Archives: food poems

Poetry Friday: Poems from Third Grade, Part 4

Welcome to Poetry Friday! Mary Lee Hahn is hosting this week’s link-up at her blog, A Reading Year. Hope to see you over there!

Happy Poetry Friday!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I hope you brought your appetite. The Northfield E. S. third graders have more food poems to share with you today.

But before we feast on lemonade, bubble gum, ice cream, pizza, and chocolate chip pancakes, I’d like to share a favorite poem by Naomi Shihab Nye. This week, the Poetry Friday community is celebrating Nye, our new Young People’s Poet Laureate.

Naomi Shihab Nye’s “The Lost Parrot” is a poem that I think about and reread every time I do a school poetry residency. “The Lost Parrot” recounts a visiting poet running a series of workshops for young students. One boy, Carlos, writes about the same subject, no matter the prompt: his lost parrot.

I hope you’ll take a moment to listen to the poem. For me, Nye’s “The Lost Parrot” captures the way a visiting poet interacts with young writers — encouraging their stories and creativity without pushing an agenda, rarely getting to know the children beyond the poems they write. Sometimes we get bursts of insight into their lives, sense of humor, and interests. Other times, visiting poets are left with a question or mystery, as Nye experiences in “The Lost Parrot.”

Now on to today’s delicious poems (and one salty cake).

Awesome Awesome Tacos!
By Aaron L.

I smell the spices,
the melted cheese,
then I immediately
know what’s for dinner.
Awesome
Awesome

TACOS!

I feel the warm
taco
shell in my
mouth
Awesome
Awesome

TACOS!

I hear my family
crunch the tacos.
Crunchy
Crunchy
tacos.

Yummy, the best
kind of tacos.

***

Sweet Chocolaty Chocolate Chip Pancakes!
By Coco W.

I jump out of the car.
My mom says slow down.
I hug Papa and my
Grandma. When we get
Inside, Papa knows the people.
We get some good seats. I sit next
to my cousin. My other cousin screams!
“The food is arriving.” I smell the sweet
dough. I see the melty chocolate laying on
my plate. My cheeks get very gooey with
chocolate on my face. I get to take a bite.
It is the biggest of them all! Delicious
dough mixed with chocolate melting in my mouth.

***

My Pecan Pie
By Misha W.

My family comes to the party-like feast.
Then the pecan pie comes in on a white dish.
My grandma made the best pecan pie around.
I smelled the sweet pecans and the pie crust.
I see the pecans popping out of the pie.
When everyone grabs a piece, the yelling dies down
and replacing it is a crunch and a munch.
It’s finally my turn to feel the pecan pie.
I feel the rough and moist crunch touching my hands.
When it touches my mouth, I feel the warmth.
I taste my sweet pecan pie.
With the bready crust.
“Burrrrp! Excuse me,” I say.
“Can I have some more?”
And my mom says no.
I got the biggest piece of them all.

***

Salty Cake
By Reed S.

Ew! Blah! My cake tastes like salt.
It looks good, but is disgusting. It
Smells chocolaty, but tastes like
salt. Everybody is making faces!
I can’t believe salt and sugar
got mixed up.

***

Yummy Meatloaf
For Anna
By Ella O.

2 hours in the oven
To cook the meatloaf
We’d run
Straight from the park
I run to my house
1 block
Then the house I reach
That smells like meat
You ran
Because you had the energy
1 loaf of yummyness
Everything on the meatloaf
Except mustard
Dash that meatloaf
Onto plates and splash on
All the sauce to splash on
Red tomatoes on the side
Avocados piled up on the side
Shoveled up onto a plate
Meatloaf for us to hold hot
On our forks
Plates on the table
Sit down
Good meatloaf
We’d eat
Fast till there was nothing left
But little tiny pieces of meat
And even a tiny bit of tomato sauce
I would eat it all
We’d touch
The little food we would have left
You humming
Me whistling

***

Good Cotton Candy
For My Dad
By Hiba S.

1 dollar a piece
to eat our dessert.
We’d run to the cashier
instead of the car.
Two blocks from our next
destination (that smelled
very sweet). You paid because
you had the money.
3 cotton candies and
2 strips of ribbon. Even
jelly inside. Eat those cotton
candies. Lil’ sister picking
her food. All that good stuff
on top. White sprinkles and
blue sprinkles. Stuck inside
the cotton candy. Rolled up
in a plastic cone. Dollars on
the counter, sit down, good
cotton candies. We’d eat
fast till there was nothing
left. But blue and white
sprinkles. Even cotton on
my face! We’d finish. You driving
and me saying, “Thank you.”

