Restaurant Eating
Will the restaurants argue on this issue?
Can the fork and knife be argued with the teeth?
A moment only too soon is measured
To eat the correct fill.
You are meticulous in eating with us,
And the fried rice has begged our consumption
So that taste has completed its task
As we bear our stomachs with wreaking food.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
Chicken & chips
Chicken & chips
Often brought by fast food addicts
Who love the finger licking taste
Fried fatty food
Unhealthy but cheap
Eaten for hunger's sake
Shop owners
Laughing all the way to the bank
At the expense
Of junk food loving customers
Who just want to fill their belly
With a cheap box of fried chicken & chips.
poem by Sinclair Azubuike
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Cross Purposes Fried Rice
Poet spoke of forty poems
plus written in a month
a moment
of reflection
amazement
Fried Rice
That’s Fried Rice
Very Nice
Cucumber And Egg
From Aceh
i would like
to try it again
she said
we are at
cross purposes
Cross Purposes
Fried Rice
Cucumber And Egg
still life images
even these share place
together in life’s poem
Simple Revelation
Curry Seasoning
Makes It Famous
Also Curry Noodles
Famous Also In Aceh
Seasoning Is The Spice Of Life!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Stay Peaceful
...and remember this,
You can't eat all the macaroni and cheese!
Someone else may want some too.
While the pan is still warm...
Make sure your fork is ready!
What does this mean?
Who knows!
I don't even like macaroni and cheese like that!
Especially if I have to sit and wait patiently,
For it to be passed!
I can use my fork for something else,
That sits on my plate!
How someone can take spoonful after spoonful,
And not be considerate of others...
Is beyond me!
Knowing there are others watching.
Others who could care less about this activity...
Unfolding with disgust right before their eyes!
I wonder what's going through their greedy minds? !
I wonder if they picture themselves...
Staying in a food line,
Waiting for bread and blocks of government cheese!
Standing on their feet...
Blistering in the Sun.
With their stomachs aching to be fed!
Aching to savor the taste of a hot meal.
I wonder!
Stay peaceful!
Someone has to!
'Look...
Are you going to pass that?
Or are you going to keep it and hoard it,
For yourself?
If there's any left to pass at all!
When you were offered a seat...
It was not intended that you eat all you can eat!
Before the rest of us get a taste of what's been served.
You have got some nerve...
And the guts the size of Wyoming! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As they say in Italy, Italians were eating with a knife and fork when the French were still eating each other. The Medici family had to bring their Tuscan cooks up there so they could make something edible.
quote by Mario Batali
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Long Jumper
Early he had measured his own steps,
wanted to get the distance correct
to reach his utmost, very biggest jump,
instinctively he did already know
that this single moment, this split second
would take everything from ingenuity
and he did then prepare himself,
but at great speed that was eating power
he knows that he is breaking the record
as if the air is giving him some wings,
is swept with everything that he has,
as if life is moulded to the moment
as if he begs God for very fulfilment
in that jump he has to give something.
poem by Gert Strydom
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All Your Wishes Will be Granted
'Where's my dog-food?
I've asked a hundred times.
Where's my can of dog-food? '
a woman demanded,
Friday
at the staff and patients' meeting.
Saturday at lunch
in the stainless-steel canteen
where we queued for our food,
with knife and fork alongside,
a tin of dog-food stood on her tray.
At Tara (mental) Hospital 1981
poem by John Garth Raubenheimer
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The God forgives mother
I begged the God for food.
It was not forthcoming.
I stole it and begged Him for forgiveness.
He didn’t forgive me.
I begged my mother for food.
I got it in no time.
She stole it and begged His pardon for it.
The God forgave my mother.
19.05.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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.
Hard To Swallow
We eat to live
We eat to grow
We eat to endulge ourselves,
In the greatness of food
We eat to provide comfort
We eat to be accepted
We eat as it is part,
Of our lives
Food comes in all different forms,
Shapes and sizes
It can be a bean as small as a nail
Or a christmas turkey the size of a horse
Food is a necessity
Food is a way of life
Food is enjoyed
Food is loved
But for some,
Food is despised
Eating brings pain
Eating brings weight
Eating brings illness
Eating brings hate
Eating means endless pain
A pain that wont stop,
Until the food inside,
Is forced out
Eating means weight gain and hurt
So,
It's best not to eat at all
The aching pain of hunger drifts away,
With several ibuprofein.
