[Roger Slater]

Say Cheese

"Say 'cheese,'" he cries before he snaps
my picture, as if I'll
be forced thereby to raise my cheeks
into a cheerful smile.

And yet, though I say cheese as told,
somehow my cheeks stay down,
and sure enough my portrait shows
a stubborn, solemn frown.

[Cally Conan-Davies]

Cheese

I think that I shall never seize
A glass of red without some cheese,

A cheese to please the swilling throat
Like chèvre from a mountain goat.

When I dine out I always get a
Salad tossed with Grecian fetta

Round since man first tilled the soil,
The perfect pal for olive oil.

And if you want your love to stay,
Cut the curd, release the whey,

For wine and verse beneath the trees
Won’t pin her down without some cheese.

[Catherine Tufariello]

What a fun challenge! These all had me smiling. Cally, I love your Kilmer pastiche.

[John Whitworth]

A Cheesy Song

They can roar out a toast to a sizzling roast.
They can whisper a trope to a stew.
They can chant an address to a haggis, no less,
(Though it’s best to be Scotch when they do).
They can eulogize booze any way that they choose.
In a verse that’s as long as you please
And there’s many a fine disquisition on wine,
Yet the poets are silent on cheese.

Where oh where is the Milton who’ll celebrate Stilton,
The Rimbaud who’ll rhapsodize Brie?
Where the curd-kissing Homer who’ll praise the aroma
Of Cheddar on toast for your tea?
There are poets so clever they go on for ever
And publish their epics with ease.
Then they toss off a scrawl about nothing at all.
Can they really stay silent on cheese?

[Mary Meriam]

That's a winner, John!

(I thought strophe was two syllables?)

[Ann Drysdale]

Head Cheese

When the rest of the body is consumed
there still remains the makings of a cheese.
The recipe is simple. Boil your head.
Stir it about till all the meat drops off,
reduce the heat and let it simmer slowly
during long wakeful nights. Stir in self-doubt.
Season to taste and thicken with discretion.
Impurities will rise, but do not skim -
these are what give the finished dish its flavour.
Cool it. Leave it alone and let it gel.
Wrapped up in paper, it will keep forever.
Time-honoured standby. Never be without it.
At any time you may be called upon
to scoop and serve a spoonful on a cracker
and, piled on buttered toast, it’s just the thing
for eager little boys with hollow legs.

[Jerome Betts]

Ripe and rollicking, John. My COD gives 'strophe' two syllables (rhymes with 'trophy'), although I always thought it was one, so how about 'They can write subtle strophes to stew'?

And shouldn't 'Scotch' be 'Scots'?