***

Good Ice Cream
For Sara
By Alisha K.

1 dollar apiece
To eat our dessert
We’d run, me and you
Straight from home
Instead of the park
Two blocks
Then the store
That smelled like ice
I ordered
Because I had the money
Two ice creams with two scoops for here
Nothing on the ice cream
Except M and Ms
Dash those ice creams
Into cones and dump on the flavors
All that good stuff
Chocolate ice cream and M and Ms
And Skittles piled on top all
Rolled up in a napkin
For us to hold cold
In our hands
A dollar on the counter
Sit down
Good ice creams
We’d eat
Fast till there was nothing left
But leftover Skittles and M and Mss
The little colors of Skittles and M and Ms
We’d eat
You humming
And me with a smile

***

Lemonade
By Brian W.

1 dollar a cup to drink our lemonade.
I rush straight from school. Instead
of home, I got the other way. Then
to the stand that smelled like snow.
I ordered because I am thirsty.
two lemonades and two ice for here.
Everything on the lemonade
except straws. Stir those lemonade
into drinks and splash on
all the good stuff, lemons and mini
umbrellas and ice on top all
in a cup, paper for us to hold cold
drinks in our hands.
Dollars on the counter.
Sit down. Good lemonade.
I drink fast till there was nothing
left but mini umbrella and lemons
even the little cold ice of cubes
we’d slurp up the lemonade, you
drinking and me buying more.

***

Pizza
By Henry R.

1 dollar apiece to eat my lunch.
I would jog straight from school
instead of home. 5 blocks
then the store that smelled
like pizza. You ordered because
you had enough money for
2 pizzas. Everything on the
pizzas. Dash those pizzas
with all that good stuff
and throw on some
pepperoni and some pineapple.
covered up with wax paper nice
and warm. Quarters on the
counter. Sit down on the concrete.
I would eat the greasy and yellow pizza
fast till there wasn’t even
a bite left. When I was finished
I trembled back home with a full
fat stomach.

***

Bubble Gum
By Evan R.

The sweetness of the taste
so chewy in my mouth.
The pink bubble splats in my face
With my baseball teammates around laugh.
I stiff have parts of the bubble on my face.
I watch the game still blowing bubbles.
Me and my teammates smell the fresh air
blow by our faces.
I try to blow another bubble
but the air is too strong.

***

Thanks to the Northfield community for allowing me to share the third graders’ poems!

For more of this year’s student poems, please check out:
Poems from Third Grade, Part 1 — List Poems (Ms. Spencer, Ms. Sochol-Solomon, and Ms. Scavo’s classes)
Poems from Third Grade, Part 2 — List Poems (Ms. Hilliard and Ms. Trodden’s classes)
Poems from Third Grade, Part 3 — Food Poems (Ms. Hilliard and Ms. Trodden’s classes)

Poems from Third Grade, Part 3

Welcome back to Northfield Elementary School!

The third grade poems started our residency with list poems. (You’ll find a link to those poems at the bottom of this page.)

Now that we’ve spent some time thinking about word choice and playing with rhythm, we are moving on to one of my favorite poetry workshops: food poems.

Donut stand at the Shuk, the Mehane Yehuda Market in Jerusalem.

In this lesson, the poets focus on incorporating imagery of the five senses into a food-related memory. You can find the full lesson here. I use Sandra Cisneros’ poem “Good Hotdogs” as a mentor text.

Howard County is home to Northfield ES and it’s where I make my home, too. This is a diverse community, with first, second, and third generation American children. I love seeing that experience reflected in their poems.

In Nahyun’s poem, the first taste of a new food is a funny memory.

Ice Cream
By Nahyun K.

So many flavors
I don’t know what to choose.
I finally decided.
Cherry ice cream
From the ice cream truck.
My first ice cream from America.
One minute later,
Ice cream melting.
Dropping to my hand
Ice cream scoop getting smaller.
Smaller and smaller.
Me and my mom getting confused.
My hand is sticky like a
Double sided tape.
Ice cream turned to flavored water
And me trashing the flavored water
into the trash can
Bye bye my first ice cream.

***

Often, I share with the poets that a poem’s final few lines are the last impression that the reader will take away. The finale of T. J.’s poem about a food tradition takes that to heart.

The Snack Stand
By T. J. C.

