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Elegy Food Poems | Elegy Poems About Food

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

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Details | Elegy | |

Cakewalk

October held 10 family birthdays
all between 4 houses on Troy Street.
Each night after dinner we
set out on our walk for cake.
Aunt Lory’s house was rum
Aunt Josies, buttercream frosted white,
and Aunt Lu’s lemon, bright yellow, rich and moist
could made her St. Joseph’s statue drool.

We’d gather around the birthday boy perched on a chair, 
while us cousins stood, shoulder to shoulder,
eagerly waiting for the last note of the song to be sung.
I stood eye level to the burning numbered candles,
mesmerized by their melting wax dripping 
down the sides like sap from a tree.
Their light, drunk on sugar, danced wildly 
across our hungry faces.

Then with one large blow the room went black.
In those few seconds Darkness, like eternity
steals all their faces from my sight.
The room frozen, suspended precariously between
feast and fear, grief and gratitude, love and loss.
Lights return to applause as the knife cuts deep into the center.
Wishes like prayers are sent rising as curls of smoke
through a chimney, up, up to places far away.

Paper plates of sugar splendor are passed down and devoured.
We didn’t realize then, just silly girls with frost covered lips,
how everything of importance in this world fit at the end of that fork. 
With full bellies our good-byes are said on porch lite steps.
And the moon, like a lantern, radiant in the Autumn sky
illuminates our way home till our next walk,
Aunt Mary’s luscious chocolate layer cake.


Details | Elegy | |

PTERY-

-dactyll






I AM NEANDERTHAL...


Details | Elegy | |

Elegy With Sarong 1

Her paintings of sarongs I'm going to see

will be there for two months, 

I  think, at Lake Of The Clouds

Arts. I heard this in the news:  Layers died last week.

Native Brown Bear got studied thoroughly.

It has been exonerated. The Killer Brown

has been exonerated, according to the news.

According to some searching I find out the layers

are just mist...

Paintings by the girl are hung

around the den.

Her mother uses it as the favorite

of my wrongs.

She paints bears and she is a rising

Mars.  The mother brown bear ate spoiled food we had.

We left that food out in saran wrap.

 I am unwrapping in the layers of mist

unrolling in the folds of rayon.

The girl's mother hated that sarong

that people on the lake gave

to the young artist  before the lake died.   And no one

denies giving her the sarong

and her paintings of bears and of sarongs

are with her at the opening at the Lake Arts tonight...