Food Hyperbole Poems | Examples
These Food Hyperbole poems are examples of Hyperbole poems about Food. These are the best examples of Hyperbole Food poems written by international poets.
Cat-whipped
Apparently, our home’s, furry little empress,
knows well how to count: will not settle for
less, of her required treat-amount – 4 bits of Friskies,
her mandate, not mine,
before and after each organic dine --
almost out, today I tried 2~
followed a disturbing, guttural
whine – So, I gave her one more;
dissatisfied, continued to opine...
pointing directly toward the door –
Off I ran, feeling quite commanded
as if for criminal trial, Remanded!
Praying vociferously, yet open the store….
Her Majesty's proclamation~ a minimum of 4!!!!
~ A Little Post-Election Humor Never Hurts ~
Old McDonald’s had a roadside stand
“Make America Eat Junk-Food Again”
And at that roadside stand was RFK
eating processed food, Ole!
Old McDonald’s had a kiosk too
“Make America Throw Up Again”
And at that kiosk was DJT, version two
With Elon Musk, his 'new best friend’ ...
Now Old McDonald’s has a new lease on life
Just don’t expect to see Melania there, Trump’s wife
But – and this may surprise the ‘H’ out of you
I hear Barron’s got a hankerin’ for Mickey D’s mouth-watering
~ ‘filet of horse stew’
Paralysis of the esophagus
when occasioned by asparagus
Can be frighteningly perilous
and even worse, embarrass us
When I visited Victor today,
overwhelming stench drove me away.
We stood outside and talked.
I complained, and he balked:
“Don’t be mean. I can’t help it. OKAY?”
He let loose with a string of loud pops.
Neighbors fearing gunfire called the cops!
There would be no arrest,
but at neighbors’ behest,
they said, “Sir, make sure this problem stops.”
The police are now summoned no more.
There’s a problem, but not like before,
one that cannot be heard;
thus, no neighbors are stirred,
fearing terror of gunplay’s in store.
Victor has diarrhea a lot,
spending hours a day on the pot.
I declared, “We will go
to the doctor. He’ll know
how to diagnose just what you’ve got!”
Sugar-free treats, as Victor now knows,
were the cause of his gas and poop woes.
Way too many he ate.
Though he thought they were great,
doctor’s orders he did not oppose.
Victor called: “Come and visit me, please.”
I approached his front porch; on the breeze,
came an unpleasant smell.
Before long I could tell
he loves pintos and limburger cheese!
I tried to do some grilling
But the sky just opened up
And it rained like Noah’s time
Each raindrop filled a cup
I’m using here hyperbole
To make a point of rain
The grilling of the burgers
Could not even begin
So I used an indoor griddle
To heat the burgers through
It wasn’t quite that bad at all
I was trying something new
I think they were less healthy
Since they sat in their own grease
Where the grill would let it drizzle down
And all that’s left was meat!
Hot peppers and spicy horseradish
a gut-punch to the solar plexus
Snake venom with moldy cheese
not tonight, if you please...
Tadpole skins and locust larvae
strains my stomach of iron
But a bloody Mary eggnog combo
gags the esophagus of this Hawaiian
Wonder how I developed my bizarre sense of taste?
~ A flush of the toilet for whoever said, 'Haste makes waste'
A Ziplock bag of cut-up hot dogs, treats for my daughter's Huskies
Two gallon jugs of 1% milk, both nearly empty
Three bottles of dressing, ranch from 2007
Leftover spinach salad that looks a bit ashen
Syrup: chocolate, blueberry, and pancake
Raisins and nuts for our Christmas fruitcake
Yesterday's dessert- Apple Brown Betty
Cold, cooked spaghetti
Five types of cheese: cottage, American, cheddar, Swiss and cream
Boiled eggs and beer brats- a Friday night dream!
The Perfect Omelet
I think I'd like an omelet
so please find me a giant pot,
a half a dozen fresh kumquat
and don't forget the cheese.
Add a jar of jumping fleas,
2 cans of fancy black-eyed-peas,
do not add pepper, or I'll sneeze
and don't forget the beans.
Stir it often, add sardines,
a couple cups of jelly beans,
a bag of Florida tangerines
and don't forget the beets.
Just when it bubbles, add snake meat
and feathers of a parakeet,
a spoon of honey to make it sweet
and don't forget frog legs.
