Check out this collection of creative poems by our Year 1s – they’re all about soup! Delicious!
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Soup
Grandma, clad in apron, turns on the stove
As the pot heats, the fire rages on
She slowly stirs the pot, giving it love
Once it’s in the bowl it’s instantly gone
Her sweet smile, oh how innocent and bright
So pure she truly was, a heart of gold
Nothing lasts forever, gone was the light
Time caught up, no more was she young and bold
The winter came, cold spread like wildfire
The soup too, froze, all its colour faded
The winter stretched, soon fell the empire
War was over, Grandma was jaded
Salt streams out my eyes, I gaze at the pot
Without its owner, it begins to rot
Grandma, clad in apron, turns on the stove
As the pot heats, the fire rages on
She slowly stirs the pot, giving it love
Once it’s in the bowl it’s instantly gone
Her sweet smile, oh how innocent and bright
So pure she truly was, a heart of gold
She had absolutely every right.
And that was as the story told.
I still remember that sweet nostalgic
The taste of the soup still lingers.
Her name was Fredric,
And she was always quick to anger.
By contrast, I still love her so,
Like the ocean, I yearn for her high and low.
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Soup for the modern soul by the group ‘who loves soup’
How to make a delicious grandma’s soup, a recipe.
First, you measure the water in a PYREX beaker
Then you don’t eat it in tantalising canapé
Instead, you throw it in the searing, black, iron, heater.
Next, you take a trusty knife to cut the vegetables,
Like brussels sprouts, potatoes, onions, lentils, carrots.
Be sure when doing that to be aware, focused, able.
Before chopping up some of the previous nights’ leftover shallots.
Finally, you bring them to a boiling, boil, boil, boil, boil.
Inside a hot, metal, which Grandma gave you, glorious pot.
Be sure not to add any aluminium grey foil
Or else your big, laborious efforts will all be for naught.
The ending product is blessed with true, hard love, just awesome.
And I, for one, with my family, no matter what want some.
O’ once there was a tale of one who sailed, he gave advice,
His advice was one of wisdom, thy shall cook Grandma’s soup.
Throughout his travels, he gained many followers, with lice,
“Thou will drink, thy will preach!” were the words thru the grandmaster’s loop!
O’ soon said of a mighty empire, whose idea was fluid,
Thou who preach spread it across the circle of humankind.
From the grandmaster’s words: Thou shall drink without even one quid!
In a flash the great kingdoms shook, losing people hive mind.
The great rulers of the nations gather, for a solution.
For they want to wage war, they say, “Thy Shall Bow Down To US!”
O’ last, the crusade began
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Grandma’s soup
Hot and good
Wholesome food
Improves my mood
Or so I say, trying not to be rude
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Soup 2.0
Galaxy and darkness
Fallacy and pride
The wind blows from the starkness
Of the ocean far and wide
The sea breeze, regardless-
Bringing saltiness in its stride
Grandness of the sail billows on
To the rules that the wind abides
The wooden body of the ancient boat
Creaks on through the storm and tide
For the future that we all sought
The world for which they’ve all cried;
The moonlight is frozen above the sea
As the planks crumbled into that vast,
Desperate, they sent out their last plea;
The silver light above was the only witness
In the night – of those long, drawn sighs
All their futures became their past.
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Soup 3.0
Capsicums, corn, tomatoes
Sizzling and splashing
Grandma whips up tornadoes
Grinning and smiling
The soup swirls lazily
Bubbles pop up and down
As it burbles cheerily
A happy shade of brown
I sip, grinning away
Happiness fills me like never before
The liquid is warm like an autumn day
Its taste I cannot ignore.
But what is the secret ingredient?
Grandma’s heart and soul—the real secret ingredient!
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poorly made soup by a bad cook
The soup could form purely through coincidence
Like an aimless experiment where experimenting took precedence
In which any taste could be mixed with any other
And attempts were repeated one after another
It seemed the ingredients were just one variable
Insignificant, even if the taste appeared terrible
For the intensity of the soul invisibly poured in
Negated the flaws of the food “dissolved” within
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