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Losing One's Dignity
you like free meals
they taste so well
nothing is bitter
everything is sweet
why do you like a free meal?
you save much for yourself.
why do you save much and not
spend anything for yourself?
you are into the vice of misery.
You are the miser storing much
and still beg for more
hence the free meal.
there is no such thing as a free meal
if you only know the real score
you could not have eaten that free meal on the table.
everyday you eat this unnecessary gratitude
tomorrow you shall pay it
with what? your dignity, even your whole life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Free Meal?
you like free meals
they taste so well
nothing is bitter
everything is sweet
why do you like a free meal?
you save much for yourself.
why do you save much and not
spend anything for yourself?
you are into the vice of misery.
You are the miser storing much
and still beg for more
hence the free meal.
there is no such thing as a free meal
if you only know the real score
you could not have eaten that free meal on the table.
everyday you eat this unnecessary gratitude
tomorrow you shall pay it
with what? your dignity,
even your whole life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do You Really Like A Free Meal?
you like free meals
they taste so well
nothing is bitter
everything is sweet
why do you like a free meal?
you save much for yourself.
why do you save much and not
spend anything for yourself?
you are into the vice of misery.
You are the miser storing much
and still beg for more
hence the free meal.
there is no such thing as a free meal
if you only know the real score
you could not have eaten that free meal on the table.
everyday you eat this unnecessary gratitude
tomorrow you shall pay it
with what? your dignity,
even your whole life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fortunes
Every morning a woman comes and hand picks her rubbish -
Gems discarded by the elite of the city.
She takes them to an interesting shop;
There she exchanges them for a meal ticket (money)
She chooses her meal as if fine combing a menu in elegant Paris,
In the finest eatery, along the finest strip.
Her meal is that of which they (the elite)
would never consider to chew.
Her enjoyment in consuming such a meal is one which
They can never realise.
poem by Anthony Dawson
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Fast Food Plan
Drive up to a window. Buy yourself a meal.
Think before you order. Get the biggest deal.
Eat it while you're driving. Boy does this taste good.
Throw away the wrappers just the way you should.
Back again tomorrow. I'll take a number 2.
Now I've got the combo. This is something new.
Brought a coupon with me. Saved me quite a lot.
Looked into the mirror. My stomach's like a pot.
Lookin' at the menu. Try a healthy meal.
So much salad in it. This is no big deal.
Rather have some fries. The oil's better now.
So why do I feel queasy and bigger than a cow?
Maybe just a milkshake. Nothing else today.
Milk is always healthy. That is what they say.
Good thing it's the weekend.Have some time to cook.
Feeling better already. This is all it took?
Here's the Sunday paper. WOW! Now here's a deal.
Buy 2 get one free plus a Happy Meal.
Back to work tomorrow. Take these coupons too.
This is so much easier. 'Give me a number 2.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Appetite
It is appetizing, the meal is appetizing,
I consumed a mighty warrior of steel.
My concession was plain, just give me food
So I give you a meal, food for two now.
The concert repeats, I laugh and cry forever,
But still I smile and giggle with dizziness.
The groups of people look like apes with food,
The two of us are fed, what of the rest of us?
My appetite is satisfied, but your meal surrounds
And loves me, like two of us in the middle of feeding.
poem by Naveed Akram
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De Way T'ings Come
De way t'ings come, hit seems to me,
Is des' one monst'ous mystery;
De way hit seem to strike a man,
Dey ain't no sense, dey ain't no plan;
Ef trouble sta'ts a pilin' down,
It ain't no use to rage er frown,
It ain't no use to strive er pray,
Hit's mortal boun' to come dat way.
Now, ef you 's hongry, an' yo' plate
Des' keep on sayin' to you, 'Wait,'
Don't mek no diffunce how you feel,
'T won't do no good to hunt a meal,
Fu' dat ah meal des' boun' to hide
Ontwell de devil's satisfied,
An' 'twell dey's some'p'n by to cyave
You 's got to ease yo'se'f an' sta've.
But ef dey 's co'n meal on de she'f
You need n't bothah 'roun' yo'se'f,
Somebody's boun' to amble in
An' 'vite you to dey co'n meal bin;
An' ef you 's stuffed up to be froat
Wid co'n er middlin', fowl er shoat,
Des' look out an' you 'll see fu' sho
A 'possum faint befo' yo' do'.
De way t'ings happen, huhuh, chile,
Dis worl' 's done puzzled me one w'ile;
I 's mighty skeered I 'll fall in doubt,
I des' won't try to reason out
De reason why folks strive an' plan
A dinnah fu' a full-fed man,
An' shet de do' an' cross de street
F'om one dat raaly needs to eat.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Room Service
Im feelin low, no place to go
And Im a-thinking that Im gonna scream
Because a hotel all alone is not a
Rock and roll stars dream
But just when Im about to shut the light and go to bed
A lady calls and asks if Im too tired or if Im just to dead for
Room service, baby I could use a meal
Room service, you do what you feel
Room service, I take the pleasure with the pain
I cant say no
My planes delayed and Im afraid
Theyre gonna keep me waiting here till nine
Then a stewardess in a tight blue dress says
I got the time
But just as Im about to take my coat and get my fly
She says oh please, shes on her knees
And one more time before I leave I get some
Room service, baby I could use a meal
Room service, you do what you feel
Room service, I take the pleasure with the pain
I cant say no, no
In my home town, Im hangin round
With all the ladies treatin me real good
A sweet sixteen lookin hot and mean says
I wish you would
But just as Im about to tell her yes, I think I can
I see her dad, hes getting mad
All the time he knows that Im in need of
Room service, baby I could use a meal
Room service, you do what you feel
Room service, I take the pleasure with the pain
I cant say no
Room service, baby I could use a meal
Room service, you do what you feel
Room service, I take the pleasure with the pain
I cant say no, I cant say no
Room service, baby I could use a meal
Room service, you do what you feel
Room service, you take the pleasure with the pain
I cant say no
Room service, well maybe baby, room service
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Childhood’s end
My friends all came and said goodbye
To College off we go.
