Sonnet Food Poems | Sonnet Poems About Food

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

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Sweet Dixie

A land unto its own as old as dirt
Condemned by voguish northern state of mind
This realm you'd be hard-pressed to disconcert
Though his'try would prefer it be maligned

The secret twisted oak and winding creek
The tapestries of moss that grace the swamp
They whisper in a language few can speak
Revealing true that fair southern beauchamp

There is no match for tender Georgia peach
To Cajun gumbo nothing can compare
And off the Apalachicolan beach
Fresh oysters make the finest southern fare

Sweet Dixie with your blemishes and charms
No place I'd rather be than in your arms

Jan. 4, 2017
The American Deep South - That magical swath spanning from east Texas eastwards and upwards through to the Carolinas
For the contest by Silent One Re: Sonnet About Where I Live

Copyright © Carolyn Fish | Year Posted 2017

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The Bucket in the Sky

Oh, take me to the bucket in the sky,
where smells of fast food cooking tantalize -
a poultry paradise where no birds fly,
but come instead with biscuits, slaw, or fries . . .
where mashed potatoes may not be homemade,
but people seem to like them anyway.
They scarf them down with coke or lemonade
or mugs of root beer sometimes if they stay,
for you can order in or carry out.
You get your pick of many things to eat.
And if you don't  like breasts, no need to pout!
Just thank the Colonel. Now they've got REAL meat,
for beef and chicken reign in harmony
since A & W met K.F.C.!

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

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Angels of Destiny

Angels of destiny, sunk in empty eyes so clear,
Angels of destiny, every day your fate so near.
Seldom has your little face been graced with a smile
Nothing strikes you funny as you search the garbage pile.

These angels are babies, little babes without a bed.
Every day their hands held out for just one piece of bread.
Dreams of hoping something, anything would be more fare
Praying maybe someone, anyone might care.

Poor poor angels I would love to give much more,
But I'm too busy keeping up with the guy next door.
I wish he hadn’t bought that new boat down at the bay,
Now I'll have to save to buy a bigger one some day

Angels of destiny sentenced to a life of fears,
Angels of destiny, I will just leave you my tears.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Contest The Poet II
Gautami Phookan
Theme: Leave you my tears

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

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Oinker at the Dessert Bar

Oh, give me cake with double chocolate
And strawberry with sweetened cream whipped stiff.
And if you have a cake named butter nut,
I’ll have that too. For just a little whiff
of carrot cake with pineapple thrown in,
I’ll go bananas!  Come to think of it,
I might as well go all out in my sin
and also order a banana split!
Each scoop of ice cream different I will take -
one scoop of toffee flavor, one of mint,
and walnut too with slices of my cake!
Let cherries, butterscotch, and caramel drop
onto it all until I say to stop!

written Oct. 25, 2015
For the All This Melts in Your Mouth Poetry Contest of Olive Eloisa Guillermo

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

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Pink and Grey Galahs

I see a pair of Pink and Greys
They fly on by my way
They seem to be so filled with health
To me they do have so much wealth

They're so majestic in the sky
As I see them flying by
And when they land upon a branch
It really puts me in a trance

Trays of seed I have for them
On which upon they land
Such a lovely sight to see
I could almost feed them from my hand

I love to see them feeding there
As the seed these two birds share

Copyright © Vera Duggan | Year Posted 2014

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Potluck Dinner, 3

(Byrdcage Echo Sonnet)

I send you this request to be my guest
come waltz around the diner's hall with me
at potluck dinner planned by friends tonight,
where scents of ginger pie can spice your lust.
I promise you your palate’s true delight
when you behold my sister's flaky crust
Come sample seafood stuffed in chicken breast
and slather pie with ample hunks of brie,

an offer sure with not a hint of jest.
A dinner fraught with traps we can't foresee,
the hall will echo words of sated praise;
the pie you crave turns bitter as you chew
from lips of those whose eyes begin to glaze.
Its texture coats your tongue until you spew,
then sample seafood stuffed in chicken breast,
and slather pie with ample hunks of brie.

