Pizza Poetry: Vote Now in the 32 or Be Smote, Without Mercy Too

We're less than 24 hours away from the big slice by which Beijing's top 32 pizzas will be reduced to a Sweet 16. If you haven't voted yet, get that ballot in and ensure that your favorite pizza joint moves ahead in the election! And don't forget to snatch up your RMB 30 coupon from our lovely sponsor JSS Delivery after submitting your ballot!

Scan to cast your vote in the Round of 32

and get your JSS Delivery Coupon!

It also means that we're one step closer to the Final Four Taste-Off in which our readers will try the best of the best for themselves and vote on site to decide the best of the best of the best! All single tickets are sold out for the event, so if you haven't nabbed yours it's time to gather some friends and book a table.

"The Slice Less Eaten"

By Robert Crust

Two halves smothered in yellow cheese,

And sorry I could not ingest both

And be one diner, long I stood

And sniffed up as much smell as I could

Of the toppings of the sausage side;

 

Then took the other, just as fair,

And perhaps the healthier choice,

Because it had fruit beyond tomato,

Though hated as it is on pizza by some,

The pineapple called my name,

 

And both sides equally lay

In a box to which their crusts could not return.

Oh, I kept the sausage for another day!

For it’s better cold, some will say,

And I called it leftovers.

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two halves of a pizza pie, and I—

I took the one Hawaiian side,

And that has made all the difference.

"The Raven(ous Desire for Pizza)"

By Edgar Allen Pie

Once upon a midnight dreary, my stomach growled, hungry, weary,

Over many a curious volume from the TV announcing the football score—

    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis the pizza man,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

            Only this and nothing more.”

 

    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

A bubbly, beery late-night bender had emptied out my core.

    Drunkly I had ordered waimai, finally was my pie nigh;

From the couch I stumbled over to open up the door,

To find that no scooter-mounted man awaited me for,

           But up above a corvid soared.

 

    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams of cheese so searing that it burns mouth’s roof and floor;

    But the pie was undelivered, and in the cold my body shivered.

    At the bird I screamed frustration at the lateness of my ration;

“When’s my pizza getting here, I’ve been waiting an hour!”

            Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

"Because I Could Not Stop for Pizza"

By Emily Pizzason

Because I could not stop for Pizza –

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