Sausage – v5

A short tale of whimsy, a trifle,
a bit of confection, of spice
Forget the frank, the hot dog -
Give me the Fenway sausage.
Lansdowne or Yawkey, just give me the street,
the crowds, the carts, the smells.
Sausage you shrug, you, the reader,
of this trifle, this whimsy -
 
What do I mean, me the storyteller?
Read on, won’t you please.
 
Sliced bell peppers and big chunks of onions
gathered, lathered, on the fresh bun,
they tempt the palate, tease the tongue,
open wide the bun and spread hot mustard
set the stage, the moment, for the star…
the scorched and blackened piece of meat
reminds me of every sausage, each one,
I have eaten before.
 
So much memory, in the tastes,
treasure beyond measure, of family and fun
of ballgames, tailgates, and the carnie;
a cacophony of moments
dripping with that same grease.
Do you smell it too, sizzling,
on the smoky hot grill?
 
My lips curl with a smirk
as I write these lines for you,
as I laugh to myself, again,
of the pleasures of excess
and the lusty gluttony
of eating. . . another one.
 
==============
Edited and posted October 8, 2024
Sausage – v5
Typed October 16, 2024
 
&
Edited August 21, 2023
Sausage – v4
https://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2023/08/sausage-v4.html
edited December 28, 2015
Sausage – v3
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2015/12/sausage-v3.html
(editing version 2)
Edited  September 21, 2012
“Sausage – v2”
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2012/09/sausage-v2.html
posted February 14, 2004
written May 27, 2001 8:54am
Sausage
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2004/02/sausage.html
 
All of my poems, photographs, and videos are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, and 2023. All rights are reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss (raymondafoss@gmail.com)  for usage. See all 53,000+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
 
America, Family, memories, sausage, mustard, New Hampshire, poetry, Poetry Where You Live, Raymond A. Foss, taste, smells, Writing Poetry, Red Sox, Yawkey Way, Landsdowne Street, Boston, Fenway Park, hot dog,
 
#America #Family #memories #sausage #mustard #NH #taste #smells #Poetry #RedSox #RedSoxNation #Boston #FenwayPark @RedSox #writingpoetry

Sausage - v5

A short tale of whimsy, a trifle,

a bit of confection, of spice,

Forget the frank, the hot dog - 

Give me the Fenway sausage.

Lansdowne or Yawkey, just give me the street, 

the crowds, the carts, the smells.

Sausage you shrug, you, the reader,

of this trifle, this whimsy - 

What do I mean, me the storyteller?

Read on, won’t you please.

Sliced bell peppers and big chunks of onions

gathered, lathered on the fresh bun,

they tempt the palate, tease the tongue,

open wide the bun and spread hot mustard

set the stage, the moment, for the star,

the scorched and blackened piece of meat

reminds me of every sausage, each one, 

I have ever eaten before...

So much memory, in the tastes,

treasure beyond measure, of family and fun

of ballgames, tailgates, and the carnie;

a cacophony of moments

dripping with that t same grease.

Do you smell it too, sizzling,

on the smoky hot grill?

My lips curl with a smirk, a laugh,

as i write these lines for you,

as I laugh to myself, again,

of the pleasures of excess

and the lusty gluttony

of eating. . . another one.

============== 

Edited October 8, 2024

Sausage - v6

Edited August 21, 2023

Sausage – v4

https://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2023/08/sausage-v4.html

All of my poems, photographs, and videos are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023, and 2024. All rights are reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss (raymondafoss@gmail.com) for usage. All of my poems are at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.

#Sausage – v4 #hotdog

Forget the frank, the hot dog -
Give me the Fenway sausage.
Lansdowne or Yawkey, just give me the street,
the crowds, the carts, the smells.
Sausage you shrug, you, the reader,
of this trifle, this whimsy -

What do I mean, me the storyteller? 
Read on, won’t you please.
 
Peppers and onions
tease the tongue,
bun and hot mustard
set the stage, the moment,
the scorched and blackened piece of meat
reminds me of every sausage, each one,
I have eaten before.
 
So much memory,
of family and fun
of ballgames, tailgates, and the carnie;
a cacophony of moments
dripping with grease.
Do you smell it too, sizzling,
on the smoky hot grill?
 
My lips curl with a smirk
writing these lines
as I laugh to myself
of the pleasures of excess
and the lusty gluttony
of eating. . . another one.
 

==============

Edited August 21, 2023

Sausage – v4

https://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2023/08/sausage-v4.html

edited December 28, 2015

Sausage – v3

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2015/12/sausage-v3.html

(editing version 2)

Edited  September 21, 2012

“Sausage – v2”

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2012/09/sausage-v2.html

posted February 14, 2004

written May 27, 2001 8:54am

Sausage

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2004/02/sausage.html

 

All of my poems, photographs, and videos are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, and 2023. All rights are reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss (raymondafoss@gmail.com)  for usage. See all 53,000+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.

 

America, Family, memories, sausage, mustard, New Hampshire, poetry, Poetry Where You Live, Raymond A. Foss, taste, smells, Writing Poetry, Red Sox, Yawkey Way, Landsdowne Street, Boston, Fenway Park, hot dog,

 

#America #Family #memories #sausage #mustard #NH #taste #smells #Poetry #RedSox #RedSoxNation #Boston #FenwayPark @RedSox #writingpoetry

Sausage - v3

Sausage – v3

Forget the frank, the hot dog -

Give me the Fenway sausage.

