In the heavens above, where the marinara flows,
There hovers a creature all pasta bestows.
With noodly appendages stretched far and wide,
He blesses our plates with sauce as our guide.
O Flying Spaghetti, all tender and sweet,
With meatballs so holy, our faith you complete.
Thy noodles, divine, in swirls they do spin,
A swirling embrace for all who believe in.
His saucy embrace brings pirates delight,
For they're the true prophets, or so it is right.
With a hat made of pasta and a colander crown,
He watches o'er seas, never casting a frown.
So raise your forks high, in praise and in cheer,
For the Flying Spaghetti is always near.
In meatballs and noodles, our faith shall remain,
Amen, dear monster, ‘til we feast once again.
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Author:
Matthew R. Callies (
Offline) - Published: November 11th, 2024 01:03
- Comment from author about the poem: I wrote this silly poem for my niece when she was two years old and had the habit of making a mess whenever she ate spaghetti.
- Category: Children
- Views: 19
Offline)
Comments3
You Pastafarian, you. Has intelligent design ever been more laughable, given the state of the world right now?.👍
This made me laugh...and I'll have you know...I was that little two year old once too! Brilliant use of the Flying Spaghetti Monster in quite a humorous ode!
Love it
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