RENAISSANCE CAMP | CREATIVE BLOOMINGS

  19. Pingback: GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – SCAVENGER HUNT | CREATIVE BLOOMINGS

  20. Pingback: GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – CAMP DANCE; SUMMER ROMANCE | CREATIVE BLOOMINGS

Plant your poem or comment here!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: