Best Mealtimes Poems
You don’t even look back, as I stand here in the rain,
I can see your shoulders shake as you walk towards the train,
In-my-mind I see your mother, your walk, your hair the same,
But it’s you this time who’s leaving, will I see you again.
And even today as you walk away my mind is starting to fade,
I have to face the fact that that won’t change,
Even if you had stayed.
I remember when you took your first unsteady little step.
Tiny shoes that gave you freedom I never told you that I kept,
Your first time on the school bus or the dollhouse that you wrecked,
And all those times that you got hurt, I hugged you as you wept.
At mealtimes as you grew older I would ask you to say grace,
I remember when I taught you how to tie your lace,
When you told me of your first love, the glow upon your face,
Some past events I can remember, new memories I misplace.
But even today as you walk away these memories are starting to fade,
I know I’ll eventually lose them all,
Even if you had stayed.
You’ve been leaving me, little by little, I’ve known it for some time,
I didn’t want to tell you nor show any outward sign,
I didn’t want to see your pain, or you to witness mine,
I’d like to hold on to the memories, ’till I see you again.
So someday when you do return and come to visit me,
Will you look at me with tears in your eyes,
And ask, - Daddy can you remember me
Lavish mealtimes, Snicks would evade
She grew weak though paws jumped around
Clinging tighter, sweeter than dachsund licks;
Then... on fateful one noon, she simply heaved her last
Wink of dachshund eyes locked upon mine ,
The rain tears tapping, d r i f t i n g on my bosom --
Reveries of us brought raw pain, immeasurable joy
You, not a heartbeat far from my soul
That I rocked you where our herbal bush rested. Ever.
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All Dogs Go To Heaven Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France 8/19/2020
I don’t know about you but I think it right
That kids should eat at the table, most every night.
Sit down with mum, sit down with dad
For these are the best memories you’ll ever have.
There will come a time and it creeps up fast,
When past days are gone, for they never last
When you will wish those days were back
When there is something in your life, you will forever lack.
It had been tradition, it had always been
But today at mealtimes children are never seen
They sit with their takeaways on their lap
Whilst the video games will, their attention sap!
And these days parents are forced to compete
With mobiles phones as their offspring tweet
For conversation at mealtimes may well be lost
And the lack of table manners will be the cost!!
In this day of widespread obesity
THE TALE OF TOM
no!
but why?
he was kind
and so thoughtful
didn’t strut around
like so many I know
all the little ones loved him
i must say though he was so fat
he should have watched himself at mealtimes
just see how he overlaps the platter
Armitage Pod
Armitage Pod was a ‘cuddly’ cat
Who insisted on sleeping in the old bowler hat
His amplage cascaded right over the brim
Forming a blubble all around him.
He was big, he was bold and as fit as a flea,
That’s not what he looked like between you and me.
He appeared to the world as a tad overweight,
A description AP would most definitely hate.
He believed he was dapper, shapely and grand,
However this puss had got way out of hand.
At mealtimes his portions seemed really quite small,
It was measly cat food he was served after all.
Open the door you insensitive beast,
I need to get round to the neighbours to feast!
They are having a roast I can smell it from here,
If you don’t let me out I will miss my next meal.
Then dear Mrs Smith lets me join her for supper,
A fine piece of fish with some fresh bread and butter.
That puny cat flap doesn’t work anymore
So just be a dear now and open the door.
He poured out of the bowler and spilled onto the floor,
An ungainly descent landing square on all fours,
His poor joints absorbing the brunt of the fall,
Shocks needed fitting to each of his paws.
Whilst trying to flee to the neighbours for dinner
He ran straight through a ghastly tray of cat litter.
You best not be thinking that I will use that!
My throne is outside, don’t you know I’m a cat.
I reign on high at the top of the gardens,
Your shocking faux pas I might possibly pardon.
Now be a good chap, let me be on my way,
There are pickings out there, far too many to say,
I didn’t become such a fine striking figure
By eating the food you dish up for my dinner.
It took quite some time for the horror to dawn
No way was this puss getting out on the lawn,
For the sake of his health, now confined to the house,
With no tasty morsels not even a mouse,
He sat in the corner very solemn and quiet,
Poor old AP had been put on a diet.
Working in a nursing home can be fun,
those darling old folks sure have me on the run,
like Mrs. Butt who says, I need to brush my boots,
or the nice old man, Huckerbee, who calls is salad roots.
Oh dear, my sciences are blocked cries Sadie,
she is sweet but her mind is just a little too scary,
at mealtimes she is always looking for salt for her tea,
she likes to wander up and down the halls following me.
It may be a pigment of my imagination,
but I am exhausted, must be time for vacation,
after I chase them down, I lay them down to sleep,
each dear soul safe under a pure white hospital sheet.
And as I turn off the light, a soul is praying,
blessed at thou, Frail Mory . . . .
________________________
June 27, 2013
Poetry/Rhyme/Hail Mary
Copyright Protected, ID 06-488-930-27
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Grandma is sleeping in her bed
one of her thin hands
lies on the quilt
with long, beautiful fingers
Her bed is in an empty room
nobody there
except a young lady from the past
with long, beautiful fingers
Grandma can't speak or sing
she can't even see a thing
still she has thin hands
with long, beautiful fingers
The young lady used to sing
she used to speak cheerfully
cook delicious food for mealtimes
with her long, beautiful fingers
Grandma is sleeping in her bed
her long, beautiful fingers on the quilt
out fly three white doves
not true beauties, just shadows
Will He Ever Sleep.
I sleep in William Thompson’s room,
he moans and gurgles in the gloom,
I’m often woken with a start
to the deafening thud of my own heart.
