2018 April PAD Challenge: Day 6

For today’s prompt, pick a food, make it the title of your poem, and write your poem. It can be a food you love, food you hate, or food you’ve never even tried before. Your poem can be about the food–or not. Your choice.


Re-create Your Poetry!

Revision doesn’t have to be a chore–something that should be done after the excitement of composing the first draft. Rather, it’s an extension of the creation process!

In the 48-minute tutorial video Re-creating Poetry: How to Revise Poems, poets will be inspired with several ways to re-create their poems with the help of seven revision filters that they can turn to again and again.

Click to continue.


Here’s my attempt at a Food Poem:

“olive juice”

olive juice is often mistaken
for olive oil, but it’s just the brine
liquid base found in jars of olives

it is used to boost immunity,
reduce blood sugar, increase muscle
control, and maintain water balance

mouthing “olive juice” to a lover
can be mistaken for “i love you”
when it’s actually just the brine

found in the hearts of “will you be mine”


Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He’s been writing to a loose theme so far this month; can you guess what it is?

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.


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350 thoughts on “2018 April PAD Challenge: Day 6

  1. Angie5804

    It took me forever to come up with a food poem!

    Chicken and Rice

    Today I made chicken and rice
    And I thought of Carole King
    Who sang about chicken soup with rice
    So I can sing about anything

    I can loudly sing
    About the green string bean
    I can sing soft and low
    About mashed potatoes
    I can sing ‘til they cry
    About Mom and apple pie

    Today I made chicken and rice
    I sang about lots of food
    Now I want to eat it all
    Because it tastes so good

  2. CJohnson


    If my heart is a wedding cake
    With three tiers
    Elaborate decorations
    Fondant and a topper
    Sweet buttercream piled high
    Yours is a cupcake

  3. BDP

    “Vegetable Thief”

    Next year, I’ll build a fence, a slant
    on top. A rabbit lies
    in wait. My anti-jail, just light
    will enter—ha, surprise!
    I dropped my vigilance, I eased
    my guard. And—none too kind—
    he ate my garden gradually
    and robbed me veggie blind.

    —B Peters

    Endwords from Emily Dickinson, “Tell All the Truth But Tell it Slant”

  4. mschied

    Raspberry Pi

    Sweettart sensations
    of summer sunshine
    scintillate my
    salivary glands;
    lushly laden upon
    sterling silver’s
    tiny tines,
    flaky forkfuls
    float forward
    like a culinary
    majestically melting
    within the molten
    cavern of my
    gastronomic delight.

    1. mschied

      Raspberry Pie

      Sweettart sensations
      of summer sunshine
      scintillate my
      salivary glands;
      lushly laden upon
      sterling silver’s
      tiny tines,
      flaky forkfuls
      float forward
      like a culinary
      majestically melting
      within the molten
      cavern of my
      gastronomic delight.

  5. Gigglette

    Oh, The power of Cheese !
    Scootch , scootch
    Dirt on hands, and tips of shoes,
    be careful you don’t hit your head.
    Goose bumps quickly spread
    And a shiver runs through your body
    Even though the heat from mid
    summer beats down outside
    Crawling into a clearing a room opens up into the cave.
    Stacks and rows of wooden shelves line the rock walls.
    Big rounds ,tall cylinders, and squat ovals in bright red, yellow , and orange wax sit spread evenly
    While others are just tightly and neatly cloth wrapped.
    Some from cows milk, others from goats.
    People rent shelf space to store these wonderful things in our cave.
    Not many people can say they have a family farm with a cave,
    Where we store, cure , and raise such delicious product.
    Its in my blood !!
    I love this stuff,
    And I have to eat some every day.
    Oh! The power of …….CHEESE!!!

  6. azkbc

    The Egg

    How often do I reach for you
    in moments of hunger?
    Quick you are scrambled
    and on a piece of multi-grain toast
    you satisfy, fill me,
    give me strength
    to take on the world.

    Halved, you rest in shallow nests,
    yolks mixed with dressing
    and spices, deviled.

    You, the simple egg,
    a source of protein
    and delicious nourishment.

  7. David

    Divine Bacon

    Lovely is the succulent, heavenly morsel,
    Oh, the mortals seem to worship this divine beauty.
    Vain is the efforts of those who reap the benefits of Mother Nature.
    Exit a life of selfless intention and embrace the otherworldly essence.

