This week let’s write a restaurant poem. It could be about the food, the customers, the ambience. It could be about a fancy place with tuxedoed waiters or a dive where you’re worried about finding a roach in your french fries. It could have nothing to do with the restaurant and just be set there but whatever you put on the menu, post it in the comments below.
“Food Chant”
A “Restaurant” owned by my aunt,
Named it as food chant,
Looks hutty, serves nutty eggplant.
Attackers waiting outside are -a rat, a mouse and an ant.
Wants to take the day off but she can’t.
“My order?” “my order?” “my order?” is the rant.
She is old but running with a pant.
Each dish of her is complaisant.
She keeps saying she needs an assistant,
But every time someone comes they aren’t brilliant.
The best dessert at food chant,
is croissant.
She doesn’t serve the noodles that are instant.
She wants the place to be elegant,
By food, by service and the servant.
10 windows have the view of the same plant.
I want to leave and play but she won’t grant.
Lord please save me from the hunt,
She is crazy but still my aunt.
And one day it will be my restaurant.
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Ha! Very amusing. Thanks for sharing!
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Thank you, this is the very first poem I ever wrote 😂
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I’m impressed and very proud that one of my prompts inspired your first poem. May it be the first of many.
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Thank you 😊 Amen🙏
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Cute poem! I like the persistent, never giving up, rhyming.
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It is a well-oiled machine
Rapidly firing every cylinder
Pumping pounds of horsepower
Fuel dissipating quicker each second
It is a high output computer
Equipped with generous memory
Self-updating code instantly
With a fine-tuned processor
It is a kind and loving family
Holding you up high
More laughter than one can fathom
Substantial connections made
It is a grenade without the clip
When dry cylinders clatter
A glitch wipes the memory
Laughter transforms to anger
It is a balance board teetering through time
It can flow smooth as water in the creek
It can ignite as the heart of the inferno
It is a restaurant
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Very interesting. I’ve never worked in a restaurant but I think I understand now, thanks to your poem. Well done!
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Thanks 😄
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Very impressive and observant…..keep up the good work.
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Sitting at a window seat
in the restaurant before time
savoring what will be starlight
waiting for the first dawn of the first day
waiting for the creation of something separate, night
when a preview of what may come to be passed by
I asked the waiter what it was
a salad of cut alfalfa, onion grass and cold watermelon rind he replied
I have no idea what a salad is
but I can’t wait to find out
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Love the line “savoring what will be starlight”. Well done!
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Taking Chances
She goes to her local restaurant
with no bookings
all days of the week
Most days she is accommodated
Busy days, she refuses to leave
Instead
she keeps waiting
hoping someone, some group
take pitty on her
and willing to share a table
She will repay such kindness
by taking care of the bill
big or small
She doesn’t care
The money is so insignificant
comparing to the company she gets
The only company she gets
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Nicely done. As a very introverted person and one who used to dine alone in restaurants regularly, before the pandemic, I can’t image that point of view. Thank you!
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I imagine myself like that if I get old and have a bit of cash to take care of the bill… I am an introvert too. Now I work with people and with family, I want to be alone all the time. Maybe in the future I will value company more. 😅
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Maybe. It’s difficult to image though.
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Meat eating, sexual attraction, death of one as food for others, blood as life…sounds like ‘the beat goes on’. (in endless cycle).. in the sober observer’s eye.
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The Woman Owned Cafe
The small cafe was empty
but for two women and myself,
a cashier, sturdy, carefree,
flat-shoed waitress,
swishing a cloth across the table top
with flair.
I paid and tipped the moiety;
Three women, free,
golden in prosperity,
as country set aside,
with freedom grown sleek,
like the hair of a virgin
given in marriage
before she is twelve.
I do not carry my Grandmother’s name
Whose blood
wet this ground for me?.
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Excellent! Love those final three lines.
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Thanks for the feedback!
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I think just a little tidying and this one is ready to submit for publication.
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Yes, it does need an ‘a’ in the 10th line. As for ‘publishing’ it’s a jungle out there. (Or maybe better expressed as the front line in a war.)
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Jungle is a better metaphor than war. There are so many trees and only a few bear fruit but when you find one, it is ever so delicious.
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I am sure the taste of fruit can still be sweet, but my machete is dull, my map moldy, I seem to have lost my safari hat, and my trusty guide has succumbed to ophidophobia.
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Strong characters, solid story line and timely Call To Action Question. pardon this pun– hearty fare at The Woman Owned Cafe
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