Cooking School Poem by Richard Bogartz
Cooking School
It was my turn
Not to burn the roast.
I was mate
For my date
To host the ghost.
I left post taste
Straight for the coast.
Took my freight,
Had too much weight.
No boast I chased.
I hate to learn
To baste in haste.
I'd rather toast
Or await my yearn.
Just my fate
So great a sate.
I ate the taste
And left no waste.
Sunday, December 6, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: random thoughts
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Poems By Richard Seymour Bogartz
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4/30/2024 4:27:55 AM # 1.0.0.1119
