Sonnet VI

Some chefs have reached a level quite elite,
But I can’t say that I am one of those;
In every dish their skillful talent shows,
While anything I make just tastes like feet.
I tend to burn all sauces, eggs and meat,
(Though chicken comes out pinker than a rose);
My soup and sandwich sucks, my salad blows,
Desserts look like I scraped them off the street.

But there’s one food I make that’s not a crime,
In fact it’s something many people want;
Word that my toasted rings are so sublime,
Has spread from California to Vermont;
Come taste them and you’ll too realize that I’m
An onion bagel idiot savant.






About The Author

andy

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Author’s web sitehttp://poemsaboutonionbagels.com

18

07 2009

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