Brownielocks and The 3 Bears Present. Prunes By Louis Phillips. Pity the prune, That misunderstood fruit. A prune is a plum In an unpressed suit. Herbert Glerbett by Jack Prelutsky.
Herbert Glerbett, rather round swallowed sherbert by the pound. With that glop inside his lap Herbert Glerbett took a nap, and as he slept, the boy dissolved, and from the mess a thing evolved Now if you're wise, and if you're sly you'll swiftly pass this creature by, it is no longer Herbert Glerbett, Whatever it is, do not disturb it. The Silver Fish by Shel Silverstein. While fishing in the blue lagoon, I caught a lovely silver fish, And he spoke to me, "My boy," quoth he, "Please set me free and I'll grant your wish; A kingdom of wisdom?
A palace of gold? Or all the fancies your mind can hold? Today I caught that fish again That lovely silver prince of fishesAnd once again he offered me, If I would only set him free, Any one of a number of wishes, If I would throw him back to the fishes. When you tip the ketchup bottle, First will come a little, then a lot'll. Sneaky Bill By William Cole. I'm Sneaky Bill, I'm terrible and mean and vicious, I steal all the cashews from the mixed-nut dishes. I eat all the icing but I won't touch the cake, And what you won't give me, I'll go ahead and take.
I gobble up the cherries from everyone's drinks, And whenever there are sausages I grab a dozen links; I take both drumsticks if there's turkey or chicken, And the biggest strawberries are what I'm pickin'; I make sure I get the finest chop on the plate, And I'll eat the portions of anyone's who's late.
Potato Chips By Anthony Gallagher. A potato chip is something Never ceasing to amuse. I love it's funny wrinkles And the crunch way it chews. Father Loses Weight By X. My father lost a pound last night He lost it where it bounces. He cried, "Good grief! Some gross sneak-thief Swiped my favorite 16 ounces!Poets and writers who work as teaching artists understand that establishing a space where mutual regard and a sense of belonging can flourish is of utmost importance.
The creative spark and humanizing impulse we find within literature and language is our medium for generating such an atmosphere, where all feel honored and welcomed. But this past year we have witnessed a widespread increase in the use of language for an opposite purpose—to marginalize and disempower by using fear, propaganda, and vocabularies that dehumanize to target anyone labeled as different. A number of social justice and anti-bias groups have recently published well-documented statistics about the rise of anti-immigrant sentiment, hate speech, and bullying in the months leading up to the presidential election and its aftermath.
As a teaching artist working with young refugees and immigrants, I am particularly moved to speak out against these grossly inaccurate stereotypes. For the past six years I have had the honor of co-directing and facilitating Stories of Arrival: Youth Voices Poetry Project at Foster High School in Tukwila, Washington, one of the most language diverse high schools in the country.
Stories of Arrival works with high school-aged refugees and immigrants at the school and takes place in the English language learner ELL classes of my co-director, Carrie Stradley.
Food Poems - Poems For Food
Too many of our students have been falsely judged based on their accents, their appearance, and their unfamiliarity with American culture and the English language. In spite of this, they are determined to overcome their considerable challenges in order to acquire an education and make a better life for themselves in the world. The poetry they create with us is a poetry of resilience and hope. This is wonderfully evident in our most recent project, centered around the food, gardens, and meal customs of the places our students have had to leave behind.
In addition to the trauma and loss of opportunity they suffered when they fled their homelands, many of our students experienced the more subtle losses of being forced to abandon familiar seasonal rh ythms of places where food was grown in small, local gardens and farms, and where culinary and mealtime traditions were deeply established.
They miss the familiar scents and sounds of a home kitchen and the native fruits, vegetables, grains, and spices that comprised their local cuisine. To broaden our idea, the Stories of Arrival project partnered with Project Feast, a Tukwila nonprofit located close to the school. The collaboration centered on the theme of food as it speaks to family, culture, and community, as well as to hunger, scarcity, and migration. We welcomed several Project Feast cooks and staff members to our classroom, and in turn we took a field trip to Project Feast and conducted interviews with participants, all refugees from a number of different countries.
Then we invited a local watercolor artist to visit our classes to collaborate with the students in creating an image of the food they selected. Simple praise poems about these fruits and vegetables from homeland gardens, farms, fields, and orchards gave way as the year went on to deeper explorations, with poems detailing beloved kitchens, cooking over open fires, memories of family members left behind and loved ones who were no longer alive.
Malaak A. I wrote this poem because my heart is so connected with my father. We can also taste the struggle in our food and the many thousands of stories behind it. The poetry that emerged from this food-themed project speaks volumes about the power of food and poetry to trigger deeply personal memories. We celebrate with food, we comfort ourselves with food. In times of loss we provide sustenance for those who are in deep sorrow.
