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Best Famous Gastronomic Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Gastronomic poems. This is a select list of the best famous Gastronomic poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Gastronomic poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of gastronomic poems.

Search and read the best famous Gastronomic poems, articles about Gastronomic poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Gastronomic poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

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Written by David Lehman | Create an image from this poem

Maximism

 What I propose is not 
 Marxism, which 
 is not dead yet in 
 the English department, 
Not maximalism, which was 
 a still-born alternative 
 to minimalism, 
Nor Maxism, which rests on 
 adulation of Max 
 Beerbohm, parodist 
 nonpareil, 
But maximism, the love 
 of adages, 
Or Maximism, the advocacy of 
 maximum gastronomic 
 pleasure on the model 
 of a meal at Maxim's 
 in Paris in, say, 1950.
Is that clear?


Written by Robert William Service | Create an image from this poem

The Battle Of The Bulge

 This year an ocean trip I took, and as I am a Scot
And like to get my money's worth I never missed a meal.
In spite of Neptune's nastiness I ate an awful lot, Yet felt as fit as if we sailed upon an even keel.
But now that I am home again I'm stricken with disgust; How many pounds of fat I've gained I'd rather not divulge: Well, anyway I mean to take this tummy down or bust, So here I'm suet-strafing in the Battle of the Bulge.
No more will sausage, bacon, eggs provide my breakfast fare; On lobster I will never lunch, with mounds of mayonnaise.
At tea I'll Spartanly eschew the chocolate éclair; Roast duckling and péche melba shall not consummate my days.
No more nocturnal ice-box raids, midnight spaghetti feeds; On slabs of pâté de foie gras I vow I won't indulge: Let bran and cottage cheese suffice my gastronomic needs, And lettuce be my ally in the Battle of the Bulge.
To hell with you, ignoble paunch, abhorrent in my sight! I gaze at your rotundity, and savage is my frown.
I'll rub you and I'll scrub you and I'll drub you day and night, But by the gods of symmetry I swear I'll get you down.
Your smooth and smug convexity, by heck! I will subdue, And when you tucker in again with joy will I refulge; No longer of my toes will you obstruct my downward view .
.
.
With might and main I'll fight to gain the Battle of the Bulge.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things