Canning Jars
packing the pantry
when cupboards were filled
with jars of tomatoes
and beans that were dilled
once a key player
in the family’s survival
patiently waiting
the home food revival
stashed away in the basement
all but forgotten
as now meals are made
with the push of a button
sitting for years
in the cobwebs and dust
the metal wire bails
beginning to rust
pulled from the cellar
or bought at yard sales
gather the lids
and tighten the bails
called into service
once more from the past
as food now again
is preserved under glass
a hot water bath
to ensure a good seal
holding the contents
for a mid-winter meal
poem by Charlie Parant
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Related quotes
Home Grown Tomatoes
There aint nothin in the world that I like better than bacon n lettuce n
Home grown tomatoes up in the mornin, out in the garden
Get you a ripe one, dont pick a hard un plant em in the spring, eat em in
The summer all winter without em is a culinary bummer I forget all about the
Sweatinand the digginevery time I go out and pick me a big un home grown
Tomatoes, home grown tomatoes what would life be like without home grown
Tomatoes only two things that money cant buy
Thats true love and home grown tomatoes you can go out to eat an thats for
Sure but theres nothina home grown tomatoe wont cure put em in a salad, put
em in a stew
You can make your own tomatoe juice
You can eat em with eggs, eat em with gravy you can eat em with beans, pinto
Or navy put em on the side, put em in the middle home grown tomatoes on a hot
Cake griddle home grown tomatoes, home grown tomatoes what would life be like
Without home grown tomatoes only two things that money cant buy
Thats true love and home grown tomatoes if is to change this life I lead
You could call me johnny tomatoe seed
cause I know what this country needs
Home grown tomatoes in every yard you see when I die dont bury me
In a box in a cold dark cemetery
Out in the garden would be much better
cause I could be pushin up a home grown tomatoe home grown tomatoes, home
Grown tomatoes what would life be like without home grown tomatoes only two
Things that money cant buy
Thats true love and home grown tomatoes
Words and music by guy clark
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Screaming of The Corn
The summer was long
The summer was hot
The summer was dry
Days passed with
Not a cloud in the sky
And we had to water.
Everything that didn’t get water died.
The lawn dried up and blew away.
But the tomatoes grew and grew
And gave wave after wave
Of ruby red fruit.
We ate tomatoes until our gums were sore
Than gave the rest away
Only to find,
come morning yet more.
The pumpkin vines grew across the yard
When the cat walked by
The tendrils rose up
Like snakes and hissed menacingly.
We ate corn every day for a week
until the snap beans over powered
the corn stalks
breaking them down
Under the weight
Of fruit
And then we ate beans
And beans
And beans.
And the zucchini! ! !
The fruit grew right in front of our eyes
Not even waiting for the decency of night.
To veil it’s obscene, priapic swelling.
At night we prayed of the coming frost
And an end to this riotous fecundity.
But our dreams were filled with
feverish images of
Zucchini as big as zeppelins
Tomatoes the size of houses
And the screaming of the corn.
poem by Allan Thorne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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This One Meal
This one meal mom just made
All this food she prepared
This one meal, I remembered
Mom and I had a deal
She said 'Just Eat It'
I stared at the bread I just bit
Watching mom throw away the leftover
Did she even think about the world hunger?
I tried to stop thinking about all this
I couldn't look at my full dish
I cannot hide it
It is too hard, ..
All the world hunger..
From which people die
All this food mom just threw away
Kidney Beans, Sausages, Potatoes...
If only she thought of what she was doing
Throwing away all this food
If only she thought
of what this food could do
save lives, prevent hunger..
Help people live their lives longer..
poem by Klaudia Kuczynska
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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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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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You're Such A Wire
Why do you hate me?
Why don't you just simmer down?
You could be doing great things
Instead of just pushing me around
Or maybe just be sleeping
Even you at times must get tired
You're such a wire
You're such a wire look at you
You're such a wire look at you packing it blasting it
You're such a wire
The world it looks so big but it feels so small
I'm snapping like a twig in this dried up dying fall
I think the winter is gonna be a real whirligig
Why do i hate you?
That's because i am full of it
If all your dreams came ture then you must be completely full of it
You won't catch me weeping 'cause you know that i'm not a crier
I'm such a wire
I'm such a wire look at me
I'm such a wire look at me packing it blasting it
I'm such a wire
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Slaves of Food
Thick red blood veins bath in anger
The stomach grumbles in idiotic anger
A taste of food and out springs laughter
Triumphant moods commence again after
And it can be argued
We are all but slaves of food
Digesting away between interludes
Without food the mind is wholly screwed
We consume and wear different costumes
With food for thought and food of all sorts
We eat for the heart until it sets us apart
While the crumbs are often sought by rats
The pleasure one feels after a congested meal
That inner gratifying satisfaction is cheap but real
Toast, eggs and beans and it is work and work
Fruits, wine and cakes and it is talk and talk
Coffee or tea and eyes are conspicuously awake
A turkey roast and sleep is suspiciously at stake
We are all but slaves of food
I conclude with fluctuating moods
There is food for romance
There is food for the fools
Enjoy, eat fast, food never lasts, rewind and preview
Hungry mouths elsewhere regularly wait for its rescue
Copyright 2009 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Pinto Beans
Pinto beans in a little bowl,
'A La Charra' they are so good.