And of course there is that most universal symbol of peace and well-being—that there is a place for everyone at the table—that we all break bread together.
But, as we know, precious food traditions can be devalued, whether in a school cafeteria, a detention center for undocumented immigrants, or any situation in which our sense of comfort and belonging are eroded. Certainly this happens when we are deprived of eating or growing the food that is part of our identity.
A number of poems written during the project reflect the struggles of adjusting to foods that were radically new and different than the foods of home countries. This was especially true of the Bhutanese, Nepalese, and Burmese refugees, and of Vietnamese immigrants because dairy is not a food that appears in their traditional diets.
The novel in verse, Inside Out and Back Againby Thanhha Lai mirrors what it is like for a refugee or immigrant when presented with unfamiliar food that seems unappealing and strange. Her verses are based on her childhood experiences leaving Vietnam because of the war and arriving in the US. She also writes about food scarcity and deprivation. Her work, sometimes somber and other times humorous, inspired our students to write of their first experiences eating American food, as in this excerpt from a poem by Smile K.
I picked up my food, it was hot! I was confused: I never saw a hot bread, I took one bite, I froze! For the newly arrived immigrant or refugee, there is a strong sense of wanting to belong while still holding on to and honoring family and cultural traditions. A poem from James M. In Tukwila, when I tried to devour my food with my hands that I washed myself, Americans stared at me disapprovingly in the school cafeteria. Writing about the food of their cultures transported the students back to the places they were from; recalling minute details of sounds, spices, flavors, and colors combined to metaphorically bring them home.Humor and food.
You can go a week without laughing. Good food choices are good investments. I suggest carrot cake, zucchini bread, and pumpkin pie. It is so shallow of them. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all. The more you have the more you want.
Take a taste. Come join us. Life is so endlessly delicious. There must be food for the soul. Nothing is more blissful. I like to grill; I do that a lot. I like meat and have big dinners — steak, red meat splurges, prime cuts. Food is supposed to sustain you so you can live better, not so you can eat more. Some people eat to live, and some people live to eat. So the day after fasting, the music that comes out will be very joyous.
In places like Africa, these can be some of the hardest resources to attain if you live in a rural area. Stress cannot exist in the presence of a pie. The key is to make yummy, delicious food that happens to be healthy. Food is culture, habit, craving and identity.
About Quote Ambition is your source for quotes.Looking for a good poem to read before dinner? Poets have often sung the praises of their favourite fruits, or meals, or sweet and tasty treats. Tonight, grave sir, both my poor house, and I Do equally desire your company; Not that we think us worthy such a guest, But that your worth will dignify our feast With those that come, whose grace may make that seem Something, which else could hope for no esteem.
It is the fair acceptance, sir, creates The entertainment perfect, not the cates. Yet shall you have, to rectify your palate, An olive, capers, or some better salad Ushering the mutton; with a short-legged hen, If we can get her, full of eggs, and then Lemons, and wine for sauce; to these a cony Is not to be despaired of, for our money ….
Many poets have flattered their patrons, but few have written poems inviting them to dine with them.
Gently blow and stir the fire, Lay the mutton down to roast, Dress it nicely I desire, In the dripping put a toast, That I hunger may remove: Mutton is the meat I love. On the dresser see it lie, Oh! On the table spread the cloth, Let the knives be sharp and clean: Pickles get and salad both, Let them each be fresh and green: With small beer, good ale, and wine, O ye gods!
Christina Rossetti, Goblin Market. The opening of this poem sounds almost like an advertisement for the fruit marketing board, so it had to feature in a pick of the best food poems!
Who is the titular emperor, and why is he the only emperor? What is going on in the poem — a funeral? The proper way to eat a fig, in society, Is to split it in four, holding it by the stump, And open it, so that it is a glittering, rosy, moist, honied, heavy-petalled four-petalled flower. Then you throw away the skin Which is just like a four-sepalled calyx, After you have taken off the blossom, with your lips.
But the vulgar way Is just to put your mouth to the crack, and take out the flesh in one bite. Angelou is best-known as a poet and as the author of the memoir I Know Why the Caged Bird Singsbut she was also once a fry cook, and published several books of recipes, beginning with Hallelujah!
The Welcome Table Let others pursue the healthy diet: this poet, she declares, is an incorrigible carnivore. Want some wine with that food?
Taste Of Food - Poem by Naveed Akram
Check out some of the best wine poemsthe best poems about drinkingsome classic poems about fruitand these great non-cheesy wedding poems. The author of this article, Dr Oliver Tearle, is a literary critic and lecturer in English at Loughborough University. Here is fairy bread to eat.
