More Bad Poems About Food~Yay!!!!

Oh groan and grumble and whine, not again????  Do I really have to do this? 

Oh! So your time is too valuable to leave an ode to a favorite or un-favorite food?  Silly and childish you say?  Well, readers, I’ll have you know that last Saturday, my new best friend in the whole world, Adlibb3d left a haunting poem about fish sticks in the comment section, and within hours, he was Freshly Pressed.


Perhaps, but I’m going out on a limb to proclaim  that Le Clown   is not the only one with the power to catapult a virtual unknown to the heights of stardom.  Okay, maybe he is, but whatever.  Just leave me a poem already.

First up, everybody’s favorite~ Tripe!!!!

Gaaah! Can’t stop laughing.
Do people really eat this?

Today I make a dish with Tripe!

It’s sure to be a winner!

Watch me prepare it later on  Skype

So you can make it for dinner!


I stole this image from Google

The caption simply read thus:

“The heaping bowl of tripe was the standout dish”

All I can add to this is a disbelieving   What the Fu……????

I’m not even going to bother with a rhyme here, but I’m really dying to know what else was served at that meal.


Need I say more?

Our next poetic honor goes to Awesomesausage, a word coined by one of my other best fake friends, Arthur, from Pouring My Art Out.  He’s such a dear young man.  He called The Cheeky Diva “Awesomesausage”, and when the tears dried, I wrote this poem.  Click over to his blog to see some totally badass work,- art , songs and words.   Go on, I put in the link, the least you can do is click.


So what is “Awesomesausage”?

Is the question on your minds

It’s what The Cheeky Diva is!

I am truly one of a kind


My pal Art thought “awesomesauce”

just wasn’t quite enough

so he added “age” to that kickass word,

It’s fitting but it’s tough


Adding “age”  gives me my edge

For I’m older now and wise

Oh barf who am I kidding

seeing that makes me want to poke out my own eyes


Dear Arthur sings my praises

And for that I’m surely grateful

For he is one most  righteous dude

His blog is Awesomesausage by the plateful


And since I promised you haggis, here is the mother of all food poems, featured in

Monty Python’s Big Red Book~

A Horace Poem

Much to his dad and mum’s dismay

Horace ate himself one day

He didn’t stop to say his grace

He just sat down and ate his face

“We can’t have this!” his dad declared

“If that lad’s ate he should be shared”

But even as he spoke they saw

Horace eating more and more:

First his legs and then his thighs,

His arms, his nose, his hair, his eyes

“Stop him someone!” Mother cried

“Those eyeballs would be better fried!”

But all too late for they were gone,

And he had started on his dong…

“Oh foolish child!” the father mourned

“You could have deep-fried those with prawns,

Some parsely and some tartar sauce…”

But H was on his second course;

His liver and his lights and lung,

His ears, his neck, his chin, his tongue

“To think I raised him from the cot

And now he’s gone to scoff the lot!

” His mother cried what shall we do?

What’s left won’t even make a stew…”

And as she wept her son was seen

To eat his head his heart his spleen

And there he lay, a boy no more

Just a stomach on the floor…

None the less since it was his

They ate it – and that’s what haggis is

Alright kids, now sparkle like a brooding, day walking vampire filled with angst and a love of baseball and girls with droopy eyelids~ gimme them food poems!

17 thoughts on “More Bad Poems About Food~Yay!!!!

  1. Are you selling your house today? I’m taking a break from writing to drop a few very bad, horrible, no good food poems on you today.

    There was a recipe in a book.
    It was craptastic fantastic, so I gave it a look.
    Jalapenos, cheddar cheese, and creamed corn,
    My famous dish called corn shit was born.
    Family asks for it at every freakin’ holiday.
    Thanksgiving is a time for food.
    But this year I’m not in the mood.
    Turkey is out, chicken is in,
    Pumpkin pie with ice cream will be the only win.
    Beans, beans, the magical fruit.
    The more you eat the more you toot.
    Oh, wait, I stole that.

    • Uhh…yumm? No not selling house. Grrrr… lowball offer of the lowest ball type. Home feeling very fluey, Tim Robbins taking good care of me. Wrapped me in my favorite argyle electric blanky and we’re watching tv and playing Scrabble. :-)

      • I’m sorry about the lowball offer and the fluey feeling. Glad he’s taking care of you. You need to relax a bit. Jimmy Smits has succumbed to the Nyquil I slipped him and is sleeping on the sofa (he’s not even sick). I’ve been writing. Word count creeping up. Take care! Talk to you later!

  2. Yes, it’s true! I left a poem here and within hours I was FP’ed! What Diva didn’t know, however, is that a friend of mine was here that same day and he DIDN’T leave a poem, and the next day he had his head chopped off by a helicopter rotor while simultaneously being struck by lightning and being hit by a meteor.

    Do the poem people…just sayin.

    • Oh my god. I”m done. I am so done. You now have to give up this new found success and write all my blog posts, and my books, greeting cards and grocery lists. Crap! My gut is busted, and my head is off. Do you see what you’ve done here?

  3. I’m stuck on number 25
    days a Hostess snack survives
    make cakes fresh and put on hold
    before a week they start to mold

    If you don’t care for what I say
    Check me out at noon today
    For I will tell you what I know
    Hostess products really blow

    Sorry. I so suck at poetry, but had to try.

  4. Pingback: DP Challenge~ In Loving Memory « The Cheeky Diva

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