It’s packed with shiver-driven nutmeg zest.
The hostess, quick with cups of ginger tea
but pumpkin pie is not its taste intent.
I pound your back and push you out the door
for those in line who rush to catch the scent;
while I pretend you're one we must ignore.
I sample seafood stuffed in chicken breast
and slather pie with ample hunks of brie.

I send you this request to be my guest.
Come waltz around the diner's hall with me;
come sample seafood stuffed in chicken breast,
and slather pie with ample hunks 

Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014

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My Father and the Staff of Life


How strangely life will turn around, reverse, then come again
I remember how he would tiptoe in, from a warm and downy bed
He’d  wink at me, then beckon me, while twinkling stars peeked in
In kitchen light, a bite to eat, a midnight snack, he said

I would pour the milk, and he would smile, then carefully tear the bread
The staff of life, a simple thing, these two small bowls of wheat
My Dad and I, the broken bread, with milk on top, or cream instead
A bit of sugar or honey dripped, to make it slightly sweet

Such a little thing, so comforting, and helped us both to sleep
And in my care, his dwindling  years…especially at the end
He was fading then, no appetite, few foods that he could eat
Soft bread I’d make, with milk poured in, would help us think of then

I’d sit upon his bed and talk, and help him spoon some in
The things in life turn inside out,  somehow come back again

For the Contest: Sponsored By Regina Riddle "Intimate Relationships"

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011

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Reese's Pieces

Reese’s Pieces was ET’s only choice
And it’s loved by many children as well
And it was that candy that gave him voice
For Reese’s Pieces I’ll ring that cow bell

Reese’s peanut butter has its own taste
And Reese’s Pieces are easy to hold
And Hershey’s candies are never a waste
Instead of M & Ms Pieces are bold

Reese’s made the cups first pieces later
If its Reese’s it is peanut butter
We love it even the candy hater
Reese’s Pieces takes you from the gutter

If your life happens to be in pieces
Glue it together with Reese’s Pieces

Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2013

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Sonnet 18 Parody

Shall I compare thee to a winter’s day?
Thou art much more shrivelled and much more cold
Rough winds shake the withered leaves of today.
And your stomach hath too many a fold.

Sometimes too hot your sister shines,
And often is your grey complexion dimmed;
And you always smell like my uncle’s swine 
Except your upper lip is less well trimmed.

Thy eternal summer did long since fade
And lost possession of that fair thou ow'st;
And Satan brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives death to eyes.

Copyright © Jeremy Lin | Year Posted 2012

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Dark Temptress

Near the lobby in the great room
we first make our rendezvous.
A breathy trip up to my stateroom
and I am at last alone with you.

I sense your fragrant muskiness
as I tease off your tenuous cover
and reveal the lustrous duskiness 
of your dark body to your lover.

As your wrap falls to the floor
and in all your glory you disrobe
the hungry demon waits no more
and I encup your tempting globe.

I cannot think what may transpire...
Shall I regret today's caprice?
But I cannot vanquish my desire
and sweet passion will not cease.

Deferred until tomorrow all guilt trips
and now, oh chocolate truffle... to my lips!

February 10, 2013

Inspired by Jon Cavanaugh's "Ode to Chocolate".

Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2013

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The Tranquil Picnic at Dusk

I’d love to be with you in a canoe
accompanied by summer’s softest breeze,
enjoying the verdant valley view
while drifting on a river lined with trees.

Ahead would be a peak that whisks the sky.
We’d look above us from our little boat
to where the eagle and the osprey fly
as in the quiet glow of dusk we’d float.

We’d dock on sand and find a cozy spot
to roast some hot dogs in our campfire’s heat
and spread the luscious picnic foods we’d brought;
then relishing tranquility, we'd eat!

