I really love potato chips. I love them with all kinds of dips. Garlic, dill, and cheesy cheese are assured to always please. On cereal, I’ll drop some chips (and when I do, my mother flips). At lunch, the rippled chip is best — it holds more dip I do attest. At dinner, chips goContinue reading “I Really Love Potato Chips”
Tag Archives: food poetry
Food Play
Billy liked his Cheerios. He liked to put them in neat rows. His spaghetti, he would loop, around his fork with lots of goop. He’d pitch a grape which then would drop into his mouth and loudly plop. With mashed potatoes he would play, moulding shapes like they were clay. Yes, food, he thought, wasContinue reading “Food Play”
My Meal
I wish that I could shop for food — that really would be grand, because I’d simply pass right by the food that I can’t stand. Carrots, broccoli, turnips, beets would not come through our door, and neither would those Brussel sprouts I really do abhor! White fish, blue fish, yucky cod, again I’d neverContinue reading “My Meal”
Vegetables
I have a problem with my mom at every evening meal. She says I must eat vegetables no matter how I feel. I tell her celery makes me feel my hair is made of string, and that spinach, beans, and corn make my toenails sting. Potatoes make my left ear itch, tomatoes make me sleep,Continue reading “Vegetables”
Popping Popcorn
Popcorn’s an exciting treat and popping it is quite a feat. Kernels in the popper go, where heating them is rather slow. But then – KABOOM! KABANG! KAPOW! I watch the kernels and think ”Wow!” Their transformation is a sight from hard and gold to soft and white. I then eat popcorn really fast causeContinue reading “Popping Popcorn”
My Sandwich
I made myself a sandwich and cause I thought I could make the best one ever with all things that taste good. I put those things on white bread because I love each one — mustard, pickles, relish, and honey, just for fun. I loaded on some slices of good old cheddar cheese and ranContinue reading “My Sandwich”
Spaghetti
Trying to eat spaghetti is really hard to do. The noodles slide right off my fork — I think the sauce needs glue. I’ll finally fork a noodle, and as I watch it squirm, just to bug my mother, I’ll say, “Oh look! A worm!” I’ll slurp that long, worm noodle like soda through aContinue reading “Spaghetti”