Meal (an acrostic poem)

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Making food always made him feel both happy and sad.

Every morsel that left his kitchen was a love note to those who ordered it.

A loving response was an empty plate that came back, ready to be cleaned for a new missive.

Leaving food on the plate meant rejection and left him wondering what went wrong.

Feast (an acrostic poem)

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Focusing on the food was what gave him pleasure

Every morsel perfectly prepared and consummately seasoned

At the moment he could think of nothing better existing in the universe

So why was his stomach still an echo chamber of empty rumbles?

The fact the meal in question was just an old magazine spread and he had no money

Poor (an acrostic poem)

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Putting the food for today on her credit card

Or she would have, but it was denied like usual

Of course, that meant she was going to go hungry again

Really if it happened too much longer and she would get a meal at the emergency room

Visit (an acrostic poem)

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Vagabond travels throughout the world

It allows for so many opportunities to touch lives

Simple sharing of a meal to participate in rambunctious parties

Invigorating dynamic exchanges of ideas and comradery

Then the postcards are the physical reminders of the adventures

Rice (an acrostic poem)

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Reaching for the fork, she gently fluffed the grains

It helped release some of the steam trapped within, perfuming her face

Cooking might not be her jam, but this simple act made her so happy

Even if the rest of the meal was now charcoal

Chef (an acrostic poem)

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Cuisine so fine that that it demanded to be taken out for a dinner date

He showered her with flavors that were tart, sweet, salty, and spicy

Everything balanced to a perfection, a true masterpiece of culinary art

Food may be temporally empheneral, but the memories of that meal will be eternal

Bill (an acrostic poem)

But he didn’t have the money to pay

It made him feel really bad, but he had been so hungry

Leaving the slip on the table with an “I’m sorry” note

Larry couldn’t really enjoy his first meal in three days as he ran away

 

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Snack (an acrostic poem)

Silently my stomach ambushes me

Not giving me a chance to finish making my meal

All I can think of is how much I want to eat something, anything

Candy soon fills my pie hole, ruining my dinner, but still

Killing my hunger dead in its tracks

 

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