Best Dinner Poems
I don’t know tic tac toe
so I rhyme this with flow,
showing Nick Nac knows
how to serve the perfect dose.
Measuring the rhymes
like I’m pleasuring the lines,
leisure for the minds
like I’m lemon and I’m lime,
1st and 2nd personalities
pushed to share realities,
combining combat and comebacks
as I incompetently rap,
you’re ripping me now
it’s a banter attack,
shyt but gripping somehow
as I pant and sound crap.
It’s another chicken dinner
from Mr Trim Trimmer,
not a rapper or a singer
but, a mother loving winner.
POTD 02/02/2019
It was my first Thanksgiving dinner as his wife
so I wanted the meal to be perfect in every way
But...trembling in fear, I cut my finger with a knife
It was the beginning of a day in piteous disarray
I didn't know a turkey would take so long to thaw
and I couldn't defrost the fat bird in the microwave
Agitated, I was afraid I'd have to serve it half raw
so, I parboiled it a while. My predicament was grave
The cranberries were cooking and started to pop
Then I noticed my sore finger was bleeding once more
Blood fell into the sauce pan; more than just a drop
Gotta serve it anyway. No time to go back to the store
My mother-in-law, Mary Ann, had a smirk on her face
She looks like a wild rabbit, both have wrinkled noses
I bedecked the table in my cloth of embroidered lace
finger bleeding again from thorns, darn those roses!
It's a Murphy's Law day for me cuz I've developed a tic
Face is twitching, but the turkey's roasting in the oven
People bustling in my kitchen. It's a comedy of slapstick
Cousin Benny wants a taste of my cornbread stuffin'
STUFFIN'? NO NO! I hadn't given the dish a thought
Could I make it from potatoes? I've got piles of those
I needed a drink; my frazzled nerves were distraught
Then sozzled Uncle Frank started taking off his clothes
We filled our plates as hubby, Jake, carved the bird
I gasped when I saw a bag of something on the platter
Mary Ann shrieked in laughter and shouted, "My word!!"
I had no clue it was in there. I became the Mad Hatter.
To the kitchen I retreated to ready the apple crumble
A laxative added to Mary Ann's to give her the poops
After dinner she dashed and crashed in a nasty tumble
I smiled with satisfaction and simply exclaimed, "OOPS."
she is an exquisite dinner
awakens taste with beguiling smiles
a platter of kindness
wrapped in delicate crepes
lips that promise
a selection of wines
set for any course you so desire
a delicate glass never empty
a macedoine salad
stolen from the garden
of some goddess
a bewitching soup
dipped from a cauldron
enchantment in every spoon
that reaches the palate
fruits that have come from far
and forbidden shores
an intoxicating sweetness that consumes
all of the senses
and finally the piece de resistance
what drove Greek sculptors to stone
she is sitting across the table
OKC 06/22
You are far away now
Off in fields of gold
Dappled with evenings hot velvety light
90 degrees of separation has dulled the sword
eased the pain
The grasshoppers chirp in unison to your labors but they no longer ache in your solar plexus
Nor mine
What sweet sorrow is loss and gain
I now walk down the very paths I have always so longed for
the dark rich peat paths of happiness
contentment oozes from these fingertips as I write and I wonder if happiness is poetry
Or does it preclude it all together
The night sky fills with stars
The stars fill with fire flies that burst out of them like infinitesimal lightning bolts
jettisoned to my soul
he and I chase storms on decks swirled in smoke
We banter and bay at one another
you are in a field of gold somewhere
or beside
a river bed
The smell of the wet earth of shore beneath you reaches me… but momentarily
dismissed as the ash of the bonfire of a week ago fire or the grill of last night’s
unbelievably tasty ribs he concocted from air for me and me alone
but then we shared with so many
dinners
Lingers on my lip tips…the bottom edge
I kiss him and mean it with all I am
A being
a re-being
Super beings are we
all
and our colors wash
upon the canvas of my life
melding into one great magnificent us
Spectacular are we
the creatures who so love life
we give our only begotten selves to each other
and never ever forsake
us
We sat in the fallout
of last year’s gift exchange—
smashed angel centerpiece
taped back together
as good as a rogue bomb
if someone mentioned it.
