Best Lunching Poems
When Dad passed I moved home with Mom,
We were roommates at first;
Shopping, lunching, gardening, it was fun,
There were some signs that began, slowly.
A small forgetfulness,
One day, Mom said I cannot write my name;
So, I did the banking,
Soon I was doing all the groceries.
The housework, the cooking, I did it all,
Mom needed full time care;
She was sick and stayed mostly in her bed,
I became the Mom, the daughter gone.
My own life put on hold,
I was her everything and this adult said;
When all hope was gone,
Oh turn off the life support please, please.
_______________________
April 21, 2015
Poetry/Verse/ Oh, Turn It Off
Copyright Protected, ID 04-665-861-21
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest Screwed III
sponsor, Rob Carmack, Judged
Seventh Place
______________________________________
Written for the contest, The True Meaning Of Being An Adult,
sponsor, FJ Thomas, HM, 05/2015
Categories:
lunching, death, mother daughter, sick,
Form:
Verse
She's thirty-three, single,
her Mom babysits her
five year old son.
She reassures herself it's
just two more hours,
then it's the blessed weekend.
Which means delicious sleep.
She has no nest egg,
she's just getting by.
There is one kind aging matron
who makes her lunch when she
cleans her large stately home.
Yet, other well-to-do homeowners
cast their false superiority heavy
in the air as she imagines wiping
off their smug faces with Pledge.
She hums to a catchy pop tune
while scrubbing toilets and
spraying down whirlpool bathtubs
as her muscles ache,
wishing she could soak in one.
Maid for the ungrateful,
she smiles remembering her
First Holy Communion,
her snow-white lacy veil,
with her rosary of pearlescent
ivory beads.
Then, a memory of
teenage politics of high school
with random daydreams like
impromptu snapshots.
Her lips and throat dry from
those wretched aerosol sprays,
always forgetting her face mask.
A few sips of tepid Gatorade,
as she softly prays her son will
excel in school.
Her learning disabilities held
her back despite her gift of
intelligence.
This day's cleaning was at the
home of a lawyer's snooty wife,
who was lunching with friends
after klutzy attempts at tennis
at the country club.
Maid for the ungrateful,
can hardly wait to get home
to soak her worn feet with
warm water and Epsom salt
in a porcelain basin. ~
Categories:
lunching, 6th grade, 7th grade,
Form:
Free verse
Jingle jingle jingle jingle
Mac succulent and simple
Hamburgers, Cheeseburgers
Chicken & fries
Ice-creams ,desserts
long coffee with ice
We have tutti fruties
to suit your sweet toothies
Thick milkshakes
fresh juices and smoothies
We shake every wish
with salads and fish
We offer hot wraps
from our Donalds hats
Oh, Forget 'bout the rest
In beef pounds invest
Cuz uncle Ro Ronald knows best.
Jingle jingle jingle jingle
Mac succulent and simple
Jingle Jingle Jingle...
Parapapa, I 'm lunching it !!!
Offer of the day -One pound mac beefy burger
and another free pound ( to carry you home : )
Just a commercial poem...
Not for the commercial contest , but thanks for the inspiration L.M
Categories:
lunching, drink, food,
Form:
Light Verse
'Our Mother'
Our Mother - a sophisticated lady
Always destined for the top
You'd never see her walk on by
A top designer shop
So impeccably presented;
Amazing handbag, clothes and shoe
Even perfume richly scented
Numbered bottle gives the clue
Never more elegant a lady
Than the stylish Mrs Mannell
Surely can't be just co-incidence
That her name rhymes with Chanel?
For pleasure; Mum rode her horses
Liked playing hard and drinking gin
Slip in friends and glass of champers
And her heart you'd surely win
Of her job she could wax lyrical
And of work being her miracle
A workaholic one might say
Toiled every cent of hard earned pay
Mum frequented finest restaurants
If dined with Margaret you would discern
Whether lunching at the Ivy
Or in Paris, of course; Jules Verne
Mum once painted chairs and pottery
And boiled up fudge to taste
She made luscious chocolate mousse those days
And yoga trimmed her waist
Mum sketched and drew with creative flare
Gave her loving cats amazing care
She sung out loud never just a hum
Then taught me to be a Mum
We all knew different parts of Mum
But between us we all know
Her strength could be a barrier
"Dahhling, don't let feelings show"
No matter what we all admire in her
With love and pride we glow
At the sea of people facing her
Must not let tear drops flow
A formidable woman Margaret
Or as Peggi to many friends
Just 'Mum' to my sister and I
And where this poem almost ends
She was Grandma Peg to four granddaughters
And now a great grand-son
Who knew she stayed and fought
To become a great grand mum
So to the 'bar', let's go raise glasses
For this tough old bird please grin
She'd hate to see sad faces
No tears while drinking gin
'Our mother'
For Margaret Mannell's funeral
By Victoria Payne
Categories:
lunching, death, funeral, mother, mother
Form:
Rhyme
Little Lucy Lancelot lunching on an apricot,
Looking like a lovely London lady.
