'chopsticks' poems - Hello Poetry

HappyHappyHappy Apr 2017

Chopsticks and Friends
Chopsticks and Friends
Chopsticks and Friends
Chopsticks and Friends
Chopsticks and Friends
Chopsticks and Friends
Chopsticks and Friends
Chopsticks and Friends
Chopsticks and Friends
Chopsticks and Friends
Chopsticks and Friends
Chopsticks and Friends
Chopsticks and Friends
Chopsticks and Friends

Until when are you going to write random things?

*Haha.

sorry that was really random. i just wanted to give yall a laugh hahhahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahaha

#laugh

Michael Murphy May 2023

Yogurt with Chopsticks

Michael Murphy May 2023

Yogurt with Chopsticks

You can't eat yogurt
with chopsticks
Believe me I know
I just tried

Not a spoon was in sight
We had Chinese last night
Saw chopsticks and had
to decide

So I plunged with the stick
In the yogurt...not thick
My first scoop
was less than desired

I could be here all day
Yes eating this way
was definitely
making me tired

So I picked up the cup
The chopsticks did chuck
With a slurp and a guzzle
so quick

Lesson learned
Lesson lived
You can't eat yogurt
with chopsticks

Mostly true

#fun

ln Aug 2014

Happy Independence Day, Malaysia.

ln Aug 2014

Happy Independence Day, Malaysia.

Maybe it's the way the national flag flies so high
Despite the country's imperfections
Maybe it's the way we're united
Not separated, despite the difference in cultures,
Believes, traditions, languages

Maybe it's the way you see an Indian eating with chopsticks,
The way you see a Malay in a saree,
The way you see a Chinese making ketupat's for Hari Raya.

Maybe it's the unity you see,
Maybe it's the goosebumps you feel when you say Merdeka,
Maybe despite the hate you have towards history,
Deep down, you know how grateful you are to be Malaysian.

Maybe it's the way you walk into a mamak,
And say
" tauke tapau roti canai 1 milo ais 99 "
And maybe,
It lies in diversity,
Beyond everything else.

*Malaysia, tanah tumpahnya darahku.

#love #life #country #malaysia

nivek Jul 2016

chopsticks and stars

nivek Jul 2016

chopsticks and stars

I pluck stars with chopsticks straight out of the night
bring them to my lips and kiss their fire
drop them into my bucket filled with seawater fresh from the shore
and watch them sizzle and spit and fizz and spark
and when it seems their fire is all gone with my chopsticks to save my fingers from their burn I flip them back into the sky and watch them reignite and shine back in the place I plucked them from.

Jedd Ong Feb 2016

Pa wears a sweatshirt, ma carries a golden purse:

Jedd Ong Feb 2016

Pa wears a sweatshirt, ma carries a golden purse:

i.

the poem has a beginning exactly as you’d expect it:
pa in sweatshirt, ma with purse; the funny thing is
i never used to call them those names:
“pa,”
“ma,”
always found them too cowboy-ish,
too un-me, un-like

us: who held chopsticks before dinner time and shared
stories of how grandpa came over from china.

ii. (at the dinner table)

there is no symbolism here. there has been none
for a while now. this household eats and
eats in quiet. my grandmother is a poet but their
books all burned down

back in ’45 when mao stormed into fujian and
all her uncles could eloquent on was that
“the communists were coming!”
“the communists were coming!”
and instead of poems took with them their
children, and their gold to pawn

and their clothes on their muddy
mortar-stained backs

and the japanese

iii.

my grandfather now comes twice a week to the
hospital for chemotherapy. it is a nice hospital.
good view of the cleanest part of our *****

city. there are lights and white folks now. two things
my dad said did not used to be there. they

used to be spanish. they tilled
our rice fields and spent the money on living rooms
with lots and lots of space to sleep. we on the other hand,
worked. he claims.

your grandfather and his grandfather and i

iv.

awake every sunday morning at precisely 8:30.
made to go down to the temple in kalesas
and told to fetch the office paper for
noontime reading. see we weren’t spoiled: grew

up just next to the pasig river which back in
the 70s did not smell as bad as sin only
sweatshirts

and the sweat we soaked them in we reeled along
steamed fish heads and chopsticks for picking at them with
and bowls of rice we never really ate with spoons.

v. (back at the dinner table)

i listen to my mom and dad
sweat profusely in the evening heat only we can have here
he in his sweatshirt and she
with her golden purse,

preparing to leave - a wedding party awaits -
an jacket draped over his shirt just like grandfather used to do it
in a sense,
but gripping the chopsticks delicately for all us
to see:

“pa,”
“ma,”

v.

it is not cowboys that give us our names.

