He who would relish his food must not see it cooked.
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Campfire Meal
There is nothing like a meal
From a flaming hot campfire
It cooks the kind of food
For which you’ll never tire
A slow cooked smoky brisket
The best you ever got
Along with homemade biscuits
Cooked right in a iron pot
The beans are so hot and spicy
Your taste buds will yell hooray
The food is so delicious
I don’t know just what to say
The sweet corn and potatoes
Are cooked on the campfire too
Grab a plate and get in line
That’s just what you want to do
It’s the cowboy way of cooking
I’ll grab some firewood
Join us at the Rockin L & H
Where nothing else tastes as good!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vangie's Cuisine...
Food, food, food…Vangie’s food…
You can find them in FACE BOOK
Mouthwatering cuisine of Filipinos food
Let’s get together and have a look…..
Pretty Vangie is the cook
Using delicate hand to cook the food
Her expertise is out of this world
Nothing can beat her skills of food….
I look at it everyday
To see what’s the menu for today
Tummy now that was once empty
Is now full of what she cooked for that day! ! ! !
-xxx-
poem by Rachel Hill
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Love Ramen
because i havent made myself lunch not yet
but no reason to fret
i know what i will make
it will be great
o how i love this food
sometimes i eat and say o dude
its even better then cake
this food is no fake
it is the food that i like to eat
but it needs to cooked under much heat
this food is something you might not expect i dont know
but i think it is time to show
the great food i love RAMEN!
poem by David Knox
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The relief
Food entering mouth is a relish;
Its exit from anus is a relief.
Mating is relish; orgasm is relief.
Relief is the peak of the pleasure.
26.06.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Overweight with Food
Are you just a tub of lard and
Vastly overweight?
Do you think that when you die you'll
Need a piano crate
To act as coffin for your frame? -
Chosen as you die in shame, with
Only you to take the blame
For years of eating much the same:
A daily calorific fest
Gourmands of your ilk digest!
Is your heart in final fling and
Nearly set to burst?
Are your arteries bunged and clogged and
Feeling now the worst
For wear? - your aneurysm fit to blow
While blood as thick as rising dough
Cries 'Halt! ' to any hope of flow:
A dreadful state to put on show
In front of any nurse!
Best you hail a hearse.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Syrup Sponge
Pour a pint of cream
Upon my spongy bulge!
Scoop me with a
Hefty spoon;
Taste my essence -
Do you swoon?
Feed your self-esteem; indulge
In me until you burst -
Death by syrup sponge - you're cursed!
And as the count in inches gain
Upon your weary waist, the strain
Will tell, but you'll not care -
Steeped in sponge, you're unaware!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food
food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Had Surgery
The small throat, the larger stomach, all this concern
With the wrong certain structure so made of me.
The surgeon has a guile, a patience too dear, but I
Am patient, a patient of well-being so well cooked.
The small throat has been enlarged and the stomach enticed
To cook me the food of luxury, the plastic relish of society.
This religion I follow of a surgeon in surgery shall last
For a life-time, forming more years onto my life tonight.
A doctor is blessed for the guilt he does not own,
A doctor planned me a retreat from life, and the time.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Salad is Incompatible with Life
Yes, my waist is fifty inches -
Big for me because I'm short.
And yes, I like my cheddar cheese
When partnered with a vintage port.
Okay, okay, that double cream
Is always served with pud,
And cake and biscuits with my tea
Are just no bloody good
For my poor hardened arteries,
But see my point of view,
Please dear wifey if you please,
A Salad makes me spew!
I'd rather eat a bowl of air
Than crunch away on greens;
Drink water from the toilet bowl
Or nibble on my jeans!
But salad! Are you there?
You know it makes me snappy -
So let me fill my face with grub,
Stay fat, and die young happy!
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Food
There's a ghost in my fridge I hear a hum
When I open the door there is no one
No matter how hard I look
There's nothing there except some food long time cooked
Happiness can come in many ways
Mine's a cold beer on the second tray.
For I daren't touch the food you see
Its got hair all over it and growls at me.
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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Cattle Food
AN ELDERLY NATIVE WENT VISITING AT A CITY, AND ON HIS ARRIVAL, HIS HOST QUICKLY TOOK HIM TO AN EXPENSIVE RESTAURANT FOR A WELCOME MEAL!
