Restaurant Poems | Examples

Premium Member todays restaurant menu is not so lovely

reading a menu in a restaurant used to be a pleasure
relaxing, while my tongue salivated at the tasty choices
today the reading of the menu was not so lovely

signature skillet twenty-one hundred calories
cobb salad twelve hundred and eighty calories
potato chip seventy calories

I have been watching my weight at home
but eating out is a treat; I have not done it for a long time
I guess after eating this nine-hundred calorie cheeseburger
I will try to waddle out of here and watch my weight go up

Premium Member SENSE OF TASTE

By the street lamp we stand by,
our favorite restaurant.
Seeing people are eating,
hot dishes being devoured.
Food plays with my hungry tongue,
senses are jumping for joy.
Another heavenly meal,
mouth and stomach did enjoy.

Restaurant Poetry Soup

P olish up your best spoons everyone!
O ne taste and you'll ask for seconds
E xceptional quality in the finest dishes
T ry at least one item from the menu
R udeness is not tolerated
Y our empty bowl awaits to be filled...

S pecial soup for you, bon appetit!
O rganized restaurant, well-written recipes
U nited are we by one common interest:
P oetry. writing reading connecting.


Clowning Around

If I owned a circus
for you I'd play the clown
(Do jugglers ever tire of throwing up?
Only when they're sick of it.)
or if I had a rickshaw
I could run you round the town
if I were landlord of a bar
drinks would be on me
as proprietor of a restaurant
you would dine for free
and if I had a row boat
I would float you down the stream
but as I have none of these
all I can do is dream

Premium Member en route to Bulgaria


I'm making my way to Bulgaria
I hear their moussaka is ambrosial
I've tasted the Greek moussaka
the one that's made with eggplant

I hear that fancy Djanny Restaurant
of Sunny Beach is Bulgaria's finest
they favour premium potatoes
I bet it'll make it worth the trip



AP: 3rd place 2025

Premium Member About that gator recommended by a New Orleans waiter

Said a handsome New Orleans waiter,
"Sir, can I recommend some freshly caught gator?"
I said, "Are you for real?
Didn’t you hear about that poor woman Lucille?"
"But Sir, what if I can assure you ~ this ain't the gator that ate her?"


A Lone Diner at the Snout to Tail Bistro

She sent back the last order, as well.
This time, she shook her head 
like a dog in the rain,
like a posh-frock woman 
having "a spell."
The brimming broth, she said,
had a bitterness that swelled 
and stung between her cheeks,
and across her tongue.
It steamed with the scent
of turmeric and sweat,
a lipstick kiss in the basement
of the Red Grotto Used Bookstore,
of a Dominican girl, half her age,
in skin jeans and red sneakers, 
pulling her by the hand 
during Summer City Lit Festival
last year.
She claimed she craved the
steaming heat of our menu's
Andean soup,
but bones like razors waited 
when she raised the brim 
of the bowl to her lips.
Just like the wine she sent back,
she said that the broth bit her lip
with a vicious grin 
when she closed her eyes,
opened wide,
leaned in,
and tried to love it
with the whole of her mouth.

Premium Member writer earwiggs other restaurant patrons

The writer earwigged her way through town
Looking harmless as she sat down
Ordering pancakes and staying for hours
Making notes of conversation showers
Eavesdropping on people from every direction
Sometimes ordering an extra coffee or sweet little confection.

Premium Member Phyllo

Phyllo 

Sweet taste of baclava.
Drizzled honey.
Crunchy walnuts.
Hint of nutmeg.
Warmed to delicate crispness.

My mouth waters.
Eyes light with delight.
Nose twitches in anticipation.

But…….
Here I stand at midnight.
My kitchen a doughy mess.
Rolling and re-rolling phyllo dough

My trials and tribulations
on display with cracked
and torn doughy pieces
spread across the counter.


Exhausted, ready to give up.
The baklava seems miles away.
Time wasted proving I can’t
make phyllo dough.

I slouch in my chair.
Depression seeps into my soul.
Then, with a grin, I remember
my favorite Greek restaurant opens
in the morning.

Premium Member go to restaurant for oldsters

Village Inn
a go-to restaurant for oldsters
old old old old old people
the parking lot is full of walkers and canes
they are hobbling in the speed of clogged ketchup
at seventy-two, I feel like a baby chick next to them

Philippines Buffet Restaurant



              Everything is just normal
                 It's an eat all you can
                    Buffet restaurant
                     Eat all you want
          Eat how many times you want
              Take whatever you want
                 It's unlimited eating.

Premium Member Dave's Lab and Grill

Come join us tonight people where the bright lights illumine.
Be sure to pick up a free multi-colored balloomin 
While I showcase my special double self-lobotomy 
Performed by just me in my new labero-totomy. 
With a spoon, fork, and a knife  - in full factuality,
I’ll cut out some noodle and some individ-ality - 
And don’t forget to remember to gobble up your fill 
At our fine and efficient, fresh fast-food hamburger grill!

Premium Member seagulls in a restaurant

seagulls scare diners
divebombing restaurant tables
small children giggle

La Sittera Restaurant

Colorful the garb
a perfection
of lovelyness
a bite at resto verso
find a place to dance
ooh you
got me going
aint shame to say
keep on with
the way you're going
Woman you know
how to
get your way
full respect to your
situation
I have something to say
I wanna be
with you tonight
I gotta and need to
make it right
got me feeling a way for you
tryna keep it
honest tween me 
and you

L'Alpage Fendant
a wine they drank in Grone
in the canion of Valais

"We were on tour in Europe
we went out on night
and " El Whorio el Brazilia"
meet my date and took him
from me. I was her understudy
at work, and this Scram took
wind of us and rootia Married with him.
the Oboist and and the flutist
had to pull apart> Txomin and Dynomoss
sent Whoretense back to
Godbout where she
lived: I got
the job and the man!"
By 
Lambada Pagode
the UnderStudy

Premium Member Not Real

I, as paper man
in paper town, 
grey, saw 
a cardboard cut-out
of a mirror, 
the reflection
was a busy world 
it didn't look real, 
those colours
and restaurants

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