Gathering
I am gathering
All the food scraps
And putting it
Inside the compost bin
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Love cannot survive if you just give it scraps of yourself, scraps of your time, scraps of your thoughts.
quote by Mary O'Hara
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Parties
I’ve been to three
Christmas parties this year.
Two were terrible
and one was great.
One had kids running around
and screaming in your face,
scoffing the food
that was meant for all.
The second party,
well that was a blast.
If the weather hadn’t
really turned cold,
we could have partied
all night long.
Now the third one,
which we paid more money
on than the other two.
When we went for our food
an hour and a half late
we were told to use up
the scraps that were left.
The scraps were cold
and tough as old boots.
The vegetables seemed
like they came out of the freezer.
We had to pay through the nose
for that treat.
I think next year
the Christmas parties
they can all stuff,
just like the cold stuffening
that was served up to us.
poem by David Harris
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Octobers' End
There are ghouls and witches,
there, in that place
and their.
For I have seen faces sharp,
and broomsticks,
inside church gates,
brazen against holy water.
For it is end Autumn,
mellow, and time of sadness,
and leaves, falling
and gathering, on the ground.
Into compost possibility,
colors not as bright,
although the Virginia creeper
blushes a last
smile of red,
and lets in the robin.
Into fog time,
and walking around the park,
and the bare trees with
sleeping root,
remembering.
wistful remembering,
before Santa-
and then Spring.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
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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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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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Eating The Dogs Scraps
yesterday i brought home scraps for the dog and ate them
he watched me the whole time
i had dug hotdogs out of the garbage
brought them home
then i realized, 'when in Rome'
So i ate the dogs scraps
I ate the dogs scraps and i chewed em up right there
I ate the goddamn golf course leftovers i don't even care
Please Lord, for all my friends and family.
Please dont let me outlive this damn dog
I should've let the dog eat instead!
poem by jack Quehoff
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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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Chocolates
sweet chocolates
who will ever resist
sweet chocolates
we take with
our bare fingers
handing these
chocolates inside
our mouths melting
sweetly these
chocolates in
our tongues
putting heaven
sweet chocolate
so sweet inside
our mouths
playing with
our tongues
guilt food and
sin how do you
really love the
sweetness inside
our mouths
melting with
our tongues
these sweet
chocolates of
hidden sins
burning our souls.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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301
sweet chocolates
who will ever resist
sweet chocolates
we take with
our bare fingers
handing these
chocolates inside
our mouths melting
sweetly these
chocolates in
our tongues
putting heaven
sweet chocolate
so sweet inside
our mouths
playing with
our tongues
guilt food and
sin how do you
really love the
sweetness inside
our mouths
melting with
our tongues
these sweet
chocolates of
hidden sins
burning our souls.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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Going To Africa
The gathering of the spirits!
The gathering of the minds,
The gathering of the people,
The gathering of the race;
But, i am free once again.
Best of love,
Best of the best!
White oak and water,
Black oak and sugar,
Going to Africa! !
Of the Balck Ark,
Of the White Ark,
Natural mystic,
Revelation! !
Of light and darkness,
In the city.
Keep on learning,
Keep on teaching,
Keep on writing,
Keep on preaching!
And, let the system teach us all.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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In The Jungle....two
at day-break,
elephants rub their back, on the trees,
smoothened over years.
and sandy showers, using their trunks,
making others feel small,
against their enormity.
elephants, boisterously breaking tree after tree,
plantation 's and huts,
in a frenzy for food.
look at the malaba squirrel, a busybee,
sporting a striped jacket,
hurrying and scurrying,
gathering food for sustenance.
search for food and water is everywhere.
in the jungle it is the survival f the fittest!
poem by Ritty Patnaik
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Necessity
John Clare
wrote poems
on scraps
of paper,
erased them
with bread
he ate
afterwards.
When he ran
out of scraps
he wrote
in his hat.
When he ran
out of bread
he ate
grass.
poem by Jeffrey Harrison
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Leave off the Agony in Style
Come all ye good people, listen to me, pray,
While I speak of fashion and style of today;
If you will notice, kind hearts it will beguile,
To keep in fashion and putting on style.
Chorus --
Leave off the agony, leave off style,
Unless you've got money by you all the while,
If you'll look about you you'll often have to smile,
To see so many people putting on style.