Amid dark, silent pines, by fire's bright light,
we'd snuggle happily into the night.

For Carol Brown's "Picnic Time" Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011

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It is the laziest of all creatures, 
It could eat and eat filet all the day long. 
Investigative eyes is a feature, 
And it will sing to you its forlorn song. 

It will avoid you like the plague by day, 
Skulking, running, bounding, from room to room. 
By night it searches through the halls for its prey, 
The hunted will meet its impending doom. 

The whisper of whiskers against the door, 
Tip-toe, pitter-patter, sneakily creeps. 
All at once bounding across the floor, 
Whoosh goes the paw across the mouse hole deep.  

“Drat!” says the cat, missed the mark once again, 
Once more the mouse hunt will have to begin.

Copyright © Hanna Potter | Year Posted 2013

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Sweet pleasure

I slowly cut a corner off my prize
No cause to hurry, see I at this time
To savor, such a treat sees no despise
If one knows not this joy, that is a crime

The layers compliment this god-like cream
The smooth caress of chocolate is joy
The combination is much like a dream
My senses it so fully does employ

I do not need a house or any clothes
My mind is full of thoughts only to know
When next taste I the sweetness of my rose
But I would wait a hundred years of snow

If love is like this sweet patisserie,
I think my life consists of it and me.

Copyright © Carlisle Turner | Year Posted 2013

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Pie Eyed

The trees have pumpkin-pied themselves
they're dipped in orange butterscotch.
The squirrel's nests of pick-up sticks
hide acorns stores which plink-plop.

Below the apple trees bowed branches
mother harvests windfalls for pies.
Father takes a old buck down
for mincemeat pie, bye and bye. 

The corn field's full of children small
gathering ears for Dutch Corn pie.
A cider smell of cinnamon
reminds of crispy crusts on standby.

Mother's at her best this season
and all those pies-- why its the reason!

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2014

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Spring gardening for survival

The weather will soon be getting warmer.
Watching economics and politics,
I’m teaching myself to be a farmer--
Anticipating an Apocalypse.
It’s time to rototill my backyard lawn,
And remove decorative plants and weeds.
My ‘raised bed’ ‘square foot’ garden plans are drawn;
Ready to plant heirloom vegetable seeds.
It’s time we start providing for ourselves!
The government’s nearly in bankruptcy.
It’s foolish to expect grocery store shelves
To have food during a catastrophe.
Go buy your trellises and garden string.
Plant your future meals, because here comes Spring.

Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2015

Details | Italian Sonnet |

For bread and country

Line upon line the troops stood straight
In late season sun they stand and wait
With magazines filled with ammunition
Not with bullets but with good nutrition

These troops stand with feather in cap
Full of purpose and flowing with sap
Yet soon inevitably they are to fall
As they grow big and they grow tall

Then, quite fearlessly they give their life
To die for country, kids and wife
Yet to die so that all may flourish
As their bodies feed and nourish

And so the seasons pass
For these troops of tallest grass
Unsung heroes that sacrifice all
When in autumn they die and fall

But are our lives not the same? 
As in sacrifice there is no shame

Copyright © Daniel Human | Year Posted 2015

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Which Fruits in My Basket

When asked what in my basket I would take
of any kind of fruit; well, here’s the truth.
I much prefer my fruit in pie or cake,
or chocolate covered for my sweety tooth.

No apples, peaches, pears or plums for me.
I find bananas boring. Am I sick?
Of all the fruits that grow upon a tree,
there hardly is a one I'd want to pick.

A mango slithers like an eel; I gag!
And though papaya can be rather sweet,
exotic fruits of which the natives brag
are just “ok.” I’ll stay with my red meat.

Just melon, grapes or cherries in my basket
and can you make them seedless if I ask it?

