Best White Bread Poems
Welcome KMart shoppers blares through the air as a mosh pit of greedy Holiday buggers hurl themselves through the glass and aluminum doors—Obese bodies press (children jammed between white-bread). Trolls in strollers screech in pain and howls of Christ mask laughter. The shopper's feet bombard the glossy, line-oh-lea-ummm floors as the overwrought, over-privileged, truffle sniffers, poke through the hundred and fifty percent marked-up—mark-downs, for things they already own in triplicate.
canned music
jiggle bells the room:
torn wrapping paper
My Mothers home made white bread
warm from the oven
thickly sliced and smothered with
rich, creamy butter!
Baking scents the air
Comfort food
Bliss!
For contest 'Eat Me'
8th place
On many long, drawn out nights, his routine was to
shuffle aimlessly along dimly lit city streets.
Much of the time, his only companion was a
concealed remnant of cheap bottled wine. He
scavenged for food and money. He would walk
enveloped in deep, weighty shadows and
halo laden street lights. Solitary. Lonely.
Emptiness that few people feel or know.
The raw hollow of an alcoholics tightly
drawn stomach. A gnawing pain that craves
food but will only be quelled when he gets
enough cash for another pint of cheap wine or gin.
Where to spend the night? Maybe with
some of them under the 10th st. bridge.
They may have some money there, or a
blanket to share. Might rummage garbage
containers at the restaurants on the way.
Could walk the parking lot at the grocery store.
There's always change lying on the asphalt.
Could act like he passed out on a city
bench. The police take you to the Detox
Center then. He hated that. Have to stay
72 hours. Guts ache, skin crawls. They
feed you well, but there is always
that craving.
Just keep walking. Frail, vaguely awaren
of hissurroundings as he treks in shadow
andsepia. On 10th, the street lights are so
damned bright they hurt his eyes.
What's that at the bus stop bench
in a brown paper sack?
Two loaves of bread, two wrappers of
bologna, and a luxurious bottle of Gallo
wine tucked in the sack. My God.
Providence at a city bus stop.
Someone boarded the bus and left
their supper. Probably headed for the
homeless shelter overnight.
White bread and meat for one hunger.
Cheap wine for the other.
There might even be some food to share.
Miracle on 10th St.
It was constipation, you know
All of the bananas she ate were alarming
Then a bit of cheese, brought her to her knees
All the little faces she made were so charming
It was constipation, you know
Eating all that sugar and fast food will do that
And too much white bread, brings it to a head
It got to the point, she was ready to chew fat
It was constipation, I know
I was staying with her and that’s all she fed me
Drinking all that cow, played a part and how
Now I guess we both better lay off that red meat!
Heed the words I’ve said, we are both half dead
and now constipation lies ahead
To the tune of ‘Fascination” by Nat King Cole
So, what would you have me write?
Dulcet words of limply lurid metaphor
stuttering staccato of acceptable alliteration
preposterously impersonal personification
drab and dreary diluted imagery
innocently innocuous innuendo
insouciantly inane sonnets
neutered non-rapier wit
squishy, soft white bread limericks
fettered faint hearted free verse
sanctimoniously soft spoken rants
devoid of do’s and don’ts, can’s and can’ts
all to fit in a box
with invisible locks
displayed on a Common
of “creative” stocks
John G. Lawless
©6/30/2018
It's America’s favorite sandwich spread,
No doubt,
When you ask any kid or adult, what
They would like in there lunch box.
Natural response good old fashioned P.B.
And J.
White bread, wheat, whole grain,
It really doesn't matter as long as
It's creamy or chunky style.
Jiffy to general label just put that
On the table and watch them smile.
Forget about cutting off the crust,
Or any of that fancy stuff.
Just keep your fingers out of the way,
When it comes to feeding a bunch of
Hunger kids just stand clear
Until the inner hunger beast is satisfied.
Then mom can bring in her
Essential tools for clean up detail.
It's been prepared so many ways,
Toasted, fried or even baked,
Assorted mixtures, layered textures
Some people even put bananas
Or mayo with it.
Myself call it a personal choice,
I like it regular please no extras.
America’s favorite sandwich it's
Stood the test of time.
By the way it's on my shopping list
Again Peanut Butter and Jelly,
I wonder why?
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
We have no jelly
We have no jam
The children mutter
What shall we now eat?
White bread and butter
We have no syrup
We have no honey
The children utter
What shall we now eat?
White bread and butter
We have no cream cheese
We have no cheese spread
The children find no peanut butter
What shall we now eat?
White bread and butter
We have no lunch meat
We have no avocados
The children stutter
What shall we now eat?
White bread and butter
We have no white bread?
We have no white bread!
The children blubber
What shall we now eat?
Another stick of butter.
(MaGowen’s Pizzaland Monroe, CT 2008)
The caterwaul of the jukebox blends seamlessly with the screech of infants,
and the fumes of garlic hanging heavily in the air.
The true mama’s and papa’s are here, here where the dough flies
the glasses clink; and the Beatles belt out
Strawberry Fields Forever ....
The roar of unruly children,
bashing video buttons to Roll Over Beethoven
pounds into the diners temples, dulled with Pinot noir, Chianti
and pitchers of golden ale.
Trays, tall, saucer-shaped sit beside cherry red baskets
of pristine white bread, as the fire engine red corvettes pull up outside.
