Orange
I hold in my hand my last source of food
I squeeze it in my mouth
the sweetness envelopes my taste buds
growing increasing the ever small size of my belly
letting the taste of this orange last as long as possible
the orange becomes dried up
no more food to be found on the island
poem by Jessica Roberts
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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has my taste buds gone out of date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.
Ode To Orange Chgicken
Orange chicken, oh orange chicken,
how much I love you.
You're sweet, sticky, and tangy, all at the same time,
you go great wi th soy sauce, but never with lime.
ode to orange chicken, which I love to devour,
it's been in my mouth so often, it knows that i have power.
It knows the names of my taste buds, Jill, Lil, and Bill,
sometimes the orange chicken is happy, but sometimes it's held against it's will.
Whenever I eat orange chicken, it goes CRUNCH, CRUNCH,
and I have to have chow mein, and that goes MUCH, MUNCH!
Ode to orange chicken, it is always in a bowl,
but did I mention, i also love eggrolls.
poem by Aubrey Harmel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Monkey Principle
Monkey always says
Your food is not your food
In your plate
Until you hold it
In your hand
Your food is not your food
In your hand
Until you put it
In your mouth
Your food is not your food
In your mouth
Until you swallow it
Because anything can
Knock your mouth
And you spit it out
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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You Can't Just Leave It If It's Good
A sweet peach eaten down to the pit.
May keep that pit sitting,
In one's mouth a bit.
Like a hold...
Onto a taste one can't let go.
To show...
How something good can take control.
Dried pineapple slices and raw cashews too.
Can hook someone to snacking,
No matter the mood.
Like a hold...
Onto a taste one can't let go.
To show...
How something good can take control.
A nice banana smoothie with strawberries too.
Added with some orange juice and lemon to boost...
Is good.
Just to have it as a beverage,
Is good!
No matter the mood.
A sweet peach eaten down to the pit.
May keep that pit sitting,
In one's mouth a bit.
Dried pineapple slices and raw cashews too.
Can hook someone to snacking,
No matter the mood.
Like a hold...
Onto a taste one can't let go.
To show...
How something good can take control.
A nice banana smoothie with strawberries too.
Added with some orange juice and lemon to boost...
Like a hold...
Onto a taste one can't let go.
To show...
How something good can take control.
Like a hold...
Onto a taste one can't let go.
To show...
How something good can take control.
You can't just leave it if it's good!
Like a hold that has control.
You can't just leave it if it's good!
Like a hold that has control.
You can't just leave it if it's good!
Like a hold that has control.
You can't just leave it if it's good!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Prince Of Orange
Look at these hands
Spokes of the sun God delay you, spray you
Prince of orange, climb the ladder
Prince of orange will die.
Brass robinettes
Trumpet and drums for the taking, baking
Prince of orange, climb the ladder
Prince of orange will die.
All the food he steals is all right
Far the tall and gentle poplar
Causing fanfare to those listening
Now
Drape round your head
Mischief and secrets in green kelt, all hell
Prince of orange, climb the ladder
Prince of orange will die.
Look at these lands (--- --- ---)
Youll get no books for your dinner
Sinner
Prince of orange, climb the ladder
Prince of orange will die
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Orange juice kiss
A circle of dried, sweet orange juice
Finger to mouth, the taste memories seduce
Memories of that sweet orange juice kiss
Thoughts race to the past and days of bliss
The giggling young angel standing at the bedside
The past and the present, emotions collide
Those glorious hours playing in the park
Warm sunny days before the onset of dark
When long summer day’s end and it’s time to rest
Sweet angel climbs up and lays head on my chest
If there’s one memory that brings me this bliss
It’s the memory of that sweet orange juice kiss
poem by Brian 'Peza' Perrins
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Consumers’ Desires
Though not hygienic, one can taste good food.
Though not royal, one can taste rich food.
Though not deserving, one can taste a woman.
The consumers need no qualification.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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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Apples
I am an orange man from an orange tree and,
I want to taste the fruits of your apple tree of love;
So prepare me a table so sweet for your apples.
My juice is orange and your love is from this apple tree,
So prepare me a nice table to taste some of your fruits!
Oh, how i dream to taste your sweet apples.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Miss the taste
Taste is
Not health...
health is
very taste for life...
keep your mouth
At with out taste...
Take food
For health...
health is
Not only taste...
It help's for good life...
so...
Miss the taste
with your mouth
Don't woory...!
It is help of health...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Healthy Life
Any time
Your tung
Taste
The food is
Not good...
Good food
Was not for
Taste...
Eat the time
Time
Good food
Each and everyday
Make a taste
To healthy
Life today....! ! !
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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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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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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Creep Hymn
The creep
Goes to a restaurant
And order the food to eat at the restaurant
But when the food comes he eats a little bit of the food
Just so he can taste it
And he tells everybody very loud that the food that he order
Taste like shit
And then he takes the plate and throws it on the floor
But he lives the restaurant without pay
The waitress from the restaurant looks everywhere for him in the Restaurant
Sorry waitress he is gone out of the door
And he run away so that you couldn't catch him
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Red And Orange
Ther's a red house,
Inside there's an orange door.
Beside that there's a red carpet,
On top of an orange floor.
There's a red table,
Below an orange ceiling.
Upstairs there's a red bed,
Inside an orange room.
There's a couple of red people sleeping soundly,
Next door two orange ones too.
Outside there's a red truck,
No one knows what to do.
I don't see the proble,
Why don't you leave us all alone.
But now I see the red more clearly,
And I know what's done is done.
And I'll float away with the cloudy smoke,
Before the inevertable happens and I start to choke.
Good bye red house,
So long orange door.
I'm going for a long sleep noe,
Six feet under the floor.
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
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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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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Nothing else belongs to you except the passing pulse of time
Nothing else
Belongs to you
Except the pulse
Of each passing second
You cannot hold on to it
Nor can store it
It is just fleeing
But you can recall each moment
When you have something
At that time to rejoice
So never waste a second
In an unpalatable manner
As time is like the
Food that just entered
Your mouth
You bite, chew
And get the feel of its taste
in a wonderful mix
Of saliva and
Digestive juices
Once you swallow
The food is no longer there
You cannot and
In fact, do not like to
Get back the swallowed food
So too, time once passes
Has passed for ever
You cannot get back
Even the previous second
Just trickled
So, as you enjoy food
When it is in your mouth
Enjoy time
Assimilating energy
And nutrient from
Each bit of happenings around
Instead of losing it
Without any gainful use
To you and
Others nearby
Remember, the most precious
Possession you have
Is your time
With each second slipping
Become wiser
More learned
Enhance your knowledge base
Ensure happiness
To you and to yours
Let you not regret
Having wrongly spent a second
As, such a regret simply amounts to
Your having swallowed
An unpalatable
Tasteless food item of
No nutritive value
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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