Grits Poems

Are you a poet? Send us your grits poem and we may publish it on our website!

An Original Grits Poem
(submitted by a loyal visitor to Grits.com!)

Grits in the morning,
grits at night.
With butter and salt,
they taste just right.
Grits with bacon,
grits with ham.
I'm a grit lover,
yes, i am.
Grits with breakfast,
biscuts and gravy.
If you dont like grits,
you must be crazy.
Fresh hot grits,
stick to your ribs.
That's how a southerner.
likes to live.
Grits on the side,
but not to runny.
Northerners think grits,
taste kinda funny.
But good old grits,
just cant be beat.
It's a pure down south,
southern taste treat.
So give me grits every day,
I'll eat my grits any which way.
I love grits,
thats what i said.
If you aint never ate grits,
you aint never been fed!

By Martha B, 2007

---

Ode to Grits

Grits are cool, and most of my friends are cool as grits! I like grits in the morning with cheese and milk. This is my breakfast at least three times a week!

For a special treat I like to make a big batch of grits at night and eat some for dinner and let the rest sit out overnight.

They don't need to sit outside, it is sufficient to allow them to sit out on the stove, preferably with a cover so that cats don't eat them. Cats like grits too you know.

The next morning, the grits will be firm and pliable to be shaped into nice fat patties. Then fry the grit cakes in egg and milk batter like french toast. Serve them with butter, and jelly or syrup or whatever you like! Yeah! Grit cakes are great. I wrote a poem with grit cakes in it, and it won an award.

If anyone actually reads this, I hope that you love grits and try some grit cakes.

You won't be sorry!

MANDY'S POEM

CORNBREAD
Written by Amanda Lunsford

Grandma would like you,
make a big pan of cornbread in your honor,
or gritcakes and pour Karo on them.
You are worth the chore of washing up,
sticky dishes
soaking in a soapy sink overnight.
We women clean up.

Grandma would like you.
Her daddy,
my granddaddy
had strong hands, strong backs.
They built houses-
homes,
strong ones lasting long after they
and the gas station and R.C. Colas for six cents were gone.
They built like you build-
sweltering brown and skipping school to work through the night,
work while you watch the moon ripples on the lake-
They lived and built;
they loved.
She loved and cleaned up.
She would like you like me.

I spent many nights on Possom Ridge,
held flat my feather pillow smelling of basement,
as she read me stories of a cornbread man.

I turn pages,
sticky fingered,
singing "catch me if you can,"
while soap bubbles melt away in an old iron sink.