By Andrea Dietrich For PD's November Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012

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In my kitchen

In my kitchen I do see
So many things that do please me
I love eating, cooking, cleaning
My kitchen it has so much meaning

In the kitchen so much joy I find
Beauty treatment comes to mind
And juice of lemon, oatmeal too
Diminishes all that rust for you

Then we have those cleaning things
Vinegar, Bi-Carb, much ease they bring
They do help me such a lot
When it comes to cleaning pots

Then we come to eating, Yum!
It's such a treat to my old Tum
Though sometimes cooking drives me mad
Sometimes it peeves me just a tad

Now I am off to do some shopping
And then return to do some mopping

Copyright © Vera Duggan | Year Posted 2014

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Harvest Time

There are no roots to see, not with our eyes,
that stretch from earth, umbilically below;
not even to the sun, to realize,
but there must be a  chord we do not know;

Are we not on a fruit, still ripening?
Perhaps we are the nectar from the tree,
Awaiting harvest time's great siphoning
When all are ripened; it's our time to be.

And we will be plucked from the path we're on
Around the sun, into a vat and pressed;
The vintage of Apopolictic Dawn,
Revealing vast unknowns, we've never guessed.

Then all our stuff of non-sense; all we thought,
Ferments into the past, already bought.
© Ron Wilson Arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2015

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Persimmon Whiffler

(A Slant-rhyme Sonnet)
As autumn treads across our piebald patch,
she drops her frost to shelter, soft as wool, 
but brilliant blossoms curl in moonlight watch
and shrink beneath the snap of hoarfrost cool.

Then every critter lodged inside the farm
begins to hide a hoard of winter chow,
use nature’s fabric fluff to cradle warm
and stash in cache beneath the muted show.

Persimmon limbs are bowed with orange loot
which deer desire if hunger leaves them poor.
The frost has signaled time as under foot
true sweetness swells at autumn’s open door.

          I rush before the deer, with knife in hand
          to read the seed as weather forecast wand.

Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014

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It strikes one at will,
As one whose intent 
is to kill,
Causing rumbles and 
tumbles in the 
Making you rummage 
for solution down in 
the sack!

The causer of all 
kinds of ulcer
That entity 
accompanied with 
bitter pains
Which if untended 
lead it can to cancer
And from which there 
is loss and no gains!

The solution to be 
sought when it 
strikes is food
Whether large or 
small in quantity
So far as this giant 
can be tamed for 
By it, be it of high or 
low quality!

Hunger it is that is 
one life's equalities
To both with 
reputable and 

Copyright © Adesina Idris Dolapo | Year Posted 2012

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The Masticator

Some folks like food that’s smooth to touch their lips; which does not come in chunks or crunchy sticks. They take their tea in leisurely small sips or eat ice cream with lots of tiny licks. I rarely ask for smoothies or for yogurt, for puddings or for bland and jiggling jello. I much prefer the entrees to dessert and something hearty over something mellow. To salty, crunchy foods I gravitate: popcorn and potato chips and nachos, and on my plate some food to masticate: pasta, pizza, burgers, fries or tacos. A large hot soup can soothe my appetite if served with lots of crackers I can BITE! For the the Screwed XII Poetry Contest of Rob Carmack from 10/6/2013

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

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The sweet

Candy its yummy
It tastes so good
When it enters my tummy
I will love to give some to robin hood

You can get cavities 
But its worth eating
Cavities hurt so much you cant do activities
Then you start mistreating

Candy just melts slowly in mouth
Everytime you think about why it melts you get the chills
Then you think about heading to south
To go to Beverly hills

I've said this before
And now i'm going to explore

Copyright © Afua Yeboah-Antwi | Year Posted 2006

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Potluck Dinner

(Echo Sonnet)

Come waltz around the diner's hall with me
where scents of ginger pie can spice your lust
when you behold my sister's flaky crust
and slather pie with ample hunks of brie.

A dinner fraught with traps we can't foresee;
the pie you crave turns bitter as you chew,
its texture coats your tongue until you spew
and slather pie with ample hunks of brie.