Lansdowne or Yawkey,

Just give me the street, the crowds, the carts.

Sausage you shrug, you, the reader

Of this trifle, this whimsy -

What do I mean, me the storyteller?

Read on, won’t you please.

Peppers and onions

Tease the tongue,

Bun and hot mustard

Set the stage,

The scorched and blackened piece of meat

Reminds me of every one

I have eaten before.

So much memory

Of family and fun

Of ballgames, tailgates, and the carnie;

A cacophony of moments

Drip with grease.

Do you smell it too, sizzling

on the smoky hot grill?

My lips curl with a smirk

Writing these lines

As I laugh to myself

Of the pleasures of excess

And the lusty gluttony

Of eating. . . another one.

==============

edited December 28, 2015

Sausage – v3

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2015/12/sausage-v3.html

(editing version 2)

Edited September 21, 2012

“Sausage – v2”

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2012/09/sausage-v2.html

posted February 14, 2004

written May 27, 2001 8:54am

Sausage

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2004/02/sausage.html

All of my poems and photographs are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, and 2021. All rights reserved. Contact me at <a href="mailto:raymondafoss@gmail.com">Ray Foss (raymondafoss@gmail.com)</a> for usage. See all 53k+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.

America, Concord NH, Family, memories, mustard seed, New Hampshire, poetry, Poetry Where You Live, Raymond A. Foss, senses, smells, Writing Poetry, Red Sox, Yawkey Way, Landsdowne Street, Boston, Fenway Park,

#poem #poetry #sausage #America #Family #memories #mustard #NNH #senses #smells #RedSox #RedSoxNation #Boston #FenwayPark @RedSox

Sausage – v3

Forget the frank, the hot dog -

Give me the Fenway sausage.

Lansdowne or Yawkey,

Just give me the street, the crowds, the carts.

Sausage you shrug, you, the reader

Of this trifle, this whimsy -

What do I mean, me the storyteller?

Read on, won’t you please.

Peppers and onions

Tease the tongue,

Bun and hot mustard

Set the stage,

The scorched and blackened piece of meat

Reminds me of every one

I have eaten before.

So much memory

Of family and fun

Of ballgames, tailgates, and the carnie;

A cacophony of moments

Drip with grease.

Do you smell it too, sizzling

on the smoky hot grill?

My lips curl with a smirk

Writing these lines

As I laugh to myself

Of the pleasures of excess

And the lusty gluttony

Of eating. . . another one.

==============

edited December 28, 2015

Sausage – v3

(editing version 2)

Edited  September 21, 2012

“Sausage – v2”

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2012/09/sausage-v2.html

posted February 14, 2004

written May 27, 2001 8:54am

Sausage

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2004/02/sausage.html

All of my poems and photographs are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss (raymondafoss@gmail.com) for usage. See all 40,460+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.

Sausage – v2

Forget the frank, the hot dog
Give me the Fenway sausage.
Lansdowne or Yawkey,
Just give me the street, the crowds, the carts.
Sausage you shrug, you the reader
Of this trifle, this whimsy
What do I mean, me the storyteller
Read on, won’t you please.

Peppers and onions
Tease the tongue
Bun and hot mustard
Set the stage
The scorched and blackened piece of meat
Reminds me of every one
Eaten before

So much memory
Of family and fun
Of ballgames, tailgates, and the carnie
A cacophony of moments
Drip with grease
Do you smell it too
on the smoky hot grill?

My lips curl with a smirk
Writing these lines
As I laugh to myself
Of the pleasures of excess
The lusty gluttony
Of eating. . . another one.

==============

edited December 28, 2015

Sausage – v3

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2015/12/sausage-v3.html

(editing version 2)

Edited  September 21, 2012

“Sausage – v2”

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2012/09/sausage-v2.html

posted February 14, 2004

written May 27, 2001 8:54am

Sausage

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2004/02/sausage.html

All of my poems and photographs are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss (raymondafoss@gmail.com) for usage. See all 40,460+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.

Sausage

Forget the frank,
Give me the Fenway sausage.
Lansdowne or Yawkey,
Just give me the street, the crowds, the carts.
Sausage you shrug, you the reader
Of this trifle, this whimsy
What do I mean, me the storyteller
Read on.

Peppers and onions
Tease the tongue
Bun and hot mustard
Set the stage
The scorched and blackened piece of meat
Reminds me of every one
Eaten before

So much memory
Of family and fun
Of ballgames, tailgates, and the carnie
A cacophony of moments
Drip with grease
Do you smell it too on the smoky hot grill?

My lips curl with a smirk
Writing these lines
As I laugh to myself
Of the pleasures of excess
The lusty gluttony
Of another one.

==============

edited December 28, 2015

Sausage – v3

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2015/12/sausage-v3.html

(editing version 2)

Edited  September 21, 2012

“Sausage – v2”

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2012/09/sausage-v2.html

posted February 14, 2004

written May 27, 2001 8:54am

Sausage

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2004/02/sausage.htmll

All of my poems, photographs, and videos are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, and 2017. All rights are reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss (raymondafoss@gmail.com) for usage. See all 45,550 of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.