After every baseball game,
I enjoy the delicious taste of a hot dog and fries.
I taste the spice from Old Bay on my fries.
I hear the cashier say, “One hot dog, one fry!”
When I touch the hot dog, it’s as smooth as can be.
I get super happy!
When I see the hot dog, it looks so yummy!
I can’t forget the smell, so sweet and hot!
My dad then orders, and we enjoy our food.
We eat ‘til the sun is setting.
Then we leave, with a memory.

***

On the day we did food poems, Eleanor’s father joined us and wrote his own food memory poem. It was really fun to hear father and daughter read their work together. If you’d like to learn more about this food, here is a recipe for Palačinky.

Palačinky Day
By Eleanor C.

Hooray, hooray,
It’s Palačinky day.
Soft tender bread
Thick creamy chocolate spread
Smiling ear to ear
Sizzling sound all I hear
Mom is proud
I express my love of this food loud
Mom and Dad
Rowan and Alasdair
And me
As happy as can be
Smell the batter
See the food
When it’s a day like this
Everyone’s in the mood.
Whip cream’s fallin’ off
No one cares.
Feel the whipped cream
Smeared on my cheeks
It’s my wish
That every dinner would be like this
But no
This night is rare.
Now I gotta get whipped cream out of my hair.

***

We go through a lot of cereal at my house (Honey Nut Cheerios is our favorite).  What wonderful observations in Tommy’s poem. Who doesn’t feel good when the theme song of our favorite TV show comes on?

That Tasty Cereal
by Tommy S.

Running through the door.
Kicking my shoes off.
My feet stink,
But I don’t care.
I get a running start,
Heading for the couch.
My mom knew what to do.
She got the bowl and the milk.
As she’s making my favorite,
I take a big jump onto the couch.
I grab the remote.
I put on my favorite show.
BEEP BOOP BOOP.
I rub the smooth buttons on the remote.
I listen to the theme song.
It makes my day every time.
I check to see if it’s there.
Guess what? It’s there.
I crash onto the chair.
BAM
I scoot in and take a bite.
CRUNCH CRUNCH
Mmm mmm mmm
That tasty cereal.

***

The energy of Isaac’s poem caught my attention. Repetition is a tool we talked about for our list poems and he makes great use of incorporating it into his food poem.

Donuts
By Isaac L.

Dunkin Donuts here we go!
Grama, Dad, Mom, sister, and of course me,
Waiting to get a taste!
Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and more!
One bite. Crunch.
Two bites. Yum.
Three bites. And full!
Our bellies full, and we got some taste.
Now we should get a rest.

***

Alara and one of her classmates were kind enough to speak with their class about Ramadan. I am learning from my friend and co-author Saadia Faruqi that children with this tradition are excited to fast during Ramadan, along with their parents, families, and community. Younger children like Alara enjoy participating by fasting on the weekends, when they’re not in school.

Ramadan
By Alara K.

When it’s time to fast,
I get so excited.
On the weekends I fast,
Even though I want to fast every day
Getting up for sahir
And eating my breakfast.
Finally,the sun rises
At 4:00 am.
We can no longer eat
until Iftar.
When Iftar comes,
We realize we had no problems during the day
Fasting.
We eat some dates,
Then eat our dinner
Finally,the day is done.
We do this for 30 more days.
We had a great time,
And now Ramadan is over.

***

Thanks to the Northfield community for allowing me to share the third graders’ poems!

For more of this year’s student poems, please check out:
Poems from Third Grade, Part 1 — List Poems (Ms. Spencer, Ms. Sochol-Solomon, and Ms. Scavo’s classes)
Poems from Third Grade, Part 2 — List Poems (Ms. Hilliard and Ms. Trodden’s classes)
Poems from Third Grade, Part 3 — Food Poems (Ms. Hilliard and Ms. Trodden’s classes)

Poetry Friday: Peanut Butter Cookies

Where are the poets hanging out this week? With the Rain City Librarian! You’ll find links to original poetry, book reviews, and more here.

It’s almost Thanksgiving, Poetry Friday fans. That means baking season is upon us. At our house, Mr. S is the cook. Baking – that’s my job.

I’m not usually adventurous when it comes to baking. However, when chili-infused dark chocolate bars hit the market, so did some kitchen inspiration. I came up with a spicy version of traditional peanut butter cookies. After a few test batches, I had a winner — a cookie that my family loves. Mr. S, who is a fan of all things spicy, says these cookies are addictive. (Recipe below.)

This year, I got brave and entered my cookies in the Baltimore Sun’s annual holiday cookie contest. They made the first cut, but were not selected to appear in the paper. However, I’m not crying into my cookie dough. It was  fun to take a chance on something that was creative, but not writing-related.