    Beware, mindless self-indulgence follows the Gates of Hades.
    Absence of corruptible intentions, then to repent is desired,
    Certainly not by man, but instead by a higher power.
    Observantly savor the flavor from another world,
    Never again shall man be severed from the heavens.

  8. Anonymous Blue Herring


    Eggs are great,
    Eggs are neat,
    Eggs are something, that you cant just eat.
    Eggs are a lifestyle,
    Eggs are a treat,
    Eggs can be used to bind different types of meats.
    If you see an egg crossing the street,
    Then you should probably stop drinking that “tea”
    If you don’t see an egg crossing the street,
    Then chances are, they are probably under your feet.

  9. hohlwein

    My favorite food fact
    – that I find important to continue to check –
    is that chocolate
    at 98.6 degrees!

    I knew we had the perfect relationship
    That there is no point in looking further

    I put you in my mouth
    and we both melt
    on the spot

    well. I looked it up and it’s not quite true
    and I can’t find the Chocolate University in South America somewhere
    that a good-looking friend of a friend, Pierre the Chocolatier –
    graduated from with facts like that (and
    just one or two pounds) under his belt.

    No matter.
    I know what I want and why.

    I put you in my mouth
    and we both melt

    I can’t help but close my eyes

  10. sincerescribe

    Candy Acrostic

    Called junk food, but most view it as treasure—
    Ample flavors for the taste buds’ pleasure.
    Noted for its knack of love expression,
    Delights of its kind produce obsession.
    Young and aged hearts adore this confection.

  11. mlibra

    True Soul Food

    Out of the bag
    on the pizzazz
    turn on the heat
    as the spin around
    i wait
    and wait
    and wait some more
    until i hear the ding.
    I jump up
    from my seat
    to the kitchen I go
    grab a plate
    get them from the pizzazz
    wait for them to cool.
    Once they are cool
    i pop one in my mouth
    i get
    as i eat the first
    pizza roll.

  12. Sara McNulty


    Wriggles, jiggles and slides off your plate.
    You cannot pick it up; it will just separate
    like egg whites do from hand to hand,
    leaving a round golden yoke to stand
    alone. Jello never cooperates.

    Spoons cannot capture this dessert that quakes
    like a giggling blob. Not worth it to contemplate
    how best to digest this mess of bland
    dessert that dances

    You eat your jello, my ice cream awaits.
    Whether lemon, lime, cherry or grape
    does not matter to me, nor does the brand.
    I will not eat jello in a bowl or pan,
    waiting for wriggles and jiggles to abate
    in dessert that dances.

  13. deringer1


    “I have food you don’t’ know about”…..Jesus

    My God supplies me with my daily bread
    but I must think about what feeds my soul.
    What is found in the pantry of my mind?
    Can I find grace there to forgive myself?
    or gratitude for beauty and for friends?
    I find sunsets, tall mountains, and music,
    poems, surprises, kittens and puppies,
    time to laugh and quiet moments of joy
    suffused with the fragrance of love and hope.

  14. Michelle Hed

    I Dreamt of Tapioca

    White clouds of swirled cotton
    But no
    Perhaps a billion dandelion seeds floating…
    Wait, something isn’t right
    there are round shapes in a sea of white
    Oh no! Bugs! Magots!
    Or… or maybe pearls from the sea
    A white sea?
    Why not…beep, beep, beep.
    Ugh, she looks at her husband,
    “I just had the strangest dream”.
    He looks at her and says,
    “what did you eat last night?”

  15. CMcGowan

    Ode to a Tomato

    Your bulbous round presence

    perks up my summer time smile,

    sweet and tangy juices drip

    under a sweaty sun molting

    from green to delicious red.

    Lucious acid brewing inside

    creating a flavor explosion

    that tickles the tongue, yet

    tackles the stomach – harsh.

    Why oh why are you

    caustic to recess of my soul?

    Forcing me to abandon

    everything that I love

    about glorious tomatoes.

    Note – I wrote this because of all the foods I miss the most as a result of being diagnosed with GERD, I truly, truly, truly miss tomatoes.

