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Potato Poetry Corner

Has your love of spuds inspired you to put pen to paper (or fingers to keys) and write an ode the great potato? Well you're in the right place! 

Spuds are good, spuds are best 
Spuds really beat all the rest. 
Swede and carrot are all very fine, 
But on their own, they don't get over the line.
Mash them with spuds and what a change there will be, 
The best meal accompaniment you ever will see. 
So don't say it's just a spud, that's not fair or right, 
Spuds are the food to get us from dawn until night.

John Norris
London, England

The potato is a food of merit 
Virtues it possesses galore 
In honesty it outranks the carrot 
It’s kind, considerate, and more

 
Content merely to be a side dish 
Humility is deep in the spud’s soul 
Notoriety is not its deep wish 
Grows silent and unseen in a hole 


Its outside’s not flashy, pale taupe 
Wrapped sometimes in silver garb 
It nourishes, endures, gives hope 
Unless you eat just low carb

I’m now a spud imitator 
It’s a noble dynamo 
My mentor, my spirit elevator 
Let’s all move to Idaho.

Stephanie Allen
New York

An Ode to the Potato 
From a Visiting New Yorker 
Long before I got to know 
The distant lovely Idaho 
I’d seen an ad on my TV 
That spoke of highest quality 
A tuber like that song of old: 
Po-TAY-toe / Po-TAH-toe 
But though the many years have gone 
That TV ad has called me yon 
In some diner near Pocatello 
A choice of salad or jello 
No - I knew what I had to try 
As mashed or tots or else French fry 
So I chose mashed and now I say 
All should partake if up this way

Steve Cozz
New York

Potent potable

Potentate in potation

Potted on pot 8 oh

Potentials potentiate

Potato energy fuels the globe

From the new world to the old

Potato tubers make famine stop cold

The conquistadors missed the Yukon gold

What do you see in eye-duh-ho-ho-ho

A Maine course or a side dish?

Celebrate the russet, white and blue-blew-bloo

Red Pontiac – a racial slur or an antibiotic

Purple Peruvian – a palatable pinosh

Rosy fingerlings – tickle your tummy

Rose Finn apple – break out the Snapple

German butter – skins and beer

Swedish peanut – watch that allergy

Russian banana – is too funny

But the green should never be seen

Mashed, boiled, fried, baked or steamed

Stuffed, en casserole, au gratin and creamed

Slice ‘em, spice ‘em, julienne, pommes frites

Hash brown, souffle´, chips replete

Spud of the nightshade; real neat

And we ain’t talking about the one that’s sweet

Why did the French soldier go A-W-O-L?

It was fall the potatoes need digging

Food is serious business;

war is just a bad habit

 

Amber Grumet

 
  

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