Supper Time
What’s that thing
with a wing?
What’s that stuff,
hard and tough?
What’s that nasty bit of goo,
soft and smelly as a piece of …?
‘Enough!’ says the voice in the kitchen, ‘Enough!’
Nuggets are meatier
Ketchup’s tastier
Treats are yummier
Ice cream’s icier
Rice balls ricier
Pizza’s slicier
Sweets much nicier.
‘Enough!’ shouts the voice in the kitchen, ‘Enough!’
I could bake a pie with mud
A drink made out of dragon’s blood
A lolly with a magic power
A chocosweetiesugar shower
A rope made out of blue spaghetti
All the treats that I can getty.
‘Enough!’ shrieks the voice from the kitchen, ‘Enough!’
When I’m big I’ll not eat stew
Fish that’s steamed, or cheese that’s blue,
Any meat you have to chew
Lumpy things you can’t cut through
Or funny stuff that looks like …
From the kitchen here she comes,
Face all angry
Voice like drums.
When you’re big, well that’s just fine
Make mud pie with a swig of wine
A monster squid caught on a line
A crate of onions brewed in brine
Green tomatoes from the vine
Bags of sweets, not one at a time
Biscuits scoffed at suppertime.
But up till then the choice is MINE!
‘Enough!’ says the voice in the seat.
Picks up the fork and starts to
EAT.
with a wing?
What’s that stuff,
hard and tough?
What’s that nasty bit of goo,
soft and smelly as a piece of …?
‘Enough!’ says the voice in the kitchen, ‘Enough!’
Nuggets are meatier
Ketchup’s tastier
Treats are yummier
Ice cream’s icier
Rice balls ricier
Pizza’s slicier
Sweets much nicier.
‘Enough!’ shouts the voice in the kitchen, ‘Enough!’
I could bake a pie with mud
A drink made out of dragon’s blood
A lolly with a magic power
A chocosweetiesugar shower
A rope made out of blue spaghetti
All the treats that I can getty.
‘Enough!’ shrieks the voice from the kitchen, ‘Enough!’
When I’m big I’ll not eat stew
Fish that’s steamed, or cheese that’s blue,
Any meat you have to chew
Lumpy things you can’t cut through
Or funny stuff that looks like …
From the kitchen here she comes,
Face all angry
Voice like drums.
When you’re big, well that’s just fine
Make mud pie with a swig of wine
A monster squid caught on a line
A crate of onions brewed in brine
Green tomatoes from the vine
Bags of sweets, not one at a time
Biscuits scoffed at suppertime.
But up till then the choice is MINE!
‘Enough!’ says the voice in the seat.
Picks up the fork and starts to
EAT.
This poem is copyright (©) Barbara Bleiman 2024
About the Writer
Barbara Bleiman
Barbara is an ex-English teacher and writer of adult and YA fiction, with two novels published and a recent collection of short stories for adults, Kremlinology of Kisses. Barbara has an anthology of short stories for secondary school students coming out in the autumn via the English and Media Centre where she works.