  16. mattmacd


    Somewhere around the
    5th grade
    I had stumbled upon
    $150 in an envelop
    buried in the stand that
    our house phone
    from hitting the floor.

    Over the course of that winter
    I would order
    1 pizza a week.
    An easy accomplishment when you’re a latchkey kid
    in a single/parent home.
    Whatever I couldn’t finish would be my school lunch the next day.
    The empty box would get buried in
    the trash can outside.

    Mom was none the wiser.

    Back then, had an adult become privy
    to the shit that I was pulling,
    I would’ve been labelled and prescribed.
    Now that psychology (& science) have caught up with us
    it’s fairly obvious that

    I was a lonely kid born to inadequate parents
    and that I was
    trying to eat my feelings
    in Pizza Hut slices.

    At least the mild suspicion of
    the delivery person
    gave me something to come home to.

  17. Linda Hatton

    He Saved Her with See’s

    A white paper bag
    about eleven inches
    by five, hidden in sight
    on the shelf above
    the entertainment center,
    filled with marzipan,
    Bordeaux, and some-
    times a few nuts
    and chews—
    he’d hold open the sides,
    offer it to her salivations,
    offer her salvation
    from the effects
    of being whacked
    on the head, of being
    the entertainment
    of those five bored
    eleven-year-olds, of ducking
    away from them into bath-
    room stalls, her feet
    planted on toilet seats,
    while she silently prayed
    she was invisible.

  18. mayboy


    For breakfast, at 8, a slice of
    bread and Nutella on your lips,
    cappuccino and the morning
    news, the murder on the loose.

    At noon, for lunch, with
    colleagues and crunching
    pizza among the gossips, who
    was on the new rendezvous.

    The evening refreshment is
    after nine, peanuts with a bear
    behind the PC when after
    eleven enters your juicy MC.

  19. Uma

    Ode to Toast

    First the aroma of the bread
    Cradled snugly by its host
    Then the promise of a crisp slice
    could wake even a sleeping ghost

    Out it pops at the correct time
    Better than oven-baked roast
    Piping hot, a golden brown
    On it a pat of butter coasts

    When I am sad or want a lift
    The comfort food I love the most
    is not chocolate or cream-filled puff
    I always pick hot buttered toast

  20. pipersfancy


    God knows how easily I’m seduced
    by roast leg of lamb; reduced to mere quivers
    when it’s smothered thick in mint jelly.
    I’m smitten by the sight of a beef Wellington,
    along with Yorkshire pudding drowned in gravy,
    rich and savoury each morsel consumed!
    Rosemary and thyme, the herbs smell divine,
    to announce the pork pie’s arrival. Lord save me!
    My survival depends on the serving!

    Were gluttony not the sin that it is, perhaps
    I’d let myself indulge in foods more decadent
    than is wise. But, (thankfully) good sense applies
    and heart disease is not a prize I’d choose!
    Instead, I view through the window my Garden
    out back where The Tree of Life flourishes now.
    It grows lovely apples, forbidden fruit no more,
    conveniently available, and I have learned its tart,
    sweet taste will linger on the palette without harm.

  21. trishwrites

    If music be the food of love, play on

    There’s a certain
    haunting chords
    perfect fifths
    the sweet lilt of music

    How a lone note
    can lift your spirits
    A favourite song
    on the radio finds you sitting
    in the car until the last chorus

    It’s in a lazy evening
    beneath a summer moon
    your whole family bonding
    on the backyard patio
    over a playlist

    It’s in the shadows
    The rise and fall
    of those
    All five of you
    gather round and play
    your mama’s favourites
    Hold her hand
    as you send
    her off into
    the next life

  22. MET

    I am not sure I should post this, but maybe it is the first step in understanding why…. it is not my normal happy poem… although lately it has been more of grief process…

    Orange Juice

    The orange juice was laced
    With potassium chloride…
    Only one drop…
    Not enough to kill me, but
    Enough to cause me physical pain.
    I did not finish the glass of juice.
    It has been over thirty years,
    Since a person I loved
    Tried to end my existence.

    His own life ended
    Many years ago.