People in this country they think it is the best;
They work hard for money and lay it out in dress;
They think of the future with a pleasant smile,
And lay by no money while putting on style.
Chorus --
Some of the people will dress up so fine,
Will go out in company and have a pleasant time.
Will rob themselves of food, perhaps, all the while,
Sake of following fashions and putting on style.
Chorus --
I love to see the people dress neat and clean,
Likewise follow fashions, but not extremes;
Some friends will find it better in future awhile,
To lay by some money while putting on style.
Chorus --
Gentlemen on the jury decides the criminal's fate;
I pray you turn from wickedness before it is too late;
Sad, indeed, would be your friends to hear your name reviled,
Better be truly honest though putting on style.
Chorus --
Leave off the agony, leave off style,
Unless you've got money by you all the while.
If you look about you you'll often have to smile,
To see so many poor people putting on style.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Cat People
See these eyes so green
I can stare for a thousand years
Colder than the moon
Feel my blood enraged
It's just the fear of losing you
Don't you know my name
Well, you been so long
And i've been putting out fire
With gasoline
See these eyes so red
Red like jungle burning bright
Those who feel me near
Pull the blinds and change their minds
It's been so long
Still this pulsing night
A plague i call a heartbeat
Just be still with me
But it wouldn't believe what i've been thru
You've been so long
Well it's been so long
And i've been putting out the fire with gasoline
Putting out the fire
With gasoline
See these tears so blue
An ageless heart that can never mend
Tears can never dry
A judgement made can never bend
See these eyes so green
I can stare for a thousand years
Just be still with me
You wouldn't believe what i've been thru
Well you've been so long
It's been so long
And i've been putting out fire with gasoline
Putting out fire with gasoline
Putting out fire
We've been putting out fire
Well it's been so long so long so long
Yes it's been so long so long so long
I've been putting out fire
Been so long so long so long
And putting out fire
Been so long so long so long
Yeah yeah putting out fire
Been so long so long so long
Been putting out fire
Been so long so long so long
Yeah putting out fire
Been so long so long so long
Putting out fire
Been so long so long so long
It's been so long
Been so long so long so long
It's been so long
Been so long so long so long
It's been so long
Been so long so long so long
I've been putting out fire
Been so long so long so long
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Clean Plater
Some singers sing of ladies' eyes,
And some of ladies lips,
Refined ones praise their ladylike ways,
And course ones hymn their hips.
The Oxford Book of English Verse
Is lush with lyrics tender;
A poet, I guess, is more or less
Preoccupied with gender.
Yet I, though custom call me crude,
Prefer to sing in praise of food.
Food,
Yes, food,
Just any old kind of food.
Pheasant is pleasant, of course,
And terrapin, too, is tasty,
Lobster I freely endorse,
In pate or patty or pasty.
But there's nothing the matter with butter,
And nothing the matter with jam,
And the warmest greetings I utter
To the ham and the yam and the clam.
For they're food,
All food,
And I think very fondly of food.
Through I'm broody at times
When bothered by rhymes,
I brood
On food.
Some painters paint the sapphire sea,
And some the gathering storm.
Others portray young lambs at play,
But most, the female form.
“Twas trite in that primeval dawn
When painting got its start,
That a lady with her garments on
Is Life, but is she Art?
By undraped nymphs
I am not wooed;
I'd rather painters painted food.
Food,
Just food,
Just any old kind of food.
Go purloin a sirloin, my pet,
If you'd win a devotion incredible;
And asparagus tips vinaigrette,
Or anything else that is edible.
Bring salad or sausage or scrapple,
A berry or even a beet.
Bring an oyster, an egg, or an apple,
As long as it's something to eat.
If it's food,
It's food;
Never mind what kind of food.
When I ponder my mind
I consistently find
It is glued
On food.
poem by Ogden Nash
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From The Inside Out
If you'd look at me
You could never see
That the love of you
Comes from the inside out
For upon my face
You'll find no trace
Of a love that's only
For you
It burns inside my soul
Putting me all a glow
It comes from the inside out
Even though I've never seen
Your face
You've always held that place
My heart it's just there for you
From the inside out
Some things were meant to be
My love for you
Is one of these
My Lord no one could ever
Take your place
For my love of You
Comes from the inside out
poem by David Kush
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I used to get criticized for putting food in novels.
quote by Jim Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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