Amazing Nature Photos

Introspection Food Poems | Introspection Poems About Food

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

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. 


Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2011

Details | Bio | |

All about Dan

So you want to get to know me, ok, well here goes. Most of it's in my poetry, but I may have left something out, who knows? For the last twenty years, I've been wearing Nike high tops that are black. They're alot easier to clean then white ones, 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 awhile. 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 ____???

Copyright © Dan Kearley | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ekphrasis | |

Introspection On Toast

There once was a picture that wormed itself into my reverie
On a gray, cloudy morning, whilst it was raining and cold.
In this one picture were four slices of toast and five beverages.
Three glasses held tea the color of honey, and two were raspberry tinted.
Somehow it was important to me that the toast was suspended
In the air above the table by two glasses, like bookends.
For a moment I wondered who had achieved this strange feat, and why;
But then my thoughts turned to how my life was like that toast,
Suspended in air by forces counteracting gravity,
And any moment a passerby might jar the table, destroying the illusion
Of serenity and stability. I've seen people's lives change as quickly.
For the most part, everything seems to go well for them,
Then there is a turning point, after which nothing seems to be right.
Anything can trigger it; the loss of a child or job,
A spouse, or the home in which they have always lived.
Moreover, there is no reasoning to whom it happens;
Just like a careless passerby might bump a table,
And four slices of toast fall to the table, or the ground.

(Poem is written in Prose form)

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015

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

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2013

Details | Pantoum | |

A Womans Gift

She laughed as softly  as if she sighed
Her smile revealed things only I could see
My love and joy swelled up untill I cried
I wondered  though would she ever love me

Her smile revealed things only I could see
Now would I tell her of the things I thought
I wondered though would she ever love me
What is this feeling that has made me taut

Now would I tell her of  the things I thought
All other food but  love I'd surely spare
What is this feeling that has made me taut
My life I'd gently give to her  with care

All other food but love I'd surely spare
Then I would be hers and she would be mine
My life I'd gently give to her with care
I'd love her dearly throughout time

Then I  would be hers and she would be mine
A life together we would have to build
I'd love her dearly throughout time
I'd be her love, companion and her shield

A life together we would have to build 
My love and joy swelled up until I cried
I'd be her love,companion and her shield
She laughed as softly as if she sighed

Copyright © Charles Reese | Year Posted 2007

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.

Copyright © M. Teresa Blaylock | Year Posted 2006

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 .)

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2009

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!

Copyright © Ruchiccio I | Year Posted 2011

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)

Copyright © Daniel Beus | Year Posted 2012

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.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2013

Details | Tanka | |

Regret



Can you hear the sound

     a voice calling out to you

        whispers of times gone

            a could have should have would have

                  regret is a lonely tune...

Copyright © Sharon Ruebel | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

He Fled

He fled the faces of his brood --
They cut his soul with edges sharp
From lack of food.
And, although their mouths
Voiced no complaint,
The steady, unaccusing stare
Was so much more than he could bear --
This hero of two foreign wars.
He cowers now in alleyways
(And drinks his courage from a jar)
Beneath a far, unjudging star.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011

Details | Lyric | |

The Hunger Drug

I can't remember
when I ate 
my last meal
How many weeks ago was it?

I cannot recall

or even what it was 
that I had to eat
Turkey I think
on Thanksgiving

Yes, it was Turkey

A turkey 
that some 
generous person
donated 
to the food pantry
that they gave to me

Did 
that generous person know?
Do they know?
That it would be
my only meal

for days and weeks
on end

probably not

and so I wanted 
to write these words
to tell them
“Thank You”

that they made 
a difference 
in my life

that I 
and my children
did not 
have to go to bed
 hungry

three weeks ago
on Thanksgiving
and it was wonderful

I am trying to remember
what that 
felt like


© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
(December 8th, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin USA)

