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Rhyme Food Poems | Rhyme Poems About Food

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

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Just Desserts

I was at my favourite restaurant and had a lovely meal
If I finished all my food then a pudding was the deal
I’d relished every morsel and was pleased as a Cheshire cat
The dessert menu was on its way, Oh I couldn’t wait for that

The waitress bought the menus and I rubbed my hands with glee
Oh sticky toffee pudding, now that’s the one for me
She came to take the order – we had waited as you do
She finally turned to me and said ‘oh Madam what can I get you’

Oh stiffy cockie pudding please was my swift reply
I didn’t realise what I’d said till I saw the tears form in her eye
I went as red as a beetroot and the others began to laugh
At my spoonerism which turned into a complete gaffe

The pudding it came quickly but I couldn’t wait to leave
I choked on every mouthful and my stomach it did heave
So please take notice of my error on this horrendous day
If you order sticky toffee pudding be careful what you say!

This is a true experience! The waitress was a student at the school I work at - I was so pleased when she went to university - I have never ordered this dessert since!

Submitted to Richard's Beginnings Matter Contest  - It had taken a month of badgering by my friend jenny Brewer to even pluck up courage to post my poems - I wondered how my humour would be appreciated!
~awarded 2nd place~

This is my first poem posted here and it is my first poem to be published in a book by United Press

Copyright © JAN ALLISON

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Share Not

When I go out to dinner,
I do not want to share.
I don’t care what is on your plate;
I don’t want to compare.

I scan the menu up and down
And then make my selection.
When it arrives, it’s meant for me
And not for your inspection.

“You want to taste my fish?” I’m asked.
Some people never learn;
For then the expectation is
To taste mine in return.

And so the answer’s always No!
Yet comments never cease.
“Your fries look really good!” They are,
So let me eat in peace!

Each morsel on my dish is mine
And I intend to finish.
Perhaps my attitude will make
Your thoughts of me diminish.

I’m sorry if that is the case – 
Dessert I’ll split just fine;
But when the meal’s delivered – 
You eat yours and I’ll eat mine!

Copyright © ilene bauer

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The Hamburger

For thirty years I’ve been a truckie who has driven far and wide,
Carting goods through day and night all across the countryside…
But hours spent upon the road, do not permit a set routine,
When it comes to dining regular, on healthy style cuisine.	

If there’s time I’ll organize an esky, with ice and cans of coke,
Plus a dozen rounds of sandwiches…‘cause this won’t send me broke,	
Not like the tucker of roadhouses who all serve a similar trait,
With a big bill like a pelican’s and grease to decorate your plate.

But a truckies life is not habitual; the phone’s his driving sign,
If someone’s sick, or broken down, and the company’s on deadline,
There is no time of thoughts ahead; he must consider first the load,
And it’s on these hauls a truckie must buy meals along the road.	

I’d been driving fairly flat out now, for I’d say six weeks or more,
Carting produce down to Adelaide for a distribution store,
Some mornings I would leave at two, and backup a couple of trips,
And live upon that greasy take-away including fish and chips.

But then driving home one evening, I could feel that hunger pain,
Though didn’t feel that I could really cope with roadhouse food again,
For I needed something different, and then this jogged my memory,
There’s a fast food café up ahead that really does cook differently.

I stopped close to the café near the South Australian border,
And walked up to the counter where it says to place your order.
The cook who had his back to me, was making salad rolls to sell,
While dropping chips into the cooker, as he battered fish as well.

And the young girl, who is serving, asked me what I’d like to buy,
But before I gave my answer, one more feature caught my eye,
The cook had gone out to his cool room, and rushed back with a sack,
Then started slicing spuds and onions, while his chips are burning black.

So now by knowing that the backyard chef was well within ear shot,
I nodded, “All right love, well what about, a hamburger with the lot,”
As she was writing down my order, I had some further more to say…
I asked if I could have my burger cooked, in my own special way.

I requested that the bun I get, be very hard and three days old,
The bacon mostly crispy fat, fried onions fatty, burnt and cold,
I want the lettuce limp and bitter, and cucumber piled five high,
A slice of cheese like cardboard. Shredded carrot, brown and dry.

