Eat Poems - Poems about Eat

do not eat berries reddish bark is a tip off poisonous hemlock...

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Smiles from me to you, making you happy not blue. Friendship we can praise, as we enjoy sunny days. My puppy is tan and small, she likes to sleep in mommy's shawl. She loves to play with her ball, while I play with my doll. We like to play outside, where she will run and hide. I...

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i pray for the men who eat alone at diners elbows on chipped formica, coffee gone lukewarm, eggs sweating under fluorescent light, they stare into the distance as if it owes them an apology. i pray for the one who once held a little girl with sunlight in her hair, who called him daddy until he let pride take the wheel, drove her straight into memory. now he...

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The first chocolate cake you remember- The one I brought for you... I baked it with so much love, Glazed it with dark chocolate, As dense as my affection for you. Next morning with a tensed move, I went up to your place, Pacing to and fro... You said with your eyes: "Keep it on the table." And then you said you enjoyed it- Even shared...

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cherries are for me fresh picked or in a warm pie ~ red heaven awaits...

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strawberries plump, sweet, eat whole or muffins, jellies, ice cream, pies~ the fruit of all trades ...

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In Rome do not do as the Romans do. For you'll lose out in many ways. The pizza you loved at home will an alien be, a fake, a fraud, with no authentic flavor and razzmatazz. For such compliance, expected in advance on holidays begs a baseless bewilderment, topped off with a lasting legacy of disappointment, when your holiday is over. For ignorance, indeed, is bliss!...

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Eat me, a voice hymns in my ear. I snap back I can't eat you. Please, the voice begs. I furrow my eyebrows, impatient. "You don't exist." But you can hear me, the voice says lightly. I stay silent. If you eat me, you can take all my softness. You can take all my whimsy, you can take all my pride, and all of my serenity. I know the person you crave. And...

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Not all of us ‘Eat, Pray, Love’. One plate: a minefield of coulda, woulda, shoulda, of clink and clatter long after a bite. Taste lingers, here!...

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Poetic trattoria a feast for the eyes Visionary smorgasbord of what — and then why (Dreamsleep: April, 2025) ...

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Grass-eating animals are their favorite food Lions don’t eat carnivores, they are not in the mood When they devour the tasty stomach of their prey They can stay healthy one more day...

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The question is, should I listen to my imagination? Sometimes it can go very wild, I look for a lion ready to eat me alive. There are times it can go romantic, with hearts and love all over the page. It has a way of bringing up my old memories, some happy, maybe sad, or funny as can be. In Playground of Imagination, I...

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"Easter is on the way. Cute and soft bunnies are what little kids are dreaming about." Quote By Poet My best friend is my honey bunny, oh how we love to eat a pot of honey. On a bright day that is sunny, we will laugh until we have a full tummy. You are so fun and cute, even when...

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When the purple turtle visits the supermarket the heels are worn in two. Heaviness and heaving are one and the same. The exact trajectory of a star is never the same as reducing a pile of eggs to a penny and the wisdom of a wise willing charlatan is never to be trusted when dressed up...

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marc chagall's equestrienne don't eat that violin painted in 1933 ...

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