I am serving up a few more third grade food poems for the special occasion.
But for starters, head over to Diane's blog, to enjoy some Random Noodling. Diane is this week's host. She'll be serving up a pot luck of tasty poetry links from the Poetry Friday regulars.
|Promise not to fill up on noodles at Diane's blog.
We've got a few more courses to go.
by Hannah S.
Today we went on a picnic
to go see the cherry blossoms.
We heard the birds chirping
and the soft breeze ruffling my hair.
We found a good spot to lay the blanket
so we could all eat lunch.
As I caught a whiff of flowers blossoming,
I tasted tomatoes
and I felt the juice trickling down my chin.
After lunch, I ate a cookie, crunch, crunch.
As we left, I said goodbye to the birds
while I walked away towards my house.
What's a picnic without burgers? Good thing Henry brought some to our poetry open house.
Hamburgers Are the Best
by Henry H.
I hear my dad calling my sisters and me in for dinner.
I see my dad bring the big cheese
and regular burgers in.
I run straight to my spot at the table.
The juiciness of the hamburger makes my mouth water.
I hear the prayers finish and I dig in.
My dad always makes his burgers
for the first day of spring.
I feel the warm bun in my hand.
I always love the smell of the melted cheese.
Burgers are always the best!
The best part about a picnic is sampling the foods your friends bring -- specialties and traditional dishes from their families. Jonathan shares one of those foods with us.
by Jonathan W.
In the oven,
I see a lovely brown duck,
who has been hung for over a day.
Oil and sauce drops on the plate,
now serving on the table.
Steam is rising in the room, smelling like duck.
Eating the flesh, which is tender, tasty,
Eating the skin too,
my favorite part,
because it is oily, very oily,
so I slurp it in my mouth,
sucking the oil off of it,
crispy like a chip.
Getting another piece,
it's ALL GONE!!
If you're still hungry when you get home from the picnic, join Manomay for a simple, but delicious snack at home.
Cheese and Omelet Sandwich
Every week, when I come back from school,
me, my dad, and my mom make a melted soft cheese
and omelet sandwich.
I can see yolk turning into an omelet.
After a while, we put the cheese on the omelet,
then I put the bread on.
We flip it and put on another bread.
We take if off the pan and I like the soft bread.
Then we all EAT, EAT, EAT.
Still hungry? There are more food poems from earlier this week here and here.
Thanks for celebrating with me and the Northfield third grade poets. After the open house, I have a few more student pocket poems to share -- hopefully, with photos from our poetry event.