    I never understood the act.
    I never stopped loving him
    For he was troubled, and
    I long ago forgave him, but
    How to wrap my mind around
    My brother tried to take my life
    I have never been able to do.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 6, 2018

  23. MargoL


    Chocolate I love –
    Yes dark chocolate-
    It’s not too sweet-
    My favorite treat –

    It’s heavenly –
    And good for us-
    That is a fact-
    Though not exact –

    It’s a green light-
    A great excuse-
    To eat it all-
    Having a ball –

  24. cobanionsmith


    Lunchtime is our battlefield, veggies,
    his victims. Merciless, he glares;
    slowly grinds baby carrots
    to pulp; peels, squashes, then
    swallows peas one at
    a time; dares me
    to raise my
    clean white

    Courtney O’Banion Smith

  25. hannahmarie

    Chicken Fry

    It’s Sunday noon
    And momma ain’t called
    Cuz they ain’t got no phones
    Six feet down

    She been spendin’ her days
    Pushin’ daisies out the grave
    Keepin’ company with worms

    I reach for the box
    Sits on top of the fridge
    Click the rusty metal latch
    Open wide

    Take the card in my hand
    Splash of oil in the pan
    Cook till memories of momma
    Come alive

  26. P.A. Beyer

    Chai Tea

    From the steam of ancient springs
    To cities of jade and sapphire
    Life does not begin with a bang
    But a scream for freedom
    This road, domesticated by anguish
    And the scars of all who fought
    When anger ceases to seed the garden
    All fences fall
    All fences fall

  27. Brian Slusher


    watch it uncoil
    In the boiling pot

    25 cents
    of deliciousness

    the poor student’s
    instant banquet

    that some snack
    straight from the package

    it takes me back
    to a night in japan

    served a steaming bowl
    that seemed so small

    i whined Is this all?
    my hosts’ faces fell

    i felt a raw man
    a fat american

  28. Walter J Wojtanik


    I suppose it can be life sustaining,
    and believe me I am not complaining,
    Waiting for the cart to come,
    and two days in I wish I were home.
    Scrambled powder clumpy eggs,
    a toasted “muffin” that just begs
    for a smattering of butter spread,
    to make it seem more like bread.
    Then some black bean soup with dressing,
    and something looks like fruit (I’m guessing).
    Dinner found a chicken slab with sauce
    that missed the pasta there of course.
    I’d give my kingdom for some Java,
    Steaming black and hot as lava.
    Another mini-stroke I’m fighting,
    and these few words have me delighting
    that I haven’t lost my poetic mood,
    no great thanks to hospital food.

  29. LCaramanna


    I recline at table
    Among gods of Mt. Olympus
    Sip nectar from a golden chalice
    Savor ambrosia
    Supernal on my tongue
    Ichor in my veins
    Immortality in my heart
    Divine ambrosia
    Eternal on my tongue

    Lorraine Caramanna

  30. JoMae

    Dinner Time!

    For years I put a meal onto the table
    every evening for our growing gang.
    While that was my responsibility
    I was not an especially good cook
    nor was I enamored of the kitchen.

    The family joke was, when hearing his car
    pull in I’d often hurry to the pantry in a panic
    remind myself of what was there and
    encouraged by the warm hug approaching
    place the ingredients on the counter
    as if the meal had been planned all day.

    Of course he knew
    He had my number
    and loved me anyway

    Sometimes I’d quickly put a pot of water
    on to boil for the pasta or potatoes
    sometimes, if there were a good driveway
    story to finish listening to on the radio,
    he’d walk in the door to the aroma of
    onions frying or hamburg browning
    for the spaghetti sauce

    He knew, and loved me anyway

    Sometimes the kids would query
    “Is this a recipe, Mom?“
    I’d paste a smile and assure them
    that of course, it was my recipe.
    He’d grin. He knew…

    Each night we’d gather round the table
    calm the boisterous and give thanks
    then eat it all, washed down with lots of
    chatter and laughter (or not) about our
    days, along with planning for tomorrow

    Now all is quiet at that table.
    Instead of fixing meals
    I fix a bite to eat.

    Instead of chatter, visions float by.
    Remembering, I smile, and give thanks.
    He knew me well and loved. We loved.


  31. Poetjo

    Breaking My Fast

    I break
    the bone
    that an
    relies on
    to live.

    I plop
    into my
    and whisk
    some salt,
    then some
    into the
    bowl and
    heat the

    I plop the
    into the
    and kill
    a bird
    for my

  32. bethwk

    I don’t think mine posted. I’m sorry if this is a double post.

