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Applause
People will grow
More with applause
Than with rich food.
People will die
More for applause
Than for rich food.
People will die
More from applause
Than from rich food.
People forgo,
To get applause,
Their food in time.
People will spend
More for applause
Than for rich food.
Applause will do
What alcohol
Will, to people.
Applause denied,
Or food denied,
The body will wilt.
Applause is earned
To gather people
And select mates.
Applause feeds ego
And food keeps body.
Body is for ego.
18.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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has my taste buds gone out of date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.
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

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Food is god
Food is god
for poor people...!
God is not
Only food...
Rich home
Dog is eat
Nice food...
That food is god...?
yes that also
A god...
Good food is
God...
What is good food...?
Given good health
Always good food...
So...
Non veg
Or veg...
Every good food
Is god...
Simply sit
Silentely eat food
With out hot
And cool drinks...
Food is not only
Poor's god...
With each and
Every one also
food is god...
Give respect and
Take food...
Happley too try too
Thank for god...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar

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Dog rich
Dog
Eat...
Rich food
At rich people home...
Poor man and women
Also in the world
Not eat
The dog
Rich food...
But...
Rich home dogs
Eat very very rich food...
Ok...
Dogs is rich...
Or poor...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar

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To Seek Food
Hunger is to seek food,
Food has one eye and one ear.
The food we abstain from are the heads,
The food is caring over us, and we maintain
Our lives with the food of the day.
Liquors are taken as food,
With a brain too bright,
A table and a cook is required,
Forming my life as a whole.
poem by Naveed Akram

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Alankar (Decor) -30
Kitchen clash (Double Rondeau)
How difficult it is to cook
In hot summer how a wife to cook
'Take rest, shall buy food from outside'
He says with concern on her side
Wife is happy she need not cook
Happy so life runs like a brook
Variety food, pleased they look
Seasoned hot, they know kitchen's stride
How difficult
Time in hand changed is her outlook
Changed is also her old cook-look
Styleless to stylish in set glide
Makes her new with glow to her pride
She can speak on her strife to cook
How difficult
How difficult but back a cook?
Daughter visits with siren look
There, stirs in dad's heart a high tide
Sneaks'cooking has been set aside
These days mom does not at all cook'
Enough for her to word and hook
Daughter counsels mom back to cook
To be in shifty husband's stride
How difficult!
Luck is but a wheel in life-book
So such a wife can't overlook
And mom vows never to abide
Honeyed words but put them aside
Blamed wife telling herself 'to cook
How difficult! '
poem by Indira Renganathan

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Taste Of Food
In food is a certain quality of taste,
May they abstain and be erased.
For food manages my godly life,
Just as the fish manage with strife.
In this food, in that food we collapse
And honour a feast with some gaps.
The food we eat as dinner shall be kind
To the sleep we carry throughout the mind.
What food do you cook with expertise?
Fish and meat will certainly cease!
poem by Naveed Akram

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Servent Cook
mother
Cook
with love...
father
Cook
With taste...
Brother
Cook...
With enjoy...
sister
Cook
Simply fine...
Servent
Cook
A boor...
A woor...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar

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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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Shortage
No food, water or food,
This is a Shortage.
Most dead from starvation,
Some from disorganised pyjamas.
Not folded, creased or pizza.
No house to cook the air.
Right about now some food would be nice,
'I can't' He said, i ate all the rice.
poem by Lawrie Stuart Ronton

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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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His poor eating house
You all can have a scanty meal there
And extremely sorry if the food is not tasty.
Really he is not a cook and the cook is his wife.
She is not well these days and the doctor says
It’s seems to be morning sickness.
The poor chap in his sixties and still survives.
* How can a man survive in this complicated life journey?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga

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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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Cook Of The House
Ground rice, sugar, vinegar, seco salt, macaroni too,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
No matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best cause Im the cook of the house,
Cook of the house.
The salads in the bowl,
The rice is on the stove.
Green beans in the colander and where the res is heaven only knows.
Cinnamon, garlic, salt, pepper, corn-bread, curry powder, coffee too,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
No, matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best.
cause Im the cook of the house,
Cook of the house.
Where the rest is heaven only knows.
Matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best cause Im the cook of the house.
Cook of the house,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
song performed by by Paul McCartney

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Humiliation Of My People
my rich brother politician
is humiliating my people
poor people,
never empowered to stand on their
own feet, they keep waiting
for masters
to make them whole again
crippled, and limping
my rich brother's hand keep
pretending to take
them from the
quicksands of poverty
but i know the mind of my
rich brother whose laughter sounds like
the devil
now that he needs all of them
he feeds them and clothes them
but soon these will simmer
and fade and the truth
about my rich brother comes out
but it will be late already
my rich brother has already taken the power
and enriches himself some more
leaving my poor people back in their shanties
again scavenging for food
and begging for clothing
the humiliation will never stop
from time to time all of them shall be hailed
like those in
the Schindler's list.
but soon there will be light and music
and progress
streams of yellow rays from the Sun God
possessed with
Integrity and Truth
and Justice and
Goodness.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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The Rich, The Poor
Even in the rich man's house
Poor man's food is being eaten
You had better eat rich man's food
In the poor man's house
Than eat poor man's food
In the rich man's house
Our world is mixed
Truly inseperable.
poem by Kolawole Ajao

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In East Africa
He was rich,
She was rich,
But there were many poor people around them!
And like what is now seen in East Africa.
Painfully and wistfully,
But to be certain with the muse of care! !
For drought, hunger, famine and starvation are now seen on my people in East Africa!
And the bullets of war in Somalia are also hindering the inflow of the food donated to them.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis

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Groundnut Seller
I was selling groundnuts and,
You came looking and laughing at me;
'Ha-ha-ha-ha! '
But today i am a rich man and,
You want me to help you.
So is life when no one knows the future!
And so it is when one has a dream all along;
But in this life, nobody knows tommorrow.
I was thirsty and no one gave me water,
I was lonely and no one cared for me,
I was hungry and no one gave me food,
I was homeless and no one gave me shelter,
But today i am a rich man.
Who are these people that they cannot learn?
Who are these people that they cannot wait for the glory of Yahweh?
For today, i am no longer the groundnut seller you saw.
I am a rich man and you want me to help you,
But your laughter those days had deprived you from this help.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis

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Dog Food
Pop
Im hanging around that same old scene
My girlfriend betsy shes just fourteen
Theres nothing better for me to do
Im living on dog food
Dog food is so good for you
It makes you strong and clever too
Dog food is a current craze
Eat some every day
I chew up my sunday mirror
I read about the rich I fear
Dog food is my whole life
Dog food composes my wife
Yum yum yum - woof woof woof - arf arf
song performed by by Iggy Pop

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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