Copyright © christine a kysely | Year Posted 2011

Details | Lyric | |

Empty Tables

there are empty tables
many empty tables
in this country
and in this 
world

I sit
and I look at one of them
and wonder
if anyone else feels the way 
I do

when their child tells them
they are hungry
and you have 
no food to give 
them

and then your child cries
and then you cry
and then they cry 
some more
and then you cry

until finally
you both
just go to bed 
living with a hunger
that does not ever sleep

© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
(December 8th, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin USA)

Copyright © christine a kysely | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ode | |

Untitled #206 / Icee

Mmm, Icee
it’s so
icy
so icy

Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007

Details | Lyric | |

Magic Beans

European-style elegance
Meets modern ingenuity
Where stools too high to sit in welcome tired feet in flip flops
Near the tourist bookstore
Standing just across the street
In tasteful jingles ~
Creaking through the heavy door
The ordinary becomes more.

Voices rise over carafe’s,
Through Musak in the old café
Where egg-shell mugs are neatly stacked below a chalkboard menu.
And in-between glossy lacquers
A ritual of life endures ~
With whipped cream topping
And a dash of chocolate sprinkles.

Copyright © Tammy Armstrong | Year Posted 2006

Details | Haiku | |

Make Healthy Choices

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

Copyright © Cathy Ncube | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme | |

Legacy of Penang

Back in 1962 when I was just a lad
my dad gave me a holiday
the best I ever had.
A holiday of every dream
that one lifetime could hold
so listen while this wondrous time 
to you I now unfold:

In bygone years to travel far
was not a normal thing,
to travel some six thousand miles
by plane was amazing!
Propellers aided by a jet,
a very modern way,
aboard a British Eagle plane
my life would change that day.

A little island in the sun
where British troops were based
on active service out Far East
where they would get a taste
of jungle warfare while they helped
to form a brand new state
by helping stop objections from 
a few this change did hate.

But as a teenage boy, you see,
the politics of war
were not as noticeable to me
as other things I saw.
I felt the beauty of this land
with folk of every kind
for at this time in England
few ‘cultures’ could be found. 

For back at home in Blighty
a youngster such as me
had to know his place in life
and couldn’t roam quite free,
but out here in the tropics
no prejudice I found
of the nature that had kept me thus
by England’s limits bound.

Now out here in Malaysia,
on this island of Penang,
I found a place where deep inside
stirred memories that sang
of a time in my existence
that I’d never felt before
born of ancient inner knowledge
that my soul was screaming for.

To continue with my story
of the time I was a lad,
when in a British Barracks
with a soldier for a dad
I had given up my schooling
for adventure in the world
and like a butterfly emerging
my wings were now unfurled.

On this truly wondrous island
Minden Barracks was my home
with excitement and adventure
wherever I could roam.
I immersed in all the wisdom
of simplicity I met
and learned that what you give to life,
returns in what you get.
 
For the Chinese and the Indians,
Malays and some ex-pats
had found ways to live together
though all wore different hats,
in perfect symbiosis
where all fulfilled their roles
and by leaning on each other
could emancipate their goals.

Now even at this early age,
I was not too dim to see
that the rich were getting richer
and the poor were never free,
but something buried deep inside
these people of Penang
bore a certain understanding
of the common song they sang.

Now I grew up very quickly
as my friends all went to war,
young soldiers who were now my age
what were they fighting for.
Atrocities befell them 
as they fought Malaysia’s side
against those from Indonesia
who would not join this ride.

Skirmishes abundant
though Penang was hardly hit,
it was only very seldom
that we faced a scary bit.
When Minden B’ was threatened
all the locals stayed inside
just in case the British soldiers
started shooting the wrong side!
 
But throughout this ‘confrontation’
my job became pure joy,
for the Army’s recreation 
then became my brand new toy.
On the island’s sandy beaches
you would find me day by day
driving speed boats for the soldiers
when they found the time to play.

In Penang, their favourite island,
 the troops would take their leave
and have fun while water skiing
as they took a short reprieve
from the nature of their duties
that had brought them to this land
and for just a fleeting moment
could enjoy the sea and sand.

