PoetryAssignment.com » pasta

Cache & Carry

Heather — Thu, 25 Dec 2008 14:53:53 +0000

My grandmother’s kitchen is where As Seen On TV specials go to die. There’s the pasta maker, the Foreman Grill, the frozen pizza cooker… I’ve never even sen a frozen pizza in her house, and I’m pretty sure she’d never eat one if there was. Still, she had to have them all–opened them with delight as we enabled her bizarre addiction on birthdays and Christmases.

I kid you not: we were actually pretty shocked when it turned out she hadn’t orchestrated some deal with God (or even Billy Mays) to let her take at least some of it with her.

Pasta Night

arjune — Tue, 23 Dec 2008 18:49:32 +0000

Sometimes I can’t stand you

Sometimes I just want to throw something at you

Sometimes I watch your door

and wish you were awake

Sometimes things get bad

and I wish I were still at home

but every Wensday

or Thursday

I smell garlic, tomato, hamburg, and wine

and remember why I love you

Pasta Night!

This poem is dedicated to Coderster, the roomate who ocationally makes me insane, but alwayse turns around and does something suprising, sweet, and totally worthwile.

Religion

JessAnn — Mon, 22 Dec 2008 14:13:28 +0000

Religion is all
Around us. Everyone needs
Something to worship.

Your God is a man,
You say mine is a monster.
Religion judges.

So I worship the
Flying Spaghetti Monster?
I enjoy pasta!