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Monday Poetry Prompt: Family Meals

Posted by ⋅ ⋅ 26 Comments

This prompt courtesy JeanMarie Olivieri.

Happy almost Thanksgiving to poets in the States. This week let’s write a poem about family favorite meals. They could be holiday meals or anytime meals. The holiday season of eating starts now. If you can’t be with your loved ones, maybe you can cook up an old family recipe and post the yummies in the comments below.

About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is one of the organizers of Living Poetry, a collection of poets and poetry lovers in the Triangle region of North Carolina. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.

Discussion

26 thoughts on “Monday Poetry Prompt: Family Meals”

  1. Reply to this comment

  2. An old family
    recipe for having meals
    for festive events

    Bring the potatoes
    but don’t forget the yeast rolls
    that was my duty

    Suspicious I was
    that my food to bring was bread
    but if you saw us

    Well, you would know why
    none of use are shy to eat
    don’t even talk of skimping

    But yeast rolls were prized

    mine were of whole wheat
    made from scratch and kneaded
    by hands and buttered just right

    don’t skimp on the honey, honey
    they were the delight

    nowadays, it’s basics
    traditional foods

    truth is
    this bunch is happy with less
    but oh I love to spoil them more

    there are just three of us
    but we still have a spread
    and the bakery makes the bread
    because
    I don’t knead no more

    Liked by 3 people

    Posted by Lisa Tomey | November 23, 2020, 4:19 PM
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  3. Sunday Breakfast

    Pancakes & Sundays go together
    like corned beef & cabbage
    like a pot of tea & scones
    like peanut butter & jelly
    a ritual not allowed
    any other day of the week
    Mom retrieved the cast iron griddle
    hanging on a hook in the cellarway
    gas flame at just the right height
    to preheat griddle
    wax-paper-Crisco-it lightly
    not too much or too little
    a water-sprinkle-sizzle-it perfect
    the sizzle alerts me, it’s coming
    my mouth waters my imagination
    I wait
    I squirm
    fork in hand
    first two pancakes tossed aside
    always
    why? I ask
    tradition
    it’s what I was taught
    next two sandwich-plate-sized-pancakes
    round, light, fluffy, golden tan
    absorb a chunk of butter
    like an ice cube on hot tar
    dripped with Log Cabin maple syrup
    ice cold milk in accompany

    Sunday mornings began a day differently.

    Liked by 3 people

    Posted by purplestoneblog | November 23, 2020, 4:35 PM
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  4. Super memories from a tradition with deep meaning. Enjoyed it.

    Liked by 1 person

    Posted by purplestoneblog | November 23, 2020, 5:31 PM
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  5. Just posted to my blog: https://bartbarkerpoet.com/2020/11/23/last-meal/

    It’s called “Last Meal” and starts:

    From death row
    I want my last meal
    to be Thanksgiving

    Liked by 2 people

    Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 23, 2020, 7:43 PM
    Reply to this comment
  6. Reply to this comment

  7. My fiancé has a saying. It always taste good as long as he does not have to cook it. Also, he loves quiche. Great poem.

    Liked by 1 person

    Posted by Geri Lawhon | November 27, 2020, 1:22 PM
    Reply to this comment

  8. I’ll definitely visit this blog again, thank you 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    Posted by Colorful Sisters | November 30, 2020, 1:49 AM
    Reply to this comment

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