Our voices dragged
like anchors through an ocean—
low, cold, summoning something
older than Kris Kringle.
I strained to recall
a time when it wasn’t like this.
The kitchen table—
a battleship, whipped tension
and potatoes. Dad’s knife slipped
once, then twice. Mammaw clutched
her rosary, counting sins like beads
of gravy on the drop-cloth. The whiskey
isn’t worth your soul, she whispered.
Our air was burned sugar—
a water pie, depression-era relic
left too long in the oven.
As they say, it’s the ingredients you have
that bake the cake.
Mom whispered, Let’s just get through it.
The corners of her mouth disappeared—
I knew better.
When my sister reached for a biscuit,
I grabbed her wrist—too hard.
Mine, I hissed. The room turned
quiet, the kind of silence snow wears
before an avalanche.
By sunset,
half of us were crying—
over the ruined pie,
or the family tree
we couldn’t stop cutting down.
When I reimagine it—
and I always do—
I don’t erase or the snowfall
or the tension.
Instead, I break the bread
without a flinch,
leave my sister’s wrist unmarked.
Dad’s carving hand steadies,
and in my version,
we get grandma drunk—
the old broad needed to lighten up.
The angel still shatters—
but this time we laugh,
our elbows knocking it over
reaching for seconds.
In the end, we huddle closer,
ash still falling, we celebrate
cold on the other side of the door.
Our hands stay sticky, glue healing
the angel’s cracked wings,
sugar crystallizing our fingerprints—
we press lightly, only to test for doneness,
we are patient,
we watch as snow smothers our wreckage—
call it DNA, an elegy.
A Christmas dinner that can’t be beat
Here is the menu of what we’ll eat
Mashed potatoes whipped smooth and fluffy
Green bean casserole; nice and crunchy
Pickles and olives on a perfect relish tray
Cranberry delight that’s been chilling all day
Sweet potatoes such tasty treats
Hot rolls steaming both white and wheat
Homemade honey butter and strawberry jam
A gorgeous honey glazed Christmas ham
Turkey and noodles are piping hot
A fuzzy naval salad; I almost forgot
A slow roasted turkey golden brown
And broccoli rice casserole; pass it around
For dessert we’ve a variety of tasty treats
Tons of scrumptious goodies to eat
Chocolate chip cookies and brownies so sweet
Four kinds of pies including minced meat
It’s all there so fill up your plate
I’m getting mine, I can hardly wait
(After Langston Hughes)
I hadn’t known
my infertility was their problem;
The adult table contracts
from a toddler’s wide wobble
while over a gavel — I mean,
a rattle — and in between
chip resistant plates
advice is served, lukewarm.
“You’re trying too hard,”
says the pregnant one
who glows like a dim nightlight.
Another nurses as though
she was the one feeding off the babe
and why, why couldn’t the loud
suckling swallow her oblivious
“I get pregnant if he just looks at me.
I couldn’t even imagine
being barren.” A girl’s head gilds
jeaned thighs with the sweet
piercing of curls, but the mother sighs
“Go on, now" and to me quips
“I should just give you
one of mine.” Then the cake is lit,
another year has passed
away. Happy Birthday
to you and you and you —
It hollows me from the outside
in. Tonight soundlessly breaks.
The tot eyes the trick candle,
makes a wish. Wait and
wait and wait and...
Cuter than a June bug was Blossom
Bubba's hound had a nose for possum
Bush moved and they watched it shake
Not a possum, dadgum snake
Bubba took aim, results were awesome
Tweren’t the end of Blossom’s era
Sucked out venom; used Aloe Vera
Dinner was finger lickin’
Snake tasted just like chicken
Felt like a Redneck Riviera
*Entry for John Freeman’s limerick contest
Dripping doorsteps or bubble and squeak
I ate so much I couldn't speak
Apple pie and clotted cream
Used to make my taste buds scream.
