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Poetry: Cranberry sauce

Beneath the table Johnny slipped

silently while no one was aware,

The scoop of icky red stuff

Mom ordered him to eat with a stare.


With his other hand he carefully

Took bites of the turkey meat,

And sat with icky red stuff

Oozing out his fingers to his feet.


Soon the Thanksgiving feast was over

Abandoned for football games,

With icky red stuff oozing secretly

Johnny had no one to blame.


Sneaking, he hoped to skip away

His secret would be unfound

Instead Mom screamed for an ambulance

And fainted on the ground.


The whole house was in a tizzy

Fainting and panic ran amok

While Johnny stood there grinning

Covered simply in cranberry guck.

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Below are the top articles rated and ranked by Helium members on:

Poetry: Cranberry sauce

  • 1 of 44

    by Rachel Howells

    On the Thanksgiving table
    The cranberry sauce was gleaming
    Feigning modesty near
    Mashed potatoes steaming.

    The buttery green

    read more

  • 2 of 44

    by Madison West

    A Slice of Yesteryear


    Call me crazy if you want to

    But I prefer my cranberry sauce from a can

    It takes me back to my childhood

    read more

  • 3 of 44

    by Ginger Betzer

    It was thanksgiving morning,

    And all was a-rush,

    With turkey in oven,

    And mom in a fuss.

    I wanted to help,

    But what could

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  • 4 of 44

    by Tiffany Sewell

    He waits patiently

    His eyes never leave mine

    "Wait your turn," I say

    "You'll get yours in time"

    He licks his lips with longing

    read more

  • 5 of 44

    by Scott Scherr

    Cranberry Fish

    I opened a can of cranberry sauce
    and emptied it onto a dish.
    It fell with a plop and wiggled a lot
    like some

    read more

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Poetry: Cranberry sauce

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