Meals Poems

Gourmet Meals

Some eat Gourmet meals
while many exist from crumbs
that fall from tables.

17 Grace After Meals

We give You thanks for all Your benefits
O Almighty Eternal God
Who lives and reigns forever
Amen

Poetry Form: Quatrain
Date Typed: May 19, 2025
Time Typed: 9:47pm 

16 Blessing Before Meals

(Please) Bless us O Divine Lord
And these Your gifts
Which we are about to receive
From Your goodness
Through (Father Christ) our Lord
Amen

Poetry Form: Free Verse
Date Typed: May 19, 2025
Time Typed: 9:41pm

MOTHER'S DAY IS COMING

M+Mother you work very hard for our family,
O+Oven hot for wonderful homemade meals.
T+Tiny ones you were given from,
H+Heaven above.
E+Everyone wants to say Thank You,
R+Raising a glass for your love on this very,
'S+Special day.

D+Doing God's work you are,
A+An angel disguised as a mother.
Y+You have all my love forever.

My Robot Brings me Six Meals a Day

My robot brings me six meals a day
We started out with three, but he was sad
He lives to please me in every kind of way
His baking is good, his frying and cooking not bad

Robot makes my bed, he shines my boots and shoes
Eliminates all doubts, makes me laugh, tickles away my blues
He vacuums and dusts,

Washing Before Meals

Can you see the Pharisee washing his hands, full of pride?
Hasn't he, in his show-off, kept his honesty aside?
The one who called you for meals had his agenda in mind.
To prove you are wrong, in you some faults he wanted to find

With the cleansing of dishes, you asked, Do you peep within?
More than the dust

Holiday Meals

Imagine if, when giving thanks,
We grilled some burgers, ribs and franks
And ate our turkey in July
With yams and fresh-baked pumpkin pie.

Our guests would rear up and revolt
And out the door a few would bolt,
For some traditions can’t be ditched,
Including foods which can’t be switched.

I’ve heard some folks eat mac and cheese
On both occasions, if you

Ban the Bombs

I'd love to ban bombs,
Let's do it with aplomb!
Chicks, go on strike.
No longer skirts to hike,
Starve men of meals and sex,
No more washing, cast the hex,
Create peace that way,
Freedom for Earth one day,
That's what I would change, 
Ban all bombs from our range,
Girls, peace is allowed,
Noble Jung be proud!

Dieting

She counts her calories,
Reminders that even her hips
Can lie, as they lye quietly against
His leg, hesitant to breathe,
Soft as a kiss, yet longing to exhale,
Winds of respite from the calories,
Counted silently, amid 
Vegetables and fruits, some fiber
Proteins in hues of solid colors,
Like a gesture to be weighed
After the sins of swallowing whole,
Devouring meals of fats
Who

Zinc In Meals

With this substance a lot to link,
 If only one would clearly think 
But nothing between Zinc and school’s ink
Nor voyaging vessels that sink: 
Perhaps the gray of oysters, not pink…

We all should crave the mineral Zinc.
You ask me to explain i’ll blink 
But a doctor gives you a wink
Of guys about to glasses clink:
‘Please,

Bone Meals

Bones remain, retain, and nourish
the under-croft, the terrain,
the meadow green.
Bones replant. They are meals for
the mouths of ghosts.

The dead feed the living,
and the living cut down the alive
to feed themselves.
The world must eat itself.
This is called husbandry and farming.
It is also called shopping and carrying,
killing, and butchery.
Those that eat only vegetables
also partake;
for the leaf and

Making Meals Out of Mountains

Let’s make a meal out of this mountain I said to Clouth. 
With a giant goat gulp I had a boulder in my mouth.
Which I thought would be fun until things went south
And my teeth began to crack and break and fall out. 

Clouth thought it was a competition, so he chomped on a tree.
Spitting

Bone-Meals

Bones and their ash remain,
retain and nourish
the under-croft, the terrain.
The meadow green.
Bones replant.

The dead feed the living,
and the living cut down the living
to feed themselves.
The world must eat itself.
This is called husbandry and farming.
It is also called shopping and carrying,
killing, and butchery.
Those that eat only vegetables
also partake.

A grave is a half-way house,
Urns are waiting rooms.
The

Love Fruits, Passion's Meals On Which I Once Sup

Love Fruits, Passion's Meals On Which I Once Sup

When I ponder my life, its fleeing years-
Youth with its blessings and its cold dark fears;
Wandering through world and paths not taken
Truth of the sorrows and those forsaken;
Faint gaspings of romantic interludes;
Treasures lost, unforgiving attitudes;
Celebrating those small victories gained,
Savoring what true love in life remained.

Whispers searching soul

Give Him Those Extra Meals Please

Marmoset directs traffic better than monkeys or sloths.
He stands in the highway and walks his feet off.
We have hired other species. but they do not hold a candle.
To Marmoset who can do it at every single damned angle.

He is demanding a raise, sixteen more meals a week.
For he has plenty of mouths to feed, and

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