I want my slices of tomato, to be slushy more like juice,
With the egg yolk set like concrete, plus salt and pepper overuse,
I want the meat as black as charcoal, and cooked to a rigid phase,
Then asked her if it’s possible, to drown the lot in mayonnaise.

The cook who had been listening, looked away from boiling fat,
And rudely said, “Fair go mate… I can’t cook, a hamburger like that!”
I raised my eyebrows just a mite and then with tongue in cheek,
I said to him “Why can’t you pal? …You bloody could last week.”

Copyright © Lindsay Laurie

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No Food Rule

On weekends I work as a guard, protecting swimmers at a pool,
and sometimes I have to be hard, when someone starts acting the fool.
Sometimes my action seems cruel, by anyone crossing the line,
but I am in charge of a rule that the council gave me to assign. 

There has been feuding and fighting. Swearing and cursing I’ve heard.
I’ve broken up kissing and biting, and other things that are absurd. 
Now I notice some people disturbed, by an incident sure to attract,
and because now this has occurred, the need is for me to re-act.	

I saw the attraction so clearly, and this was a terrible crime
that needed me to act sincerely, and I certainly will this time.  
A woman is holding her baby, while topless creating interest! 
There is no doubt or a maybe; the babe is attached to one breast.  

I said to her “Out of the pool! You can’t go doing that here.
We all must abide by the rule, and this one is perfectly clear.”
I think for a minute she thought, I’d committed a sexist attack,
so she replied “I’ll take you to court, and make sure that you get the sack.”

Then she asked, “Who was offended, by me with my breast hanging out?”
That’s when I stood up and defended, for what this orders about,
I said to her “Topless is fine, and that you had broken no rule,
but your baby stepped over the line. No food is allowed in the pool!” 

Copyright © Lindsay Laurie

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My Dilemma of Soup, or No Love For The Crackers

Oh, nicker.  Oh, nacker.
I broke my poor cracker
While putting it in my soup.
I just wanted a nibble,
But the soup had to quibble,
And thus all my plans turned to poop.

So now I'm here sittin'
A poor man quite smitten
With no other crackers to spare,
On soup that's unlawful,
So twisted and awful,
That it kills with no thought and no care. 

Why can't it relate,
And learn not to hate,
My crunchy, crisp wafers of bread,
It would have much more fun
Not to mention for one,
My crackers won't all end up dead.

I suppose it’s too much
To ask soup for such
A commitment to love other food.
But till its attitude mends,
And it learns to make friends,
I believe that my crackers are screwed.

Copyright © Jason Klaiber

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Spoonfang The Pudding Vampire

In the middle of the night,
When the moon shines bright, 
A creature stirs with a terrible bite, 
And his name is Spoonfang.

This vampire with a spoony face,
Has developed quite the taste,
For creatures of the pudding race,
Has the greedy Spoonfang.

So when the stars through dark clouds peek,
Into the kitchen he will creep,
And a tasty snack he’ll sneak,
Will the crafty Spoonfang.

Mousse and trifle, cake of cheese,
Ice-cream left in the deep freeze,
He’s had a bite of each of these,
Has the naughty Spoonfang.

But tonight he’s set his eyes,
Not on mother’s tasty pies,
But on Gran’s birthday surprise,
A gateau all for Spoonfang.

And so he creeps along the floor,
Tip-toes to the kitchen door,
But someone else is there before,
The bold and daring Spoonfang.

Count Spatula! The greatest Pudding Vampire of them all!

Both the vampires get a fright,
Their screams echo through the night,
And someone switches on the light,
On Spatula and Spoonfang.

Mother tuts and shakes her head,
Sends son and father back to bed,
Neither vampire has been fed,
Not Spatula nor Spoonfang.

Maybe there’s a little Pudding vampire in all of us!

Copyright © Sharon Smith

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Potato Counting

1 potato
2 potato
3 potato

5 potato
6 potato
7 potato

8 potato
9 potato
10 potato

Put them all together and count em' again.

Copyright © Kuregu Kiranight

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How To Avoid Overeating This Thanksgiving

The perfect way to avoid overeating this Thanksgiving is to put super glue on your lips.
If you're not able to eat your Thanksgiving dinner, it can't go straight to your hips.
That's the perfect way to avoid overeating this Thanksgiving.
But if you can't get your lips unstuck, one week later you'll no longer be living.

