Despite your best iambic attempts you cannot put inanity to rout
A poet in iambic is like a beaver who must always gnaw
Or the muse gods will no longer hold sway or hold you in awe
What follows is a poem on a chili contest at Playport
Where the Alaskanpoet's spicy and hot chili fell short:
As a universal
solvent, water usually rises to the head of the list
When it
comes to humans two others perch without which we could not exist
Music and
food have an ability to bias borders dissolve
With all the
chaos without either, we would never have evolved
Very hard to
fight when you have food in a fork or spoon
Or when you
are swaying or tapping to a rock and roll tune
So on a
Saturday night the chili forces gathered to see who might win
Seven crock
pots waiting, wondering who committed the too many jalapenos sin
Testing and
sampling as the Playport Trio’s notes and chords bathed the floor
At the end
of each song the crowd applauded for more
Seven chilies
some with and some without beans
But all with
meat trimmed healthy and lean
But with a
bit of spice and peppers that might send a diner to the commode
Garnished by
a corn bread that would melt in one’s mouth in a gourmet mode
Topped off
by whipped cream lathered on slices of pumpkin pie
Given the
jalapeno scale of some of the chilies ice cream a better choice as lips were
burning to die
Six of the
chilies were of a red base hue and one a hue of white
Ballots cast
can you guess who was the winner on this fun night?
The white
chili with Debra as its cook
First and
only place and an apron was the prize she took
Had there
been a second it might have gone to the chef from the frigid zones
Where
because men like their chili hot and spicy, they are doomed to often live
alone.
©
September 16, 2014 Michael P. Ridley aka the Alaskanpoet
www.alaskanpoet.blogspot.com
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