Food poems that will take you to the tastiest palates of the crazy world of food lovers. Poems on food are the most sumptuous rhyming treat for the foodies around the world. Foods from different parts of the world are also the theme of many poets. Our menu of food poetry happens to cater not just the love for food but there are many out of the box foodie poems which are the satires on food. Due to their eating habits many of the foodie poets are either in the grip of overweight or following a diet. It will surely be a fun to read their, not so yummy, poetic experiences.
With my sincerest apologies to James Shirley The glories of our spoons and plates Are filling, quite substantial things; There is so much amour of the palate; We lay our hands on all manner of things: Bread toasted brown Flora
For you I am walking on rocks holding unburnt match sticks, you want me to throw them behind me. To step down in lake for washing sins from the snuffed out skylights. Between green and blue I climb on leaves.
Rub cheese on your knees, To cure a runny nose. Sliced onions on your bunions, To ease your itchy toes. A banana in your ear, Will dry those dreadful tears. A carrot up your nose, Will keep your vision clear.
Here I go again another GOD send. Have you ever thought your life had another chapter, I’m talking about the here after. Is it Heavenly, is it Supreme, Everlasting, or just a Dream? Will we shoot and miss or reach
Human bodies hang in air, thrive on light and air, bloom as crops of soil and water, still need tools to sustain here. All souls desire strength to sustain, to harvest crop, to build home. We get speed to roam
The things they eat, The things they don’t Makes us mothers mad Crazy as hell Yelling shouting high pitch Stressful it is sometimes but then What is worth is the fact These little ones will learn As time passes, they
Winging my way through the air; high in the Cascade Mountain Range. With a serene wilderness lake just below me. Reflecting an exquisite brilliant sunrise of various shades of yellows, oranges, and golden hues. Reflected upon the glassy placid surface.
How fun is it? sitting together and to eat watching south Indians eating curd rice north Indians bringing potato with extra spice so many different cultures so bright fulfilling their born appetite some eat vegetarian while some are non vegetarian
Marinated Sole, fragrant grains of rice A glass of golden orange with shards of ice Fresh green salads tossed with the desire That the spark of attraction is set on fire The table set with lace and flowers Sparkling crystal
Temptation- Part One Its evening and I’ve finished my class. I run through stairs, pass by corridors, And brisk walk down the lane. A dancer swaying in the peak hour trance. I reach the station, no intention to miss the
The interior with The stillness Neatness and Coldness Of a tax office Is as awesome and fearful As a cemetery at midnight Some unseen eerie presence Is all over spilling the space Of this cold chest One would be in
Clips, Clamps, Berets, and Bows. School, church, playdates, she goes. But that’s just the beginning of her poor hairs woes. Down again? Up again. Knots again? Brush again. Food again? Comb again. Gum again? Glue again? Brush, and comb again.
Tears of Man You have the right to remain silent. Do you make the choice or remain violent? Do you evolve and become more civilized? Or do you choose to stay belligerent? You choose to be healthy, like you are
Grey has become friends With ancient dreams. Lack of sunlight in the brain made Tigers myriad minded to seek food in the garth Unfamiliar fathers surrender their might on The nonchalance of their own growing up off springs The throat
Curly reveled in gamboling meadows where all was bleating purity and colour rare with buttercups. With snapping at her heels she led a skittish huddle In senseless panic, Into a world of roasts and hedgerow sauces. A blade, sharp to
cracking bones in the kitchen use the heavy knife swallows on the lawn want inside paint the hand-tied rug with fleet shadows you’ve used up all the hot water old iron bathtub ringing like a gong this tone your elbow,
Our fondest memories sweeten my dreams Like buns, jellies and cakes a child adores, Like pastries, too, that know no other creams, The name remembered most and called is yours; I plan to make confection of a sort, Your smiles
He walks down cobbles and blows bubbles for a pilgrimage of constant troubles, closing doors to tax men, running for milk floats, shunning almighty bible bashers, paints the flags of east London fascists Charlie chicken soup with a head like
Cake and custard, Bread and jam and mustard. Yum yum yum, Filling up my tum. Nice chocolate muffin, Big balls of stuffing. Yummy yummy yummy, My round tummy. Bourbon biscuits and custard creams, Sweet jam donuts bursting at the seams.
I saw her sitting at a table for one, her hands were slender as she grabbed a sesame bun, which was stuffed with three inches of smoked turkey, onion, tomato, lettuce and swiss cheese, opening her red-lipsticked mouth with ease,
For a knife, sharp is best, a good friend a valuable tool in your preparations epitome of confidence, hacker of haunches an extension of the hand and of the will however it keeps you at a remove, though those precise
It keeps raining everything has become damp, I can feel the mist inside my head. Wooden doors don’t close anymore, windows don’t shut to keep the water out, I feel like drowning in this flood, and it keeps raining still….
When the tummy is empty It cries for food When the mind is disturbed It shouts with anger When the tummy is half filled, it asks for more when the mind is unsteady it shouts but repent instantly When the
My mind is loose cannon. Nobody has control over it. Not even me! It shoots off fireballs in all directions in the fond hope that it will hit something. Sometimes it succeeds in doing so. And, sometimes it hits wrong
I am not sure if you enjoy stew or not. But it’s one of my favorite things. You take some of your favorite meat and bring it to a simmer, along with a couple vegetables and a couple seasonings. Chopped
There is magic in rice cereals. They dance as baby- fish in boiling pan, and soon become snowy cool Delphinium. Boiled grains easily vanish in the mouth, a mug-full keeps you cool in summer. Roasted rice is fluffy and light,
The moment my heart beat began in the safe domain of my mother’s womb was the moment my mother took charge of me Nine months of intensive care in her womb sacrificing her pleasure but enjoying every moment of her
It’s said search for happiness Is the main reason for unhappiness All our life we search for happiness, We wait for some big happiness to come our way In the run, in the rush to get some big happiness We
Windless dry air blankets the horn of this continent A familiar stare from large ebony eyes embedded in one cherished frame From the scorched earth an anguished image peers out with born innocence Simple wishes glimmer from sunken optic caves
T’was late at night when a knock came at the door: Not much could be heard, but the sound of a snore. When the old man suddenly awoke to his feet Angrily screaming and cursing, like never before. “This better
I saw him rummaging in the bin. He looked so dirty and awfully thin. Half clothed for this foul weather. Holes in his shoes made of leather. I walked on by trying not to stare. Was it hunger that brought
The vagabond was once again on the window, Begging love and asking to open the gate, And the fairy inside the house reluctant, Said helpless she was being slave of the fate, First you peep in the four windows, Starting
I thought Life is a fantasy having a lot of positivity I spent childhood happily and merrily I cherished Teenage which was full of excitement and entertainment I entered adulthood with dreams and challenges I experienced Middle age as most
Modern human took billion of years to evolve The Homo Sapiens that we are called We were the last of apes standing would we be standing for long We took pride in inventions We took pride in our artificial creations