Simmering sauce, rolling dough,
chopping onions, tears aflow.
Red brick oven, smoking hot
pizza diva, am I not?
Forty kids, "starving to death,"
"give me strength".... under my breath.
Twenty pizzas, golden brown,
pizza diva? I wear the crown.
For dessert, my sweetness reigns
carrot cake with sugar cane.
The kids thank me with cheesy kisses,
with a sigh, I wash the dishes.
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| Writing Prompt |
Write a humorous poem about your job. It can be any job, but it has to rhyme. |
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Funny poem about your job
Contest Winner
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Author Notes
I worked as chef for the young volunteers in Zanzibar. They were always "starving to death" and I would tell them they have no idea what real hunger was. One day I made them a pizza oven out of bricks and sheet metal. I was a hero that day because every day one of them would ask for pizza. I had a running joke with the different groups and would do my diva yell when the time was right. DIIIIIIIIVA!! It was funny because I am the opposite of diva.
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