For three years whilst Water Skiing
I enjoyed this paradise
but the days I was not working
were all equally as nice
for at home in Minden Barracks
was a special swimming pool
where friends would meet
and wash their souls
with conversation’s tool.

This really was the centre
of our commune in this land,
the meeting place for sharing
where all friends would understand.
Soldier’s wives, their men at war,
and others gathered round,
if any place is hallowed
then this pool is sacred ground.
 
But Georgetown and its traders
was the place I loved to be
where the colour, noise and culture
always let my soul soar free.
Where the many, many trishaws
and the bikes and traffic mix,
with the hawkers, shops and markets
this is where I got my fix!

Four good years I lived my life
in this very special place,
absorbing understanding
at a multicultural pace.
I’d been born into a country
that the world thought was mature,
but maturity is lost of mind
when progress is the lure.

Back in 1962 when I was just a lad
my dad gave me a holiday
the best I’d ever had.
Back in 1966 I went back home again
and the schooling that I’d given up
had not been lost in vain,
for I’d learnt the real meaning
of my Life in this short stay,
a meaning full of everything
I carry till this day.

So now I’m in My sixties,
not the sixties of my past
and the thing I’ve found along the way
is most things never last.
But learn from where you travel,
let morals be your guide
for none can steal the things you hold
and carry deep inside.

Ivor G Davies

Copyright © Ivor Davies | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bio | |

G Ped

Our appetite wanted more
Bun and cheese, or potted meat sandwich
They were handed out all in a row

From his small room
Its front door slightly ajar
One unbelievable
Kind hand, fed more than four

Reginald led the way and spoke
"Mr. Drummings, yu hav anyting?"
It was rare not hearing locks unlocked
The ringleader was mostly welcome in
Four siblings, four sandwiches, one hand waving us on

He would feed himself in silence
Inside, where
Some unspeakable spirit lurked
Hunger was no joke to Reg. and us
His role of self-reliance
Modeled after same sex
Granny, and Papa, and Mama had no clue

One afternoon, it was just Reg. and I
In the twinkle of an eye, this opening
My stomach gnawed and caved
A chubby hand shooed me on with a wave
I walked toward St. John (our Primary school)
Felt a sudden sickening lonesomeness

Later, much later
The old man lived
In backyard he dwell
Beside body builder's home
His small wooden abode, seemed enough
It sat humbled, beside Reggie's concrete home
Was the old man eased, from his burden?

*

Copyright © Iris Elizabeth Sankey-Lewis | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Cookies-Food For Thought

Cookies -
Why can’t I have the chocolate one
I want more
She took my cookie
Hers is bigger than mine
I want to trade
That’s not fair

Cookies +
Thank you for the cookie
I love you
Thanks for all you do for me
I am satisfied
This is good
I am loved
Written By  Deborah Finneran :)  2013

Copyright © Deborah Finneran | Year Posted 2013

Details | Limerick | |

Two-Fifty-Four

Two-Fifty-Four
©2012 C. Brent Cloyd

I bought a new scale at the Wal-Mart store.
Made it secure and level on the floor.
I took a breath, then stepped on.
The digits I saw made me moan.
Surely, I do not weigh two-fifty-four!

Let’s balance the scale, then I’ll try once more.
Adjusted proper, they’ll give the right score.
This time the scales will behave.
I stepped on, tried to be brave.
But with a grin they said “two-fifty-four”.

I would like to throw these scales out the door.
Wish they were lying, but I can’t ignore. 
I’ve gobbled many things sweet
And chewed on too much red meat.
My expanding poundage is “two-fifty-four”.

My belly is huge, my chin is galore.
Need to lose it, but process is a chore.
Need diet low in fat and starch.
So my stomach will not arch.
Hope to be smaller than “two-fifty-four”.