Since it’s Poetry Friday, I went searching for a poem to pair with the recipe and came across Edwin Romond’s wonderful “Peanut Butter Cookies” at Your Daily Poem. And since I’m reading Nikki Grimes book of Golden Shovel poems, ONE LAST WORD: WISDOM FROM THE HARLEM RENAISSANCE, I thought I’d attempt a Peanut Butter Cookie Golden Shovel poem. I also made this poem an acrostic. You’ll find both Edwin Romond’s poem and my Golden Shovel after the recipe.

Laura’s Spicy Peanut Butter Cookies
AKA PB and Bay Cookies

My version is regional, using two beloved Baltimore ingredients. I’ll include a standard option for those of you out of state who want to give these treats a try.

Ingredients

DOUGH

½ cup butter

½ cup chunky peanut butter (I use Smart Balance)

1 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar

1 egg

1 cup crushed Utz potato chips, divided use (place between 2 paper towels, crush with rolling pin)

Standard option: Use potato chips of your choice

1 2/3 cup all-purpose flour

1/8 tablespoon salt

1 teaspoon Old Bay seasoning, or to taste

Standard option: Chili powder

1 teaspoon cinnamon

COATING

¼ cup granulated sugar

3 tablespoons crushed potato chips

1/2 – 1 teaspoon Old Bay or chili powder

Directions

Pre-heat oven to 375. Grease 2-3 cookie sheets.

  1. Cream the butter and peanut butter.
  2. Cream in brown sugar, then beat in egg.
  3. Sift the flour and salt. Stir in with 2/3 cup of the crushed potato chips.

Dough will be stiff.

  1. Roll into balls. (I use a heaping tablespoon.)
  2. Roll the balls in the coating.
  3. Place about an inch apart on the cookie sheet. Press down on the top of each cookie with a fork, making a criss-cross design.
  4. Bake 9-12 minutes. Makes about 3 dozen cookies. Delicious eaten warm!

Let’s wash down those cookies with some poetry.

Peanut Butter Cookies

By Edwin Romond

My mother made them from memory
giving me my own memory of winter
in our kitchen, the salty aroma
of peanut butter cookies from the oven,
and the torture of waiting for them to cool
on the window sill overlooking Albert St.
in the Eisenhower 50s of my childhood.
I remember her mixing brown sugar,
butter, and spoons of Skippy. She never
checked a cookbook and they tasted
like no other cookies tasted. “I just know,”
she’d say if I asked her how she did this
then she’d wrap them in foil and sing
along with Perry Como on our radio.
They were as special as she was, a quiet
woman who took small joys in life
around the house. I know she knew
how much those cookies meant to me
for years later she apologized, as if
it were her fault, when a stroke at 80
erased the recipe from her mind.

Read the rest of the poem here. Have a tissue ready.

Golden Shovel: Cookie Acrostic

By Laura Shovan

Come to me, my
Oven-baked delight, mother
Of all comfort treats, home-made
Kick of sugar. My teeth — feel them
Inch along your edges, savoring bites from
Every crumble, until you’re a delicious memory.

These cookies, from All Recipes, resemble PB and Bays.

School Poetry Workshop: Food and the 5 Senses

Poetry Friday is at Kiesha’s Whispers from the Ridge. Click through to find more delectable poetry posts from the kidlitosphere.

It’s Poetry Friday! Welcome back to Northfield Elementary, where the third grade poets are using their five senses to write about food.

When I’m working with young writers on food poems, I want to guide them away from catch-all words: delicious, yummy, tasty, good, disgusting. Pizza and ice cream are both delicious, but they don’t taste anything alike (unless you visit this LA restaurant.)

Here’s a quick cooperative writing game/exercise you can use to help students focus on specific, descriptive language.

Mystery Food
Goal: Get the class to guess your mystery food in three words.

  1. Make a set of small cards with the name of a food on each one. I use half an index card. The foods I use are: ice cream, bubble gum, tacos, hamburger, pizza, apple, chocolate, orange, celery, spinach.
  2. Give groups of four-six students one card each. Don’t read the card aloud (we don’t want our classmates to hear), but pass it around the group.
  3. The group has 5 minutes to come up with the three adjectives that are so descriptive, the class will be able to figure out the food in one guess.
  4. Each group take turns reading their three words. The rest of the class tries to guess the food.

My students have a great time with this one. The classroom teacher and I do walk around, reminding them that they can use color, shape, texture, flavor, and other descriptors.

Our mentor text for the food poems workshop is “Good Hotdogs” by Sandra Cisneros.