Talk about food to sooth the soul,
With a flour tortilla, oh yeah, thats food.
'Frijoles A La Charra' with anything,
With rice on the side, and fajitas too.
The comfort food of which I sing,
Pinto beans a love so true.
8/10/10 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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Tag Sales
Why should I promise you my love?
When you are never available on the weekends.
And those tag sales you say you offer,
On a monthly basis...
Look more like a fast food service to me!
With a slow cook,
Preparing whatever is being offered inside.
No...
I am not buying it!
You say you have revival meetings,
On Saturdays?
What on Earth is being revived?
I see too many guys standing in line outside.
And not a one looking a bit religious.
Of course I am suspicious!
Why wouldn't I be?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Washing Windows
Your mother used to sit on the window
Ledge of the tenement building and
Wash the windows of each of the rooms.
She’d push back the shutters and just
Sit there with a bucket of warm water
And a cloth and wash away. You were
Always afraid she’d lean too far back
And fall out and down to the ground
Several storeys below with a heavy crash
And break bones or neck or maybe die.
But she’d just sit there her legs holding
Onto the wall beneath her and push her
Right hand holding the damp cloth
Over the glass while her left hand held
The metal bucket tight swishing the warm
Water as she moved back and forth like
Some lone trapeze artist on the high wire
Without apparent fear or knowledge of
Was going on in the street below with the
Passing of the walking dead as Father used
To say and Mrs Febrile sitting on her window
Ledge with her daughter watching gossiping
And nosing about who did what to whom
While all the while you were frightened of
Your mother slipping out the window waving
Her hands and arms as she fell to her doom.
poem by Terry Collett
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Returning food
(This is a fictional poem)
You keep sending your food back because you aren't satisfied.
If you send it back just once more, we are going to step outside.
You say that my food stinks but you don't realize that I'm a great chef.
My meals have caused food poisoning but they've caused no deaths.
You said that your bacon was burned and your eggs were runny.
I'm going to kick you in the crotch and you won't think it's funny.
You keep complaining about your meals, nobody likes a whiner.
You say that I cook worse than that chef who owned Mel's diner.
I'm getting pissed because of the meals that you return.
I hold the worlds record for food that causes heartburn.
poem by Randy Johnson
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The Family Room. For Mary.
You put up with it because
as tiresome as it is, and as they can sometimes be,
somewhere there, there's always love.
He may take interest
in something to be repaired
that's mechanical; and
there's cars to wash and clean,
hobby things to sort and tidy.
Some kids are good or disciplined;
but there's never quite the time
in their expanding world
for doing just what you do
for the house..
But in the human heart
there's this locked, dusty room - you haven't dared
to look inside for years - or indeed
since childhood, for some people -
full of junk, of cobwebs,
broken windows, their sashes jammed,
cupboards that won't open, drawers
whose contents stop them opening; even
the birds have stopped their nesting there;
a room of memories that whisper when it's dark
It's the room that's family.
And surprise - the light still works..
A family can sort and dust and wash and clean and tidy it
in less time than they take
to slam the door
yet only you know that it's done, and how it's done.
And you say nothing.
Somewhere, two strangers
smile at one another
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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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The Elephant Bar
I have a simple question to ask you
Have you ever been to an Elephant bar?
Oh, you must, because it’s so quaint
One of my favorite restaurants so far
Why, everyone loves the Elephant
The statues in this place are so neat
And the food, oh such food they have
Each morsel is a scrumptious treat
I’ll tell you more about the food
Delicious in both taste and sight
Elephant size portions they advertise
They create meals that are perfectly right
Chicken salad that’s so good for you
They create the perfect blend of flavors
I always eat mine so slowly
Because it’s food that I truly savor
Take time from your busy schedule
No matter where you are
Because you MUST visit a restaurant
That is called The Elephant Bar!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Sunlit Family
The wolf cubs looked to see what's what,
Beside the water's edge,
Beneath God's sun that shone so hot,
In service to His pledge,
To shine on all that lived on Earth,
The evil and the good,
So that each one could prove his worth,
Within his neighbourhood...
Those tiny cubs had no defence
Against much larger foes
And Nature offers no pretence
And to no-one it owes...
While wolves are hunters through and through,
They live from meal-to-meal,
To do whatever they must do...
Survival is that real...
And so their mother stood on guard,
As they prepared to drink,
Protectively with one good heart,
No matter what some think...
She's a huntress! She won't give in!
Her family's unique!
Consider her their heroine,
Defender of the weak...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Sunlit Family'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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A Pill For Every Ill
He gullibly ate the fake food
Thinking that its quality was good.
Labeled with a bogus hologram
Food’s packing too was sham.
Taking that food he took ill
And was unable to move at will.
Then he was prescribed fake drug
By the doctor who was a thug.
In spite of that he was healed,
Coz his faith in food, doctor and pill
Anjali
04-09-2009
poem by Anjali Sinha
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