Would a brisk walk cause my health to restore?
Would losing blubber help me not to snore?
Let’s get started. Soon I say!
Well - after the holiday!
Cause my clothes don’t fit at “two-fifty-four”.













Copyright © Brent Cloyd | Year Posted 2012

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

Copyright © Goode Guy | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

Black Coffee and Apple Pie

Everything a body could need
How happy could it make you be
When nothing can make you is fulfilled
As black coffee and apple pie ending your meal

Copyright © Fritz Purdum | Year Posted 2013

Details | Senryu | |

' Golden Harvest ... ' 40th Senryu

    Golden, Full Moon Shone
On All The Harvest, That’s Grown
    Welcome In Our Home

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Haiku | |

FOOD


FOOD WAS MY COMFORT.

WHILE STRESSING IT WAS MY FRIEND.

DON'T WANT TO GAIN WEIGHT.

Copyright © Crystal Seals | Year Posted 2008

Details | Lyric | |

LSD

Dumb little boy what happened to You?
A father, a mother, we're through.
Brightly coloured feathers, spread and you flew.
Dumb little boy what happened to you?
Crashed! 
Queer? 
I near.
Sat here, sat here.
We sat, drinking dads warm beer.
Dumb little boy your feathers are gone.
WASTED!
LSD on your toungue.
Obliterated! obliterated! 
Wasted! wasted!
Dumb little boy, your brain is fried.
Perfectly twisted.
Now, lets peak inside.

Copyright © Heydon Bunting | Year Posted 2010

Details | I do not know? | |

two

water melon in my garden
like the sun and moon
just two… 
”...launcher ready…”
steady my hand
tending the weeds
near a row of beans
a far away land
”...it’s not a good time…”
so I wondered
and thought of when
wars are just plays
staged in the hands
of writers like me…
I’d arm the nations
with radish leaves
squash for bullets
that unload seeds
Peanuts money
on my jelly spread
I’d share the health
giving lettuce, head…
”... is it a good time now?...”
who wants a cow
chickens grown
in crowded pens
suffering blows
in.human.e hands
glitters the water
between the corn
I’d sale on ships
into rosebud shores
and i’d grow my fish
in between the stores
”...I’m god in my garden…”
and I divide the rows
soing what suits me
in tomato groves
and near my basil
I’ll build a school
teaching the mint
just how to be cool
and over hear
the potatoes anchor
on stalks of beer
”...wellcome…”
to chi…
banana central
read booms of cheer
...but they say I’m mental.
lentils 
are sooo good in soup!
my capitals
I declare are true!
I only cook 
When I brew my stew…
and no one regrets
in the garden of Sue.
”...yes piglet…”
I was Just
Making sure of you.

Copyright © Izzy Gumbo | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme | |

Binge and Purge

Musta lost five pounds today
hunger hurts
but I suffer anyway
stomach shrinks 
along with guilt
hope this improves 
the way I'm built

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011

Details | Haiku | |

Attachments Bind

. 
                                          Attached by small stem
                                            Sustainability...free
                                           Floating on wind land

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010

Details | Ballad | |

THE WISHING WELL OF A SUN-RISE,

It is...within the tiny things of early morning, that moment breaths alive, it is within the tiny whisperings, that a melodye plays...like the very dear and the antelope, play home on the range.

so goes the melodye of heart beat, that plays quietly the songs of soul,

here a rhyme is born of day-light coming so soon, through the early morning eyes of the moon-light, and the starry dreams of twilight's transitioning...

into the light of a love letter written to dawn.

soul to soul conversing, as in this love letter, the letters just join hands with the words and just march across the sky...and at the end of the rainbow, there be plenty of golden time,

way down deep on the inside,

...as the inspired choir, of a bumble bee, or a butterfly, starts to sing, like tiny things that live,

flower to flower,
blossom to bloom,

watered and deeply cared for...

O' Eden.

I say, deep beneath the surface of a wishing well...where the pennies lay,

I wish a sun-rise.







Copyright © Marrio Biggs | Year Posted 2011