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g clair Oct 2013
Semolina!
your'e the queena my cold morning
Sweet Farina!
Cream of Wheat without adorning
and no one makes it like my mom
who has a knack
for food transforming
she melts the butter in a lake
and the mountains are so warming

Semol----ina,
Semolina I love you

Sweet Wheatina!
how you stick with me
all morning
in the steama
from the ***
us kids were swarming
and we loved the one who
got us up
and sent us bundled off
to school
well you made us feel
much happier
since the lunch was not as cool

Semoli----na,
My Semolina
I love you
Semoli----na,
My Semolina
I love you

Semolina
well you're the queena my cold morning
and i do dreama
'bout how far you came
to warm me
cause your the creama
all the crops
grown out
in Italy
and I'm thankin
' God for
every grain
from you to me.

Semoli---na
Semolina, I love you
Semoli---na
Semolina, I love you

Semolina!
g clair Mar 2014
Semolina!
your'e the queena my cold morning
Sweet Farina!
Cream of Wheat without adorning
and no one makes it like my mom
who has a knack
for food transforming
she melts the butter in a lake
and the mountains are so warming

Semol----ina,
Semolina I love you

Sweet Wheatina!
how you stick with me
all morning
in the steama
from the ***
us kids were swarming
and we loved the one who
got us up
and sent us bundled off
to school
well you made us feel
much happier
since the lunch was not as cool

Semoli----na,
My Semolina
I love you
Semoli----na,
My Semolina
I love you

Semolina
well you're the queena my cold morning
and i do dreama
'bout how far you came
to warm me
cause your the creama
all the crops
grown out
in Italy
and I'm thankin
' God for
every grain
from you to me.

Semoli---na
Semolina, I love you
Semoli---na
Semolina, I love you

Semolina!
Mary Gay Kearns Jun 2018
I come from sunlight,
      The sweeping of leaves,
      South London streets,
      Lurburnum seeds;
      Hot semolina,
      A spoonful of jam,
      Hands full of gooseberries,
      That's who I am.

      I come from rose petals,
      The sound of the fairs,
      The smell of candyfloss
      Mist in the air;
      I come from warmth,
      My parents hands,
      Outings to parks,
      Both small and grand.

     I come from knowledge,
     True and false,
     From nursery rhymes,
     And stories and pictures of God;
     I come from gentleness,
     A quiet afternoon,
     From visions of loveliness,
     Sewn on a spool.

    I come from two worlds,
    With different ways,
    A threaded pearl necklace,
    And sensible soles
    A mother and father,
    I think I knew,
    I came and I wandered,
    I looked at the view.

       By Mary **
Poem inspired by the Slam poets on BBC
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ'✿⊱╮
Spongy semolina cake
toothsome lemon kiss
rich, orange-blossom syrup
gold-kissed and fragrant
So buttery sweet
cinnamon
Aaah!
╰⊰✿⊱╮
Twenty-second Epulaeryu!
Ok, I know there are two variants of this cake, the Turkish one and the Greek one.
I've only ever had this once (the Greek one) and it was really lovely!
I'll try the Turkish one eventually!
Lyn ***
Johnny Zhivago Jun 2013
mr moonlight
mr nowhere
maxwell edison
mr jones

dr robert
sgt pepper
mr kite, bb king
edgar allen poe

walter raleigh
mat busby
the hendersons
and maggie mae

mr mustard
captain marvel
rita lucy jojo
vera chuck and dave

mother nature
polethene pam
mr heath doris day
and buffalo bill

loretta martin
**** sadie
hey jude eggman
my michelle

rigby            and pilchard
or elenor      and semolina
took father  mckenzie
too see a dancing horse

henry       his name was
rocky       raccoon was there
prudence rode elephant
to the i me mine waltz
---
There gonna crucify me
the way things go
christ it aint easy
the next day dont know

you know the walrus was paul man
johns bird can sing
george was a genie
ringo wore a ring

but paul is dead now
george stole his soul
john is alive though
ringos in a hole

her royal highness the tax man
commit the perfect crime
she asked for more
with a belly full of wine
Yenson Jun 2019
Those cosmopolitan provincials sorts
the chavs, yobs, yobbesses and oiks with semolina for brains
them retro-grade grade-less sub-humans bottom feeders
who think Cardiff is in East Angular and Magaluf is Eden
and Higher Education begins in Borstal or a stint at HM Prisons
found by happenstance a tin of Caviar
something they'd never seen before
with the curiosity of practiced thieves
they proceeded to examine its worth
'its a tin of hair gel says one'
'No, no, no says another, I think its something you eat'
'it says Caviar Royal Beluga, observes another'
'throw it away, anything with a name like that is *******'
'Beluga...some foreign muck, it look dark and oily'
'yea mate, look like ****, throw it away'
One of the dis-advantaged rabble with one O'level in Carpentry
took a closer look  
'look he says, there's sticker on the bottom that reads
Caviar Royal Beluga – 1kg £3,780.00'
Hahahaha they all roared in ceaseless mirth, hahaha
'some joker is having a laugh, pull the other leg, fancy...
a tin of black gunge in some slimy stuff cost three grand,
must think people are born yesterday, Beluga..fuckoffluga'
And with that, they tossed the tin away and walked off
laughing like *******.

