Best Menus Poems
I was at my favorite restaurant and I'd had a lovely meal,
if I finished all my food then a pudding was the deal
I’d relished every morsel and was pleased as a Cheshire cat,
the dessert menu was on its way, oh I couldn’t wait for that
The waitress brought the menus, I rubbed my hands with glee,
oh sticky toffee pudding, now that’s the one for me
She came to take the order – we had waited as you do,
turning to me she said ‘now Madam, what can I get you’
Oh stiffy cockie pudding please was my swift reply -
I didn’t realize what I’d said till I saw tears form in her eye.
I went as red as a beetroot and the others began to laugh,
at my spoonerism which turned into a complete gaffe
The pudding it came quickly but I couldn’t wait to leave,
I choked on every mouthful, how my stomach it did heave
So please take notice of my error on this horrendous day,
if you order sticky toffee pudding be careful what you say!
A true story!
written on 2/2/2014
submitted on 08/03/21 to YOUR PERSONAL FAVORITE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by L MILTON HANKINS
Categories:
menus, food, funny, humorous, rude,
Form:
Rhyme
I.
End-Cut Prime Rib of Beef,
Crab-cake, Lobster Tail,
Sea Scallops.
I feel — no — need to,
eat those foods
you asked I get you.
So I scour the internet
for upscale Manhattan
restaurant menus, listing,
first and foremost,
roast prime rib of beef,
confident, if I find that,
the seafood items
will appear on at least one
of them, also.
It’s the Post House,
on East 63rd Street,
that has everything.
And, on this day,
the 1st anniversary
of your death,
I’m eating the foods
you craved, yet, I do not
savor a morsel. But
not to worry, Renee,
for next year, same
date, I’ll try again, and
maybe, just maybe,
I’ll find it easier to enjoy
what you surely would have,
if only I’d realized there was
no time left. No time left,
as I held your hand and
watched American Idol.
while you morphed into what-
ever it is one becomes
at death.
II.
I muse if Robert Frost
had taken the other road,
would he have moved to
England, where
his poetry was a hit
from the get-go;
would he have remained,
the constant farmer, or
teacher, or journalist
he been, rather than
the bard who'd crafted
the simplest words
into mysterious,
memorable poems;
and the father who
couldn’t prevent
his children’s deaths;
not the husband
who couldn’t keep
his wife from sinking
deep into depression.
Renee, every day, since
your death, I think about
what I could’ve done
and should not have done
as your sister, your twin.
How I’d sat on my laurels
and let you navigate
on your own, with me
never wholeheartedly
trying to steer away
from conflict with you.
Me, who found it too hard
staying involved in that life
of yours. Truth be told,
if I'd seen two diverging roads
to choose from, way back when
— neither the worse for wear,
I would’ve sought you out —
asked you which one you’d take
if you were me, and surely
I’d have taken the other.
Categories:
menus, bereavement, food, forgiveness, grief,
Form:
Original Poem Just Desserts
I was at my favourite restaurant and had a lovely meal
If I finished all my food then a pudding was the deal
I’d relished every morsel and was pleased as a Cheshire cat
The dessert menu was on its way, Oh I couldn’t wait for that
The waitress bought the menus and I rubbed my hands with glee
Oh sticky toffee pudding, now that’s the one for me
She came to take the order – we had waited as you do
She finally turned to me and said ‘oh Madam what can I get you’
Oh stiffy cockie pudding please was my swift reply
I didn’t realise what I’d said till I saw the tears form in her eye
I went as red as a beetroot and the others began to laugh
At my spoonerism which turned into a complete gaffe
The pudding it came quickly but I couldn’t wait to leave
I choked on every mouthful and my stomach it did heave
So please take notice of my error on this horrendous day
If you order sticky toffee pudding be careful what you say!
2nd February 2014
This was my first poem posted here and was is my first poem to be published in a book by United Press
Response Poem to Just Desserts
When I read my ‘Just Desserts’ poem, oh I made such a gaffe
I am petrified it will happen again and everyone will laugh
At home I have been practicing the correct words I have to say
To order sticky toffee pudding again will really make my day
We still go to this local restaurant for a tasty treat
I love the food they serve, it’s a lovely place to eat
But when its time to choose my dessert then I begin to shake
After my terrible Spoonerism I can’t make the same mistake
I smile sweetly at the waitress who comes to take my choice
Then clear my throat gently so I have a steady voice
I want to order sticky toffee pudding, the dessert of my dream
But I chicken out at the last minute and order an ice cream!