Hugs and kisses all around
From everyone I know.
Tonight I saw my family-
(Enjoyed my last good meal) .
Tomorrow -cafeteria
With meal plans I must deal.
I spend my last night in my room
(Allow myself a tear)
How will my pandas get along
And thrive without me near.
My books, my things, my DVD’s
so much to leave behind.
But pack mule Daddy must insist
I travel light this time
Childhoods end, not Journey’s end
One more look back for me
Then off to make my future
at the University.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Marmite!
Marmite!
Sweet course of a meal;
But this love was led by you,
And like the joy of peace in the land of many waters.
Marmite!
Sweet course of a meal;
And like this week's message! !
However, you are always my valued client.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Wordy Meal
A strange (learn ad) friend John
ate delicious dictionaries daily
for breakfast lunch and tea
at mourn noon and night.
A thesaurus is a ponderous meal
best not served at bedtime
a meal John spat out like hearty tacks
in sentences aimed at unsuspecting strangers.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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In corn, I think I've found the key to the American food chain. If you look at a fast-food meal, a McDonald's meal, virtually all the carbon in it - and what we eat is mostly carbon - comes from corn.
quote by Michael Pollan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sitting down to a meal with an Indian family is different from sitting down to a meal with a British family.
quote by Roland Joffe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fly High
I was wild and free,
Free to soar in the sky!
The sky was my home,
I was the emperor of the skies.
No one escaped my sight!
I ate at my will to all my fill,
With no rival to fight.
But now I am a prisoner;
In a prison where not even my wings fit in.
A meal a day;
Something that tastes like hay.
All I have is but memories of my glorious past;
And never to be free again!
poem by Vivian Thompson
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Customer Complaint
‘There is something wrong with this mushroom! '
I heard a lady, on a nearby table, suddenly boom.
The lady was clearly upset by the whole ‘ordeal',
And, asked the young waitress for a duplicate meal.
Soon, from the kitchen, her new meal appeared,
But, by its appearance, she was far from cheered.
‘I guess, an idiot, is what you take me for?
It's the very same mushroom, I had before! '
That it was a different mushroom, she was assured,
But she was not convinced, so this now meant war.
By this time, the lady was getting really quite irate:
‘That is the same mushroom, on a different plate! '
‘I tell you, this here mushroom is quite inferior!
I demand that I be allowed to see your Superior!
Your explanation, with me, girl, will just not wash.
You're no use: I want you to bring me your boss.'
The Manager appeared, and listened to her complaint:
Luckily, for him, he possessed the patience of a Saint!
He stood there calmly, while she ranted and raved:
A trouble-free shift was what he desperately craved.
She seemed to have time to eat her meal before,
But, suddenly, she didn't have that time anymore!
‘I want a refund! ' she said. ‘And make it snappy! '
She now seemed in a rush, and very far from happy.
Of the show, the lady was most definitely the star,
But I think that she carried things just a little too far!
Tempers flared, nerves frayed, and feelings ran high:
And this was all over one tiny little specimen of fungi!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Counting Crows
They langour
Among the powered lines
Anticipating
Anxiously
Their next meal
Roadkill
The captain, some three odd pounds
With a butcher blade beak and
Onyx feathers
Caws and bellows his commands
Swoops
First dibs on a crushed rabbit
Fills his belly
Caws twice again
Satisfied
Leftovers are for his troops
The captain returns to his post
Surveys the asphalt
For his platoons next meal
poem by Matt Mondschein
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I Will Never Forget You My People
I will never forget you my people;
I have carved you on the palm of my hand
I will never forget you people because we will have a meal together Right after I go to the lake and fish the fish so we can have a meal Together
I will not leave you orphaned
I will never forget you people
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Suit
A man taken in or a suit left behind? Whichever one is it?
You decide!
Door opened man unleashed, pass found, embarrassed they were,
Ashamed she felt; separation and isolation begun.
In pain she silently suffered
In anguish she befriended sorrow since that was all she had and knew
All she was ever good for after that fateful day was a mere conversation comprising a word or two!
Pass me the salt he would at times gently yell
and knowing she had wronged him sometime back,
she would oblige and pass him the salt.
Not wanting to be isolated any longer she would make small talks
but for he was never interested he would pull a straight face
and continue with his meal.
Like a pride of lions feasting on their kill he would
not say a word more during his meal.
A man taken in or a suit left behind enough was enough!
She had decided that tomorrow at dawn all would come to a complete "halt"
Like a normal day he would sit there have his meal
but on this particular day she silently slipped into the other room
and hung herself to death.
In suffocation she kicked and screamed not for his help
but for she was going to suffer no more.
A man taken in or a suit left behind?
Whichever one is it you decide!
poem by Nathi Vusi
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