Bully Billy Ballantine wants to be her valentine,
But Lucy loves the goodly Graham Grady.
Categories:
lunching, children, love, people,
Form:
Alliteration
I call it a good bathroom routine
relief spent from poop’s wriggler,
now, awful gas gets meaner
on this café’s john for fresh butt clean.
While meeting clients, lunching and all
a toilet- rush far from home,
I dump and reach for side chrome
no tissue left, my hands in trouble!
©
For PD’s Pooping Contest
By nette onclaud
Categories:
lunching, funny, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Legendary lovers lay low,
Lurking longingly like lorikeets,
Languishing beneath a clump of larches,
Lena flirting with Leander
Lunching on lotus flowers,
Lost bearings to all.
Liquored up into a dual lullaby
Listening to a lay from Lake Lethe,
Eyes lit in lambent love.
Luck lifted their luminousness.
Greek Lord livid at their love
Lashed lightning
And locked them both out
Love flickered into oblivion.
Placed 1
11 December 2020
Alliteration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Categories:
lunching, lost love,
Form:
Alliteration
grey and worn
the lawn chair has dead leaves stuck to it
its one bent arm an expression of pained indifference
mud clings to its feet
and a single vine like a thin snake
wraps its way across its frame seeking the sun
i pull at it to set the chair right
to seat myself
and suck at the breeze from the open field
marvel that a cow stands not five feet away
silently watching my every move with a wary eye
lunching on the grass and weed
but the chair now uprooted from its long held position
seems more than ever a proclamation
of mans intent to be seated here on heavens lawn
clear illustration of the intent that you are supposed to
take this bent greasy seat
sit at your leasuire
in the bountiful sunshine
it is one of a dozen in the field
in this beautiful slice of heaven
the lawn chairs
litter the field like broken teeth
set in a line that wanders across the wilderness growth
each having suffered from years standing in the open field
two almost completely consumed by bushes
one had been tossed into the tree
where time had swallowed it into the bark
this broken and brutalized fence of chairs
these lawn chairs of heaven's field
sit in this beautiful place some would say eyesore
i say artwork of life's randomness...
what party of fools once sat here
dressed no doubt for the occasion
perhaps celebrating
perhaps mourning
then got up from these plastic seats
and left them behind as testament
to that forgotten day...
so i sit in heavens lawn chair
a mute salutation to my unknown compatriots
who painted this pastoral scene
of plastic in a field
Categories:
lunching, bereavement, betrayal, eulogy, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
*VIDEO of San Francisco by Scott McKenzie, Cheers to Tony Bennett.
City of Hearts and Home by the Bay
Day star's mist yields to its grip of a bridge,
Span steel strands, harp-like, golden tags a smidge,
Light drapes the streetcars, up and down the hills,
Chimes, mass speeches, music, and painted stills,
Juggling pantomimes, street fair atmosphere,
Haight and Ashbury crossing yesteryear,
Fisherman's Wharf nearby Pier 39,
Seafood platters and fine dining with wine,
Downtown Union Square, lunching alfresco,
Market Street, Tiffany's, a Broadway show,
San Franciscans, whenever we're in Rome,
Ideal for some, but we call this home.
2022 December 31
*2nd Place*
Take Me There
~~Margarita Lillico: Judged 2023 January 21
*RZ & HMS.
Categories:
lunching, america, appreciation, beautiful, imagery,
Form:
Rhyme
O Sheer Marvel is my Cappuccino
With Him, only joys and laughs do I know
Like an intrepid lover, He calms
All my anxieties and stress, Oh He charms!
A drink in the morning,
One in the hour of lunching
Another after the act of dining
My Cappuccino is addicting!
Proud like a handsome Italian;
In my cup, He becomes Bohemian
One sip and to chill and relax only is my state
Even if for work or prayers I get late!