Contest - A response to My First Poem
Sponsored by Silent One
09~27~15
Categories:
menus, food, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
There she was chasing a rabbit
with 1 am coffeecakes and weak tea
She didn’t notice I was watching
from the branches of an olive tree
A lone smile hidden amongst
swirling smoke rings in a foreign accent
To the gazebo she ran
with its straw grass tables
and pleated cushions in hibiscus
print fabric no one would sit on
My eyes followed her as she
darted around manicured boxwoods
and cherub statues spitting water
onto sleeping lily pads,
following the same schedule
as the other…identical
She came upon a dandelion
and asked politely, “Pardon me,
but have you seen a…”
The weed interrupted,
“Didn’t…don’t do drama dreams
dancing deliriously down
donut distracted ditches”
“That’s dumb” she replied
with a giggle and a snort
This must be her fun, I think,
trying to catch a white ball of fur,
big, then small,
then smaller still like a
thimble seeking a thread,
when now she is stopped
in her ziggy zagging tracks
by a June bug singing,
“I see, I see, in front of me
Dessert, dessert, set out for free
A chocolate pie, a chocolate pie
in menus written on the sky”
Perplexed she climbed upon its back
and flew, holding onto
red leather shoulder pads
with black dots changing shapes,
ducking winged arches that
covered the vestibule they
soared through when a sharp turn
pitched her to the opposite side…
Landing with a thud,
her new dress now soiled
between the wrinkles in time
that had ticked away
on a clock faced sun named Ray
She cried carrot tears,
orange sherbet streams
on peach tone cheeks,
marmalade miseries
and mango miscues
piddling on her patent leather shoes,
ready to give up
When it appeared, hopping happily
Jumping into her lap
and licking her face
She caressed its fur, removing
sticker burs and scratching
just the right spot, as its right rear leg
thumped with joy
Then lifting the bundled bunny
to her face, she kissed it tenderly
with wild cherry gloss lips,
or should I say…kissed me
for you see, all along, it was me
"And you thought I was nothing more than a pretty smile…"
Categories:
menus, fantasy,
Form:
Imagism
kleine perihuhn damplings
ein puter potage
action de grace-dindon
dankfest kartoffel
eucharista sauce
we give you
thanks
Inspired by Donna's contest
No finer tribute ode- than to be top billing on Thanksgiving/Christmas menus
Categories:
menus, animals, anniversary, food
Form:
Epulaeryu
As a waiter, most expect not much,
But a crunch of menus and brunch,
Nothing more than a list of lunch,
To serve their turgid bunch.
Anyways,
A customer asked me once:
“At what age does a deer become a moose?”
I told her when ducks, like Pokémon,
Evolve into a goose.
Another asked the difference between the lasagna and the trout,
As I wondered, secretly, what crevice she had just crawled out.
Another asked when the ice came back from underwater,
As if a lake allowed in winter a seasonal squatter.
I wish these questions were never real,
Because now I don’t know how to feel.
I’m sad, yet proven, with empirical evidence,
In my experience of human idiots,
That a massive lack of intelligence,
Surpasses that of those who’re illiterate.
Don’t forget that amongst the living,
No matter where you’re from,
There will always be those willing and giving,
To prove that many of us are dumb.
Categories:
menus, life, men, mental illness,
Form:
Free verse
The neon light flashed,
open, open, open,
so in we both went,
right after eloping,
The cat waiter in the hat,
gave us menus where we sat,
ordering some eggs and toast,
the cat smiled as if to boast,
He came back with our plates,
and the eggs to us looked fake,
because they were St. Paddy's Day green,
was the cat waiter trying to be mean?
He said you both look surprised,
but our eggs are best sellers,
customers love the taste,
but especially the color,
And if you both don't mind
and if you would be so kind,
instead of leaving cash for a tip,
I'd much prefer some catnip,
We both ate up all the green eggs,
"I told you it was good!" the cat said,
giving us both hats like his to wear,
saying it's just a little souvenir,
We said next time we'll bring the catnip,
to the cat accepting the cash tip,
wearing our cat in the hats out the door,
we knew we'd definitely be back for more!
3-16-17
Categories:
menus, cat, food, imagination,
Form:
Rhyme
It will be her first visit since the day we waved goodbye....
