Busboys Poems | Examples


List of Member Poems

The Swim

Drying under a sleepwalking sun
after a long swim
up and down
back and forth, steady, lazy strokes
until her body felt sleek and silvered
by the bright water.

Not bad for an old gal she thought
letting the warm air caress her mind.

There are appreciative busboys here
she is admired
as a matriarchal figure, an ancient goddess
a beautiful crone?

She smiles under closed eyelids
a thousand adoring hands
tingling her sacrificial flesh.

Premium Member Small Town Girl

Entertainment committee of one.
A small town girl.
This is what we do.
It is our mantra, our calling, our truth.
Not speaking to everyone is unnatural.
It is a wonder I have not become the victim
of six serial killers. 

Listening committee of one.
I listen to everyone, I have those eyes.
People know.  I try to hide it.
But I have no mask that covers these hazel lenses.
Waitresses and busboys follow me home.
To sit on my couch, and tell their tales.
It is a miracle I found the right husband
To give them the look that keeps them from moving in.

Dinner Theater

Dinner Theater

Into the menu smiling
cheeks reflect candlelit
white tablecloth islands
amid the carpeted scurry
of busboys and waiters
in the backdrop of our night.

Tinkling laughter and ice cubes
accompany depths of conversation
overheard, yet unheard
from couples in quorum
around the raised platform
at the center of the room.

Noises diminish with 
dimming lights as
all eyes are drawn
to the spot center-stage
except mine
which remain upon you.


On the ----Ng Over of Chelsea Welch: Part I

on the ****ing over of Chelsea Welch

let’s begin with what a waitress does in a day…
a waitress works her ass off,
forced to have the biggest smile in the world
for every miserable ****, every fat american
family with its screaming & misbehaving
rugrats, who come in to shovel food into their
gullets,
like it was going out of style,
like they had some anonymous tip that 
famine was coming.

a waitress makes dick for a wage &
relies on the tips of her customers,
which is why, no matter how bad her own day 
has been, before she drags herself into the shift,
she must kiss the ass of these idiots
every night of every week that she toils in the
restaurant---
she gets stress from the bartender who won’t make the
drinks fast enough---
she gets *****from the kitchen staff who **** up her orders---
she gets crap from the busboys who won’t replenish the 
salad bar---
she gets flack from the dishwasher who gives her *****for
how she places down the dishes quick when racing around
the kitchen &
if she’s lucky, she gets hit on by the scumbag male customers
who’ve “had too much to drink” &
even the guys on the staff who just won’t leave her
alone.

Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.

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