Home made parkin or treacle toffee
Steaming mugs of dads camp coffee
Corned beef hash or dumplings and stew
Onion gravy with a Yorkshire pudding or two.
Roast beef sarnies covered with mustard
Sherry trifle with banana custard
Hot steak pie and mushy peas
Cauliflower and melted cheese .
Lemon curd tart or angel cake
The sausage rolls my mum would make
The massive helpings on my plate
Turned me into a heavy weight.
My mother thought it a wonderful sight
To see a child with a healthy appetite
After years of dieting I'm now much thinner
Though I must admit I want my dinner.
An article about a dung beetle
Says they devour matter that’s faecal
Imagine eating pooh
It’s what dung beetles do
The fetor of their breath must be lethal!
08-19-17
Dinner at eight
Winter soup and roast
both ready
A candle lit
table for two
An empty vase
without any flowers
My welcome carpet
awaiting you
Slow cooked mulled wine
fills the hallway
with an aromatic scent
of cinnamon and spice
The fire's embers glowing
a sparkle in my eyes.
Clothes, all the best I tried
Wanting to be perfect
when he gets by my side.
Needing to impress
I put on my make up
a sweetened perfume
and a strapless red dress.
I let my hair cascade
whilst thinking of my date
wondering if one can fall in young love
again
Am i not too old?
isn't it too late?
I walked down the stairs
and dimmed the light
Put on some soft jazzy music
and waited the night
Ready since four
Showered and shaved
Splashed on some Acqua Di Gio
Freshly pressed pants
Midnight blue polo shirt
Listening to some love songs
practicing my best dance moves
singing along
why does waiting take so long?
Thinking about tonight
My heart beats stronger
What will I say?
Will we embrace?
Will you ask me to stay?
Eight o'clock sharp
I walk up to your door
palms sweaty
throat dry
holding my breath
and a single red rose
slowly the door opens
our eyes meet
you smile
inviting me in
Hey babe, how ya doin, how ya been? It's me, c'mon invite me in!
Say, nice place, where's the kitchen, what drawer are the knives in?!
Nice couch, does it fold out? Nice dog, what's his name? Does he fetch?
Play dead?
Burnt one, ate one, used the other as a table to operate on while the meat dripped from her ribs.
KNOCK KNOCK
Hey babe, it's your parents, let's invite them in!
Look boy! She pissed the carpet!
Good evening sir, Who am I? Why I'm Mike, your daughters inside, knees pulled to her chin!
Can I offer you a plate? It's hospitality with a side of your child's jelly-
Afterwards we'll have the desert thats long been cooking inside your wife's belly.
A wild gobbler strutted into the woods,
it did not see all the camouflage hoods,
straight into a turkey shoot;
trips over a gnarly root,
with ruffle feathers made off with its goods.
11/17/2019
Poetry Contest: Holiday Themed Limerick
Sponsored By: Tania Kitchin
Fork in the road
Knife in the heart
No one to spoon feed you
I missed the meals mama used to cook
Her recipes were not in the cookery book
Mama was just more of a kitchen queen
She's the best cook we have ever seen
Mama's Fufu with Chicken soup was my best
The manner she cooked it was better than the rest
Her meals always nourished the spirit
As they filled the stomach every minute
After school she served us with spaghetti
Mama's garnish as elegant as bugatti
She'll serve with eggs and some salad dressing
It was a special kind of love, very impressing
Oh my gosh! Her meals saved me countless times
I cannot really explain that in poetic lines
Family dinner was a time of joy and conversation
A time of fellowship, laughter and celebrations
She sprinkled all her meals with goodness
And carefully spooned cinnamon for sweetness
Making dessert, bread and cakes for birthdays
Chicken sauce and pineapple drinks on holidays
Never was there a meal like her morning prayers
She'll spend early hours of her days in prayers
Her heart was full of love, peace and joy
She was our lamp, like a light in the city of Troy