Best Feasting Poems
I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes.
William Butler Yeats
Notions had gathered inside my head;
a wanderlust that refused to be denied.
Within my mind, the need of love was bred,
burned in tongues of fire that torched a hole
inside my heart and seared my soul.
I sought the finest wine from the valley floor,
to sate my thirst when he'd stand at my side.
I climbed heathered hills; crossing streams
Down twisting paths I ambled, taking wrong turns
until I found the enchanting vision in my dreams,
and feasted on the fruit of my heart's desire.
But too soon he slipped from my arms.
Left behind were his vespers in passion's embers,
and fading echoes of his whispered words.
Time rushed through years like sifting sand
but the fire he kindled has not died.
I remember the gentle touch of his hand,
and sweet moments of devotion we stole.
Now, with feeble steps I remain in pursuit
of memories we made long ago in the valley.
I hear his voice in the wind, and I cannot refute
that love's flame still burns within my soul.
An interpretation of ''The Song of Wandering Aengus,"
by William Butler Yeats.
Several sirens singing on the shore
Called Calypso’s crew for them to adore.
Willing witless wanderers;
Oblivious obeyers,
Which waves washed through a rocky tidal bore.
Svelte sisters sieved the sailor’s gore
That the salty surging sea cast ashore.
Boiling briny blunderers
With olive oil and oysters
And feasting until they could eat no more.
/
/
x x x x x x x x x x
x x x x
x Autumn leaves flow past my window x
x Colored leaves flit past my aching heart x
X As long as you are away, love, my sorrow x
x Does not depart, deep within my soul I long- x
x There's an emptiness that can't be filled so x
x do not even begin to start to try to con- x
x sole, only tears like leaves will drop x
x my only consolation is for your return x
x Holy Spirit once more fill my heart x
x use me like the decomposition of x
x the redbud leaf, or the maple x
x mulch, that enriches the earth x
x feeding the tree for next x
x year's beauty for man x
x kind's feasting of x
x of his heart x
x or his soul X
x x x
Micro-Feasting
by Odin Roark
To propagate the dung heap of ignorance,
Is to place on low simmer
A main course of illiteracy.
How festive the chefs of mental starvation
Make the tables of 140-character-feasting,
Luring the gullible
Along with the lazy,
The doltish
And the lost,
To gorge, then purge,
Then ignore the noxious vapor
Of sentience becoming residue waste.
So stirs this caldron of abbreviated ingredients,
Stifling taste buds for savoring delectable elocution,
Reducing vocabulary to bulimic shorthand
And expecting all to join this achromatic work-around.
Hopefully, the language of full syllabic enunciation
Will return with a vengeance,
Sending expression’s drive-by expediency
Into its all too deserving exile.
Consideration pauses in the distance.
One can hear the echoes of dismay,
“Does this mean we’re expected to read…
AGAIN?
Yummy old "Nathan's" hot dogs
Just the dogs and buns
Good dogs snap when you bite them
So dip in water
Before you shove down
Vomit, you
Lose!
MAKE THEM DAYS OF FEASTING AND GLADNESS - Book of Esther 9:22
Today we celebrate,
History comes alive.
Purim arrives this month,
All people shall thrive.
Feasting and gladness,
The order of the day.
History shouts the story,
We live to laugh and pray.
We are tired of kings and leaders,
Who promise all the world.
But become tyrants,
When the banner is unfurled.
The walled city has come down,
The trumpet sound was heard.
God led Joshua,
He followed God's Holy Word.
Why is it throughout the years,
Evil men rise to power.
"Destroy this race", they say,
It will be our finest hour.
Esther faced the king,
Revealed his horrid plan.
The monarch suffered humility,
From Pur the humble man.
We remember Adolf Hitler,
Joseph Stalin and such.
The same godless deeds,
Soon they were out of touch.
Celebrate the season,
Give gifts and love your friends.
These are God's Chosen People,
We support them to the end.
RAYMOND V. MORGAN
Today’s poem is a juicy pork chop
The next one that skates by is a foppish cod fish
Each delicacy and dessert separate in their own way
Living their own truths.
Yesterday’s poems were chocked with
Faeries and dainty crisp white daisies
I have less control of this than of myself
They prance to their own harps
All I know is if I do not capture it
When it flits by in its gliding pretty pattern
it has no motivation to return.
