Beach Food Poems | Beach Poems About Food

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

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Details | Couplet |

Beachside Food and Drink Slinks

A is for algae, red, green, blue cells, soaking up sun, sliming teeth 
B is for bacterial mat, clumping underneath, earliest born, never asleep

C is for coral reef, the place we all find cover or the sand parrotfish chew and release
D is for diatom, all seeded calcium, all float free, all denizens barely seen

E is for eelgrass, nursery meadows of the anchovy, and other browsers of green 
F is for fan worm, filter feeder like a flower, 8000 species on which fish feed

G is for giant kelp, floating on bladders of air they’re forests of cold waters clean
H is for helmet, the royalty of snails who protect our feet, queen, emperor, king

I is for isopod, the chameleon crustacean, they color match what they eat
J is for jellyball, or cannonball jellyfish, not upside down or moon, avoid their heat

K is for keyhole limpet, favorite food of ochre stars, will erect its own wall
L is for laver, the sea lettuce of nori, it swirls red skirt as ocean falls

M is for mermaid’s purse, the sack of the skate whose yolk keeps them alive
N is for nerite, the prisoner striped snail of the rocky zone as numerous as a hive

O is for oyster drills, the snails that slurp oysters and use them to lay eggs
P is for pleurobranch, a sea slug answer for oranges, with one active leg

Q is for quahog, the bivalve seaman who can survive eating the mud
R is for rove beetle, the one waiting to snatch the unwary beach hopper for good

S is for saxitoxin, those red tides produced by mating that can paralyze humans
T is for tubular sponge, they squish, bore and encrust as space lends

U is for urchin, those spiny skinned balls, no eyes or noses but dig food in sand 
V is for Venus, Music Volutes dined or Vampire Squids skimming along land

W is for whelk, not the musically inclined, but the slow moving snail in a shell
X is for X and a half, the six rayed star, hungry for anything on the half shell

Y is for yucca, blooming on the beach, they bloom nice and tolerate the sand
Z is for Zostera marinara, the address of eel grass when they're feeling grand

All of this green life is what crunches, stinks, dries and slips underfoot
The rest that find the housing and dining compatible means someone’s on the look.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2013

Details | Imagism |

Slicing a Pineapple

I imagine myself on a beach,
digging my toes into warm sand.
Sand so fine, it's like stardust,
drifting with the breeze that ruffles 
my hair and feathers my cheek.
Soft laps caress my eardrums
as waves stroke the shoreline.

Pulses quicken as my knife
slices through the rough outer skin
of the fruit. I taste the sweet, 
sharp flesh on my tongue 
and feel juice run down to drip
off my elbow, dropping dark circles
in the sand below.

Each shave of the blade shears away
the tangled fleece of my spirit
and takes me deeper into illusion,
enhancing the flavor of this earthy
nectar filling my mouth.

Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014

Details | Haiku |

Questionku 15

Tourist swimming
Pirana filled lake
Will he get out in time?

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |


On a bright day
I will be
Grabbing a drink at the bar
Brighton Beach, it seems so far
Coney Island is where you'll find me
Sideshows and Hotdogs
Where I need to be.

Copyright © Jillian Sabecky | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