    Dutch Goose

    Also known as hogmaw,
    pig stomach,
    Susquehanna turkey.

    The recipe begins with an attitude:
    Nothing goes to waste.
    When you butcher,
    set aside the feet for souse,
    prepare the intestines for sausage,
    remove the inner stomach lining.
    (Okay, so that you may discard.)
    All the extras go for the scrapple.

    Wash the bag of the stomach
    and soak in salted water for hours.
    Make up a filling of potatoes,
    cabbage, onion, and ground sausage.
    Mix with egg, parsley, and milk.

    I remember it was peppery,
    though the recipes all
    contain a dearth of pepper.

    Stuff the stomach full
    and sew it closed securely.

    Roast for hours in the oven.
    Baste with butter.
    Serve with gravy
    made from the drippings.

  33. Connie Peters

    Uncle Jim’s Spaghetti

    Uncle Jim, a big, burly truck driver
    loved to cook, especially spaghetti.
    He’d rent out the town fire hall,
    invite the abundance of relatives
    and we cousins would spend the day
    chasing each other around the hall,
    eating spaghetti and being warned
    off the fire truck and ambulance.
    Everyone agreed that no one made
    spaghetti as good as Uncle Jim’s.

  34. bethwk

    Oh gracious. It simply turned into a recipe. Ah well. Now I’m hungry.

    Dutch Goose

    Also known as hogmaw,
    pig stomach,
    Susquehanna turkey.

    The recipe begins with an attitude:
    Nothing goes to waste.
    When you butcher,
    set aside the feet for souse,
    prepare the intestines for sausage,
    remove the inner stomach lining.
    (Okay, so that you may discard.)
    All the extras go for the scarpple.

    Wash the bag of the stomach
    and soak in salted water for hours.
    Make up a filling of potatoes,
    cabbage, onion, and ground sausage.
    Mix with egg, parsley, and milk.

    I remember it was peppery,
    though the recipes all
    contain a dearth of pepper.

    Stuff the stomach full
    and sew it closed securely.

    Roast for hours in the oven.
    Baste with butter.
    Serve with gravy
    made from the drippings.

  35. lsteadly

    Spring Menu

    I’m done with these dreary winter days
    and frigid nights eating soups and stews
    It’s time for high temps and sunny haze,
    kicking back on the porch with cold brews

    No more feasting on chicken pot pies,
    lasagne, any meals oven-baked.
    Start up the grill – let’s dine under skies
    star-smeared on fish we caught from the lake

    Served with fresh veggies grown on our lot-
    lettuce, Swiss chard, tomatoes and peas
    A case of spring fever is what I’ve got
    though the earth is still locked In it’s freeze

    Don’t know how much longer I can wait
    for spring’s bounty to cover my plate

    1. MHR

      poem #6
      APRIL PAD 2018
      When I listen to Adele,
      I’m thinking of you and we’re drinking champange.
      The memories are like sipping pain,
      in front of a shadowed balcony while
      watching city lights and towering buildings cast shadows
      upon starlit streets and unsuspecting people.
      Drinking the stars, it feels like lead sliding down my throat
      and plummetting into my stomach;
      and it tastes like the type of thin cardboard you find between cans of cat food.
      Pain chasers.

  36. seingraham


    Since my taste buds vacated my mouth
    (much like Elvis leaving the building, or
    so I’ve been told), my interest in food
    has dwindled dramatically
    Never one to lust after vegetables or
    fruit – that has remained a constant
    Sugar is my nemesis – chocolate in particular
    And I still love salty things – like pickles
    and cheezies and such.

    I’ve always enjoyed meat somewhat
    But my all-time favorite is bacon
    Crispy, crunchy bacon – nothing that flaps
    when I pick it up – in fact, I warn wait-staff
    that if I can wave it like a flag, they’ll
    be taking it back to the kitchen so make
    sure it’s well done – I’d rather have
    it burned than under-done.

    Imagine my delight when I attended a food-fair
    a year ago and they had candied bacon—
    on a stick! Glory – I thought I’d been sent for—
    died and gone to heaven for sure…
    I do try and limit my intake of this delicacy
    But it’s a rough go, I admit – bring on the bacon.


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