The hostess, quick with cups of ginger tea
will pound your back and push you out the door
while I pretend you're one we must ignore
and slather pie with ample hunks of brie.

Come waltz around the diner's hall with me
and slather pie with ample hunks of brie.

Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014

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A life from Anger

Anger is something I grew up fearing
Mom and any other person in charge
today my eyes are no longer tearing
even though my stomach got somewhat large

eating the right food is so hard to do
since it seems so much stuff is bad for us
and these limbs of mine sometimes will not do
I get by walking and riding the bus

and my wife is right with me to the end
we both had our own bouts with some issues
but at the end she is my only friend
and we both have used many tissues

from a house of anger I started out
in my lifetime I hope world peace will sprout

Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2014

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Seven Layers

To taste your tender essence once again
Springy, warm, lovely vanilla infused
Once more to travel the road to attain
A delightful thin slice of fudge suffused

Memories how they cling to your presence
Maybe create sweet impressions of my own
Lasting through time, problems, awesome pleasance 
Could my life continue through a subtle sweet tone

Seven layer fudge frosted cake still draws
A picture in the mind's eye of mother
In the kitchen cooking without a pause
My life, her presence did surely color 

Memories of seven layer fudge iced cake
To my humble grave assuredly take

Written: October 25, 2015
My parents 96th wedding anniversary
Inspired by Olive Eloisa Guillermo's contest All This Melts In Your Mouth
Since I am now a diabetic, I can only rarely eat a treat like this and also I have problems with the chemicals in cocoa irritating my heart rhythm..

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2015

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Happy Meal Plague

A “Big Mac attack” and “Have it your way”
are all past slogans from fast food places
for most Americans fast food will stay
because Big Macs and Whoppers feed faces

Americans love to eat on the go
we love pizza hamburgers and hot dogs
and the value meals never cost much dough
other countries may think we’re all just hogs

truth be told we need to eat to survive
Burger King and MacDonald’s does the job
some may think fast food as food at a dive
Long John Silver does have corn on the cob

right or wrong fast food will never leave us
until the day all Americans bust

Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2013

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A Good Meal

The nose can’t snub the soup for a miss wet lips go with the heat from the pasta live menu saps a big roar from my niece cook, bake and mix and here is a lobster so eat this meal till the pan I will kiss laid back is the fun to feel like Easter on the eat, ploy of this meal play and hiss such food with wine, rich for any mister a sit with open eyes to set the stage one chew to the next is this oily rage till the eat is done, time stay in a cage ties the mind with a rope and a cane then lost is the epic work of the brain as the bag down the body gets the drain.

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016

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Therefore beholding plays the farmer pale

Dried sand eclipsed over the Season’s fall, 
sullen rhyme sings singer-birds over scale,
the storm-dance sprays dust against broken wall,
To the hat-worn folks, sorrowed, narrates tale;
Done seasonal harvest with plaint-dried tears,
With diseased cattle shrunken skin to ribs,   
With cracked ground, hungry sad visage of fears,
With wasted limbs and pot-bellied in cribs.
keenly begs graceful charity for age,
Promising bags, from next seasons harvest,
To plough the ground below the lowered wage,
And to lock starving kids to empty breast.
Thus rewording he sows the seeds and play, 
Hoping golden grain’s harvest from his clay.
©Anees Rahman

Copyright © Anees Rahman | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet |

A rose is always the first one to die

A rose is always the first one to die
As love arrives, flip-flapping his wings,
Taking her to a fresh grave to lie,
Hidden amid hallowed tree’s rings.
Earth unrests with a slight touch,
Feathers and petals, red and white,
Mingle when Love leans to vouch,
Whirling around the burial site:
“Wave slowly, I see, I like, I take,
Your lips are cherries, your heart
Like the soft and most sweet cake,
I will feast and if my lips demand,
I will take my bow and with my art,
Take food from your soft hand.“

Copyright © João Camilo | Year Posted 2014