The jet-black and chrome model T’s vie for spaces on the asphalt lot
outside the restaurants doors.
Sweet-hearts wait for the cracked, green-vinyl booths
like penitents at a Sunday mornings mass.
Pizza pies fly by on stainless saucer- shaped plates
landing on cluttered Formica tables
dressed with vinegars and shake cheese
Racecars zoom around the game track;
as kids run pell-mell down the aisles.
And, only Mary Lou knows
“Who’s on first?”
I prefer white bread; two slices
Spread Peanut Butter
Then get out jelly and spread
Must be grape jelly
Put slices together
Cut in halves
‘Yum!”
No more Twinkies, no more Yodels;
Say farewell to Sno Balls, too.
Ring Dings soon will be extinct
And Devil Dogs, as well, are through.
Plus you’ll have to wonder where
Your fluffy white bread went because
If Wonder was the brand you bought,
This news I bring will give you pause:
For Hostess brands (and Drakes as well)
Have closed their doors, declared defeat;
But oh, those squiggle cupcakes! They,
In childhood days, were such a treat!
Hostess cakes are front and center
When I’m sweetly reminiscing.
I feel bad for kids today
And all those Twinkies they’ll be missing!
Fat is easy
Thin is hard
When sugar is in your favorite candy bar
Soda it fizzles so sweet
Cakes pies and cookies are such treats
Candy is dandy on your tongue
Deep fried and Southern crispy give me some
Doughnuts and coffee with sugar and cream
Whole milk and toppings on your ice cream
White bread and mayo
French fried potatoes
Heavy syrup in your fruit cup
Extra butter popcorn eat it right up
Lots of rich gravy
Room for seconds and thirds maybe
Maybe? Pour pour that gravy
Chips and creamy dips
Shudder if no butter
Barbecue meats and glazed honey ham
Toast loaded with extra jam
Bacon by the pound
By pound pound pound
You are what you eat and that's a fact
Fast food hamburgers pizza are snacks
If it aint greasy
Make it extra cheesy
Add it all up and you eat fat
Add it all up and you are fat
Drink a diet soda
Hailed through the ages as the staff of life,
It takes many forms in each town and fief.
There's white bread and brown bread, biscuits and scones,
And hoe cakes and muffins, crescents and corn pone.
When setting a table, with china, replete,
Without buns or rolls it's just not complete.
The main dish is scrumptious, the side dishes fine,
But the meal is a bust without bread of some kind;
And when a young man is seeking a wife,
If she can't make a biscuit there's gonna be strife;
So when it's all finished and all's done and said,
Please pass the biscuits, it ain't supper 'thout bread.
Kookaburras
are found in Australia,
they are not pretty birds
with a lovely call,
but racous enough
to mistake it
for laughter, or even screams of amusement.
Kookaburras
love to ride kangaroos,
and sometimes
they hang on their tails,
so they make them run faster than tigers...
to scare the Tasmanian wolves away
resting on sun-dried hummocks of fresh excavations.
Kookaburras
scorn puling children,
the ones who are spoiled
enough to get what they want
by not eating pumpernickel,
but demand white bread...
watch the hungry kookaburras devour everything!
After weighing myself and gaining five pounds
I knew the consequences were profound
I bowed my head and softly prayed
Please let these pounds melt away
I had made a grocery list to send
It was time for a home delivery again
I knew I had to do as I must
Edit the darn thing or my belt would bust
The sugar became Splenda the doughnuts were gone
Ordering those Reeces cups was just plain wrong
No more jellybeans the soda became diet
I deleted the white bread, whole wheat got to try it
The syrup and jellies became low fat
Peanut M & M's no more of that
Brown rice replaced white rice making sense
While Nestle Quick became milk at two percent
But Halloween was dawning so would I dare
Order a giant bag of chocolate to pass out and share
I knew I could do it not nibble a one
So I order the big bag for the holiday fun
My groceries arrived and the deliverer put them inside
I begin putting everything away my order seemed okay
But emptying the last bag I was disappointed to see
My order did not contain my giant bag of candy
So I checked my e-mail for the grocery review
And it was something I should have knew
I did pray for myself to lose weight
The candy was out-of-stock, ain't God great
In Carolina there is no helmet law
As my girlfriend complains, all I hear is blah, blah, blah
She is still stewing over me buying all the accessories in the catalog
I tell her to bow down to me, I am now the Big Bad Dog
I am now sportin' my new leather chaps
Up side the head, from her I get a smack
I will mark a new territory the Hell's Angels would fear to tread
Looking hard and ridin' dirty on my Moped
At this point, I tear the sleeves off my blue jean jacket
She tells me to stop trying to Mac It
I smile with my Gold tooth displayed
She tells me I need help, she drops to her knees to pray
Then she asks me if I stopped taking my Meds
I tell her I really love you, it's a Two seater, we can both ride dirty on my Moped
I tell her I haven't shaved for Five days
She says she sees the peach fuzz on my face
I look at her and tell her I am a 15 year old trying to make it in this dog eat dog society
Either get on or get out and miss my noteriety
She says she's had enough and besides it's almost curfew
So I depart to the trailer park and pick up that floozy Gracie Lou
I tell her to hang on, it could get wild, I am what they call pure white bread
She grabs my waist and is ready to ride dirty on my Moped
It can't get any dirtier, a trailer girl that smells real bad
I look back and recall, this was the best summer I ever had