Copyright © randy johnson

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A Fine Flavor between lines

Is it Love
a simple bowl of ice cream
sweating from the heat
cherries on the top
huddled 'round and looking sweet
two little wooden paddles
pretend that they are spoons
as we sit beneath the stars
in the savor of the moon
your lips are all I see
as they caress them with a passion 
the cherries on your tongue
in a delightful playful fashion 
with our eyes intent and focused
in a stare of solemn trust
Is this ice cream truly love
or is it merely cherry lust

Copyright © Jerry T Curtis

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Fat Free

What's for dinner?
Poor people
With no fat on their bones
you can eat them 
and eat them.
They're practically fat free

I heard they can make you sick.
Not if you feed them cheese.
One block of cheese,
and they make a fine commodity.

You sure,
my uncle says ya hafta 
dip em first in powdered milk.

Na, as long as ya feed em cheese
yer good.
Okay, gimmee three.

Copyright © Dan Helppi

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Deadly Aim

(Another look at Funnel Spiders)

They spin and spin in dark of night
funnel and tunnel beneath my sight
then slide inside to hide from view;
yet, like a thug with talons, tug	
an innocent bug, snag him snug,
then proceed to chew him through.

Copyright © Cona Adams

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Death by Chocolate

Sandy was a chocoholic,
The worst I've ever seen!
If she didn't eat some daily,
She'd become crazy mean!

It didn't matter what kind it was,
Ice cream, cake, pie or candy,
As long as it was chocolate,
Sandy was  fine and dandy!

Then one day the unthinkable happened,
To the chocolate loving miss,
While eating her favorite candy,
She choked on a chocolate kiss!

"Death by chocolate," the coroner concluded,
As to the cause of Sandy's death.
At least she died doing what she loved,
Eating chocolate til her last breath.

11/21/11  for Natalie the Rogue Rhymer's 
"Die a fun Death" contest

Copyright © Kim Merryman

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Blowing A Kiss To You

I just blew a kiss on a cool summer breeze Comming from Wisconsin, it's going to taste like cheese It's for a dear friend who lives quite far away So I'm hoping she will recieve it, within the next day I also hope she doesn't mind the flavor of this kiss But if she loves cheese like me, the taste will be bliss Floating through the air past all the factories of cheese The dreamy taste of this kiss, will be sure to please Though I must warn her not to eat with that blissful kiss on her lips For all food will taste delightful, which may add a little weight to her hips
8-8-12 To:Vie

Copyright © Dan Kearley

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FOOD STAMPS.  BOXING champ of the hood.
Thought you should know ain't got the RENT.  WELFARE check
BOTTLES AND CANS. IN closets, in tubs, on fire escapes under
Beds.  THAT'S how WE be fed.

Lottery numbers out today.  Big Mama wanna play.  Big Mama
Need money for her children's sake.  FOOD STAMPS.  NO MORE
Night time hunger  cramps.
TONIGHT.  THAT'S right.  We eat steak tonight. we be rich. Yeah!

Holding up WELFARE checks  we suspect.  BUDGET CUTS. 
Has set.  What the heck. 
TOMORROW WE CHASE the dream again  trying not to give in.
BREATHING  HARD.  I swear to GOD next time we gone CATCH IT. WE
Gone  set the PACE.  WE. Gone  win.  The CHASE.  that changes the  RACE.

And let my BROTHERS in.  Make All Mothers Grin.


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Archie Bunker Opines Upon The Demise Of Twinkies

"Edith!  Edith!   I didn't find a Twinkie in my lunch bucket today!
What happened, Dingbat?   Why do you torture me this way?"
"But Archie, ain't you seen on TV they ain't makin' 'em anymore?
The company is foldin' up and they ain't stockin' 'em at the store!"

"I blame you fer this disaster, Meathead, you and yer pinko friends!
The greedy union reached too far killin' jobs on which people depends!
Yer democrat gov'mint stimulated my tax dollars fer ever' thing in sight!
Instead of blowin' money on green inergy, I'd like some to solve my plight!"

"But, Daddy" - poking his gut - "fast food like Twinkies isn't good for you!"
"Let me tell you somethin', little girl!  That may be yer lib'ral point of view!
My life ain't never gonna be the same agin without Twinkies fer a snack!
Them things is as American as yer mother's punkin' pie and I want 'em back!"

