Plateful Poems | Examples

Cooking Up Our History

COOKING UP OUR HISTORY

It’s surprising how food can change your whole life
Bringing people together like you and your wife
In your family gatherings there is food galore
You eat a whole plateful then go back for more

There’s all the ethnic food, that Mom would make
A delicious secret recipe for that poppy seed cake
The restaurants attract us with their specialty food
We go out for indulgence just to lift up our mood

We celebrate our birthday with all the sweet stuff
Our bellies are bulging, and we still can’t get enough
A three-course meal and then the desert
Where’s my antacid, I really need it to work

But it’s not only food that will create so much pleasure
It’s the company we keep and the stories we treasure
Tell me again about your whole family history
Where you grew up and your ancestor’s mystery

The stories can last well into the night
The details with passion till we hear it just right
The food and the stories will continue on forever
Cooking up our history is every family’s treasure

Chinese Dave

Chinese Dave is not Chinese, he just likes Chinese food,
He’ll eat it till his tummy bursts whene’er he’s in the mood.
He scoffs Chow Mein and Egg Foo Yung and Fried Rice by the plateful,
And then his botty burps. Oh dear! Stand back! You will be grateful.

The Halloween Cat

Down the lane in a dark alley lives a slinky cat with superpowers. Her abilities go beyond your wildest dreams. They call her Dumpy cuz she eats at the local dump , scraps down under. Her green eyes shine like glass marbles in the dark and her sheen resembles dark sleek oil when the moon hits it just right. On Halloween night she flies out into the night shapeshifting and moving through the throng of children.
She is in search of dark entities that roam the streets in search of victims. Kids are safe when Dumpy becomes "Voltron" legendary defender and superhero of children. 
She's a Halloween vigilante that gathers them behind steel
whiskers and spits them out into a roaring fire, watching them 
burn til' all Saints day. 
The only tell tale sign that she has been on the prowl is a small singed tail that waves around happily as old Zee leaves a plateful of clams by the back door. "
Honey she's back " says Chef wiping his hands on an apron "Here give her this" replies J passing him an old water bowl.
Down the lane in a dark alley lives a slinky black cat with superpowers. She's been known to give out a battle cry or two on Halloween night.

Part 1 Untitled Seeking Suggestions

Im a deep thinker 
not much of a drinker
I don't break the rules
I ain't no fool
I'm dedicated
I'm highly educated
I dont wear a disguise
I keep my eyes on the prize 

I'm a bit crazy
not a bit lazy
I learn from mistakes
I give more than I take
I expect nothing in return
I let the fire burn

I don't pass judgement 
I rely on discussion
I don't make assumptions
I always make adjustments

I do not steal
I know how it feels
I'm tired of being the grease
to your constantly squeaking wheel

I do not destroy 
I rebuild and create
I don't debate
I'd rather negotiate

I forgive
I never forget
no room for regret
when you don't place bets

I'm a singer and a writer
a lover not a fighter
I'm grateful
never hateful 
always starving 
yet serving a plateful

I care deeply for others 
Im a proud mother
I'm speaking clearly
yet you hear a stutter

I repay my debts
I show others respect
I give all that I have
and this is what i get?

I don't seek revenge
I always bend!
I never attack
when stabbed in the back
I do not spite
I do what is right
no reason to harm ya
for I have faith in karma.

Holiday Brunch

Cracker Barrel — always a favorite.
Not my first choice today, but
we go where the grandkids go.

Warming my hands with coffee cup
...waiting...tap, tap...for the follow up.

I wonder if the waitress was in charge today…
Like an arcade ball, literally bouncing off
coworkers, aimless, goofy talk…

Our table, likewise, discordant —
not quite catching the right tune.

An unfamiliar waitress, all over
my granddaughter with hugs —
back off, lady...phew

The orchestrated mess came in due time,
like a thanksgiving dinner, where we wait for hours.

So glad my family didn’t throw a fuss. We were all
hungry, but not...starving.

Our lackadaisical fare showed up with lackluster.
dishwater hash browns, soupy grits. But the

plateful of biscuits, were honestly delicious,
as was the one french fry I borrowed from
my granddaughter’s plate.

So breakfast lacked perfection and some emotional
digestion at the table, but still any day...any day
with my grands is a perfect kind of day,

because I love them so…

11/26/2017

My Eyes Are Hunting Spears

My eyes are my spears
in bushes of opportunities
they lead me with confidence
but it is only good scenery
and plateful of edibles I get
I do eat with my hungry eyes
my hands are too short
and legs not fast enough
to identify and catch real games
every hunting expedition
with empty hands I return
but with satisfied eyes
that mean nothing to my life
in this land of opportunities
that belong to me not

Paragon of Virtues

Paragon of virtues in not here
All there is are jests 
Reapers of fruits of sorrow
Apologists of denied rights
Givers of plateful of tears 
Oedipus creatures of tragedy 
Notorious angels of piracy 

Over-seers of dangling diabetic bellies
Fire- fighters against free conscience

Virtue is scarce as rain in Sahara
In praise of folly is preoccupation
Royalty shifting to trigger-happy kids
The schooled not educated yet 
Unless Spirit of God descends
Electra, Oedipus beings shall prosper
Scary ghost land homeland postures

Rich Man Vs Poor Man

The poor man on the street
With threadbare dress and blistered feet 
'Tis his slogan, he howls,
"I feel hungry, my stomach growls."