Julian Dorothea Sep 2011

Picket fence

Julian Dorothea Sep 2011

Picket fence

apple

did you imagine red?
so did I
which is weird because the apples I eat are kind of yellow

asia

I said asia
not China

I remember the time
my history professor told my class to imagine asia
I thought of an exotic
country
with arab sheiks
and snake charmers

the Chinese
the Japanese
chopsticks
and the orient

it was then that she pointed out
"haven't Western ideas just messed with you?"

and it was then that I realized
"Wait; I'm Asian. I've lived in Asia all my life."
how come I saw it as something foreign
and strange?
I've never even seen the things I imagined.

I remember when I watched Big Bang Theory
and the four friends sat down to Thai food
Raj made the mistake of asking, "where are the chopsticks?"
which led to Dr. Sheldon Cooper saying
(in this paraphrased version:)
"they don't use chopsticks. They use spoons and forks.
The fork doesn't go into their mouth.
They use it to push food unto the spoon, which then goes into their mouth."

I sat there thinking..
well that's weird

when a couple of months later as I watched the episode again
I realized
that's how my people eat!
that's how I've always eaten..

the houses I picture in an average neighborhood
are two story
concrete structures
with shingled roofs

cul-de-sacs
and oak trees

my own house
is one story
of brick and wood
it is beside a highway
and surrounded by guava trees
and coconuts

I don't even know what a picket fence is.

just some random thoughts..:)

Andrew Rymill Apr 2014

Sushi And Poetry

Andrew Rymill Apr 2014

Sushi And Poetry

Poetry is like sushi.
Sushi contains
Rice & goodies
Wrapped in nori.
Both are combined rolled
Into cylinders
Then cut
Into rolls.

Poetry
Is sounds  &  tropes
Rolled into images
Each poem
A unique
Experience.

When you
Eat Sushi
With chopsticks
You are too  eat
the rolls
with just  one bite
Sampling the wholeness
of the taste
and presentation.

May you
Devour
This poem
On the chopsticks
Of your feelings
And sample
The flavor
In the ink.

Antino Art Aug 2019

Worst Asian

Antino Art Aug 2019

Worst Asian

I am the only Asian in this bar right now.
Be my friend!
I will check the box of your social diversity quota.
Granted, I only speak a mispronounced fraction of
my immigrant parents' native tongue.
Ala Jackie Chan, I do not understand the words coming out the mouths of anyone on that massive continent (Russia included) that I appear to be more or less from.
But, I do eat spaghetti with chopsticks.
I am mystical as
fox, or Kitsune, in Japanese folklore.
I can hit you with wisdom worthy of a fortune cookie as fast as Google can tell you that the Philippines is nearly 2000 miles away from China. I want to say I'm from an exotic island where they play basketball in sandals and drink soda from plastic bags- like, A-level material you could make a movie out of in Slumdog Millionaire fashion and get awarded for your romantic portrayal of poverty you think is three worlds away from home. But nah, I'm just a kid from South Florida. Paved driveways and cul de sacs. But I do pump both fists in the air watching Manny Pacquio PPV fights on a bootleg stream. Beyond that, I'm probably the worst Asian there is. Not the crazy rich kind with a PHd. I dropped out of engineering after one semester and cannot solve a rubix cube. I never learned kung fu. Though I'm learning to face the adversity of becoming a single parent after my daughter's home broke in two. I write marketing proposals to pay the rent and poetry to fight without fighting in the spirit of Sun Tzu. My eyes do not slant in the direction of your narrative. I once ran in a pick up game where I caught the nickname of Yao Ming. Yao, I am 5 foot 8. Though I fall short of expectation, I can still check your diversity box on the way down and do a cool pen spin after to punctuate my intellectual prowess. I also happen to own an assortment of Japanese swords made in China, which I intend to use as heirlooms. This is what cultural colonization looks like: me, in a bar, the last samurai standing confused in an age of melting pots, Korean tacos and Asian slaw made by corporate imposters with names like PF Chang. What in the slaw is Asian? I wish I knew! I wish I knew the true value of my heritage to be worthy of carrying it forward. Like how my grandfather planted a Malonggay tree in our backyard whose leaves my mother would pick and boil to make tinolang manok -the Filipino version of chicken soup- as a weeknight staple on our dinner table. I can barely soft boil an egg for instant ramen. Or how my motherland's socioeconomic gap tooth smile is so wide that it drove over 10 million of its native sons and daughters off its shores to find work overseas as servants on cruise ships and hospitals to feed the families they barely get to see. To follow their trail blazing footsteps, let me be the second generation tipping point where some form of cyclical tradition breaks. That way, I can raise my daughter free of predetermined scripts. So as the worst Asian in this or any bar, cheers:
to being the first of a new kind.