The battle with food is a constant struggle
To overcome the eating disorder
To take one bite,
And Swallow!
poem by Chris jones
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Preparing Dinner
I watch the pot on the stove
Water is overspilling
The rice is cooking
With bubbles galore
I smother chicken in sauce
Sauce that is made up of green pepper, black pepper and onions
Accompanied with that is the All in one spice.
Watch out for the toilet paper
The spices start talking
The chicken gets fried
The smell of breyani echoes through the house
I chop the potatoes as well as the carrots
I open up McCain veggies
And distribute it with the food
I put more spices in and the McCain veggies
Gets assimilated into the food
The pot is filled with colours
The steam fills the house
The brown chicken starts talking to the yellow potatoes
So does the carrots
The rice is strained
It rises to the core
I use tastic rice
Because it is the best out of them all
I set the table with plates
And it is ready to be filled
One by one they get dished out
First the rice (centered) and then the potatoes and chicken
Ice cream is served as desert
Coca-Cola is poured into glasses
The sweet taste bubbles in my mouth
The hot food burns my mouth
While the cold drink soothes its pain
I smother tomatoes and onions with vinegar
And serve them next to the food
The sauce gives the tongue extra kick
And goes down with a good drink
poem by Lee John Siebritz
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Pork Fried-Rice
Pork fried-rice,
Eating your way to death!
And from Mattithyah to Revelation.
The specimen,
Of a tale and a tail!
But upon the two wings of a great eagle i will fly away.
Of the sale of a sail and,
Of the life under a microscope;
You are eating your way to death.
A bale of a bail and the eating of pork,
But heaven and earth will pass away and the laws will still stand!
And it will be like a puzzle to you all.
Essau hated Yaaqob like the pale of a pain but,
With your rhythmic contractions and your tympanitic abdomen;
So come out of this world and live for the truth only.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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As you read these lines
As you read these lines
Another toothpick
Is chewed by my teeth
Something is wrong
With my tongue and
Teeth, how they compete
For recognition, the teeth
Claiming it chewed the
Words the tongue claiming
It approved the taste,
I am listening how they
Argued and quarreled,
And in the chaos I bit the
Toothpick chewed it
And spit it out,
How choppy have I
Become, how some
Of my parts have been
So disjoined, and how
Have I become
So disengaged, divided,
Like the tongue &
Teeth, in their bickering.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fish And Rice
Daniel phoned me today
with his usual two year old exuberance
which comes naturally when you are two
and comes naturally when you're fifty two
until you extinguish it with old damp habits,
and he said
'Fish! Fish! I like fish very much!
Daddy, fan fan, fan fan', (Chinese for rice)
and yes Daniel has already mastered
three languages, English, Mandarin and enthusiasm
the last of which he is most adept at.
Well I thought he was enjoying his fish supper
but not so, and I should have known,
this exuberance could not be the result of food
unless perhaps a rare taste
of smooth creamy chocolate.
No he was feeding fish,
fish with an appetite for rice?
No, but no one had told him the ingredients of fish food
or me for that matter
and of course he was right,
as far as the fish are concerned
this was indeed the rice of life.
And he was now suddenly very upset
standing in the corner, arms folded, despondent
what happened? I asked
I am told by my reporting wife
that there had been a message I had missed,
and should have known.
Feeding fish is more essential for happiness
than eating fish,
and on his return home, freely swimming happy fish
should be waiting for his love and bliss.
poem by David Taylor
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I Take the Fork
I take the fork,
And select what I choose to eat.
I sample the vegetables...
To then sip on juice or spring water.
I slice the meat with a knife.
I taste for seasoning.
To see if it pleases.
It does...
And I repeat.
I take the fork,
And select what I choose to eat.
I sample the vegetables...
To then sip on juice or spring water.
I slice the meat with a knife.
I taste for seasoning.
To see if it pleases.
It does...
And I repeat.
I might have dessert,
With coffee.
I use a spoon,
If icecream is served.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We Cry for Food and They Give Us Bullets
Food! Food! Food!
It is all that we need
It is all that we need
to calm down our spirits!
It is food that fills
that fills the empty pangs
of our stomachs,
pangs that make us yawn
but cannot sleep
that make us gulp
but cannot vomit,
that make our saliva
taste sour and acidic!
