Skip to main content

A Poet In the Mood For Food

This week I'm focusing on food. Well, not just this week, if the truth be known.  Food is a universal theme in our respective lives and a favourite topic for writers and poets.

 I love cooking and as a consequence have written extensively about all things culinary. When we know a subject well, it tends to feature strongly in our writing frame.  

For me food is a continuing theme for my poetry. Sometimes it features in reflective tones, but at other times I have an inclination to  indulge in a bit of food fun. Here are three poems concerning food related matters. A poetic snack, an appetizer for you to enjoy.

I urge you, fellow poets, to serve up some foody, flavoursome words...


SOMETHING SIMPLY GRUESOME

Something simply gruesome 

Is sitting on my plate

I can't identify it

It's simply far too late


Something really gruesome

Is pretending it’s my dinner

With a shape and smell

Straight from hell

-It's not a dinner winner


Something quite obnoxious

Is wafting up my nose

A smell most unappealing

Has made my taste buds close


This blob that sits upon my plate

All flipped, flopped and fried

Has obviously been overcooked

And, finally...

It's died!


As I sit here

I'm aware of strange and worried looks

But, this invariably happens

Whenever my Dad cooks

© Alan j Wright


My father cooked unforgettable meals. Tomato soup and mashed potato, boiled rice with jam. That was about it I'm afraid.  Try to picture a bowl of Heinz tomato soup with a mountain of mashed potato sitting in the middle...Gruesome sight!


AROUND THE KITCHEN TABLE

This table listens to our secret conversations

Yet reveals nothing

It watches babies grow

Eavesdrops on discussions

-Marvellous

-Mundane

Heartbreaking and ridiculous

This table witnesses the emergence of wisdom

Through the years

Through the march of time

to and fro across its ever flat surface

Words weave and wander

-Sting

-Delight

Comfort and stir

This table silently acquires

Cuts and scrapes

And the accidental spills and splashes

from the merriment of meals and moments shared

This table

Anchors our shared existence

Keeps us together

Provides a meeting place

Yet reveals nothing.

© Alan j Wright

From, 'What The Poemster Found,' 2019

I have always been fascinated by the pivotal role the kitchen table plays in the life of a family.

 

SOGGY BEANS IN MY JEANS

Auntie Bess I must confess

I didn’t eat my greens

When you got up to get dessert

I hid them in my jeans

 

I then walked home to my place

As quiet as a mouse

My pockets full of soggy beans

Until I reached my house

 

Well, that was many years ago

And I was just a kid

And still, I don’t like soggy beans

-I Never Ever Did!

© Alan j Wright

This poem has it origins in a true story my wife, Vicki related to me many years ago. A story too good to go to waste.Some of the facts have been changed to protect the guilty...


And now some of my more tasteful food offerings...

 





 It is Poetry  Friday and this week our host is Mary Lee Hahn at A Year of Reading. Mary Lee is previewing an upcoming dystopian verse novel for middle school readers written by fellow poet, Irene Latham. To find out more and access the posts of other poets I urge you to visit Mary Lee's Blog.



 



Labels:

Comments

  1. Linda B4 December 2020 at 15:41

    I guess everyone has those foodie memories, Alan. I love the soggy beans poem. My brother (eventually) was caught hiding peas on the underside lip of a certain table long ago. When family gathers, the story still gets a laugh. Did your dad really serve mashed potatoes in tomato soup? Did HE like it? And, the kitchen table holds stories for everyone. I love the ending in that poem. Your pictures are inviting, make me wonder what's going to be on the plate in the weekend coming. Happy eating and writing!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Alan j Wright5 December 2020 at 12:51

      You're are correct Linda. We all have foodie memories in abundance. My Dad did indeed serve up mashed potato in Tomato soup. He liked it, so he figured we would. I was always grateful when Mum got well and returned to the kitchen. I really enjoy cooking. I wish my Dad had lived long enough to see me in the kitchen. Glad you like my kitchen table poem and its ending.

      Delete
  2. Bridget Magee4 December 2020 at 20:50

    You served up a smorgasbord of poetic treats, Alan. Each of your poems sparked a memory for me - especially of my dad's cooking. :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Alan j Wright5 December 2020 at 12:53

      Thanks Bridget. Part of the role of a poet is to evoke responses and memories or connections. Smorgasbord is good...

      Delete
  3. jama5 December 2020 at 03:43

    My kind of post, Alan. I'm always hungry for foodie poems, and simply devoured these (the humor is esp welcome). The second poem about the kitchen table reminds me of "Perhaps the World Ends Here" by Joy Harjo. Tomato soup with mashed potatoes? You have my sympathy. :) Thanks for the fun smorgasbord today.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Alan j Wright5 December 2020 at 12:54

      Thanks Jama. Glad the humour in my poems reached you. I shall look for the poem you mentioned.