The rich man sits to eat
With silken dress and stockinged feet
Tells after his plateful,
"I'm not hungry, my stomach's full."

The poor man sits and begs
For some leftover food and dregs
In his poor broken bowls,
"I feel hungry, my stomach growls."

The rich man's enjoying,
He's had his three course meal full swing,
Says, "I've had plentiful,
I'm not hungry, my stomach's full."

He'll never understand
(He's not hungry, his stomach's crammed)
Why that poor weak man yowls,
"I feel hungry, my stomach growls."


---------------
19.11.16

Italian Love

Love, Italian style
is a heaping plateful of spaghetti, 
hot and steamy.

Footling Around In the Kitchen

Adventurous Asparagus

Edgy 
Veggie

All over the Stove

Splatter
Matter

Don’t let Pa Find This

Risky 
Whisky

Brother Got the Macaroni He Wanted

Dinner
Winner

The Hostess Treat that Hid in the Pantry Corner

Stinky
Twinky

Oops! Leftovers Two Weeks old

Fateful
Plateful

For Brian Strand's the 'ALL YOURS (Feb 23)' Poetry Contest

Bastard Custard

She mastered a bastard custard 
His husband was a bit flustered
He invited friends 
And forgot his lens 
He saw a plateful of mustard

Newspaper

Newspaper is for kids to play with and have fun or experiment something new,
Paper folding is something one learns using these scraps only---right?

Newspaper is to clean the glass, the cheapest means ever,
Just sprinkle a few drops and wipe off, no chemical works that good---right?

Newspaper is to place on a shelf, under the clothes, the books and
Under all those important or unimportant things that one wants to discard but keeps--- right?

Newspaper is also seen with roadside vendors to serve
A plateful of hot ‘pakoras’ ,spicy ‘bhelpuri’ or tasty ‘kultchas’---right?

Then newspaper addiction for those who  read, for it tell about the World,
And it’s not all, it also tell what’s right and what’s wrong---right?

Those who are reading are smiling I know, for Newspaper helps them in other ways too,
And now there is no fight for I know I am right.


2nd place win
Contest sponsored by Sheri Fresonke Harper

Aunty Betty

Aunty Betty ate spaghetti 
Every chance she got
For every plateful
Very grateful, she
Would scoff the bloomin’ lot

Aunty Betty ate spaghetti
Several times a day
With every course
A different sauce, and
That’s just how it would stay

Aunty Betty ate spaghetti
Far too much it seems
The urge so strong
It didn’t take long, ‘til 
She busted apart at the seams

Poor Aunty Betty, there’s no more spaghetti
And the look on her face just confirms
That there in her belly 
It’s not vermicelli
But thousands of wriggly worms

A Sound of Orient

A sound of orient 
-
He looks like a fragranced oasis in this city; 
a lean, yet muscular man in a dhoti, 
sweaty; playing flute, a plateful of bland food 
in front of him, his humble surrounding, the hut.
A village man, who has once come in chasing dream, 
is now a part of this city, a part of speed, 
all except his flute and customary dhoti. 

The dizzy sound travels up, to the fifth floor terrace, 
to the sad man and sadder woman, to the sadists, 
to the dying and to the dead. It climbs up like veins. 
His is a life, with its own brands of pain and love, 
not demanding, the way sometimes this city extracts. 
The days and nights extract a man. 
He hauls out others or vise versa. 

A sound disappears in sleep, 
becomes a village in the vale, 
where dreams move like sheep.
~© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar.

The Meal Offered By Poetrysoup

Gazing from my hut through the global window.
I saw a golden pot of soup
Out of which millions of aroma did flow
And a lovely label engraved on it reads poetrysoup.

I ran towards the pot, though at zero mile
Then I discovered its ingredient was innovation plus imagery.
The meats and spicy chicken wings, gave me a welcome smile:
 I was hooked by its colors of proud and passionate poetry.

I was given a plateful for free.
Its little drop on my tongue I would not
Want to share with my stomach for it to feel
But because I want to finish the meal I could not.

it was a great feast sealed with golden cord
 My stomach danced at a glimpse of the soup
My body was triggered into a new poetic world
After it digested the lovely meal offered by poetrysoup.

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