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Food Introspection Poems | Introspection Poems About Food

These Food Introspection poems are examples of Introspection poems about Food. These are the best examples of Food Introspection poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Couplet |

A Bag of Popcorn

They ask me why I’m so happy
Asking me, if I just won a prize
I replied, well I reckon I did
Today is a wonderful surprise

When you have a past like mine
My today is always bright
There is no better feeling on earth
Than the joy of doing right

I may be an old man on a cane
My heart is skipping along
I learned to embrace the meaning
Life is a beautiful song

True life has its ups and downs
There’ll be forks in the road
With a smile I’ll stop for a while
Help you with your load

I had me a bag of popcorn today
It tasted exceptionally good
In fact, I will go as far as to say
Better then it probably should

For years, I had a guard in the pen
Popped him a bag each night
Then he would simply throw it away
His twisted little delight

He knew, it was those little things
Ate at our heart and soul
Movie with the wife Friday night
Popcorn in the bowl

I had a bag of popcorn today
Wife sitting at my side
I had a smile, which lasted awhile
One I could not hide

They ask me why I’m so happy
Asking me, if I won a prize
I replied, I reckon I did
Today is a wonderful surprise


For some reason today I was thinking about C.O. Talbert and
how he would pop a bag of popcorn even though he didn't eat
popcorn. He did it just because he knew it would make everyone
want some. I always felt sorry for him. His life must have been
very disappointing. The moral here: when you learn to appreciate
the little things in life your popcorn will taste a whole lot better. 



Details | Bio |

All about Dan

So you want to get to know me,ok well here goes It's already in my poetry,but I may have left something out who knows? For the last twenty years I've been wearing Nike shoes,hightops that are black They're alot easier to clean then white ones I must say,that is a definite fact My friends all seem to like me and I greet them all with a big smile I've met alot of them through a life of partying,but now thats been over for a while My favorite book is the bible,because whenever I read it I learn something new My favorite movie I couldn't really tell you,since I have seen oh quite a few My favorite song is from Tim Mcgraw,it's"Live Like You Were Dying" In a funny kind of way it refreshes my soul,and I usually end up crying Favorite singer I don't really have one,so I guess it would have to be myself Because I just love it when I sing all the words and don't need anyones help My hair is a dirty blond thats straight,short and very fine It doesn't have a single curl and I know it's all still mine My favorite shampoo is Pert it leaves my hair so silky smooth With the fine and thining hair that I have,it's the one I prefer to use My favorite food is pizza,but fresh baked bread is my favorite smell If I had a food I'd eat everyday that is the one that would put me through hell I have everything I need,with only a few things that I dislike The only thing I want or really need is the love of my loving wife
Dan Kearley:5-25-12 Contest:All About ____???


Details | Light Poetry |

Bordeaux Kiss

I set the table, place for one
Pour the wine, cork undone
Filet mignon, to perfection done
Topped with greens, and a sauce of rum

The evening sets, as it always had
A gourmet meal, aint so bad
I make a toast to the other side
As silence waits, I must abide

As I hold my glass
Of Bordeaux wine
I dare to wish but for one more thing
In darkened silence, the phone to ring

Soufflé simply will not do
There is no sweet without you
The perfect meal evades me still
The evening fades into a chill

Sleep evades my dreamy mind
And in the haze of wishful thoughts
Dinner was served
With a Kiss


Details | Verse |

A Coffee Bar with Orange Paint

A coffee bar with orange paint --
   Brown tables on a tiled, grey floor --
Soft light within blown glass above --
   A neon sign hangs by the door.

I come here sometimes just to write.
   A coffee bar with orange paint
To some would be apalling; but
   I do not see it as a taint.

Tonight an artist's work is hung
   Upon those walls in bold display;
A coffee bar with orange paint
   Allows her dreams to have their say.

I like the color in these walls --
   A brazen hue, not pale or quaint;
And in this place I weave my words --
   A coffee bar with orange paint.