It is spring break !!
It was moving day several months ago...
that she wrapped her small arms around her Grandpa's waist, tearfully
Then turned to me with "I love you" from her small voice"
"I love you more"...I choked, with one last hug...
And then they were gone...
A white van, fully packed, we watched through blurry eyes...heading down the highway
A battered U-Haul, trailing behind.
But at last today is here!...Spring break!!
We are meeting half-way....
Between the two cities so far apart
We are picking her up, to bring her home......to have her smiles...for just awhile!
Her springtime visit, a school recess
There they are!! The meeting place we had arranged
And before we know it...she has hopped into our car
And once again...we are heading back home...her suitcases
Her stuffed animals...her smiles and chatter in the back seat of our car.
Lunch time....we must stop for awhile
That cozy diner, that sits out in no-where-land,
Along the stretch of the Interstate
A place filled with truckers and travelers like us...
The waitress shows us our booth
This child hesitates, ...looks between the two of us
Unable to decide....
"Who would you like to sit with, my love?" I ask.....
When the waitress returns...
Carrying our menus and three glasses of water ...
She is rather startled, as are the other diners..
To find three people tightly squeezed together on one bench
Yet across the table
The other bench remains empty....
Categories:
menus, childhood, family, loveday, love,
Form:
Free verse
in most human endeavors
there are those items that just
don't quite fit in with the rest of the projects
from batteries to rubber bands
to unused takeout menus there is
only one place to find what you need
none other then the
family junk drawer
thats right folks !
the junk drawer
we really need to clean that
Out !
from mama to me now
I 've taken over the junk drawer
just call me a pack rat LOL
Categories:
menus, family, funny, visionary, me,
Form:
Free verse
Lord, I pray that you aid this part of town.
There are many who walk around with frowns,
And are quite gifted. I'm asking that you
In their desiny get lifted. Some don’t realize they
Are and the many that do realize leave here
And go very far away for work in a new place
To stay. My sincere prayer is that the future blooms,
Where it is planted and with your help this place
Becomes enchanted. A place that the only title
That we are concerned with is being a child of God,
And that we develop a kingdom mindset, and that
This place is ran in that manner, that we put on
Not just for our city but for God’s kingdom,
That other parts of the world will benefit,
From our prayers, our giving, our church planting,
Cultural and educational venues, food menus,
Hospitality, family values and an infinite list of positivity
That you God will continue, that this place is,
Known all over the world for setting trends,
Not for the glory of self, not just for seeking
Wealth, but the kingdom of God gains stealth.
I pray that the leaders are restored.
I pray that the spirit of racism,
No longer drives this place to destruction.
I pray that people who left here in drear,
In attempts to break the curse of poverty,
To return to live here the way God wants them to,
On the best side of town, the southside,
Of Roe City, where people are talented,
And have often faced challenges.
I pray that preachers and teachers teach,
Uncompromised and differentiate instruction.
I pray that principals and teachers,
Really care about the pupils
Instead of their pockets
And that the goals are to propel
Them like rockets.
I pray that the kingdom mindset
Is something that this city gets,
Applies, synthesizes, and that Satan’s
Plans for Monroe will not win anymore,
And that there is togetherness,
And prosperity from door to door.
1-16-11
Categories:
menus, people, philosophy, political, religiongod,
Form:
Rhyme
After Eight Mints
Anchovies
Apple Pancakes
Applesauce
Atlantic Cod
Barbecue Sauce
Black Bean Soup
Blue Cheese
Blueberry Pancakes
Brussels Sprouts and Lamb
Buttermilk
Caribou Liver
Carrots
Cauliflower
Chicken Breast
Chicken Patty
Chicory Roots
Chocolate Pudding
Chocolate Pudding !!!