I have yet to retrieve a wild missive
Which I neglected to pay attention to yesterday
i found a new life to lord over
musket dust filled my void
i looked upon the cliffs of Dover
and hoped Victoria didn't want my head to role
enter,exit,into the outer limit's
you are my corperation
and i am your gimmick
stop eating your fastfood inclination
stop stareing at your fast fooding
fast forward your greasy word's
food cannot cover over your brooding
your obese nature is too easily shared
FEASTING
We feast on many occasions
And are happy to celebrate
Weddings and birthdays remember,
And others that fall on some date.
At Christmas and Easter we indulge
With feasts and picnics galore.
Anzac's a day of remembrance
Of the war on Gallipoli's shore.
If we could create another day
And give to the world access
We'd be inviting all to feast
At a banquet of happiness.
Imagine what would happen
If no anger or frowns in sight,
The effect would be dramatic
If we had such an appetite.
There'd be no feasting restrictions
From this banquet of happiness.
You can smile laugh and enjoy
A day you'll remember and bless.
A banquet like this could spread
Like a virus so hard to remove,
If feasting for more than one day
The world would surely improve.
So cheer up, choose to be happy
Come to this banquet that's free.
A smile speaks in all languages,
Try it and you'll be a devotee.
Copyright © Vivien Wade April 2017
The poesy of chef's soup du jour,
peppered in a skillfully delectable
pauperized simmer
or sublimely enriched dish of
ultimate truffle butter grandeur,
either method is subtly rendered mid
tastefully tendered aromatic
proffers of broken bread,
farther delectable poetry's bouquet
We have hungerly kissed
lovely, lifeless corpses
when eating plants and animals,
which daily nourish our bodies.
But do we pay our proper respects
to those dearly departed food sources?
Are we grateful for their slaughter?
Do we understand their sacrifices?
Native Americans, after successful hunts,
in seeking ecological peace and harmony,
thanked the deceased animals for gifts of their lives
so that the hunters’ families could go on living.
Today, we complain about lunch breaks too short
and drive-through waits that seem too long.
We grumble, but we do not raise livestock, or fish, or hunt,
or sow, or reap, or gather grain into barns for baking buns.
Although flavor and fast delivery are desired,
who yearns to kiss insipid, lukewarm burgers?
Who experiences ecstasy in eating
greasy, unhealthy food in a car alone?
In contrast, heaven is described as a fabulous feast,
that is nutritious and infinitely sustainable,
a messianic banquet where prophesied
“righteousness and peace will kiss each other.”
All those invited who will come are seated as guests
in loving, intimate community together.
The everlasting supper, served by the Heavenly Host,
will provide even more than divine desserts,
more than bread and wine with mere remembrance,
but divine presence in-the-flesh with us forever.
People will be filled, not just with luscious food,
but also with joy, everlasting joy.
And we’ll be perpetually grateful
for the loving sacrifice by the Lamb.
First published in I Will Set a Place for You (Solid Food Press, 2024) 63-64.
Old man in despair hiding amongst the shadows alone
Body drowning into the depressed fragile armchair
Connection lost as old man faces despair of the end
Old man’s brave face weeps a expression of a smile
Cancerous venom attacking the fragile old man
Old man not of old age but the venom feasting him alive
By Michael J Falotico
Our bed is like the ocean..
Waves of passion cover our sanction..
I sway through the sheets like a hungry shark..
Searching for a meal or your sweet love in the dark..
A night of feasting on our prey, till the morning of a new day..
I could feel fond eyes on me
While eating my Caesar Salad hungrily
God was standing beside me
He sat to the nearest seat
I didn’t move away, like some people would
We were feasting and talking
He whispered mildly to me:
“Are you willing to feast with me, my dear friend?”
I nodded promptly and beamed
Though He appeared suddenly,
He knew my every thought and eyed me lightly
He knew I prized His presence
He asked me with a mild tone:
“Are you equipped for your first task, my dear child?”
I nodded in high spirits
He placed His hand on my head
I didn’t shutter—I felt comfortable
He somehow lifted up my joy
I could feel His eyes on me
While thinking about His visit eagerly
Shall I feast with Him again?
Buyer Beware
David J Walker
The Earth is our patient host
And we are the guests
Feasting freely in a full pantry
Steeling the linen
Calling our neighbors invaders
Demanding justice to fortify our
Positions and satisfy our ambitions
Enforcing the bowing and kneeling
But buyer beware
Earth has its own practice
Of healing