Friday Poem #89: Eating in Bed

Hello, and welcome to this week’s Friday poem.

The world is a divided place: The Middle East, North/South Korea, Brexit, Donald Trump, Immigration, Ear Piercing for under 5’s, Marmite, doing the “Floss” dance – everywhere you look, there’s an issue that splits opinion.

Tonight’s poem is one such contentious issue. I asked a very lovely friend of mine to suggest the subject of this week’s poem, and she came up with the title you see above you. She herself is a self-confessed fan of this, so a reference to her does appear in the poem below. I’ll let you decide which bit is her.

I like eating in bed – but only toast and coffee in the morning. I can’t remember eating anything significant in bed – like spaghetti Bolognese or casserole for example – but only because I never considered it. Perhaps I’ve been missing out on something and should start taking all my meals in bed? I’ll ask my Fiancée and let you uknow.

If you don’t hear from me ever again, the answer was “no”.

So, where do you stand on eating in bed? Let me know your thoughts and justification by leaving a comment below. If you are a fan, tell me what the best thing you ever ate in bed was.

And so, here is this weeks poem.

I hope you like it.

EATING IN BED

How do you feel about eating in bed?

(That’s not a proposal – it’s a question)

Does the image of crumbs being stuck to your bum

Float your boat, or fill you with revulsion?

 

Do you favour a munch or a nibble,

With the duvet tucked under your chin?

Do you feel really cheeky, when you have some Tzatziki

With a couple of breadsticks thrown in?

 

Should eating be confined to the Kitchen,

Or the dining room – or your lap at a push?

Does eating in bed, make you go bright red

At the thought of shoving food in your mush?

 

Is your favourite in bed Strawberry cheesecake?

All contained in its own little pot.

Do you feel like a kid, when you lick the lid?

(If you knew where its been, you might not!)

 

There are some folk who might go even further,

Having Kebab, with a few cheesy chips.

If the roll in their sleep, with their chips in a heap

They could literally go straight to their hips.

 

You see, such pleasures are not without warning;

For all things there’s a time and a place.

A pizza at night, might seem a bit of alright

But you shouldn’t wake with it stuck to your face.

 

No one likes cheese in their cleavage,

Or their dangly bits in Hoi Sin sauce.

I’d be surprised, if folk liked gravy-soaked thighs –

Unless, that’s what you’re into of course.

 

The debate about this could be endless:

Valid points that we need to explain.

What we each do in bed, is better not said,

Just be mindful of those tell-tale stains!

 

If you like this poem, You might also be interested to know that my book, ‘The Friday Poems – Volume One’ is now available to buy. This book contains all the Friday poems posted on my blog in 2017. You can get it from Amazon.com, wherever you are – in the UK from Amazon.co.uk in paperback by clicking here: http://amzn.eu/2tOvhA6 , or for Kindle by clicking here: http://amzn.eu/hbDIMdU

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I welcome your thoughts and feedback on my poems and indeed my blog, so do please get in touch!

Until next time…..