Best Foodstuff Poems

Excuse me asking - 'Does he take - Sugar? '
'Would he like on lump or two of - Sugar? '

Cornflakes? I'm afraid we're out of Sugar
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Are all poets mad?
That's the question, to be had
Maybe posed by Shakespeare (As well he might
in Winter's Night.)
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Peace from the northern wind that swept across Barada River.
As long as that wind sweeps, tears would be everlasting upon Damascus.
I excuse from all pens and rhymes if couldn't express the matter.
About its disaster catastrophic events, the pen couldn't describe.
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Facing the sea with spring blossoms

　 　 By Hai Zi
...

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As I walked, everywhere
I saw labourers atop some buildings with safety helmets
I saw them working at construction sites with diligence.
I saw unity in humanity.
...

In 1868 the famous Austrian musician
Johann Strauss II composed the "Tales
from the Vienna Woods", Opus 325,
one of his six ingratiating waltzes.
...

These ugly looking lumps of calcium carbonate,
Unlike their cousins that collectors take.
Have a name known far and wide
As Apalach Oysters. ‘Tis said with pride.
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Perfidy is a fly
That simulates salmonella
Landing lazily on a stinking sty like a tragedy
With neither parachute nor umbrella
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Howler monkeys are monkeys who
Know how and when to use their tails
Here at home in Lincoln Park Zoo
When opportunity avails.
...

A line of ants laden with foodstuff moves in
Another line of their brethren comes from the opposite direction
And the latter move sideways and give way to the former!
They have a small world of great deeds!
...

The blackly goat
On the tracks
From this to that one
Marking the passenger
...

Although grass to a handful surfaces vain,
The very being of it,
Mounting all over reminding of equivalence,
Endures constant pain.
...

I see an eagle through the window there,
That tastes freedom by tearing the current of air,
It is not looking at the sky for sure,
Since there is hardly anything for it to fly for.
...

The aboveground nest of bees
brings sweet foodstuff kept in hives
as the colony carries
painful bitter bites.
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The Bazaar

I was born in a dot
-dot, spot, called: "Iran"
...

Dreams of last night

Too tired
-hit the sack early for
...

Must hate Finch

Went to help a friend
-disastrous funny day,
...

I am taking shelter of You only
And You can only give me relief
From all fear and from You
...

Fool's paradise-
This world.

Go not with
...

Just embarked in a restaurant business

I Thought at first it was just an easy venture
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Some Acrostics In Triplets


6 Man
...

A wonderful day with rusks, sugared chocolate, wafers,
passing out repeatedly - yet glorious with life; suddenly
I talk like an organ again, fast and furious, no stopping
for breath - driving like a fiend, swerving right and left
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Workless Future

We are fast approaching the time when robots
can do 98% of the work, the middle classes will disappear
...

A new society

Is Brexit more than Brexit
a dream of going back in time
...

Pasta starting in the 1st century AD
Changing its design throughout time
A tradition everyone to later know
Everyone to experience
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ANSWER
October 3rd,2018

I am not a politician, take my apology
...

Indian voters can be divided
in three categories
'dog' voters
'cat' voters
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While gulping foodstuff in variety,
With my spouse and children only,
Forgetting about million folks,
Who hunger for a single feast,
...

Rats walk away from the cultures of the plague,
burrowing into foodstuff packed on camels;
along far-reaching caravan routes
to the Russian steppes,
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Chocolate

1.
...

Mystical realities provoke my understanding,
Inside their realer minds is a disease called wisdom,
It shines beyond belief and creates more knowledge.
...

Alas! A dove sitting today
On the termite-eaten branch of peace,
Looks sometime towards the garden
And sometime towards her curtailed wings.
...

A problem lurched - even pickled or loxed
pinkly sweet, it was no less perturbing.
That network of the noosphere, now faux-luxed,
alert, had frissoned with falciforming
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Written winter 2007 and the writer's first venture at writing in his adopted home country's language. Given that the Scots celebrate Burn's night with a poem about a certain foodstuff he wanted to do something similar that could be celebrated in the area in which he now lives, so here it is! !


Autour des montagnes des deux Savoies
...

Well…
We headed to the corner store for more
Of what we thought we needed more
Of what we thought we needed for
...

I know the theme
But, not the contents
Love in place of bloodshed
Name of life is co-existence
...

We grow up in public landfills, train stations,
under the bridges of towns,
victims of all kinds of abuse, but we still had rights…
because of conflicts with our relatives,
...

A LETTER TO MAMA MITI

Dear Mama Miti,
It's long since your demise
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Arise o! Kitchen pot
My stomach calls to bay.
To serve my stomach right
With appetizing gaze I pray.
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Marrow-sprung, eucharistic fount, black
pudding beaten in a bucket, kept
from coagulating, final taboo sopped

in a tampon or gargling from a slit
carotid artery, left to darken in air
like sunset stored in citrated vials

for transfusion, thimblefuls of grape
juice, wedding ring on a leach finger,
brackish foodstuff for the undead,

not wrung from turnips, no denser
than porter, it flows filtered forward,
pumps from valves until it clumps.
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A simple sonnet

The tramp, who sits on a low ledge, near the entrance of the
modest supermarket that sells basic food fruit and vegetable
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