"I fought for the flag, baseball, Coca Cola and Twinkies in Dubya Dubya Two!
I slogged through the mud in Italy and was shot in a very fragile area too!
Now, I feel that it was all in vain to pertect all them things I hold dear!
No Twinkies for my lunch?  Stifle yerselfs!  I'm goin' to Kelsey's fer a beer!"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw

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Enough For All

by Wordancer

All the species of this world, whether mammal, fish or bird
Are provided with their food, whatever their taste
Each created for the other,
When the offspring leaves the mother
There is all the food that’s needed without waste.

The ants will feed the lizard, and in turn, it feeds the Hawk 
The flies they feed the spiders, then the frogs.
The amphibian feeds the snake 
Which the Kookaburras take 
And in time, they all feed ants inside the logs.

The logs fall from mighty trees that house and feed the tiny bees
that fertilize the plants we use as foods.
With rain and sun the crops will flourish
And when harvested, they can nourish
All the peoples in the world, if we so choose

Foods for all the nations are here in God’s Creations,
Glorious is the spirit that’s big enough to care.
Food goes where it’s needed
If our sight is not impeded 
Or we keep it for ourselves when there’s enough for all to share.

In this world of ours we’re brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers,
We’re all related by living on this earth.
Whatever we do tomorrow
Can bring happiness or sorrow
Today is when we work out what it’s worth.

Copyright © J Eliza JAMES

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Poetry Soup

If poetry was a soup
Of words stirred in a kettle
We could pour them on a page
And read the poems that settle

Copyright © Jon A Cavanaugh

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The Bombay Grocery-NC-w

The Bombay Grocery (Indian)- North Carolina

Shyam*, finds cat food at special rate near the door.
Goes to check out to manager of the grocery store
Doubting manager asks to bring cat if he has one
Shyam returns with his small cat to buy food anon.

Next day Shyam comes with a bag in his hand
And ask the manager to put his hand to the end
Manager puts his hand and shouts “Poo,Doodie pure”
Shyam says, “ yes, sir, I want the toilet paper sure” 


Fourth Place winner IN

Contest: Grocery Grammer by Linda-Marie, the sweetheart

* Shyam is an Indian name. Shyam also means Black-cloud colour. It is one of the name of 
Lord Krishna. It happens to be the name of one of my grandson living in Charlotte (NC)

Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta

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The Chocolate Cake

“And you call yourself a bloody cook”, this mongrel shearer said.
“I oughta ram this rubbish down yer’ throat, it’ll kill a bloke stone dead.”
He’s talking ‘bout the stew I burnt, which I hoped he couldn’t focus.
That he’d gulp it down with ‘red-eye’ wine, and he would fail to notice.

But no, my luck was out, he flew raging from his seat
“You’ve put a taste into my ‘gob’, now I need something sweet,
What’s in the fridge;” he yanked the door, took out a plate and bowl,
On one was chunky custard, and one a mouldy sausage roll.

“Look at this!” The shearer screamed, so all the mob could see.
First they eyed the sausage roll, and then looked back at their tea.
“Hang on” I said, “You ‘mangy’ lot, what you’re seeing here,
Is something I can’t be blamed for, they’re from the cook last year.”

“Git’ the boss!” I heard yelled out, and one went for the door.
I need this job and need it bad … to them I vowed and swore.
I’ll clean out the fridge and lift my act; then promised I would bake,
A treat for them on Wednesday ... my special chocolate cake.

My memory’s a little blank, for the ingredients I need,
I’ve got most in the cupboard, with no recipe to read,
Butters scarce but lard will do, and the milks a little sour.
None of them are ‘gunna’ notice, the weevils in the flour.

There’s salt and caster sugar, I need cocoa but there’s none,
There is a tin of milo though; its use by date is March of sixty-one,
That’s everything to make the cake; all I need’s an egg to bind,
Oh yes! There are two in the fridge; last years cook had left behind.

I got down the mixing bowl, and took some water from the tank,
Spooned out a couple of wrigglers … the dead ones to the bottom sank.
I’m not sure about the ounces or the tablespoons and such.
Cups of this with drops of that, but does that really matter much.

