Meals Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

Going Hungry

Losing one's lunch
is not so hot
but dropping your dinner
when a fish dish wish was the plot
could be your worst nightmare
as not a morsel will pass your lips
as meals go it's now toast
and you've had your chips

Premium Member Gourmet Meals

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

Premium Member 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


Premium Member 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

Premium Member 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.

Premium Member 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, washes dishes and walks the dog
But his snoring is outrageous, so I make him sleep out by the bog


Premium Member 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 and dirt, there are abundant scars of sin.
Seeming neat in visage, you told them, You’re like white-washed tombs.
From the pessimism brewing within you, cynicism fumes.

You press on lawfulness, you said to the pundits of law.
You thrust loads on the poor. You do not move even a straw.
Do you think that building tombs for prophets is your pastime?
In you, the pride of holding heavenly keys is in prime

Give away, you said, evincing kindness as a fashion.
Pretence and ferocity should give way to compassion.

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 please,
And one Thanksgiving, we did brood
When stuck with eating Chinese food.

But mostly, menus stay the same
On holidays, when families claim
To stick to what they always eat,
To make the past and present meet.

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!

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, Zinc show in your food and drink
Or you’ll betray soon, the Doink:
A pity you’ll start an oink,
For off I shall not fail to slink…
Zinc important to taste and smell,
Meals releasing no smell you tell,
Cooked stew without aroma hell:
Fried chicken without same won’t sell…
And then one’s wounds that should heal
Zinc knows how to with them deal
About these doctors do not twice think,
Because it is Medicine, not its brink.

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 stalk
are seeded in the mellowing marrow
of a long planted bone-sown mire.
Often bones are dropped into the soil
as if the dirt were an ocean
and the land all that is or was left-over.
This is known as litter.

A grave is a half-way house,
Urns are waiting rooms.
Worms wheel the bon-rich earth
towards the sky for its blessing.
Osseous is the ancestry that seeds nations.

What follows bone and bone ash
becomes the crop, the tomorrow-cart
laden with its bone harvest.
Bone-flowers scent the air
from the empty canals of nowhere.

Bones scaffold wingspans,
they riddle citadels of stone.
Bones in tombs and catacombs
are pabulum for the larder.
A storage for generations.

Premium Member 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 out teeth and splinters and yelling “whoopee!”
That is what I get when I travel down the blue sea 
With a crazy, crabby, cranky, mealy-mouth chimpanzee.

The children we were with began racing around
Tasting all the stuff they could reach on the ground.
The meal was earthworms, mushrooms, anything found.
The mountain rolled his eyes, and said “Stop kidding around!”

As meals go, this one was surprisingly fast.
Of course dandelions, and daffodils never do last
When you are a mountain goat with the largest mouth 
After we were finished, we moved our meal to the south.

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 soil nurses bones,
worms wheel the earth towards the sky
for its blessing.
Osseous clouds seed nations.

What follows bone and bone ash
becomes the crop,
the tomorrow-cart laden
with its bone harvest.
Bone-flowers scent the air.

Bones underpin bridges and wingspans,
citadels of stone.
Bone dust scaffolds every stem and branch.

Bones in tombs and catacombs
are food for the larder.
A storage for generations.

Stars shed their elemental dust,
becoming bone fodder.
Bone ash is the genesis
of all unknown beginnings.

Premium Member 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 once so gaily heard,
Morn's sweet call, with its warbling of songbirds,
Lessons learned from sorrows, pain's dark cup
Love fruits, passion's meals on which I once sup
What life was, later what it came to be;
What finally made a good man of me.


Robert J. Lindley, 6-15-2020
Sonnet, ( However 'tis long the journey, 'tis never enough )

Syllables Per Line:10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables:140
Total # Words:100

Premium Member 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 his offspring squeak.
It behooves us to give them to him, and I will tell you why.
If he trains all his children, we have a replacement if he doth die.

The way he stands in the middle of the highway each day.
Is the absolute craziest mess, and I doubt that marmosets pray.
So let's cough up those extra meals, while he is still alive
Before he demands a ridiculous amount like thirty or forty five.

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