Their Highness, the Potato

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Oh all hail his highness!
Brown on the outside,
Skin coloured on the in.

Their highness, the Potato.

Oh great highness, I sing
Your praises and I revel in
Your greatness and usefulness.
I know not why people say
You are bad, and look down on you.
Call people your name for
When they sir comfortably on a couch.

Why! Oh why I ask the cruelty
They use you name such.
You are a wonder, a marvel!
You allow us to make fries of French,
Actually originating from Belgium.
You allow us to make drinks of
Alcohol and use in mashed form
With every food.
We can mix your form with
Cheese and beans and what not!
Even burnt, you are a tasty delight
Can we do that with turnip or pulses?
Or Rice or maize or bananas?

Oh tell me you cruel world,
In what crusade have you made
Our great highness so? He is good,
He is right, He is awesome!
If you truly want to hate someone,
Let it be Onions!
They make you cry!


 

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Potatoes

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Potatoes.jpg

What do potatoes think of
When kept with other potatoes?
What do they keep on doing
When they are there over there
kept silently?
What secrets do they hide
In the dusty recesses of their mind?
Do they dream,
About being a bowling ball one day day?
Or to be used as makeshift grenades?
Or to drink Red-Bull,
Get wiiings
And fly away?
Do they plan on coming to life,
And launch a Potato Revolution?
Enslaving humans,
And then eating them
Just like the humans ate them once.
Wouldn’t it be ironic,
\That when a potato is thinking about its future
And is cut three seconds later.
But in the end,
When everything is said and done,
What are those little brown awkward shaped things thinking of?


My most existentially fraught poems and works(That’s a joke XD). Back in 2012, I used to be obsessed with potatoes. I still am, but I think of them less, now that  I resemble one less  (Again, a joke. I make a lot of lame jokes. They’re a part of me XD). I love this poem. It reminds me of a time when I used to write just for the heck of it, all the time. I do too now, but at times I go for more complex and more professional, rather than so kiddish. But here’s hoping you all love this!
Happy Reading everybody!

 

Potatoes

Standard

What do potatoes think of
When kept with other potatoes?
What do they keep on doing
When they are there over there
kept silently?
What secrets do they hide
In the dusty recesses of their mind?
Do they dream,
About being a bowling ball one day day?
Or to be used as makeshift grenades?
Or to drink Red-Bull,
Get wiiings
And fly away?
Do they plan on coming to life,
And launch a Potato Revolution?
Enslaving humans,
And then eating them
Just like the humans ate them once.
Wouldn’t it be ironic,
That when a potato is thinking about its future
And is cut three seconds later.
But in the end,
When everything is said and done,
What are those little brown awkward shaped things thinking of?