We cry for food
like the helpless little children
with the art to attract attention
by our street demonstrations.
Yes, we cry for food like little children
to calm down our spirits,
that the cry cannot at all be neglected
for it is food,
it is food that soothes our spirits.
But you give us bullets
on the streets where we stage
our cry for food
You give us bullets
instead of food.
But even bullets cannot silence
our cry for food
for as long as we`re hungry
we shall be like little children
that will ever cry for food.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Things Do Not Seem To Be Them After A Careful Seeing
a spoon
and a fork and they seem to appear
with food on a silver platter
when we talk we talk like poets now
after years
a spoon is no longer just a spoon
and neither is the fork
and neither is the food the food that we
eat on the table
and neither is the silver platter a mere
silver platter as it seems to be
for a spoon may be me and i may also be
a tongue and i could be a tongue to your
fork, a protrusion that stabs me like a knife
and the silver platter could be our mind
a garden where we put every seed
and the table and the cloth that covers it
with leaves and flowers
myabe our worlds, covered and uncovered
with some intricate designs
this could be our world now. a world of poems
where everything is a roll of sensitive skin
a mind so fertile with its array of metaphors
and similes and
exaggerations, and these make us so happy
we tiptoe, we choose the word, we equate
every object to a meaning, we dance to a lot
of its nuances, and then we touch and then
we are so silent. we choose not to hurt.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Too Much Food
You can say that Im one curly fry in the box of the regular
Messing with the flavor oh the flavor that you savor
Saving me for last but you better not eat me at all
Living in a fast food bag making friends with the ketchup and salt
People say that Im crazy for not moving on to better things
Instead Im sitting around trash talking with the onion rings
But its much too soon to leave this easy life
Pass me the spoon. pass the analytical knife
Cause your about to get cut and get cut down
Its all about the wordplay all about the sound in the tone of my voice
You gotta let me make my choice alone before my food gets cold
Better shut up or get shot down. it s all about the know how all just a matter of taste
Stop telling me the way I gotta play. too much food on my plate.
Believe it or not I super sized my sights on the surprise in the cereal box
My stomachs smaller than my eyes
So I went to see the doctor and he said turn your head and then cough
I didnt listen to what he said instead I couldnt wait to get off
He said I can have this but I cant have that
That I should keep wishing I was living the life of a cat because
I aint the one whose gonna be missing the feast
Just like you aint the one who seems to be calming the beast
Now your about to get cut and get cut down
Its all about the wordplay all about the sound in the tone of my voice
You gotta let me make my choice alone before my food gets cold
Better shut up or get shot down. it s all about the know how all just a matter of taste
Stop telling me the way I gotta play. too much food on my plate.
Well if you are what you eat in my case Ill be sweet so come and get some
Im so over it.
Now your about to get cut and get cut down
It s all about the know how all just a matter of taste
Stop telling me the way I gotta play. too much food on my plate.
(get up and get some)
Theres too much food on my plate
song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Taste Or Life?
They say honey is sweeter than wine;
Many say kiss is sweeter than wine!
Some are fond of sweet taste in all;
Many like hot taste in food we eat ever.
Taste is just a flavour of coffee we take;
Tasteless food nobody likes at first ever;
But food for living life cannot be ignored.
Sugar coated pill makes us take medicine;
Just like that taste makes food delicious!
Taste various from person to person ever;
Hence one man's food is another's poison!
So also taste for poetry, novel and articles
Say about one's mind, heart and soul ever;
More than taste food for living is fine ever!
poem by Ramesh T A
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A Mystery
On the distant ground, a man kind and bland,
Led me through a wide open door,
Into a rectangular spacious piece of land,
With a wall neither high nor too small,
To strengthen more my frail feeble faith.
The containers big were kept along,
By the Hosts, at measured distance,
Fill with light yellow cooked rice,
A slight longer than the grain we eat,
Transparent as if were made of polythene.
The eaters gathered around in groups,
They were neither in hurry nor voracious,
Nor they let fall the grains on the ground,
I can not tell the flavour for I did not taste,
But the food seemed nourishing the soul.
I was told, “They are the blessed who laid their lives,
Leaving behind their descendants and their wives,
Stood for His cause against the Blackness,
And now the Sustainer sustains them bounteously,
But you are too unwise to know the mystery.”
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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