Best Glutton Poems
I'm a glutton for your poetry
I feast on every line
Indulging my deep desire
for rhyming treats so fine
I'm a glutton for your poetry
control is not in sight
consuming every crumb
I sate my appetite
I'm a glutton for your poetry
Ravenous to have my fill
line after line devoured
lick my lips at the thrill
I'm a glutton for your poetry
with you there's no restraint
let my edacity rule
Feed me without constraint!
I'm a glutton for your poetry!
Eileen Manassian
bits? crumbs? dregs?
smoothed-over leftovers?
No, thank you
I've had enough.
5/14/2019
There’s a drumstick in the refrigerator and it’s calling out my name,
There’s some biscuits and gravy next to it and they are doing just the same.
How do they know me and what is it that they want me to do?
Do they really think that I can devour them any better than you?
Have my talents at culinary consumption reached such a peak,
That the food now requests some quality time nestled in my cheek?
With prestidigitation the food will disappear from my plate,
By slight of hand I’ll fill my mouth and then I’ll masticate.
I'm the best one to contact when there’s food around to swallow?
I don’t want to brag but I’ve never left the table feeling hollow.
Come to me you leftover foods allow me to fill your destiny,
For I alone can make you happy while you digest in me.
Do not stretch out your hand for everything you see
For evil is the eye that makes your tongue seek
A delicious, diverse platter better left untouched
To allow you peaceful slumber and a tummy unclutched.
Let not your tongue hang out for the tasty display
And have you elbowing diners out of the way
For a little bit of honey is enough to nourish the soul
Than have you sleepless and vomiting the consumed bowl.
Look at all that food, says the glutton to himself
As he serves the variety on the large dish spread
Doesn’t the glutton know that wakefulness over food
Would do him greater harm than the food consumed?
For nobody is fond of the greedy man’s eye
Nor do they long for the tongue that cries
For the platter of delicacies laid for a king
Unless he is mindful, women will take wings.
Ye who walks the heavens and earth
his sayings are about come to pass in me:
I love thee more…, or should I in a more approved manner say,
I love thee quite close to myself
Maybe far too close for solace, but I love thee so good,
good as curried goat and white rice cooked in coconut milk
I love thee so good, as good as sex with a clean woman
Misery from my present flee
because thou art my rejoicing
My hands brought forth the things inside,
possessions thou gavest me
I love thee quite close to myself
Maybe far too close for solace, but I love thee so sweet,
sweet as sugar cane
I love thee so sweet, sweet as honey mango
Like blue drawers and peanut porridge I love thee
Save your energy...
I've found my center a place to sit amongst the absent.
My mother-my best thought; says she made this all just for us.
Love your enemy...
My father killed my dog-my best friend, lost.
My father killed him then disinfected both hands in our kitchen sink.
A place to sit-to insist the other exists.
Consistently I forget my missing leg; perhaps with the proper measurements
I could fashion myself an adequate replacement...
Save your energy...
My mothe stood by-my father knows whats best for me.
He says he made it all up for us-that'd we'd better make it up to Him.
Love your enemy...
My mommy is secretly my most cherished memory.
I've found my center.
I dismiss those cornering me, gladly
burning down my home in the name of the one re-assuring me.
Save your energy...
I hate myself and everyone else.
I love speaking about myself; yes, I'm even a master at slaving myself. I service the help-first I self service myself heaping portions of self help. I hate myself and anybody else discussing my health. Accomplishments? Laundry lists!
I took a bite, I bit with all my might.
But I knew I had bitten off, a bit more
than I could gnaw, more than I could just ignore.
With gob stuffed stupid in gluttonous binge,
I suddenly knew, I was in over my head.
Something had to give.
Find my glutton for this rap button to come sneaking up on em/
I’m pretty good at running so let me run it up on em/
Time for me to gain traction with these tracks slung/
Alive more than I ever been in action go figure/
Never still with my stature my line’s never flat sir/
Hearts even more on beat than I need give it to her/
A crib for the burr or heat to surge the birds on my wire
I ribbed the instrument or sound heard words on fire
It started with candy corn
on Hallows eve when I was ten,
as dad escorted us from house to house
on that windy night.
Sadistic pleasure was mine,
as I bit the tiny white tips
from each piece and threw the rest away,
while marching to the next house.
Such destructive pleasure changed the way I ate
from that night forward.
No longer did I eat with polite accord
or cater to normal desire.
Food was heretofore decimated by fork and knife,
cut to pieces and consumed
with vengeance by anger
and growing desire for more.
Formative years turned into teen angst
that only increased the distance
between myself and the world,
with uncontrolled craving and binge.
Everywhere I now look, I see food.
Food on magazine covers,
in commercials on TV,
even a food network
Supporting my lifestyle
of decadence
and gourmandian appreciation
of sauces and desserts.
I understand your envy,
acknowledge your disappointment
of failure, while I excel
and try not to flaunt my excitement.
Just because my weight exceeds
what my scale measures,
doesn't mean I have to modify
the way I live.
No. Life only goes around once,
and for me,
it's a paragon of pleasure,
at least four times each day.
But every year at Halloween,
I support the neighborhood
and give kids candy corn
minus the tiny white tips.
A glutton I say
that's what I am
I drink the milk
fat of the land
and more I crave
each morning, day
Nothing enough
no price I won't pay
I drink the milk
and swallow my shame
A glutton I say
a beast untamed
Stomach is tagged with an oversized brand
sipping a heap of food like glass of coke
eats all on plate even rice mixed with sand
eyes, instincts and appetite face the poke
hungry or not, it is meal perversion
eating as great longing exhibits rage
obesity’s client of perfection
even if not yet at the defined stage
wet teeth always sharper than any rake
if the food was living, it’ll feel abused
the stomach quickly empties and breaks
so that the next meal cannot be refused
after an eat, the plate served need no rinse
to eaters of quantity, he’s their prince.
Michigan’s pet, like European’s glutton, a fleshy meat eater
Baby loves to bake
All day pot roasts
Breads and cake
What a tummy ache.
I am part werewolf part vampire
My vice is gluttony; I love to overeat
My werewolf side devours beef in a sloppy messy way
My vampire side does not want it fully cooked
I have an advantage over others
People cringe when I show my carnivore tendencies
Fearing my gnashing happy teeth
Some scream and run off; I love that!
I keep a storehouse of foods ready to eat.
Beef, chicken, steak, sausage, and other meats.
They are my go-to choices.
But I would not kick a great baked potato off my menu.
What about desserts you ask?
Werewolf likes moon pies, but my vampire side needs something red.
Red Jell-o, strawberry shortcake, cherry cobbler.
It is fun being a combination glutton
Oh Santa ~
I've been telling you all year
to ease up of the
pies, cheesecake and cookies
But no ~
you had to have your way
and eat through mountains
of sweets and decadent desserts
You couldn't get enough ~
brownies, donuts, croissants
ice cream, gelato, sorbet
puddings, flans and custards
Now look at you ~
think about that
while you wait patiently
for the rescue team
You never listen !
AP: Honorable Mention 2025