Best Waiter Poems
With kind eyes
And gentle soul,
You brought
Flowers,
Soft words,
And sweet touches . . .
To my table.
You filled my empty heart
And hungry spirit.
You brightened
My drab and lonely world.
You touched
The hurting places . . .
At my table.
. . . Now . .
With sad eyes
And silent words,
You come to me.
My friend,
I’m filled and strong,
Let me,
Your waiter be.
How long will I wait Mr. Waiter?
You only brought me water,
yet I requested for ox-tail soup,
and a bowl of carrots and a tulip.
Mr. Waiter, you are not serving a rat;
I'm by all facial definitions a brown cat.
Sometimes I'm a disciplined vegetarian,
like my rabbit friend, whose Hungarian.
I'm so hungry that I can eat a whole horse;
ask my master who never leaves his house.
For a long time, you've looked at me like a ghost;
you've never seen a talking cat as your guest?
I can see your eyes so surprised with wonder;
wait until you hear the order of one Mr. Panda!
I Am A Waiter
“I am a waiter,” the man said to me,
“ I wait in a restaurant serving luncheon and tea.”
“I am a waiter,” I said with a sigh,
“Where do you wait?” he asked in reply.
“I wait at the bus stop and wait for a train,
I wait in the surgery and wait for a plane.
I wait in the sunshine and wait in the rain
And on a day with nothing to do,
I go in to town and wait in a queue.
Then at the Superstore I never can win,
The next queue is quicker than the queue I am in.
I wait in for hours as instructed before
A van load of deliveries come to my door.”
“A waiter in your restaurant?" I asked, "That would suit me.”
“Yes,” said the man, “Now, just let me see,
It’s thirty minutes for luncheon and fifteen for tea.”
soup overdone comments blow hot air ~ AI bubbles up everywhere
bits and bytes chain reactions going spare ~ does admin really care
esoteric brainwashing on blogs here and there ~ bullsh!t doctrinaire
witnesses hold high ground au contraire mon frere ~ sisters in a lair
HMS
Fly in the ointment,
I've heard said,
Flies will use you for
food, when you're dead
But a fly in the soup?
Which one of you??
How'd you get in somehow?
What did you do?
These rhetorical questions,
do not require answer,
But one thing does, for sure....
Just how did a zipper get in
my chicken noodle?
This question I do implore
My lips are torn,
my faith in Campbell's shot,
this is one thing,
to predict, I had a chance not
There was once a finicky chap named Lou,
Who espied a fly swimming in his stew!
Said the waiter to the bloke,
"What a fantastic backstroke!
He won't eat much and will leave some for you!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
A masculine waiter winked at me
flashing a smile with his fine goatee
he needed a big tip
but such plan took a dip
when I claimed, "Ask your boss; my hubby."
Contest: Limericks Clean And Clever
15 Nov 2014
There once was a waiter named Danny
Who thought that he had a cute fanny
So he switched for his tip
And he wiggled his hip
The tip that he got was uncanny!
There’s a guy in my soup sir
This is really quite lame,
There’s a guy in my soup sir
But he won’t give his name.
He was not on the menu
When I first placed my order
And I have my suspicions
He’s from south of the border.
It’s a quality issue
And your rep will soon tarnish
I am not even sure if
He is protein or garnish.
Oh my God did you hear?
Now he claims my soup’s his!
He discovered it! Wow!
This guy’s lost all his fizz.
Makes you wonder how he
Ever thought this would float
For no ocean would pass
Such a lunatic’s boat.
There’s a guy in my soup
Let me tender this reason
When his ancestors crossed
In-bred royalty’s season.
Brian Johnston
October 31, 2015
I once met a waiter in Berlin.
A tall man with blonde hair,
a long scar above his eye,
I knew his name only to be Jurgen.
Following coffee one fine day I asked this man,
“Do you know where I can go to find a splash of life?”
He replied with a smile,
“I'm sorry I'm not the best for that, perhaps you should speak to my wife.”
And with that he called over a very pretty lady,
as he summoned her he told me that her name was Sadie.
I looked at her and said,
“Oh my gosh miss but you are quite amazing...
please excuse me for my amount of gazing.”
She told me not to worry,
it was neither here nor there.
But that I should find my way to the edge of town,
practically to the brink of nowhere.
I looked at her confused and I said,
“What miss should I travel so far to see?”
She looked at Jurgen, then back my way, and simply said,
“I guess you'll just have to trust me.”
So I paid for my coffee,
then I started out.
Not knowing where I was going,
my head full of doubt.
I walked past the stores,
and the city shops.
I reached the country farms,
their lands brimming with crops.
I walked so far in fact my legs began to falter,
I cursed Sadie and her cryptic words
as I traveled halfway to Gibraltar.
Then just as the sun was about to tuck itself behind the horizon for this night,
I saw what I believed to be the most awe-inspiring sight.
Maybe it was the glister of her blue eyes against the stony mountains behind her en masse,
or perhaps it was the shade of her beautiful auburn hair atop the chartreuse grass.