Add some peppermint, two kegs,
a weasel raised in Winnipeg
and most importantly, I beg,
don't forget the eggs.
What's that you say, no eggs today?
I guess I'll put this pot away!
I'd like an omelet the most.
Guess I'll settle for some toast!
Everyone has seen a rainbow, no doubt,
at its end, you had best keep an eye out:
for fairy folk may be lurking about.
Leprechauns can be grumpy, funny folks;
that some say love to play mischievous jokes
on naysayers who label them a hoax.
If it's their pot of gold, you'd be after,
try searching behind an attic rafter;
where kids readily swear they've heard laughter.
The Irish like to bribe them with some food,
thinking a free meal will keep them subdued:
but the wee folks are amazingly shrewd.
They love whiskey, and they'll steal it from you:
if you forget to leave a drop or two:
spilling a little on the floor will do.
Wherever a rainbow touches the ground,
keep your eyes open; have a look around:
some folks say a pot of gold might be found.
Me, the contrarian,
hardcore vegetarian,
Would rather eat wombat snouts
than brussels sprouts.
I wanna live to a hundred-and-three
A minor footnote in history
Oh yeah
I wanna live to a hundred-and-six
They’ll bury my bones among the sticks
Oh yeah
I wanna live to a hundred-and-nine
My blood just like fermented wine
Oh yeah
I wanna live to a hundred-and-twelve
Baby I’ll never kill myself
Oh no
I wanna live to a hundred-fifteen
Ride in some futuristic limousine
Oh yeah
I wanna live to a hundred-and-twenty
Food for flowers in the Land of Plenty
Oh yeah
I wanna live to one-twenty-five
All you gotta do is survive
Oh yeah
Man #1:
If you like county music…you’re a Nazi.
If you still go the church…you’re a Nazi.
If you ever owned a gun…you’re a Nazi.
If you watch superhero films…you’re a Nazi.
If you drive a gas-powered car…you’re a Nazi.
If you liked to go fishing…you’re a Nazi.
If you hold doors for women…you’re a Nazi.
If you don’t trust the media…you’re a Nazi.
If you do trust the media…you’re an idiot.
If you believe in free speech…Nazi.
If you ever asked for ID… Nazi.
If you stream television…Nazi.
If you own a dog, not a cat…Nazi.
If you’ve ever seen a rodeo…Nazi.
If you like fast-food fries…Nazi.
If you act like a Nazi…ANTIFA.
High heels—Nazi!
Baseball cap—Nazi!
G.E.D—Nazi!
Don’t like wine—Nazi!
Spit, don’t swallow—Nazi!
Ever want children—Nazi!
Nazi-Nazi-Nazi-Nazi! Nazi!!
Nazi, you’re all dam Nazis! All of you!
Agree with me of you’re a Nazi!!! Bwaaaaahhhh—
Thud.
Man #2:
Holy crap, did that guy just have a stroke?
Should we help him?
Man #3:
Nah, why bother. He’s probably
A Nazi anyway…
Cookery Programs
Chunky fists hit the kitchen sink...hard
on every TV channel.
So manly they are we are not queers
but 100% men,
no flowery aprons for us.
Cooking was what women did before,
but no more,
now you get the Sunday roast with added
aggression and swearing.
The kitchen has been turned into
a battle field of egocentric men who´s
ambition is to be the best in
the rarefied world of cookery
It is not about you the diner.
When the kitchen soldiers put food
on your plate,
they try to make it into a work of art
when all you wanted was a steak and fried onions
at a friendly price.
Here goes...
she said
it loudly and
proudly:
Hello…
l`m a miss
and l miss
you inside out
Truly…
I miss you like
bees really miss
their honey
Wow…
water for my thirst
food for my hunger
scratch for my itch
Well…
want to take
to you like
duck to water
Oh…
you draw me
to you like
moth to light
Yes…
you are my cake
my cup of goodies
my hot ice-cream
Indeed…
at night my moon
daytime my sun
your love my light
Relax…
take a seat
I sold that heater
for your heat
Please…
you bathe in milk
l bask in your presence
a sublime quench
Finally…
what she did not
say is that we`re close
strangers on the net!
.
This jaunt
me myself and I
did experience
the fire works
the dancing we did for
five straight days
daze
the food and red
the exotic women filled
mine bed
The smile on my face
this jaunt
in the poets head