Details | Couplet |

Emotional Stew

What is emotional stew, you ask
Describing that is in itself a task 

It's a motley mix of chunks and bits
In a pot of feelings where everything fits

Sometimes the batter will taste so sweet
When joy and relief make up the meat

The stew can be peppered with many a spice
Like anger, frustration, and stubborn rice

Or a salty blend with sauce of tears
When sadness combines with multiple fears

The results may yield just one small fault
If you add boredom and apathy without any salt

The coals beneath are stoked to perfection
After dumping in your emotional selection

The stew will boil as the feelings grow
Just mind the mixture, don't let it overflow!


Details | Rhyme |

Living The Dream

Down in Haiti
Far from the dream
Way on back 
From the vacation scene

Lives the people
Trapped in a life
Poverty, sadness
Toil and strife

Children weeping
From worm infested,
Swollen, malnourished
Starving little bellies

What would Golden 
Flower think of today
The country she loved
Destroyed in such a way


(Missionary from Haiti came to visit our church yesterday.  With his visit and 
talk, I see solutions to problems in an instant.  Something to treat the water 
before the people use it, reforestation, wells in places that need them, and 
proper out door facilities for areas that don't have them.  Money, work, and 
time is needed to carry these projects out .)


Details | Couplet |

Living the Dream

My nightmare is so tangible...so vividly I dream,
The dream, it feels so true to me...reality it seems.

Exhaust and smoke are all I breathe...the air is full of smog...
The job I do is thankless toil, but I work it like a dog.

There's mercury in the fish I eat...there're toxins in my food...
And drugs, they are a constant scourge...myriads for every mood.

Bipolar is my government...a house divided 'tis...
And corporations drive both sides...in the pockets of "Big Biz".

The icecaps, they are melting...the sea is rising, too.
Pandas, condors, polar bears -- empty cages at the zoo.

My money ne'er seems quite enough...I'm always out of cash...
My freedom fled when I wed my bride...(live I under the lash).

"Entertainment"? Reality TV...maybe some vampire shows...
Or idjits becoming household names for being beachfront "ho's".

People clamor "climate change" from the seats of S.U.V.'s,
And bitter news on the honey front...what's killing all the bees?

Politicians spending more...we go deeper in the red.
Opinions dressed as "news" abound...is journalism dead?

Cell phones are ubiquitous...conversation's endangered now...
And "Kardashians" are famous girls..but who knows why or how?

How strange my twisted psyche is t'make real what must be fake...
Now'f only I could find some way to get myself to wake.


Written on November 27th, 2012
By Daniel Beus (Rebel Sun)


Details | Haiku |

Make Healthy Choices

live as if you plan
to be an organ donor--
make healthy choices


Details | Couplet |

What Do I Know About Being German

Born American, sixth generation of great-grands all German,
not much liking sausage or sauerkraut, English speaking all the way,

except the Germany of my ancestry was fought over and broken
so I’m a bit of France, Germany, Poland, Hungary all the Holy

Roman empire, dissolved down, fought over, egotized, horrified 
and remade Into some new state where English is as common as German.

We share a love of flowers in the face of cold and rain, I drink less beer
and wine, meet up somewhere, anywhere around the world on a beach.

From my parents and grandparents, I know to serve up too much food
seven sweets, seven sours and drink and whirl the night away to a band.

Hardworking sorts, unafraid of a little dirt, loving dirt, the turnover
and young sprout brought to fruit, wearing overalls and then washing up.

To sit before a pressed linen table cloth, served up on the finest china,
the cha in my father’s name, the uff da, and other exclamations.

The morning rosaries, the blessed churches where we give thanks for all good
and the setting aside of pride while we work together to make our food.

Sure there are aprons for cooking. Shorts for summertime. A dive into any pool.
What do I know of being German, not much, it's just somewhere in my roots.


Details | Sonnet |

chicken's chicken soup

chicken soup for the chicken
when the egg starts to thicken
when the yoke's rollin' right
when the white's clear 'n' bright

when the roosters sittin' roostin'
when the hen's right for a'goosin'
when the coop's are all a'coupin'
when said rooster ain't a'droopin'

when the desire's too demandin'
an' all else is notwithstandin'
an' chicken's tongue's unbeaked to cluck
an' sip the soup of what the - heck

that's what makes the chicken flutter
an' Grand Ma don't cook it no better

...that's why the hen crossed the road

© Goode Guy 2014-02-19


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