Whatever it was I was smitten from the start.
I knew it to be true,
I knew it deep within my heart.
She smiled at me with all her warmth and said,
“Well hi there handsome, what brings you way out here?”
I said,
“You know, at first I wasn't sure, but now it's very clear.”
It's been twenty years since I married her,
that little splash of mine.
We moved to the city and I became a waiter,
not always,
but just from time to time.
Now on days when patrons ask me
just where should they begin.
I smile and say,
“It starts by speaking to my wife,
instead of drinking coffee in the cafes of Berlin.”
January 7, 2016
which is worse to be a fake or fraud or sit by and watch ~ then applaud
in truth makes no difference the game is up ~ next stage a firing squad
plagiarism and AI does not make great soup ~ but a rotten cheap broth
strange thing most of them posting it all ~ say they’re devoted to a god
By David Kavanagh
Okay! Okay, just gimme a minute, or maybe even two.
It's just like you to pull up a chair just so I can sit next to you.
But I know you well enough not to fuss about anything at all.
Or
You will holler and hoot and act like a pouty faced doll.
Googling slime lids! Not salads once again; no not today!
Every food day is full of special green covered goon hay:(
You must feel really smart, eating fancy food that tastes like grass picked right off of the plains.
And the dreadfully endless tongue twisting, chew spitting and trying to pronounce all the intellectualized names.
You're evermore unflattering food names make everything I say, sound so rude; who!
But seriously though dude, it's not like I am obligated to eat with you; few!
But all of that sounds so bland, like organic sugar free maple syrup covered in fresh beach gathered sand.
So I promise I'll be a good little guest and wash my sweet syrup beach blonde maple colored hands.
If I wasn't being spoiled rotten or being tortured by nice,
You may have noticed our WAITER just drop off some cranberry ice.
You didn't know about juice flavored ice from Dwin?
I thought everyone knew about my fidgeting twin, named Lynn from the fruit flavored Iceland of Dwin.
I mean common, she's out of town, why else would I have this extra chair to sit in?
I brought cash so just forget about your half of the tip, I couldn't help myself indeed; as I ate all of your Doll-Yapper seeds.
They too are native to Dwin and beat the greens off your funky salad twin and beans.
Honestly though, I only sat down here for some strange on the clock fun.
And aside from being Debra Downer, (my real name), I Got paid to pull up a chair to relax and sit on my buns!
END
May 18, 2017
A hot July evening, and nothing had stirred,
the minutes just ticked slowly past,
too hot for much effort, and even the birds
gave up chirping as long shadows cast.
I savoured the moment and reached for my glass,
cold lager to help quench my thirst,
when I saw something black in the bubbles of gas,
close inspection, and I feared the worst.
A fly had snook down while my back had been turned
lost it's footing and fell in the beer,
and now paddled in vain for the side of the glass
but could not make it out of first gear.
Since it spoiled my enjoyment, a spoon for employment
was acquired and from my drink was scooped
the sad fly in some drops, poured it out where it stopped
with no movement, all out it was pooped.
With it's legs in the air (and I know, I've been there)
it finally righted itself, shook a wing, rubbed it's head
but not flying, instead took a gentle walk on my shed shelf.
Oblivious now to the story of how
I'd just graciously saved it's poor life,
I wondered as it slowly wobbled off home-
what on earth did it say to it's wife?
Oh waiter
at the river styx,
striking down the might and meek.
Thou scythe
is camped outside my door;
waiting...
as with us all.
To take the good ahead of schedule.
Rushing to tables, to people
Mostly strangers in vibrant colors
Hungry for more than biscuits
Starving for a kind word, a smile
All those years, through tears
And often through tired fears
I hurried past eager voices, accents
Telling and retelling of life journeys
Dishes piled up on empty tables
Waiting to be cleared, scrubbed
By faithful hands with wet rags
Who left not a blemish or smudge
Sprinting through the crowd
Of diners, many off from work
Taking their lunch break sometimes
And an evening feast other nights
Racing from one waiting diner to another
Hoping to please them enough so
They would leave a nice tip, my salary
Dependent on their kindness, their gifts
Waiting for the moment when departure
Of the café would bring me their offering
Their humanity poured out with a glass of tea
And a plate full of hope from a waitress in need
After making my rounds to the kitchen and back
Into the shift of dashing from one table
To the next with a cheerful smile and pitcher
I long to know the ease of naked feet
Feet that have felt the pangs of a few hours
Of twisting and turning through the patrons
Who never see the pain of aching backs
And sore feet on the beaming face they meet
Waitress' and waiters seldom tell the customer
How difficult it is to simply absorb the discomfort
Into a beaming grin of friendliness, embracing
Both the heart and soul with hospitality and affection
Gratuities left for me are blessings I breathe
A heartfelt thanks for the moment I’m away from
The restaurant’s heavy hustling and bustling
That leaves me so exhausted I almost tremble
Open Poetry 4 Contest
Sponsored by: Charlotte Puddifoot
May 1, 2021