Sketcher Nov 2018

Thankful

Sketcher Nov 2018

Thankful

Although the world is ****** and I'd rather leave than stay,
There are many things I'm thankful for on this fine holiday,
Today I'll talk about people and things,
That make life a little more worth living,
These people and things remove all the stings,
Of pain I'm taking daily and giving,
A little more will make a bigger change,
Time for my attitude to rearrange,
Temporarily so I can say nice stuff,
Time to begin, that intro was enough,

I'm thankful for Skyrim through Arena,
I'm thankful for my mother Kristina,
I'm thankful for Toontown and its trolley,
I'm thankful for my lil' sister Zoe,
I'm thankful for all the love that one stole,
Cause now she will have a small part of me,
I'm thankful for my step-father Joel,
I'm thankful for TV shows and movies,
I'm thankful for this superb holiday,
So I can easily spread all my thanks,
I'm thankful for little tiny JJ,
And sometimes all of his crazy high jinks,
I'm thankful for pouring out whiskey, gin,
And other alcoholic beverages,
I'm thankful for the removal of sin,
And Jesus deciding what leverage is,
I'm thankful for my ancestors kin,
I'm thankful for my sister Adalyn,
I'm thankful for peoples divinity,
I'm thankful for my sister Trinity,
I'm thankful for Japan, chopsticks, and tea,
I'm thankful for the greatest homeboy D,
I'm thankful for big meals, good food, and feasts,
I'm thankful for my ex-girlfriend Tranyce,
I'm thankful for firsts, I'll punch you, sue me,
I'm thankful for the very tall Tui,
I'm thankful for rain and windy weather,
I'm thankful for the beautiful Heather,
I'm thankful for her brother named Erick,
And her other brother that is name Ray,
Their whole **** family is quite hysteric,
But hanging with them will brighten my day,
Thankful for the culminating project,
And the fact that I'm done cause they waived this,
I'm thankful for Smash Bros., I'm never rekt,
I'm thankful for wise ol' Mr. Davis,
I'm thankful for teacher Mr. Thompson,
Judo Sensei that knows how to whomp em',
I'm thankful for the roof over my head,
I'm thankful for my blankets and my bed,
I'm thankful for good brownies and hot rolls,
I'm thankful for my cool father Michael,
I'm thankful for past presidents life Ronald Reagan,
I'm thankful for my aunt on my moms side name Megan,
I'm thankful for the police that jail *****,
I'm thankful for my buff uncle Damick,
I'm thankful for lists made of pros and con,
I'm thankful for my other uncle Jon,
I'm thankful for pirate ships matey,
I'm thankful for my old grandpa Tracy,
I'm thankful for envelops that senda,
Letter and money from my grandma Brenda,
I'm thankful for Disney, Belle to Moana,
I'm thankful for my good friend Adriana,
I'm thankful for known facts and secrets, do tell
I'm thankful for a good friend named Miguel,
All these friends are such nice and kind fellas,
I'm thankful for a good friend named Ella,
I'm thankful for cats and their perfect pur,
I'm thankful for our late cat named Ginger,
I'm thankful for good smells and their freshness,
I'm thankful for our current cat precious,
I'm thankful for American and foreign dollah's,
I'm thankful for a black slug that we have named Nala,
I am thankful for Demetri's family,
Will, Dylan, Erick, and sleepy time tea,
Sometimes Nicole has me over for DnD,
I'm thankful for the oxygen coming from the trees,
I'm thankful for hope and the act of wishing,
I'm thankful for the oldest son Christina,
I'm thankful for music, rap, rock, and grunge,
I'm thankful for breakfast, dinner, and lunch,
I'm thankful for all family and friends,
I'm thankful for forgiveness and amends,
I'm thankful for X and the dead Lil Peep,
I'm thankful for the awake and asleep,
I'm thankful for skittles and good candy,
And Eminem, Marshall Mathers, dandy,
I'm thankful for swervers and people that stay in their own lane,
I'm thankful for Nirvana and specifically Kurt Cobain,
I'm thankful for drawing, painting, grass, and moss,
I'm thankful for the best painter, Bob Ross,
I'm thankful for Karate and Thai Chi,
Judo, Jeet-Kun-Do, and of course, Bruce Lee,
I'm thankful for drinks and fun house parties,
I'm thankful for squirm words like, "Farties",
I'm thankful for heavy metal and silence,
I'm thankful for Altoids, bubblegum, and mints,
I'm thankful for manga, comics, and novels,
Anime, and problems that are solvable,
I'm thankful for the nice clothes on my back,
I'm thankful for a great actor, Jack Black,
I'm thankful for watching the poem just go,
I'm thankful for Panic! at the disco,
I'm thankful for the singing and the dance,
I'm thankful for My Chemical Romance,
I'm thankful for all the lord of the rings,
I'm thankful for the books by Stephen King,
I'm thankful for the high highs and low lows,
I'm thankful for the greatest Burnham, Bo,
I'm thankful for zoos and the skilled handlers,
I'm thankful for the great Adam *******,
I'm thankful for the truthful and liars,
I'm thankful for great Robin Doubtfire,

