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Joy is the reward of seeking to give joy to others, when you Show caring and compassion, do things for others.

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A line i enjoyed wasand reilsh the burst of wild flavor

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A line i enjoyed wasand reilsh the burst of wild flavor

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all of these obes brings similes and metaphore's and some of them at food if we all want to wright something similer to this we keep this in mind to be descriptive.

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Camilla Joy is the reward of seeking to give joy to others, when you Show caring and compassion, do things for others.

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Camilla Joy is the reward of seeking to give joy to others, when you Show caring and compassion, do things for others.

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" you are the devil's tool of temptation " really stood out to me

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All of the odes have similes and metaphors, and two of them are about food. If we wanted to write something similar, we would have to keep in mind to be descriptive, and use a lot of similies

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All off these odes are about things that these people love. Then they use all these mushy descriptions, like they're in love with it. Yuck.
That Tutu guy said that joy is the reward of giving joy to others.

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https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1hxpvy32nsCQaAf02mj7ZbptE78JEi95OJstmYF-Yat0/edit?usp=sharing

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ODE TO WATERMELON
I bite into you
and relish the burst of wild flavor
I haven’t tasted all winter.
Your sweet juice
floods my mouth—
buries my tongue
in fresh pinkish flesh.
I swallow your cold fruitiness
and my taste buds smile
with excitement.
Oh, watermelon,
the scent of June wind
mixed with the heat of August sun
washes over me
as I take another bite
of summer.
—Marnie Briggs

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ODE TO THE SAUSAGE
O, sausage sizzling in your succulent fat.
You disgust humanity’s vegans and vegetarians,
yet you dissolve in spite of them
within the depths of my mouth.
Those who say you are nothing but crude fat
in a pigskin casing are blind to your salty sweet taste,
your crispy softness,
your fierce fragrance.
Considered impure by many,
you are the devil’s tool of temptation—
a serpent of kielbasa.
You are flavor incarnate.
Presidents have their nations,
a boot has its confident shine,
a world of imperfection has you.
—Jimmy Morrill

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What sizzles

in boiling

oil

is the world's

pleasure:

French

fries

go

into the pan

like the morning swan's

snowy

feathers

and emerge

half-golden from the olive's

crackling amber.

..the tomato

invades

the kitchen...

Unfortunately, we must

murder it:

the knife

sinks

into living flesh,

red...

a cool

sun...

populates the salads

of Chile...

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Ode to My Socks
Pablo Neruda - 1904-1973

Maru Mori brought me
a pair
of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder’s hands,
two socks as soft
as rabbits.
I slipped my feet
into them
as though into
two
cases
knitted
with threads of
twilight
and goatskin.
Violent socks,
my feet were
two fish made
of wool,
two long sharks
sea-blue, shot
through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
two cannons:
my feet
were honored
in this way
by
these
heavenly
socks.
They were
so handsome
for the first time
my feet seemed to me
unacceptable
like two decrepit
firemen, firemen
unworthy
of that woven
fire,
of those glowing
socks.

Nevertheless
I resisted
the sharp temptation
to save them somewhere
as schoolboys
keep
fireflies,
as learned men
collect
sacred texts,
I resisted
the mad impulse
to put them
into a golden
cage
and each day give them
birdseed
and pieces of pink melon.
Like explorers
in the jungle who hand
over the very rare
green deer
to the spit
and eat it
with remorse,
I stretched out
my feet
and pulled on
the magnificent
socks
and then my shoes.

The moral
of my ode is this:
beauty is twice
beauty
and what is good is doubly
good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool
in winter.

"Ode to My Socks" from Neruda & Vallejo: Selected Poems, by Pablo Neruda and translated by Robert Bly (Boston: Beacon Press, 1993). Used with permission of Robert Bly.