Golden Grain in Goa

While the waves lash the shores and splash in soft music

The dishes we serve here in this Golden Grain restaurant

Emanate aroma into the nostrils a pungent sweet exclusive

Have you visited this earlier too or how are you insouciant 

A sip of sweetly sour sea food clear soup with tofu in your mouth

While on your hair the wind from the Arabian Sea plays its tickles

As you change your seat for the cool wind coming from the south

Our gracious waiters serve you mouth watering sea food pickles

Tasting the cheesy tuna salad as you share your moments with sea

The boundless sky above invites you to look at its cracked blue art

We are mystified if we will have the listen and sight or have the glee

 In Sorpotel with rice, the Goan cuisine we must take to fill our heart

Made of pork in spices coconut vinegar and green chillies

Sorpotel is the essence of Christian gastronomy of  Goa

The pungent and little salty flavor will without doubt ease

Your fatigue and more so if you take chunks of chilly soya

To which delight you will employ your perception is

A challenge as your eyes are amazed at the sight of 

Seagulls in front of the restaurant leaving the breeze

Have become scavengers in their wing-spread hops

There is the all time favourite basil leaf spread lovely

Pizza dough of Phoenix with a crisp but chewy crust

Made by our chef himself who learned his art at Italy

Sweet salty pizza margheritta of ours take you must 

Bebinca you all have to take in its full seven saffron layers

Get the personification of Goan spirit in this unique dessert

While listening to and looking at the splashy music players

Nonetheless your taste buds seek the sweet food for a flirt

Golden Grain is a golden moment in the golden sea beach

Do step in and taste the food with waves within your reach

For My imaginary restaurant - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One

Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

These Brick Bound Boxes

these brick bound boxes 
fill this equinox of smart headed people
of these independent achievable people
critical analysts of this 21 century 
ready to be presentable to the unmighty 
smaller population of antisocial teenage children
willing them to be

not to be free, but inside these brick bound boxes
that fill the human intelligence with total
literate irrelevance to who we should be
to who can be 

ultimately like them
filled in these brick bound boxes
with mental instimulance
of a mix of lies, creation and motives
see, I don’t have a problem with any of them

just these brick bound boxes that hold them
hold this unforgettable willing mind 
of someone we chose to leave behind 
in these brick bound boxes

that encompass first the mind and then the soul
but who wants all this control?

society can speak of a whole.
an incredible strong mental image
of how life is to be--
within these brick bound boxes.

My life isn’t based in these brick bound boxes
but it soon will
creating a song of the monotone dead
longing to be passed on from generation to generation
but can't you see

can't you forget that this is not who we ought to be
unless we need to spontaneously combust
in this equinox till it metastasizes
catastro sizes to an everlasting dust
even you must ought to smell the musk.
So tell me, how do thee?
how do thee live with these brick bound boxes
filling up every empty not-yet-set concrete whole
implying of who you are before you could even
have some kind of control over yourself

its swept under the rug.
no biggie, you're just a kiddie
no actual value to this reality 
yet before you can buy alcohol

and I’m someone to sound big
I just don’t want to fill these lonely brick bound boxes
where the death of every living will cease to be a beginning
in this equinox of the everlasting dust,
so do you must, live in these brick bound boxes?

Copyright © Lottie Cats | Year Posted 2014

Details | Couplet |


Calm and tideless,
Warm and timeless,
Unsalted, undeep –
Warm Baltic half-asleep
Hot sand, hard pebbles –
Dark sparkling crystals
Heated and sunlit,
Ancient and granite
In the tree’s glad shade we rest.
Sand and branches make our nest.
Seeds fall on us in a shower
From the bird-cherry’s fragrant flower
Hungry from the happy day,
The bright and shady,  lazy bay.
Cool  aroma in the dark –
Cooking  fire’s smoking bark.
Sandy sandwich, melting cheese,
Brush the breadcrumbs from our knees.
Afternoon of scented air
For a carefree laughing pair

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

(Description of an actual picnic for my wife and myself.)

Written  for   Carol Brown's   Contest   -  PICNIC TIME

Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

taking it all in for what it's worth

parmesean shrimp pasta and loaded cheese grits
southern chicken tenders and rice pilaf
hot buttered cornbread and butterscotch pudding for dessert
two bottles of water, some multivitamins, and an alluring oceanfront view

a unique collection of music i made similar to an 8 track i had in the early 80s
let me see....morning sunrise-weldon irvine....lovely day-bill withers....
moonlight feels right-starbuck....kiss you all over-exile....the tide is high-the paragons
....simple things-minnie riperton....look around-sergio mendes and brazil '66....
a little stan getz, a taste of michael franks, and an alluring oceanfront view

i sit here now in complete silence
a few people with flashlights are having a good time like i am
race, color, and presentation does not matter here in this vibe
i fall asleep with a smile of pure contentment on my face
i do not worry about the inevitable departure
i do not worry about what is waiting for me when i get home
i do not even worry about time or place
i just amass myself in the heavenly bliss of the moment....thank the Lord....and rejoice