Thanks to the Northfield 3rd grade team and families for giving me permission to share the students’ poems. Today, we were focusing on using imagery of the five senses.

Poet: Ayesha A.

Popsicle

Going outside
In the warm sunshine.
You run behind me.
Something’s in your hand.
You yell, “Wait!”
I turn around, something plops in
My hand.
I rip open the foil
And see all the types
Of colors. I take a bite
And out leaks the juicy
Cherry flavor. When I’m done there’s
A stick left behind.
I then say thanks and then
I leave. Yum.

Poet: Will Y.

Sushi

Waiting ‘til Friday
Hearing a ding
Going to the door, meeting
The sushi man
Pizza, sushi, and video games
End of the week, tired
California roll, sweet crab, soft avocado
I think it is tasty

Poet: Celia V.

Pepperoni Pizza

As I taste the spicy pepperoni
Smell the cheese at the tip
Of my tongue, see the cheesy
Pizza, hear the likes of
My mouth, ready to eat it
Up, I touch the hotness of
My pizza.

Poet: Tanishka H.

S’mores

Out in the dark
We sit in the pitch black.
Mom and Dad
Shout surprise! Out come
Hershey bars, marshmallows
Honeylicious graham crackers.
Mom and Dad light up the fire.
I see marshmallows
On a stick soft, crispy,
And looks yummy! First goes
The cracker, then goes toasty
Marshmallows and sweet
Hershey piece and another
Honeylicious graham
Cracker on top. We take
A s’more. We smell sweet crisps
Of marshmallow burns.
We take a bite. “Yum,” we say. Chewy
Squishy marshmallows in our mouths.
S’mores we all love.

Poet: Ava R.

Warm Drinks in the Winter

I hear the coffee machine dispenses warm liquid.
I feel the warm cup against my cold fingers.
I smell the hot chocolatey air.
I see the marshmallows melt into the hot chocolate.
I hear the sound of the whipped cream
Squirt out of the can into the hot chocolate.
It tastes as if I got it from heaven.
The warm liquid swishes in my mouth.
Swish, swash, gulp!

Still hungry? I’ll post more Northfield food poems next week.

Check out the previous posts in this School Poetry Workshop series:

School Poetry Workshop: Haiku Hike, May 12, 2017

Poetry Friday: Baking for Shabbat

PF tag

This week’s Poetry Friday host is Books 4 Learning. Please stop by for the poetry link-up.

Greetings, Poetry Friday friends.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been trying something old/something new on Fridays. No — no one’s getting married. I’ve caught a very special baking bug.

A few weeks ago, I was visiting my lovely sister-in-law Lisa in Orlando. She asked if I wanted to come with her for a women’s night out … baking challah.

Challah is the bread Jewish families bake and eat for Friday night Sabbath. Because I grew up in an interfaith home, sometimes we made a Shabbat dinner with prayers over challah, wine, and candles, and sometimes we didn’t. But, since I love Lisa and love to bake, I said, “Sure!” Little did I know that my plane would be delayed several hours and I’d be scrambling to get to the Challah Club on time.

IMG_20160624_055457

We made the dough at the Challah Club, pinched off a small piece to say a prayer over and discard, then took the braided bread home for baking.

The short version: I had a great time with Lisa and the other members of the Orlando Challah Club. Although I’ve continued to bake on special occasions over the years, it’s usually cake (for birthdays) or muffins (for house guests), but I’d fallen away from the practice of making bread from scratch. And this challah was delicious.

For the last several weeks, I’ve been making my own challah. I’m reminded how much I’ve  missed kneading dough, watching it rise. If you care for and feed yeast it will, in turn, care for and feed you and your family.

I’ve asked my dear friend, poet Dennis Kirschbaum, to share his challah poem with us today. Dennis has been baking challah for many years. I love the braiding together of joy and tradition in this poem. Shabbat shalom!

Challah
by Dennis M. Kirschbaum

After thousands, the seven
ingredients– water, salt,
yeast, oil, honey, eggs, flour–
still promise to keep and remember
the Sabbath, a sixtieth of eternity.
Six strands, six days
become one. Rest
before the blast,
the bloom and swell,
sharp inhale before death.
Welcome cry for the angels–
tune of the second soul.
Bright loaves, clouds of rain and earth,
braided sunlight of golden breath.
And Shabbat too, a kind of death,
a dissolution of those selves
I have tried to be and failed.
The baking air is full of song.

Dennis Kirschbaum is the author of the chapbook CLATTERING EAST from Finishing Line Press. He has a website of the same name.

IMG_20160701_191634253

The finished product!