I was pottering around the kitchen one night trying to cook up something to impress my wife when it suddenly struck me that I hadn't written a poem for quite awhile. Therefore, to make amends I decided to cook up one then and there. Needless to say that my attempt at cooking up a poem ended up as a fiasco for I only ended up messing the dish that I was preparing as well as the poem that I was cooking. Rather than pleasing my wife, I ended up being the cause of her pulling a long face (actually, the long face suits her more than the attempt at a pleasant face that she makes). Having made her day or rather her night unpleasant, I realised that it would not be fair on my part if I did not share my poem with you my friends just as I had shared my dish with her. So I now place this dish before you my friends for your appetite.

The world is nothing but an onion
It only makes you cry
Nothing but a tangy, tasty onion
Only when we do it fry…..

The seven worlds are nothing but an onion
Worlds which are not just independent
But layers of the same single onion
Perceived to appear different

The world is nothing but an onion
It only makes you cry
Nothing but a tangy, tasty onion
Only when we do it fry…..

The world is pungent like an onion
It can make your mouth to stink
Even the strongest who are like iron
Are polluted in a wink.

The world is nothing but an onion
It only makes you cry
Nothing but a tangy, tasty onion
Only when we do it fry…..

The world is as necessary as an onion
It helps prepare a tasty dish
To make a sweet life out of an onion
You have to sauté it as you wish

The world is nothing but an onion
It only makes you cry
Nothing but a tangy, tasty onion
Only when we do it fry…..

P.S.: Don't try to take the fork & knife to attempt murdering me for that is the prerogative of my wife.