The only time I wasn’t sure, and felt maybe should I renege,
When I cracked the shell and found, a half grown chicken in the egg.
But they’re shearers here, big and strong, who’d never get to eat,
Let alone a chocolate cake, but one that’s made with meat.

The oven’s hot, the textures great, I greased the baking dish.
The cake was cooked and it smelt great … every shearers wish.
But a chicken’s foot stuck out the top; I cut out and ate that bit.
You know this chocolate cake of mine, tasted – more – like … ‘passionfruit’!

Copyright © Lindsay Laurie

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At Fresh Market

“You two melons are crowding me in a bad way.”

“Are you kidding, Bermuda? You must be gay,
‘cause all the potato heads think we look fly!
Yeah, see them? They’re giving us melons the eye!”

“Well, you’re squeezing me in; I’m a delicate guy!”

“Good grief, Mr. Onion, you’re making us cry.
Oh, here comes a cucumber right in our space.
Bet you won’t be complaining with HIM in your face!”

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

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To a place with no money
I'm takin' a hike
Where you work for your food 
And you build what you like 

No permit is needed 
For the castle we'd build 
No laws must be heeded
For the deer that we'd kill 

A town marketplace 
Where citizens share 
And the stock market crashes 
Cause nobody cares 

And the smell of fresh food 
Is rich in the air 
Cause the barber must eat 
For cutting our hair 

And the hunters are tired 
From catching the game 
And the culligan man 
Is catching the rain 

And the doctors and lawyers 
They never complain 
They sold their Mercedes 
But they're happy they came 

The police are not crooked 
Just fat as can be 
Cause there's nothing to do 
When everything's free  

Not a single hard worker 
Is wanting to leave 
There's just one blasted problem
It's only a dream 


Copyright © Kyle kriticos

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Serve Fish

The number of fish species comprises a very long list. However, one does not need to be an ichthyologist. Just go to any seafood department at a supermarket. There are many tasty varieties of fish we can get. Fish is high in protein which can make us stronger. It's lower in fat which can help us live longer. Serve up some fish, and you will have a good meal. Search the stores where you can get a great deal. inspired by another member's poem

Copyright © Robert Pettit

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Sometimes cakes are upside down,
And brownies are not always brown.
A steak should not be made of wood,
And well done doesn’t mean it’s good.
Sometimes food is sweet and sour,
Petals are not found in flour.

It’s fair to say before they’re eaten
Spuds get mashed and eggs get beaten.
Sugar often gets dissolved,
But there’s no cruelty involved.
One gastronomic puzzle lingers,
What kind of fish is born with fingers?

Copyright © Rufus Reed

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Original Poem Just Desserts I was at my favourite restaurant and had a lovely meal If I finished all my food then a pudding was the deal I’d relished every morsel and was pleased as a Cheshire cat The dessert menu was on its way, Oh I couldn’t wait for that The waitress bought the menus and I rubbed my hands with glee Oh sticky toffee pudding, now that’s the one for me She came to take the order – we had waited as you do She finally turned to me and said ‘oh Madam what can I get you’ Oh stiffy cockie pudding please was my swift reply I didn’t realise what I’d said till I saw the tears form in her eye I went as red as a beetroot and the others began to laugh At my spoonerism which turned into a complete gaffe The pudding it came quickly but I couldn’t wait to leave I choked on every mouthful and my stomach it did heave So please take notice of my error on this horrendous day If you order sticky toffee pudding be careful what you say! 2nd February 2014 This was my first poem posted here and was is my first poem to be published in a book by United Press Response Poem to Just Desserts When I read my ‘Just Desserts’ poem, oh I made such a gaffe I am petrified it will happen again and everyone will laugh At home I have been practicing the correct words I have to say To order sticky toffee pudding again will really make my day We still go to this local restaurant for a tasty treat I love the food they serve, it’s a lovely place to eat But when its time to choose my dessert then I begin to shake After my terrible Spoonerism I can’t make the same mistake I smile sweetly at the waitress who comes to take my choice Then clear my throat gently so I have a steady voice I want to order sticky toffee pudding, the dessert of my dream But I chicken out at the last minute and order an ice cream! Contest - A response to My First Poem Sponsored by Silent One 09~27~15

Copyright © JAN ALLISON

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Those Crazy Pole Beans

This is a mostly true story!