      Delete
  4. Linda Mitchell5 December 2020 at 11:22

    Bwa ha ha ha ha....I totally identify with beans in the jeans. Great food poems!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Alan j Wright5 December 2020 at 12:55

      Ah Linda, the things we do to avoid the less desirable things on the plate! Glad you enjoy the poems I dished up...

      Delete
  5. Fran Haley6 December 2020 at 06:20

    Priceless poetic smorgasbord (yikes to "Dad's cooking, " was wondering what those delightfully fun lines were building to). I love the image of the table as silent witness to all those family conversations. Those photos - just, wow!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Alan j Wright6 December 2020 at 11:39

      Glad you enjoyed my foodie thoughts Fran. -My food photos too.

      Delete
  6. Janice Scully6 December 2020 at 07:04

    I love cooking and food, too. I grew up in a restaurant and my Mom was the cook. I loved "something simply gruesome and I know kids would. It's funny. Did you make that lattice crust on that pie? Very nice.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Alan j Wright6 December 2020 at 11:41

      Fellow foodie! Glad you liked my poem regarding my Dad's cooking Janice. I did indeed make the pastry lattice work on the pie.

      Delete
  7. Mary Lee7 December 2020 at 01:32

    What a variety of food poems...with the kitchen table thrown in as witness.

    I'm gobsmacked by your food photos! WOW! I'd eat at your kitchen table ANY time!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Alan j Wright7 December 2020 at 12:58

      I believe there are strong parallels between cooking and writing Mary Lee. Both improve with mindful practice. I also find both of them therapeutic. I have improved my cooking confidence across time and with much practice and support. Writing requires lots of reading and so does cooking- hence an extensive collection of recipe books and a vast range of cuisines. So pleased you liked my food samples Mary Lee. They lend a little authenticity to my poems I hope.

      Delete
  8. Kimberly Hutmacher7 December 2020 at 11:46

    Such fun poems. I especially connected with the first. It reminded me of every time my Mom made liver and peas.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Alan j Wright7 December 2020 at 12:59

      Thank you Kimberly. Ah those horrendous days of liver! I'm shuddering as I write. We are survivors!

      Delete
  9. Ruth10 December 2020 at 06:43

    My favorite is your kitchen table poem. So much truth there!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Alan j Wright10 December 2020 at 09:03

      Thank you Ruth. Enjoyed your observation, for truth is indeed present when we sit around a table.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Life Cycle -A football poem by Bruce Dawe

This poem by Australian poet Bruce Dawe epitomises the unique connection sporting tragics have to their preferred football teams, -an almost tribal allegiance. Each season supporters stare down the twin imposters- victory and defeat. They remain both loyal and hopeful of eventual triumph. This poem refers specifically to Australian Rules Football, but it's themes are universal. I share this poem on the eve of the 2017 Grand Final to decide the Premiership for this football season. My team, the Richmond Tigers have reached the play off to decide the ultimate victor. They have not contested the Grand Final match for 35 years. My hopes fly with them. This poem links two of my great loves -football and poetry... Life Cycle When children are born in Victoria they are wrapped in club-colours, laid in beribboned cots, having already begun a lifetime’s barracking. Carn, they cry, Carn … feebly at first while parents playfully tussle with them for possession of a rusk: Ah, he
Post a Comment
Read more

Poetry Friday: The Safety Pin Poem

Poets not only write poetry, they also read poetry. In order to be able to write poetry, one must read it. Lots of poetry in fact...  I want to share a short little poem by Valerie Worth. I bought Valerie's book, 'All The Small Poems And Fourteen More,' while living and working in New York, some time back. It remains a personal favourite.  I love the way the poet shines a special light on everyday objects, transforming them into something unique and worthy of attention. Her close observations elevate her poems into the special category.  Each poem in the collection celebrates earthly wonders. From eggs to garbage, from potatoes to pockets, each object is given special attention in the form of short poems employing keen observations.  Valerie Worth demonstrates through her poems she totally understands the saying-'ideas exist in things.'  The poem I have chosen to share with you (one of my personal favourites) is titled, 'Safety Pin'. S af
23 comments
Read more

Opposite Poems

O pp o s ite P oem s In his book, ' How To Write Poetry,'  Paul Janeczko presents the idea of opposite poems. Paul suggests they could also be referred to as antonym poems. This is wordplay and it's fun to try. Here are some examples Paul provides to help us see very clearly how these short little poems work. I think the opposite of chair Is sitting down with nothing there What is the opposite of kind? A goat that butts you from behind Paul Janeczko You will  notice the poems are written in rhyming couplets. They can be extended so long as you remember to write in couplets. Paul shows us how this is done. What is the opposite of new? Stale gum that's hard to chew A hot-dog roll as hard as rock Or a soiled and smelly forgotten sock You might notice that some of Paul's opposite Poems begin with a question. The remainder of the poem answer the question posed. Opposite poems are a challenge, but it is a challenge worth trying. Not e
26 comments
Read more