Delightful Drink, Caring for my stand
Thankful I am to have in my life your hand!
Categories:
lunching, food,
Form:
Sonnet
He was tall and handsome in his suit,
Blond hair and blue eyes deep and soulful
She wore a long cotton dress with frills, pastel coloured,
Her hair was dark brunette and cascaded over her shoulders,
They met at church, a beautiful old-fashioned building,
Sundays you could hear the church bells ringing,
She was a Sunday school teacher,
They met while lunching at the church social,
He and she shared many conversations,
The Sunday church picnic was their favorite rendezvous,
The congregation guested,
Foods were deliciously prepared,
Each person brought a food of excellence,
Deliciously baked bread and scones,
Salads carefully prepared,
Pies and cakes fresh from the bakery,
Tea and refreshments,
They sipped their tea simultaneously,
To them it seemed like they were the only two there,
After the church service, he walked her home,
When they reached her parents' house,
He drew her near to him looked into her eyes and proposed marriage,
She gazed lovingly back at him and consented,
They married in the traditional old-fashioned church with all their relatives there,
She wore a beautiful gown of white and he wore a handsome suit,
God's miracle and blessing to them.
Author: Gwen Meyer-Erlach Schutz
Categories:
lunching, romancebeautiful, beautiful, hair,
Form:
Free verse
I like the feel of the sand between my toes,
A distant walk along the seashore.
Shells linning the beach,
All different shapes, sizes and textures.
The sand sifting through my fingers and hands,
Fine and granulated, meticulous and godly.
Boats cruising on the Florida waters,
Walks to the marina on a beautiful winter's day.
Lunching at the exquisite dinning hall,
With caring and loving relatives.
Fashions stylish and beautiful,
Boutiques to browse and see a repertoire of Florida memories.
Shells collected, memories for years to come,
Perfect figures and sculptures from God's kingdom.
Author; Gwen Meyer-Erlach Schutz
Categories:
lunching, holiday,
Form:
Free verse
The squirrels always ate the seed
I’d used to fill the feeder.
They’d shimmy up the pole to follow
One brave soul, the leader.
Whenever I glanced out and saw
A squirrel up there munching,
I’d step outside and stomp my feet,
Which stopped unwelcome lunching.
But in a minute, they’d be back,
With cunning and with daring.
My foot stomps and some yelling
Didn’t seem to do much scaring.
Yet at my son’s today I felt
Like I had won a raffle.
The birds were at the feeder
‘Neath which hung a brand-new baffle.
The squirrels searched the ground below
In hopes of cast-off smidgens,
As baffled by the baffle as
Their world would be to pigeons.
Categories:
lunching, bird,
Form:
Rhyme
What if the moon was made of cheese,
And astronauts were mice?
They'd eat their way through Danish Blue,
And Colby by the slice.
They'd place it on their crackers.
They'd spread it on their bread.
They'd grate it on spaghetti.
They'd eat it in their bed!
If the moon was made of cheese,
And astronauts were mice,
They still would have to do their work,
Perfect and precise.
The scientists at NASA
Would really like to know
If there is water on the moon,
Or maybe ice, or snow.
If the moon was made of cheese,
And astronauts were mice,
Every time that NASA called,
They'd let the phone ring twice.
They'd sit there in the spaceship.
On cheddar they'd be lunching,
While scientists at NASA hear
A lot of heavy munching.
If the moon was made of cheese,
And astronauts were mice,
We'd have to give the NASA boys
Some fatherly advice:
"Bring those little astronauts
Back before the dawn,
Or you may look outside to see
The moon is almost gone!"
Categories:
lunching, children, funny, moon,
Form:
Rhyme
Off Season in Gallipoli
April’s bus from Lecce unloads
at the fabled fish market. It’s closed.
The only hint of June’s full fare
is one slight stall. No one lunching there.
The streets are open; we stroll at will
by a weathered or a white-washed wall.
Look at the moored boats. The slips are full.
No one paints or mends a sail.
Not one child with shovel and pail
works the beach. One man and his bull
dog play a game of pitch and fetch.
Cameras out; this is the daily catch!
The mercato. Shop? No dice!
but its facilities have no line,
leaving time to lick Italian ice
or to enjoy the local wine
and for the uncluttered spell to weave
until it’s time to leave.
Categories:
lunching, beach, image, seasons,
Form:
Rhyme