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The doorbell rang sharply
I threw off my blanket by the door
I answered to two high school kids
"Could you donate to the poor?"
"We're taking cans, and money"
" clothing, gloves and jackets too"
"Is it in your heart to help us"
"can we get something from you?"
I said "Come back tomorrow"
"I'm a little short you see"
"I'll be home from work directly"
"You can come here after three"
They smiled, "see you later"
said the tall one with the hat
"We'll be back again tomorrow"
And I thought, that was that
I closed the door behind them
Went back and I sat down
I was reading by the fireside
Wrapped in an old dressing gown
The heat was off in most rooms
The house was small, and drafty too
I had to heat it with the fire
Or lose my heat all up the flue
I had no cash for cable
A computer? not a chance
I could barely pay the mortgage
I was in bad circumstance
The job I'd had forever
At least since I left school
Was gone now, plant was shuttered
They closed the old Majestic Tool
Three hundred sixty workers
Most had been there all their life
As had been their fathers
It's where I met my wife
She left me when they closed up
Got an offer to head west
I told her take the offer
I told her "I think it's for the best"
She hasn't called in eighteen months
I got the papers for divorce
I figured, I can't afford to call her
So, it's just par for the course
I trip around the town by day
Getting meals where they are free
In a town as poor as we are
It's not a real strange sight to see
There is no work around here
I'll have to move within a year
If things don't soon get better
I'll try to stay real close to here
The morning after last night
You know, the one I spoke about
Where the kids came out collecting
And I pretended I was out
of food and cash and clothing
didn't have a dime to spare
I would have loved to help a little
But I didn't really dare
A can of food would last two days
Spaghetti, maybe three
Although I  wanted to contribute
I need these things for me
I went into the foodbank
The morning after the night before
I would get my Christmas hamper
Along with others, walking poor
I'd take it home, unpack it
And when the kids came by at three
I would give them, at least something
My word meant a lot to me
I didn't have a lot of things
Not much was left at all
But, my word, was worth a fortune
I'd be there when they called
In the back, out of my vision
While I signed and took my box
Was one of the two students
Sorting through some coats and socks
I took off with my treasure
Set to donate when they came
I was robbing Peter to pay Paul
It was such a silly game
The boy went to the counter
He checked my address in the book
He then went to see the head man
He wanted him to take a look
He told him of their visit
How he recognized my face
He realized how much it hurt me
To be reliant on this place
They talked about my visit
And they saw my need was real
And they talked amongst the others
with elvish, Christmas zeal
I was waiting for the doorbell
Had two cans, and a small coat
When the doobell rang, I answered
There was four boxes and a note
Vacant space, they must have run
They had to be close by
What I saw there boxed before me
Well, it made this grown man cry
Instead of coming for donations
They knew how hard it was for me
They had brought along some blankets
And lots of food, for free
I picked the note up gingerly
I was still shaking from the tears
It said "Merry Christmas Mr. Watson"
"and Have a Happy, Safe New Year".
Saylor Kay Dec 2015
I have a friend named Ana.
She made me be like her.
She tells me what to eat,
When I eat that is.
For most day she tells me,
"You don't need food to live,
All you need is to be skinny
Other wise you won't be pretty
And no one likes the ugly girls."
She taught me how to fix myself,
And now I stay on her tallest shelf.
She has glued me to my seat
And told me that I cannot eat.
For if I eat then my thighs,
Will massively grow in size.
She told me I can never leave
And now I'm stuck with her screams.
She taught me how to be like her
And I'm afraid there is no cure.
Now I sit and remember her words,
"No one likes the ugly girls."
Then I realise suddenly
Ana isn't her,
It's me.
melli7 Jul 2014
Wipe me clean of bitterness:
left over is a bland weak limp
thing who cannot stand
out in a meal, gets
eaten for lunch
no consequences for the
stomach that restrains me
melli7 Dec 2015
Growl growl ru
mb
le rumble gro
wl

(my belly protests my healthy
lifestyle)
Phoenix Dec 2015
Macaroni and cheese,
It will never cook for me,
It is a pimple on the face of humanity

The water is too watery,
The fire is too firey
The cheese is never too cheesy

Macaroni is the goal that I can never reach
It is the bird that will not screech
I think I want some peach.

Peach cobbler
Always such a blunder…
Are you overcooked-- or under?
Write a poem about cooking or baking -- something delicious, something that didn't turn out, something burned, something better than expected, something simple, something beyond reason, a surprise, a treat, an old favorite, a brand-new dish.

I am so hungry, it isn't even funny anymore. Include at least three metaphors and/or similes in a poem no longer than 15 lines. (Keep in mind that your poem is about the creation of the dish itself.)
folded sunny side
Golden bellied bottle kiss
ruddy bubbles burst
Ellie Geneve Dec 2015
Yellow is what I am
happy is what I make you feel.

Use me, then throw me
and you'll trip by my peel.

I'm healthy, I'm sweet,
If in a hurry, I take seconds to eat.

All on my own, I'm a dish
but with peanut butter, I'm delic.

I'm good for your brain
I'm good for your heart

*There's a reason why monkeys are smart.
Jillian Jesser Dec 2015
I stepped into your apartment
I saw you reading
  sipping coffee
I saw you go to the fridge
and muse at its emptiness
I slept with you at night
we dreamed together
        you didn't see me
but I was there
       when I went to leave in the morning
you looked up
         quizzically
Scott Horror Dec 2015
Coffee is my life blood
A love affair as strong as I like it
Sweet as I want it
Shots if I'm tired
Weak when I'm wired

All a-bored the caffeine espresso
Oops, I mean express
Express my adoration
The sole foundation
To my motivation
To reach completion
And finish my work

Late at night
Early in the mourning
After the wake-ing
Lazy afternoons
And in the evening
I'll add my sweetening
Or keep it bitter
Like the glares
From my mother
As I fill up another
Cup of smooth, brown freedom

Add some nitro
When I'm dead
To refill my head
With the words that I said
A moment ago
I'll take it blow by blow
Shot by shot
Milligram by milligram
Of caffeine, coffee, constant
Reminder of how easy
It is to get rid
Of exhaustion
Even if only for a moment
Or a lunch break
Or a tired mourning
Or as I write this poem

I love you, coffee
In any way, shape, or form
That you may come
In any size or flavor
To get me to savor
The tang of the coffee
As long as I'm longing
For some more caffeine
My addiction isn't waning
As my love grows for you
With each sip I swallow
And each nickel I borrow
Just to buy
One more cup
I didn't misspell morning. It's supposed to be mourning.
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