Food Dramatic Verse Poems | Examples
These Food Dramatic Verse poems are examples of Dramatic Verse poems about Food. These are the best examples of Dramatic Verse Food poems written by international poets.
A man who went to jail
for stealing, told the judge:
“Your Honor, I hold no grudge:
with shelter, food, and clothing,
steady work, no debts or owing,
a four year college education,
health and dental care,
and weekend recreation,
only a fool would contradict
a jury’s so generous verdict.
When the Language Merge**
I walked into Bobby Department Store and yelled, “Where are the Jamaicans and Barbadians?” This might sound a little strange to most people; however, it’s that time of year when all the languages and dialects merge, accompanied by the authentic accents from their respective places. Plus, there's always a bit of rudeness as people wait in long lines. Yet, amidst it all, the joy of Christmas still shines through in their voices.
Christmas is that one time of year when you can be happy without needing a reason. I could hear conversations like, “I want to mail this barrel by next week, but I know they won’t get it before next year.” As an outsider eavesdropping on these conversations, I sometimes think, “What is this barrel they are talking about? A barrel of rum? A barrel of Jack Daniel’s? A barrel of monkeys? What barrel?”
Yes, Bubba! That barrel is filled with gifts and food for their families on the Island of Brim. All I’d like to add is that I’m reminded that while New Yorkers say “standing online,” the rest of the English-speaking world says “standing in line.” - Jeffrey Stein Garten.
.
lisp'n i were
past mine lower lip
gasp'n
chew'n mine spew
again
unto hern authority
inciting hern think
lisp'n i were
past mine lower lip
unto
mine hunger
gasp'n
whilst up came my
surprise
lisp'n i were
chew'n mine spew
not past lip
yet
'pon this slip
az 'pon deaf hear
hern authority
hern think
drip'd
I drink the dirty water,
I walk with a dirty vessel
I stand on a dirty ground
yet profoundly
I even ingest dirty food
and my blessings
I am confessing
it's not what i partake
of it's not what I'm earing
but what resides within me
for you see
I am righteousness of God in Him.
I am my truest self
not of this earthen soil
I am from above
So be this my profound declaration of faith and indentity
So be true truth purity and righteousness come from within
My God is inside us and we're not dependent on external circumstances
Such even this world be so surrounded by imperfections and impurities
Our true nature can remain untainted we are righteousness
Our truth self is not external affirmation our spiritual identity
Understanding our true home in God soul so our spirit
But a shining reflection of the divine
Shine so, soul spirit and heart ever shines bright
We're the light shining bright may our words
Inspire others to embrace their own true nature
I am not from here I'm just a visitor-I am from above
Amen
7/10/2024
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
(All). We are the voice of the children, here to educate and lament about all the pain, joy, and anxiety and fear we carry as children all over the world.
1.We are shut out by time and speed, indeed time really moves but today we stand as the voice of all children, lamenting and remembering our brothers and sisters in all parts of the world, speaking freedom, encouraging respect, crying against child oppression and calling and wailing for redemption of the world’s future leaders.
(All). Ooh indeed we stand to speak for those who can’t speak. Overall we are here to make the first step in fighting the problem and that is identifying the problem.
2. All children whose parents left them, all children who don’t have a place to call home but they move around in the streets begging for food and they sleep in the holes tanks and anywhere even when the night is cold and dark they stand alone, without education and without proper medication.
(All). Our hearts are bleeding today, sorrow and horror that is why we cry and wail as loud as we can calling for help.
The guards
They are coming, who are coming
I feel the dust, a dry power from the dry land far, and hear they must have marched long
Are they churning the land with restless feet
I don't know, I hear the humming
animals flee from their newborn ones, too late
the hum will burst their ears.
We are not rabbits, get ear-mufflers and bravely fight
do not give in before the humming stops.
They are coming closer, my lord. Who is coming closer, the ugly old man who sings loudly and farts
on stage, did you mean drumming? Of course
What can we do? Buy food for the weekends, buy beer
switch off the TV, radio, and internet, we must suffer to
ride on broomsticks to a land of pink flowers sweet lambs, and tiny Bambi deer.
Waving leather-bound bibles, we shall overcome.
On an Earth Day like today
I see a ray of light and sway.
I perceive a horizon that seeks
and speaks of health and happiness.
That pledges that the food we feast on,
and the water we drink are cheap and safe.
That safeguards that the air we breathe
and the goods we use are as harmless as possible.
On an Earth Day like today
I see a ray of light and sway.
I become wild with positivity and tenacity
when I see practices of rewilding and restoration.
The modest efforts to protect and respect local groups,
vulnerable wildlife and valuable ecosystems and species.
On an Earth Day like today, I plead for the people who seek
to slow the rate of global warming, pollution and deforestation.
I may be unpopular in this thought
But I’ve considered this more than I ought
And the conclusion has presented itself
It comes from my extra ordinary culinary wealth
So I’ve put an exclamation mark at the end it all
I don’t like Mexican food, I’ve said it and I will take my fall!
The meat looks like brown paste
With no taste at all oh what a waste
And guacamole so slimy in the throat
As it leaves a greenish covering coat
Most things are wrapped in a corn tortilla
That is classed as finger food implement freer
So you have Chilaquiles, Pozole and Tacos al pastor,
Tostadas, Chiles en nogada, Elote, Enchiladas, Mole and Tamales more
All hard to pronounce for an Australian now
For those that like them it’s all up to you
Chow down is what you can do
But don’t wait for me I don’t like it too.