Like me, William worked away,
we’d nod in passing when he’d stay.
A man known for his thrifty chat,
alone at mealtimes, always sat.
An untouched breakfast at his chair,
no thumping work boots on the stair,
on holiday, perhaps he’d forgot
To inform the B&B, I thought.
I sleep in William Thompson’s bed,
he doesn’t realise he’s dead.
Five years hence he passed away
and still keeps coming back to stay.
09/12/2016
(Scare Me Good)
It’s magic at mealtimes the way she transforms;
the back legs defy all the physical norms.
She springs into action with vertical leaps;
there must be some kangaroo in there down deep.
She bounces like pogos have replaced her feet;
she’s getting that nose up to six feet or more.
A helium balloon can hardly compete;
I’m telling you, man, this pup really can soar!
Always later than I'd like, richness in their cells when ripe
Backberry with Apple pie delight, once to taste is not my style
I've also found them there, at times and whiles, and tasted also before
I'm home.' and now I've opened up the tome, the one on puddings; basin filled.'
Mullberry and plum, raspberry and kiwi, gooseberry and Logan
Make pages of colour, that one could dote on' But I'll admit and without
Duress, blackberries in August are the very best, their deep rich taste
Is always smooth, enhancing many mealtimes; theyre comfort imbued.'
The pot is on; the apples peeled, blackberries tender swiftly yeild
Aroma rich, perfumes the air; there are paintings of them on my spiral stair
All in all, I must profess they are a real forte; in culinary prowess.'
HIS WISH TO STOP ZEBRAS FISHING
Zebras you, Xavier, want very urgently to sit real quiet,
Pound over numberless marine liquid kilometers just in haste,
Going for every dogfish casually basking around.
(Reverse ABC )
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
ACROSTIC
How to stop them
Is the problem
So let's start to think . . .
Where are these zebras going
In such haste
Searching for
Hours and hours
Till the sun dips
Over the hill and
Sunset arrives?
They need fish
Or else their hunger
Pains will exceed those of any
Zebra, crocodile
Elephant, rhinoceros
Buffalo or dog,
Roaring with pains
All through their
Stomachs : so
For God’s sake
In the name of mealtimes
Suffer the little zebras,
However striped and horse-like,
In their passion for dogfish.
No doubt Xavier's - like the zebra’s -
Gotta eat too.
( Acrostic reads “HIS WISH - TO STOP ZEBRAS FISHING” )
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
ALL XAVIER’S ANIMALS HAVE THEIR ROLES
Zebras zoom zestfully - zombies zipping,
But - basking between big broad
Dogfish doing dances, diving, dripping -
Shy shellfish stop, sitting serenely still, so several survive,
Casually caring, clearly cooperating,
And always active and artfully alive.
My male mallard merry makes -
Quickly quacking, quietly quiescent -
Loving long-lasting little liquid lakes.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Entry for Debbie Guzzi's Contest "Aye, Aye, and A Mistress"
Memories dance across our minds
Day to day memories surround
Stand and look at scenery that astounds
Jolting us into times gone by.
Family, closely followed by places you visit
Always with our forever friend.
Other memories jump the queue
Land of your birth waits to welcome you.
Returning for a visit long overdue
Journey, long and arduous.
Arrival, brings a smile to our faces
Bridge in view, brings homesick feelings.
Onward, onward, signs point the way
Arrival at birthplace, causes laughter
Families, friends, all waiting eagerly
Visits, mealtimes all sorted early.
Where to start, planning is a pleasure
Visit haunts that were treasures.
Breathe the air, so joyful to be here
Now, time to start that fateful journey.
Where you started childhood
Does the home still exist?
Always a welcome on your return
Other visits, lots of sadness.
Stand there looking at concrete and brick ruins
Memory banks start a slide show.
You just sit back as memories wash over you
Voices, laughter, fills the void.
Faces appear clear as day
If only you could touch and have your say.
Time to turn and walk away
Sadness presses itself upon you.
Bump into long lost friends, hugs, and kisses
Hold on tight to your forever friend.
Leaving this place, your heart it aches
Back to where your future called.
Another bridge, clearly seen from the air
Your other Country wants to welcome you.
Can't get to sleep
Wake up too late
Afternoon snooze
Mealtimes confused
Yet when I get up early
All day I'm surly
Overeat, stuff my face
I'm in a bad place...
What? You're jealous of me
'Cos I sleep 'til 9:33
And at breakfast I tarry
Over waffles with blueberries
Well then! Life's not so bad after all
~ Didn't realize I was having a ball
I go to the gym twice a week in a bid to lose my tum,
try and get some muscles and perhaps slim down my bum
all are a big incentive, though another one for me
are the complex mix of people that at the gym you see
The twenty something bicep boy, a proper alpha male
who couldn't be more monkey like, if he had a tail
the pretty, perfect model, who glows but never sweats
quick to say she's healthy but at mealtimes just forgets
the group of golden oldies who jog along in pairs
trying to outrun their peers who're wheeled around in chairs
the larger than life contenders who'd rather really snack
they sweat and blow and get so red they risk a heart attack
amid all these characters there's little normal me
an almost thirty Mum of two, what you get is what you see
Many types of people all with a common goal
be happy, fit and healthy, improvements body and soul
and so I keep my appointment as fitness I do seek
I get so much entertainment here It lasts me for a week!!!
Dear Lord and Lady:
I thank Thee for the gifts of life;
I thank Thee for the gifts of death.
May I be ever mindful
Of the souls who share
My coursing blood, my freshening breath.