WHAT WILL BE YOUR ORDER TODAY SIR? A WAITRESS ASKED THE CITIZEN AND HE REPLIED, MY USUAL WOULD BE IN ORDER! AND THE WAITRESS TURNED TO THE ELDERLY NATIVE AND SAID, SIR! WHAT WOULD BE YOUR ORDER? AND THE NATIVE REPLIED, MY USUAL WOULD BE IN ORDER!
THE WAITRESS ASSUMING THAT THEY BOTH WANTED THE CITIZEN'S USUAL PLATE OF VEGETABLE SALAD, WALKED OFF TO GET THE FOOD.
ON HER RETURN WITH THE FOOD, THE CITIZEN IMMEDIATTELY BEGAN TO EAT HIS FOOD, WHILE THE ELDERLY NATIVE SAT FROWNING AT THE PLATE OF SALAD PLACED BEFORE HIM, AFTER A WHILE, HE ASKED HIS HOST, DEAR FRIEND, WAS YOURS WELL COOKED? MINE LOOKS AS IF IT WASN'T EVEN COOKED AT ALL!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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A buffet to Remember
It was a buffet to remember
With a lovely Hawaiian theme
Food so fresh and flavorful
It was truly a food critic’s dream
Shrimp so sweet and tasty
Dipping sauce perfectly mixed
The platters were so beautiful
With everything that was fixed
A pig cooked to perfection
We couldn’t wait to eat
So much food to put on our plate
Hard to carry it to our seat
The perfect way to celebrate
Harold’s 100th birthday
Grabbed our plate and filled it up
It was just like a holiday!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Some food
Some food is
Medicine...
Medicine is some food...
Some food is poison...
Some food is Tenson...
Some food is Fear...
Some food is lovely...
Some food is Bland...
Some food is sweety...
Some food is spicy...
Some food is nothing...
Food is not only food
A good eatable medicine...
At only some food...
Some food...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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When the food is cooked there is no need to wait before eating it.
You should know what's being cooked in the kitchen otherwise you might eat a forbidden food.
The Poor Woman
She searched for some puffed rice,
finding the box empty, she checked twice
wiping her tears, she looked around
she could not find any morsel of food.
Without any courage to face
and pacify her wailing children,
she poured some water in a pot
and placed it on the stove.
Then she began stroking her kids gently
eagerly waiting for their food
to be cooked
they fell fast asleep in her lap.
poem by Rizvana Parveen
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Cooking and taste
eating the same tasteless dinner at the only diner
the umpteenth time, a thought came to my mind
am i a guinea pig or one of its kind
or was there a conspiracy behind
has my taste buds gone out of date
why is all so tasteless, that is the food i ate
i dared to ask the manager why the taste is so bad
bang came a caustic reply, this is by the best cook he ever had
(insinuating a problem not with his cook but with my taste)
well then it has to be my taste buds i thought
directing all my efforts to the food i had bought
then came storming, the savior, inside the hall
in his hand was the same food for which i have taken the fall
indignanlty he shouted at the manager
this food is so bad that even his dog had refused to had
hell i thought even the dog has a better taste
why, why am i such a waste
the dog in me forced me to start cooking that very day
the dog in me does sometimes refuses to eat what i cook
the human in me requests him to hav another look
for, when people are struggling for one square meal a day
how can i keep the food i cooked at bay,
hence i eat, taste or no taste, everything i cook, every day.
A Food For Everything!
Meals are the food for the body;
Knowledge is the food for the mind;
Meditation is the food for the spirit;
Music is the food for the love of heart;
Dreams are the food for the consciousness;
Prayer is the food for the Almighty;
Love is the food for the living heart;
Thoughts are the food for the brain;
Colourful ink is the food for the pen;
Ideas are the food for the stories;
Truth is the food for the will;
Sun’s energy is the food for the plants;
Plants are the food for the living beings;
But one man’s food is another man’s poison!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Evening Restaurant
The evening heaven’s restaurant activates, you’re among the last
Who line up outside, making discoveries with food in the mouth,
I’d go slow on the fritters cooked from days and nights in experience
Paid by the engineers of food, a real motley crew.
Jump a few million years ahead, all because of the husband,
Then trek to pursue an animal of a larger variety
As big as our dog, the very wonderful diplomatic creature.
Nostalgic for the years when you certainly paid for the best,
We talk and converse in the signs of an alien animal or spirit,
Finding food fun since the year out.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In '71 or '72 I returned to New Orleans and stayed there. I started cooking Louisiana food. Of all the things I had cooked, it was the best-and it was my heritage.
quote by Paul Prudhomme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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