© Paul Warren Poetry
It ain't too many things in life I'd do 4 free
I love writing songs and my poetry
Whats on my mind, put it in the rawest of forms
Straight outside the box so far from the norm
Mind boggling gotcha head spinnin
As I continue on my mission straight grinnin
I been through all types of things in this life
Everyday that I awake tryin 2 get this right
It's all on me gotta expand my mind
And apply the lessons to my daily grind
I ain't gotta shine but I do and it's cool
But don"t get me wrong
Ain't tryin 2 be nobody's fool
Didn't get 2 be this age bein no dummy
Got me plottin on different ways to get some more money
Watchin out for potholes that life puts in my way
Forever learnin the rules of this game that we play
DEVINE PARENTAGE:
Praise be unto JEHOVAH!
The GOD who has no rootage,
And no one knows his lineage.
His holiness is basically not a heritage,
And His divinity spiritually holds a mileage,
Which is affirmed with a homage.
Praise be unto JEHOVAH!
The GOD who is a perpetual Mother...
A good Mother full of honour,
Whose breastmilk carries power,
Nourishing Her offsprings with brainpower.
Her eternal nurturing for them is without a cessation.
Her intellectuality is with perfection.
Her heart beats with compassion,
Forgiving them of their transgressions.
And saving them from destructions.
Praise be unto JEHOVAH!
The GOD who is an everlasting father...
A Father who really loves his children.
His heart is a fine accommodation,
Providing them food and protection.
He advices and motivates them with affection,
Making His fatherhood based on confection,
So that He chooses no to consign.
And in Him do the children confine,
As He makes their life so fine.
Yes,JEHOVAH is a Mother...,
Yes,JEHOVAH is a Father...,
His parenthood overwhelms.
And He rules in all realms,
Because,the universe dwells in his hands.
And with His rulership,no one can withstand.
Up the Staircase
?
Your feet reluctantly begin
to climb the broken, filthy stairs,
in this hell-hole of outcast ones,
without someone who even cares.
Stairs stink of urine and feces.
They reek of cooking cheap fast food.
You know when you get to the top,
you won’t find one thing that is good.
Women who sell themselves for food,
or a bottle; a hit of dope.
Uncombed hair, dirty nails lined black,
no pride or the least bit of hope.
Here live the cowboys who let men
ride them so they can pay the rent.
Some sweaty man who stinks of filth,
that a pimp on a corner sent.
A saggy mattress with roaches
and mouse-holes, a yellow pillow
stiff with things you do not want to
know, sheets as rough as old Brillo.
Here they live and here they all die,
unremembered, unrepentant.
Potter’s field is the next stop, but it
at least has no outrageous rent.
The music drifts on a breeze
Something on vinyl is sure to please
The wailing guitar sets the mood
It soothes smooth as nectar food
She feels the music and sways
Her eyes set and are ablaze
We meld together as one
No leaving now sexual healing begun.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Melanin lamentation
It appears to be the color of dread
Locked in
is a private penal profiteering feeling
Black site
has a plantation clandestine skin
Making abolition voices
invisible again
Usury jaws open like an abyss trapdoor,
predatory lending
got a bulging debtor belly once more
As the black robes
rattle strike
a corporate cobra plea deal —
Let the food chain shakedown siren lure
Leopard spot plastic bags
over the head
Casting poverty pawns
into the a domino pit repo hole
Obsidian wiles got a blue steal bracelet price tag;
dark bags under the eyes, dreams dead
Pale thoughts ... Pliny sleepless nights, no dawn:
Implantation device now in control
Overseer bound destination,
underneath the roulette task terrible Gulag will
Siberian tigers have a paper appetite,
turning into eclipse panthers when Dear occupant can’t pay the bill
01-14-22
Bac N tha day
Grand gran M would say
Boy B for y'all sit down
Better wash em hands
Go down to the creek N way them hanzs
Wash them hands O Lord
I need two wash me hands
Need ta eat that manna my God provide
Grand N would say wash them hand b four you eat
B four you pray let your hands and mouth b cleansed
Do not let no dirtiness come out them lips
And keep them hands also clean b four you eat
Yeah, I know the water at the creek
It's dirty water
But we ain' t got no faucet or running water
Gone down to the creek in wash them hanzs
Come on back quick so y'all got yo bacon, eggs and grits
Boy, did ya also wash yo face
So great gran pa lead us N prayer
He said let us all close our eyes now
Fold them hanzs N say aloud
Now
Thank you Father God fer tha food b four us
Thank N Father God fer tha food we have Amen
4/5/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
He goes through each day
obsessing over how to
increase his earnings.
Times are hard.
He's drowning in debt;
his bills gradually piling up.
Creditors bug him so much,
he feels like screaming;
soon landlord will come knocking.
He consolidated his loans;
it hasn't made much of a difference
He asked his boss for overtime,
nothing doing.
He applied for a second job,
no dice. He's still waiting for a call back.
He wants to start a home business,
but doesn't enough start up cash.
Desperation is gradually setting in.
He's put unneeded clothes
on consignment,
he's holding garage sale,
rationing food,
clipping coupons,
exercising for free,
shopping in thrift stores,
bicycling to work
and he's cut cable television
down to basic. Anything...
to decrease his spending.
Date written: 03/09/2021