Copyright © Marty King | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Thong Thing Is Wrong

       Thong Thing Is Wrong

Thong thing is wrong 
Cellulite women rolled on folds of flesh 
Over waves and seas that crest 
What are those monstrosities  
Whales washed up on beaches

Thin strings not quite bikinis hide nothing 
Obese creatures covered by mounds of pounds
Blot out the sun uncomfortably
As the fat eat Twinkies, dream of being Twiggy

Oh Doris please don't put on weight
Put on your tent.  Save us from nightmares in the day

Tides move when you step in the water 
Displace the natural order  
Fish run from you.  Forget how to swim
Naked can be scary by the sea                 
What is that giant thing standing in the sand
Dressed in almost nothing, held together by a string
What waddles down the shore
Thinking a black cloth makes one thin

Oh this fashion does not make for happy
Dreams and illusions bury the thighs in lies
Under the sun filling up horizons sky

Surprise!  Eyes bleed at this frightening sight
Makes old and young cry.  No place to hide

Ocean sojourns once were fun
Watching bikini clad women run
Nudity is meant for others more young
Eye candy, shapely, sexy and thin to begin with

Weight escaping on all sides exposed   
Pretending to be pretty and thin is quite the trick
Girls come in all shapes and sizes
Some have been known to raise the tides 
In disguise, hiding behind a smile exposes it
The thong thing is wrong
Please make it stop.  Make it quit

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blank verse |

was it Arizona

Was it Arizona?

Endless road, in flat landscape of shrubs and sand, no elevations 
no distant ridge of a mountain, no coast and sunlight gleaming on 
a calm ocean. 
Trapped, I drove slower and slower, doomed to drive on this road forever; 
the thought of getting out and start running, when I saw a few trees at
 the distance, soon some houses too and a petrol station, 
I needed to fill up the tank; the attendant wasn’t there walked over to a café, 
where an old man sat reading his paper, 
didn’t look up when the swing door slammed shut behind him 
A fat black woman, behind the counter, was watching daytime soap on
 an ancient TV  set 
she turned and looked at me; I said: “coffee please.” 
She gave me a cup and said “fifty cents,” turned her massive back on me, 
continued watching TV. I looked and out saw the attendant, hurried out, 
wanted to be sure he didn’t take off again; I never drank my coffee, 
not that anyone took any notice. 
The man looked foreign, and I said: “must be lonely living out here?” 
“Yeah, but it sure beats living in Baghdad, the he murmured.”    

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Davy's of Dover

Tottering on the stub and clack
My Mum, replete in navy slacks,
ushers us to Davy’s van
to buy us fish and chips.

The salt and fat and ketchup packs;   
The chips; the scraps; the batter cracks.
There’s pickled eggs in acid vats,
They’ll never pass my lips!

We sit among the bladder-wrack 
and feast on grease and haddock that’s
a thru'pence ha’penny heart attack
by any other name.

As fragile Kentish weather snaps
we turn our backs on tourist traps.
Acetic vapours call us back
To Davy’s Van-On-Sea.

Copyright © Will Vigar | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Relaxing on the Beach

Oh, the taste of sweet mangoes 
While relaxing on a Caribbean beach.
Such a refreshing way to watch the sun 
Setting on the blue and calm horizon.

This sweet mango is such an appetizer 
Preparing the pallet for the main course.
Stimulating one’s stomach for a feast 
With visions of the coming dish, 
The main flavor of the day.

Oh, I like tasty mangoes 
The setting sun, and 
Caribbean beaches.

Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2006