The Ballad of the Hungry Poet

I don’t normally rant about food. But ranting about it in poetry form? What could possibly be better than that? πŸ˜‰ 

Last year during NaNoWriMo, I needed a break and asked a writer-friend for a premise for a poem. This is what she gave me:

“Write a comedic poem about someone who’s really hungry and thinking about all sorts of food, but who is too lazy to get up off the couch and make lunch.”

And thus I set out on my quest, writing the largest piece I ever have on food.


The Ballad of the Hungry Poet

My stomach growls and I begin to dream,
Of banana splits and chocolate ice-cream,
Some celery sticks and popcorn strings,
And many peanut butter covered things.
Of pies and meats and sugar sweets,
Of juicy pears in giant heaps.
I look across the room and see,
The kitchen shining heavenly.

I can smell the food that sits in there,
Hear it's taunting call haunt through the air.
Ah food! A glorious thought that makes me shiver,
Baked beans, broccoli steamed, and cooked liver,
Bring them to me please, I beg you!
How I long to taste them all anew.
But the couch is such a comfort - so soft!
Why would I leave such a comfy loft?

But then, there's pizza in the microwave,
The beeping signal it loudly gave.
Think how the cheese must melt so,
And how rich and tasty that would go.
The soft and warm bites I could take,
Now what a meal, that would make!

But the pillow is so soft and sweet,
That props my legs up and my feet,
Could I leave such a dreamy chair,
From it how could I myself tear?

My head is cradled by the cushions here,
My food is calling me to draw near,
To make some lunch,
For me to munch,
For me to crunch,
For me to cup in my hands.
To savor every little crumb of food
But then, I sigh and yawn, in the mood,
Not to move.

Must one give up one thing to receive another?
How come life has to be such a bother,
So measure what you want the most.
Oh how I long for buttered toast!
But do I want to move for that?
Which wins when they combat?

Mm... I can almost smell the turkey,
That in a tasty sandwich could be,
Or what about potato soup?
And something from the veggie group?
Like a handful of fresh tomatoes
So full and red and juicy are those,
Or some crunchy, tasty, cucumbers,
Of which could be eaten in great numbers.
Pickles always top the cake,
(Though not literally for goodness sake!)
And carrots dipped in hummus sauce,
Freshly cleaned and freshly tossed,
Come marching up for second best,
But are they better than my rest?

Oh I could go on and on!
From dawn till dusk and dawn again.
Of tasty food that brighten up my days.
Peppers: yellow, orange, and bright red.

Or, you know what?
What if I just read a book instead.

10 thoughts on “The Ballad of the Hungry Poet”

  1. This is like the BEST poem ever! πŸ˜‚ I couldn’t stop laughing! I loved the last line because I was not expecting it…awesome poem, Evelyn!

    Liked by 1 person

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