This is a poem that I wrote, inspired by just the three words 'my favourite meal'. As any new Mum will testify, after the fabulous meeting of your baby for the first time, you really do need something to eat and drink. I am lucky enough to have four beautiful daughters and after all that effort each time, even simple tea and toast tastes amazing. So without further ado, please find below "My Favourite Meal"!


My Favourite Meal

A round swollen tummy.
An urge from within.
They said that I would know
It was about to begin.

It gripped me so tightly.
Pinned me down to the bed.
It felt so destructive.
I wished I was dead.

I howled, then I whimpered.
Sweat moistened my face.
Oh, how I wished I was
In some other place.

The pain came again
And I called the midwife.
She soon would be with me
As I gave someone life.

A final contraction.
My baby appeared.
The pain that I suffered.
Completely disappeared.

I felt so elated
It was finally complete.
Now all that I needed
Was something to eat.

As I stared at my bundle,
(To whom I'd played host)
The kind Midwife brought me
Some tea and some toast.

Heaven mouthfuls;
The buttery crunch
Made up for the fact
That I'd laboured through lunch.

I'd delivered at tea time
But missed out on my dinner.
Hot tea and buttered toast though
Was definitely a winner.

The simplest of foodstuffs
Tasted out of this world.
I sighed with contentment
Looking at my baby girl.

So, when I eat toast now
It evokes memories so real
And that is why it was
My Favourite Meal.


Copyright © Amy - I Want A Poem

http://www.iwantapoem.co.uk

Personalised Poems for All Occasions!

W. H. Auden - Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.



Stop All The Clocks is one of my very favourite poems and it was featured in the Best Selling Film "Four Weddings And A Funeral".