A few years ago in central Arkansas
I planted a garden among rich fertile soil
Followed seed packet directions as though written by law
Believing better results came from sweat and toil

Tomatoes and peppers and something called pole beans
Potatoes and onions, colors of corn, I've never seen
Always ended up with mud on the knees of my jeans
Slowly through the dark earth peeked petals of green

Weeks later everything looked just as though I thought it should
And I hoped everything would taste just as good
But those pole beans kept growing like you've never seen
And started making lovely huge beans of green

I had to build a fence to hold them up
Every day they grew another foot taller before sunup
The only way I could pick them was from the top of my ladder
I tell ya', no red head from Ireland has ever been madder!

*note...I am part Irish with red tints in my insults intended....

©Donna Jones

Copyright © Donna Jones

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If you’re bored or nervous
Do what most of us embrace.
Head out to the kitchen
And proceed to stuff your face.

Popcorn, pretzels, nachos - 
Even chocolate has its place –
Fill a bowl or grab the bag,
Sit down and stuff your face.

Though you may feel guilty,
You’re not lone in your disgrace.
It’s a universal vice – 
The stuffing of one’s face.

Copyright © ilene bauer

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Good Luck Meal

A good luck meal on New Years Day, consists of many things,
They say it makes a difference on what the New Year brings.
I got to thinking ,wow, what luck, for the pig that gave that chop,
that i stuffed with the dressing and put sour kraut on top.
He wasn't very lucky as anyone could see, and when I served the black eyed peas,
they were staring back at me.
As if to say, "your lucky meal was bought with a great cost.
It wasn't very lucky for the pig whose life was lost."
To myself I wondered , How can I eat this meal?
I was thinking about that piggy, I could even hear him squeel.
I bowed my head and said dear God, I know this food is blessed,
Help us to be so thankful for that pig who is at rest.
So as I passed the food along I said in words so clear,
Thank you pig for being food for my lucky year.


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Paula Deen the Butter Queen

Paula Deen the Butter Queen

By Elton Camp and María Camp

She is the butter makers’ delight
To nutritionists, she is a fright
Krispy Kreme with eggs and bacon
Great health risks are thus taken

Her bacon cheeseburger meatloaf
Is perfect if you are a gigantic oaf
For a nation that is already too fat
She sees nothing wrong with that

People who her cookbooks buy
Eat such and may too soon die
She had diabetes for three years
With no caution to change gears. 

Her cookbooks flying 
Right off the shelf
Likely contributing
To early death

It tastes good, she decreed!
Many folks with her agreed
So many calories, but it is so good
Eat whatever you like is what you should

After her disease she finally shared
To represent a diabetes drug she dared
Cigarettes warn, but not Paula Deen
Of butter, sugar and fat – she is queen

To “that word” she admitted use
There are allegations of other abuse
One is suing and wanting some dough
Is this former employee in the know?

An awkward apology, she did make
How many attempts does it take?
One wonders if she is sincere
Or if it is just fear for career

Whatever happens in the days ahead
Is her heyday officially dead?
Don’t be quick to rule her out
She still has pull and clout

Copyright © Elton Camp

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Free Coffee

To celebrate a fiftieth anniversary, a convenience store is dispensing coffee. The best thing about it is that it’s free. It’s hot, fresh, and with a flavor variety. Twelve ounce small cups are available all day. I got mine this morning right away. It was just what I needed to get going today. You have to live in a Mid-Atlantic state to take advantage of this offer that is great. Of all the different convenience stores in America, the one with this terrific offer is called “Wawa”.

Copyright © Robert Pettit

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The Twenty-Five Thousand Dollar Dessert

Is a dessert costing twenty-five grand what you want? You can find it in a Manhattan Upper East Side restaurant. Made with twenty-one types of chocolate and sprinkled gold leaf, this decadent frozen mousse is something beyond belief. It comes in a twenty-three carat diamond-encrusted gold dish. If you found Aladdin’s lamp, would eating this be your wish? This would be something to brag about and quite nice. However, the restaurant has been closed due to cockroaches and mice. From a news story found on This was written a few years ago. The restaurant has reopened since.

Copyright © Robert Pettit