An Ode to Tater Mitts

Neo-neocon has discovered a peculiar but seemingly indispensable kitchen aid: the Tater Mitt, and bemoans the fact that it does not rise to the level of poetry, as some of her other kitchen items have.

Not wanting the good Neo to mourn her paucity of iambic pentameter, the muse descended and I answered her call, saving the fair damsel from her dismay:

As evening dawns, her eyes behold
The eyes of countless spuds heaped high
Their leathered skin so soiled and cold
As evening feasttime e \'r grows nigh.

All hope is lost, the hungry crowd
With grumbling stomachs surly sit
The trembling chef, no longer proud,
From cavern \'d drawer the dreaded mitt.

She gazes at the grizzled mitt,
With roughened palms, a ghastly green,
Now grasps the soiled spud which sits
With icy eyes and waxy sheen.

She rubs, she rubs, in frenzied rush
As feebled hope springs forth to wit
The shredded skin reveals the flesh,
All hail the glorious Tater Mitt!

Now, back to work…

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4 thoughts on “An Ode to Tater Mitts

  1. True wit is nature to advantage dress’d;
    What oft was thought, but ne’er so well express’d.

  2. This inspired me to remember the work of Richard Armour, whose clever rhymes were part of my reading entertainment for years. He said…

    Politics, it seems to me,
    for years, or all too long,
    has been concerned with right or left
    instead of right or wrong.

    Also the immortal…

    Shake and shake
    The ketchup bottle.
    None’ll come
    And then a lot’ll.

    I remember reading once how much he hated having written that last one. His series of “It all Started With…” was once all the rage.
    Thanks for jogging my memory. I’m now tempted to go looking for some out of print Richard Armour books.

    Oh, and your poetry is every bit as good.
    But it’s a good thing we both have other skills to fall back on.

  3. I feel so utterly, totally, pitifully inadequate.

    But I enjoyed both the post and the comments so much that I will lose no sleep over my failure to have acquired a muse.

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