Tag Archives: gluten-free poem

Roses are red, gluten is blue (at least, that’s what it makes me, and probably you too)

Loyal readers will have noticed that I’ve been quieter than usual the last few weeks. There are a few reasons for that—some of which I’ll be talking about soon—but I do expect to get back to my twice-a-week schedule eventually.

In the meantime, it’s Valentine’s Week, and in case you’re worrying I don’t love you, I thought I’d reassure you with a poem. Then—because you deserve it, and “less is more” is a lie—I decided to reassure you with a bunch of poems.

This is a gift that keeps on giving, because it means this year you don’t have to confine yourself to blowing a kiss (air kisses are guaranteed gluten-free, even if hubby’s been cheating on you with cookies) or making one of those heart-shaped chocolatey things everyone’s been posting about since January. You can do your boo one better and make your card gluten-free, too!

Jot one of these puppies down in a lopsided heart for guaranteed romance:

Roses are red, violets are blue,
If I could eat gluten, I’d share it with you.

or

Roses are red, violets are blue,
I quit eating bread, but I’ll never quit you.

Or if you, like me, will instead be observing SAD (Singles Awareness Day), or if your taste in chocolate tends more to the bittersweet, I’ve still got you covered. Try this:

Roses are red, violets are blue,
I’d rather get glutened than make out with you.

or

Roses are red, violets are blue,
I’d go on a date, but I’m sick with the sprue.

violets are blue

. . . violets are blue . . .
Photo © M | Flickr

Then, for the descriptivist, there’s:

Roses are red, violets are blue,
Quinoa is white, and sorghum is too.

And, for dear old gluten:

Roses are red, violets are blue,
You hate my guts, and they sure hate you.

Normal small intestines mucosa

. . . and normal small intestine mucosa are pinkish-purple.
Photo © Ed Uthman | Flickr

If you enjoyed, spread the love! It is almost Valentine’s Day, after all.

Share your own gluten-free riffs on the classic in the comments (bonus points for using any rhyme other than “you”—it’s tricky!), and have a happy SAD week.

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A Candy Corny Calligram for Lovers and Haters

.
Oh

you
small
sweet
treat in
three fall
hues! You
pain me yet
I can’t refuse.
You’re cloying,
but I eat up still;
I simply cannot get
my fill. Each year I say
That’s quite enough! But
sticking to it’s really tough.
When I went vegetarian, I gave
up eating gelatin, and thought that I
had got you beat, especially when I gave
up wheat. For Brach’s, the kind I always ate,
may contain wheat. I said, that’s great! I steeled
myself to say goodbye, and swore I’d manage not
to cry. It all might turn out for the best; perhaps I’d feel
that I’d been blessed. But, look! my sister said, let’s see,
Some brand MUST make it gluten-free. She turned out to be
fully right, as I learned surfing site-to-site. The Jelly Belly kind is
clean, of wheat & nuts & gelatine. So, yes, I bought us both a bunch
although it was a budget crunch. And now—surprise—I’m feeling sick,
from falling for your same old trick. I feel that I can eat and eat, but ALWAYS
you prove way 
too sweet. I thought I’d lost you—planned to mourn—but still you
haunt me, Candy Corn
. I’m sure that I will quit next year. Till then, I’ll savor every ear.

250px-candy-corn

For those who don’t gag at the thought of candy corn: Jelly Belly’s is gluten-free and (in my opinion, but not my sister’s) better-textured than the more traditional but iffier Brach’s. It’s also about a thousand times the price, so start saving up now for next year. (Or for the Christmas “reindeer corn”…oh dear.)

For everyone: happy almost-Halloween! What bad habit can’t you seem to quit?

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