I'm thankful for that feeling that's serene,
When you're chest to chest with one that will lean,
Towards you at any given moment,
And will give you love and their condolence,
And then they flee to somewhere else,
And you end up being someone else,
And they end up seeing someone else,
So your heart just gives up and melts,
But whatever feeling I'm feeling,
If I am feeling then I'm grateful,
Emotions must be constantly reeling in,
So I don't get lost in the dull sense of numb.
Thank You

A thanksgiving poem.

#thanksgiving #thankful

Trisha Nov 2014

flashlight to toes

Trisha Nov 2014

flashlight to toes

candlesticks caught up in your wristwatch grip bundled up burning chopsticks not frostbitten yet, flashlight to toes happy it still shows your glowing red interior

#cold #toes #frostbite

Hao Nguyen Apr 2016

"A Bean Sprout and a Bowl of Soup"

Hao Nguyen Apr 2016

"A Bean Sprout and a Bowl of Soup"

Contemplating life
over a hot bowl of soup,
my mindful mentor
passed me
the pleasure of oyster
to mix in with
the pain of chilies
stirred together by
chopsticks held in my hands.

There he taught me
the lesson of humanity
and the person's potential,
pointing at me
and then back at the bean sprout,
fiddling it in his chopsticks
as if he were God,
mentioning to me
"This sprout and you have plenty alike..."

"What do you mean?
How am I like a vegetable?"

He smiled and nodded to disagree,
"Life is not always physical.
Think for a second,
open your fragile closed mind.
Imagine this soup not just a bowl
but instead a cauldron,
the mixing of different elements,
sensations seared by heat
to create the luxuries we call
the world where you
are a mere bean sprout."

Looking at the small, colorless
tasteless, inferior plant,
I wondered, confused and asked:
"Am I so inferior in this world
that I cannot compare
to the rich flavor of beef,
to the nurturing noodles,
to the accenting spices,
but instead am no more
than a flavorless root?"

Yet my mentor laughed,
and patiently passed:
"You worry too much young one,
too much on yourself you blame.
Instead, take upon consideration
that the bean sprout is small,
fragile, tasteless like water;
there is nothing you can change
other than size and color,
but lower it into the soup
and patiently stir,
allow it to soak up the world
and obtain its potential."

I repeated his actions,
placed myself in the world,
sat patient and absorbed its essence,
and then removed it,
placed it to my lips.
Surprised that what I later discovered
was not a bland taste of disappointment arose
but instead what lingered to the tongue
was the sweet taste of near perfection.

#poetry #bean #soup #sprouts #mentoring

abcdefg1 Apr 2014

Chopsticks

abcdefg1 Apr 2014

Chopsticks

Like bears gnawing at the wood
And swings that go about
They sit and cross another
For that bark would even bite its brother

— The End —