Cinnamon Raisin Bagel
Coffee Cake
Coleslaw
Donkey Balls
Dried Plums
Durian Fruit
Garlic
Garlic Roast Chicken
Green & Yellow Peppers
Green Leaf Lettuce
Grilled Cheese
Hamburger
Hashed Brown Potatoes
Honey Pops
Horseradish
Iron Steak
Jellied bouillon with frankfurters
Jelly Sandwich
Marinara Sauce
Melba Toast Crackers
Milky Way Bar
Mozzarella Cheese
Muffins
Onions
Pasta Shells
Peanut Butter
Plain Bagel
Pot Pie
Potato Medley
Potatoes
Queso Asadero
Salisbury Steak
Shredded Gruyere
Shrimp
Smoked Chicken Sandwich
Smoked Ham
South-western Sandwich
Turkey Pastrami on Rye
Waffles
Weight Watchers Chicken Enchiladas
Whole Wheat Bread
He comments Beuys’ art
they hang to his dentalia
in slimy appearance
menus on wrapping paper
then
note the mental thing
yes, yes, he said so,
and where are the nuts
the crackers, the slow food
crisscross
crosscriss
a cookie with my coffee
still harvests thoughts
wrong war thoughts
so wrong during the war
November sun
warms a sanitary finger
and goldfish in my hand
hidden under fallen leaves
in brown memories
alma
Explanation
Joseph Beuys is a controversial artist, one of his
works is called 'food for thought'. I saw this at
the museum of psychiatry when I guided some folks;
theme of the exposition was "lost in memory".
Next to the museum is the garden where 3 of my
sculptural works can be visited. We did so.
Categories:
menus, life, people, places, urban
Form:
Free verse
several formica red tables
glass shakers of pepper and salt
big plastic tomatoes I wanted to squeeze
and shaped bottles of sarson’s own malt.
netting on all of the windows
scratch marks from chairs on the floor
ashtrays with notches to rest cigarettes
and 'open' and 'closed' on the door.
menus upright in a v-shape
the 'royals' adorning the wall
food through the fog of benson & hedges
with no one complaining at all.
my past was a foreign country
before chains, regulations and brunch
places I knew from those misty-eyed times
are no more and have all 'gone for lunch'.
Categories:
menus, appreciation, change, england, food,
Form:
Rhyme
Virtual 2050 reality ...
synapses no longer fire
they've begun to retire
into encrypted text
programmer proscribed
in the language of math.
Plasma screen progress
as hands are no longer held,
nor mouths touch.
No waists are clasped in a lover's embrace,
only eyes on pop-up menus that hover in space
spewing entertainment in a
containment of the species.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Inspired by the novel, "Daemon"
by Daniel Suarez
Categories:
menus, computer-internet
Form:
Free verse
Bacon and eggs.(Hospital Food)
So here goes a story about bacon and eggs,
Breakfast they call it,looked more like the dreggs.
but as i soon learned,was an outside canteen,
where in front of my eyes,rolls and sausage were seen.
So i orders one up,
with some pepper and sauce,
but had almost passed out,from how little it cost.
So here`s to the staff,
in the hospital canteen,....
What we tick on our menus,
please make sure it is seen .
Categories:
menus, angst, art, crazy,
Form:
Epic
I sit down
After eight hours of ordering
And waiting on the customers
I must relax
From a day’s work waiting the tables
That have been mine since I started
Steak is my specialty
So I tell my customers
And the food here is excellent
It’s not just a line
It really is good here
I worked fifty eight hours
Just in one week
And I get the normal overtime
Just time and a half
Not much considering
All the extra work I do
I help clean the tables
I get the menus all set up together
And I make sure the chairs
Are all in their places
I want my area to be in perfect shape
So when the customers come
They are impressed
By how this place looks
And start their pleasant stay
At my steakhouse
I greet, seat, and treat
All the customers that come into this restaurant
I tell each one
The daily specials
Which, in my opinion
Aren’t worth the price we charge them
But they order them anyway
And with a smile
I tell them thank you
And I turn in the order
I do this for each table
Saying that I am so happy they came in
And that I will take their order now
I serve each customer as if they are family
They appreciate this
And I’ve seen many repeat customers
That want to sit
In my area
They want me to be their waiter
I easily approach them
And lovingly take their order and serve them
With the greatest of joy
And when they leave
It’s the tip that keeps me alive
The work is alright
But the tip is what keeps me working there
I collect all of them for the fifty eight hours
That I have worked there this week
And I deposit them into my bank
Where I must have the money
To pay all my bills
Life requires so much
And I need this job
To stay afloat
I don’t know if I would ever be anything else
This is my life
And I am the waiter
At the local steakhouse
Just a note, I've never been a waiter, this is purely a fictional observation.
Entered into Catie Lindsey's "Free Verse Time Again" contest
3/7/2013
Categories:
menus, life, me, work, me,
Form:
Free verse