Giggle Poetry

Mystery Meal

(sing to the tune of “The Old Gray Mare”)

Great green globs of
greasy, grimy gopher guts,
mutilated monkey meat,
little birdies’ dirty feet.
Hot school lunches
aren’t fit for kids to eat.
So pass the ketchup, please.

Pizza topped with
rotten eggs and sauerkraut,
seven-week-old speckled trout.
Toss it at your friends and shout.
Start a food fight –
you’ll get caught, without a doubt.
So pass the pepper, please.

By Bruce Lansky

Food Fight

We’d never seen the teachers
in a state of such distress.
The principal was yelling
that the lunchroom was a mess.

It started off so innocent
when someone threw a bun,
but all the other kids decided
they should join the fun.

It instantly turned into
an enormous lunchroom feud,
as students started hurling
all their halfway-eaten food.

A glob went whizzing through the air,
impacting on the wall.
Another chunk went sailing out
the doorway to the hall.

The food was splattered everywhere –
the ceilings, walls, and doors.
A sloppy, gloppy mess was on
the tables and the floors.

And so our good custodian
ran out to grab his mop.
It took him half the afternoon
to clean up all the slop.

The teachers even used some words
we’re not supposed to mention.
And that’s how all the kids and teachers
wound up in detention.

By Kenn Nesbitt

Bring Your Own Lunch

Don’t eat school lunches –
not even a lick.
They might make you nauseous.
They might make you sick.

Just take a small bite and
you’ll start to feel ill.
If the veggies don’t get you,
the meatloaf sure will.

By Bruce Lansky

The Story Behind the Poem: When I visit schools, I’m often offered a free lunch in the cafeteria. In some schools, the food is a lot better than I would expect. But in others, I take one look, then suggest to the principal that we “Go out for lunch.”

My Lunch

A candy bar.
A piece of cake.
A lollipop.
A chocolate shake.
A jelly donut.
Chocolate chips.
Some gummy worms
and licorice whips.

A candy cane.
A lemon drop.
Some bubblegum
and soda pop.
Vanilla wafers.
Cherry punch.
(My mom slept in
while I made lunch.)

By Kenn Nesbitt