Deli Poems | Examples


Premium Member Free Sample at the Deli

When things seem to clean
too good to be true
or if something is for free
There's probably a con man waiting in the wings
things can get soiled in a city heartbeat.

Never take a free sample at Dahmer's deli
or a ride from a clean stranger.
You may end up on Bundy's back roads 
potholes filled with poisoned souls...
You may not make it home in time for dinner.

Premium Member Sollys Deli

I love Jewish food,
So does my tum,
It makes my mouth water
And delights my tongue.

I worked in the City.
Of London years ago
London brings back memories,
That I treasure so.

I used to pass a Jewish Deli,
As I walked along the street,
The smells coming from that Deli,
It smelled marvellous to eat.

A little bell tinkled as I opened the door
The aroma of Wally in spiced vinegar
It was a smell not to ignore.

These pickles were in a huge barrel
Made of wood and copper,
You placed your hand into the tub
And hope to find a whopper.

One of my favourite Jewish foods
Is chopped liver
The thought of it now
It makes my taste buds quiver.

Upon the shop counter, I spied,
Mozzah and Gefilte fish
It was hard not to purchase
Every single dish.

I adored Latkes,
Flat Potato Cakes
Just thinking of the flavour
It makes my stomach ache,

Freshly baked Bagels,
A bread roll shaped like a ring
Solly, the deli owner,
Sold everything.

I will always remember shopping.
At Solly's old-fashioned deli,
I have fond memories of his shop
And so does my belly.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member The Deli

I miss the local deli
Where they sold ice cream and jelly
They sold everything
From newspapers to string
All served with a smile by our Nellie
Form: Limerick

Premium Member New York Hasidic Deli Owner

Photograph.
             Hasidic Deli Owner
             Giving free candy to children
             His wife-shot dead three minutes later.
             This photograph so pierces my memory.
             Goodness, kindness'rewarded with treachery!



                      January 1,2020
                           5:30 PM

The Deli Man

Not everyone does it, but how I adore
A generous person who works in a store;
Specifically, one who's behind in the deli,
Who slices the meats and the cheese for the belly.

Today, for example, I ordered some cheese
And turkey, my grandson down next to my knees,
His hungry impatience apparent to all;
But just as it seemed he'd resort to a bawl

The counterman offered some turkey, a taste.
Disaster averted and hunger erased.
The guy was a stranger who sized up the scene
Or maybe, to him this was strictly routine.

It doesn't take much to connect with a smile
Yet to many, such actions are not in their style.
The deli employee, for such a small price,
Can improve someone's day just by cutting a slice.
Form: Rhyme


She Lost Self-Control At the New York Deli

I saw her sitting at a table for one,
her hands were slender as she grabbed a sesame bun,
which was stuffed with three inches of smoked turkey,
onion, tomato, lettuce and Swiss cheese,
opening her red-lipsticked mouth with ease,
she bit into the sandwich relishing every bite,
delicately chewing the morsel with delight.

Next came the mound of potato salad,
covered with a hard-boiled egg and pickle,
this woman knew what she wanted, she wasn't fickle,
she cleaned her plate and wiped her lips,
then realized she had forgotten the potato chips,
her eyes shone as she munched with pleasure,
relishing every piece of her salty treasure.

She drank her coffee without slurping,
and tried to be lady-like without burping,
the waitress asked her if she would like dessert,
scanning the menu she chose chocolate cake,
even though she was full and had a belly ache,
she lost self-control at the New York Deli,
where diets are a thing of the past,
and not a place for those who want to fast.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Early Morning Deli

Early Morning Deli

So, I’m standing in the early morning deli line.
Waiting for my sliced turkey and cheese.
One old man behind me and another old lady behind the counter.
She’s slicing up something and doesn’t even know we are there.
I roll my eyes and wait.

He strikes up a conversation about turkey.
Just what I need!
He tells me he has been married for 58 years.
His wife is home with her nurse. 
She’s had MS for 45 years now.
She likes this special turkey with a slice of ham.
Her favorite lunch. He enjoys going out to buy it.

We’re still waiting and I ask why a store would hire
such an unobservant helper.
He says she’s really a very nice person if you get to know her.
I’m thinking about him, his wife and the deli lady.
She finally notices us.

I order his recommended turkey for my daughter.
She’s coming to visit.
As I’m about to leave he taps me on the shoulder.
“Have a nice day”
And you know what?
I do.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member An Italian Deli

There are many items in an Italian deli.
Numerous meats and cheeses are a delicacy.
Anyone can see several types of salami.
There are plenty of delicious things for you and me.
With breads and rolls, Prosciutto, Cappicolo, Coteghino,
everything they have there makes a beautiful scene.
The Italians have what you need for a submarine.
Olive salad, pasta salad, any kind of cheese,
one can find it in the deli; anything can please.
If you like Italian cheese, then you are not alone.
There are many like mozzarella and provolone.
No one starves inside an Italian deli.
When hungry at lunchtime, it’s the place to be!

Here are the ways to pronounce the three types of cold cuts mentioned in line 5:
Prosciutto=(pro-SHOOT)
Cappicolo=(gabba-GOAL)
Coteghino=(gitta-GEEN)
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Wrapped In Deli

I see Mars-mystery in your mind, 
the global warming in your lips
I would like to be wrapped in you
as meats get wrapped in deli.

Your eyes are clear September sky
your rich bosom March madness
you are in vision of my old eyes
you have all the things in you
that any man will desire.
You are the breathe of Old Saturn
To me you are vision of Pluto.

Growing older, you are in my vision
Even though you are far far away.
Rich by passion as the Indian monsoon
Poor with impatience as Canadian Winter.
Form: Verse

The Deli On Granville

The Deli On Granville

 
I lived in the attic back then,
and late those evenings I had to study
and couldn’t afford to go drinking
I’d run down to the deli and buy

bagels and smoked lox.
I’d watch the lame son 
wrap each item in white paper
while his father, coughing at the register,

pointed to the cans on the wall
and screamed, “Serve yourself! Serve yourself!”
I’d grab a tin of baked beans and he’d smile.
Now, years later, I return to the deli

and find that it’s closed.
The sign on the door confirms
what everyone else already knows:
There has been a death in the family.

 
Donal Mahoney

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