Year Of The Potato

Fritter, fry or boil, you may,
There's nothing like a potato today.
Cheapest veggie you can buy,
Purchase big bags without a sigh!
With inflation and soaring tax,
Meat prices reaching their max.

Potatoes peeled washed and dried,
Fry them deep in porky hide.
Or bake it well, make a potato pie,
And take it down with bread of rye.
When short of time, rush hour it is,
Mash and mix with creamy cheese.

Summer, winter and monsoon too,
A potato can be found all year through.
Potatoes today, potatoes tomorrow,
Best thing to eat to purge your sorrow.
Hear me out, for I speak well,
All hail potatoes, they shall always sell!

by arpita QQQ

Other poems of QQQ (9)

Comments (1)

In praise of the lowly potato You have written a loto But this starchy weed Has murdered those to which were wed. Remember the potato famine Of years past time When families became dependent On potatoes to pay the rent. Then when the crop did fail Alternatives did not prevail Till the dead were piled high And starvation came nigh. Now we have another season When pototoes are eaten without reason, Starchy foods are what it's about As the potato shows its clout And the waist line grows and grows Till there are those who can't see their toes. So the potato about which you write Puts us all in a deadly plight. For while it is true that they are used To fill the maw, but can't be excused, As they're just as deadly as before And perhaps even more!