Ignorance is a disease, ignorance is bliss
will vandals extol the sheer magnificence of a Constable
or see anything other than a chair in a Chippendale ribbonback chair,
will Barbarians shed a tear on hearing the sensuous notes of Chopin or shiver at the graceful notes of Debussy or melt in sheer
adoration as Tchaikovsky's romance soars in magical resonance.  
Will cosmopolitan heathens gape in mesmerizing wonder on
seeing Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel and praise God for being alive
So who has great expectations of our dear cosmopolitan provincials sorts
those chavs, yobs, yobbesses and oiks with semolina for brains
for in disparaging excellence
and rubbishing  the noble and the exceptional
they make us appreciate more that we are blessed
and privileged
and do not have
semolina for brains

hey!
who would like some caviar
Tim Knight Feb 2014
World traveller.
Suit wearer.
Likes The Shawshank Redemption.

He's off to a singles party
somewhere in Doncaster,
it’s Christmas themed
and fancy dress
though it’s
planned for October the 23rd
during Christmas's only rest.

And I know that in Donny
you find love where you can,
and I know he spent hours
revising his master plan fancy dress idea,
but a raw turkey outfit, coloured
like **** semolina once bought
for a Jamie recipe that didn’t quite work,
won’t cut it on the dance floor.
FROM, coffeeshoppoems.com
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.
I have to admit my weakness,
my inability to control my carnal urges.

I have reached again into the depths
of my cupboard where I have vowed
to never enter with a hungry stomach.

And so the temptation of linguine
and innocent tiny shells
crowded into my head
instead of heavenly angel hair.

I have faith that only you
can absolve me of my sins
and twenty pounds, more or less,
a 10% tithe to my Semolina God.

Then there is the matter of the cheese.
Forgive me, please.
Edna Sweetlove May 2015
This is one of Barry Hodges "Memories" poems.

*O how I recall with sadness in my poor forsaken heart
How I lost my fat-arsed sister (though she was a silly ****);
We had just enjoyed a meal on the esplanade at Taormina
(soup, spaghetti alla vongole followed by some tasty semolina)
So we went for a digestive walk through the Sicilian hills
Not realising we were in for some awful shocks and spills.

There came a mighty roar and a dreadful smell of sulphur
(even worse than flatulence or a burp caused by little Maria's peptic ulcer)
Oh dear, oh dear, Mount Etna had just violently erupted
With lava bursting out, from the bowels of earth rudely eructed,
And with a sickening splodge a fiery lump landed on the hapless bird
Causing her to die forthwith, screaming louder than I'd ever heard.

God in his mysterious ways is supposed to show us his mighty wonders
But occasionally I do believe he quite clearly makes some ******* blunders;
And I really think it's quite unfair to cause a volcano to blow up
Especially since it looked a nice mountain for bold climbers to go up;
But it's an ill wind that blows no one any good has always been my motto
So I emptied Maria's scorched purse, went to a bar and got quite blotto.
Memories Eruptions Religion Humour Leprosy
A L Davies Jun 2011
i recall seeing you in september, you were drinking a coffee and your lengthy unkempt hair spilt down over what was probably an old sweater of your mother's. i thought maybe aphrodite had come down from olympus for a cup of hot water & cream & ground columbian beans. you were kind of lost in something on your phone, (kept looking at it there on the table) shifting your legs. there was a grocery bag beside you---not very full. maybe there were just a few things you’d needed? some orange juice and semolina pasta. but i was most impressed by a little mesh bag holding a dozen babybels, small and red like sliced apples thru the plastic. (christ, those are good.) after you left i went and bought a few, back home just sorta held them in my open palm eating them at leisure, committing your face
to memory.
this girl i know asked me (as a challenge) from across the couch to write spontaneously about babybels.. i'd seen another really gorgeous girl whilst havin' coffee that morning so i just stuck both together & trimmed 'til this sat on the page amidst a buncha scribbled out lines.
nivek Jun 2024
character written within a smile
old battle scars along the jaws
I am not ******* semolina as yet
but for today soft food is all I get.(with a couple of bottles of red)
nivek Aug 2017
I heard about those "star crossed lovers"
even read their story, once.

Hard as it may seem, I knew love was so much more, so much more, so much more.

A search for love can be sparked, indeed always is so personal.

I used to watch those Hari Krishna lovers, meditators, mantra singers, orange robed and semolina, eating.

Entranced by their happiness, they pointed to a different way.

Many years later, I discovered the universal spiritual experience of silence,

a silence not only in the East, but very much in the Western Christian tradition of monk and hermit.
if this is the best then the best has to do,
but I won't have mediocre,
semolina
tapioca
or plum duff,
I want my just desserts.

be careful
what you wish for in a dish for dessert.

The 'diet of worms!'
is sold as a fish supper to poor people?
or it might be something to do with
the 'holy Roman empire'
either way
it's peculiar.

I'm watching the sun set
and that's
spectacular.

— The End —