Here in my retiring room, Children, you may dine On the golden smell of broom And the shade of pine; And when you have eaten well, Fairy stories hear and tell. That changeling, lean and icy-lipped.
Touched crust, and bone, and groat, and lol Beneath her finger taper-tipped The magic all ran through. Instead of crust a peacock pie, Instead of bone sweet venison, Instead of groat a white lily With seven blooms thereon.
But not too much for three. O toothsome meat in jelly froze I O tender haunch of elfin stag! O rich the odour that arose! O plump with scraps each bag!
There, in the daybreak gold and wild. Each merry-hearted beggar man Drank deep unto the fairy child. And blessed the good St.I truly enjoyed writing the following poems about food. I was inspired to write them due to my passion for food and healthy living.
At times it was a challenge, as I was literally drooling on my keyboard. I don't see myself as a health guru far from that. Sometimes, I am guilty of eating foods that are not as good, but I do try to stick to the healthier choices most of the time. For most of us, I think food not only needs to have nutritional value, but it also must taste good. So the challenge we all face is trying to eat foods that are both; high in good for us nutrients and taste amazing at the same time.
We all enjoy delicious food, Makes us happy, fixes our mood. It's all about the juicy taste, Doesn't matter, where the food is placed. We should consider, nutritional support, We shall need it, if we engage in a sport. Energy; food provides - plenty Need a bit more, if we're over twenty. A great dish, we should all savor, Eat slowly, as we taste the flavor.‘OMKalen’: Kalen Recites Slam Poetry About Food
Choose our very favorite cuisine, Is it red? Or is it green? Personally, I'm a very huge fan of many different types of sweet treats. However, my favorite is definitely apple pie. I'm talking about my 85 year old grandma Alice's legendary apple pie. I can't even describe how amazing her homemade apple pies taste. This next poem is dedicated to my wonderful and loving grandmother Alice.
I can't wait to see her again, and thank her for everything she has done for me and our family for so many years. I'll take sweet, any day over sour, Mouth-watering pastries depend on the flour.
Dessert usually comes, at the end of the meal, Sugary sensations, the taste is surreal. Belgian chocolate truffle cake, Cures every single, emotional ache.
Some may say, it's a bit too rich, I'm in love, I'll never switch.Feast on this smorgasbord of poems about eating and cooking, exploring our relationships with food. Prose Home Harriet Blog. Visit Home Events Exhibitions Library. Newsletter Subscribe Give. Poetry Foundation. Back to Previous. Harvest Song. By Jean Toomer. I am a reaper whose muscles set at sun-down. All my oats are cradled. But I am too chilled, and too fatigued to bind them. And I hunger.
I crack a grain between my teeth.
Poems About Food
I do not taste it. I have been in the fields all day.
My throat is dry. I hunger. My eyes are caked with dust of oat-fields at harvest-time. It would be good to see them. It would be good to see them, dust-caked and.Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set. Whose crumbs the crows inspect And with ironic caw Flap past it to the Farmer's Corn-- Men eat of it and die. Emily Dickinson was born in Report Reply.
I understood nothing btw Report Reply. This is so very good Report Reply. Report Reply. So are you to my thoughts as food to life, Or as sweet-seasoned showers are to the ground; And for the peace of you I hold such strife As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found. Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, Or gluttoning on all, or all away. What would you like for supper, Some steak, with chips and peas, Maybe, a nice brewed cuppa, Or me, with lips that please.
You could have something spicy, Like a curry or sweet and sour, But these can be a bit spicy And not good, at this late hour. Perhaps a glass of beer, or shandy, Or a brandy to fill the gap, But, of course, that might make you randy, Hey! Have that as your nightcap! There's me, I'm sweet and slender, And tender like the steak, And if you put me in a blender, A fantastic meal, I'd make.
There's food enough for your pleasure, So don't say you aren't well fed, When you start to realise I'm a treasure, You could have 'hot crumpet' in your bed! Is it really so depraving I like to eat a lot? Can it be he was too glib And perhaps a bit too funky? O Food, your glory is so great, Strength of limbs you generate. It should be of our own choice, Or with guileless friends rejoice.
The Taste of Home: Food-Themed Poetry with Refugee and Immigrant Students
O delicious, sweet luscious food, Come; see all health it includes. Nature everywhere food provides: In plains, on plateau and hill sides. Just as wind blows everywhere, Savory juices all over supplies.
Helped to kill nefarious Dragon, Glorious victory over it was won. The juices of watery food fresh, Dissolve all superfluous flesh. Creation, around food galvanized, Ever wraps up and rematerialize.
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