#cooking poems on Hello Poetry

Breann Apr 1

She stands at the counter,
flour dusting her fingertips,
cinnamon curling through the air like a whisper
she’s afraid to speak aloud.

A pinch of salt, a dash of thyme—
she throws them in like she’s casting a spell,
but nothing ever turns out right.
Too much heat, not enough heart,
the flavors never fold into each other,
never blend the way they should.

In her mind, another bowl waits—
one no one can see.
She tosses in “too much,” packs in “not enough,”
folds in “too loud” like stiff egg whites,
sifts in “too big” until it settles in the cracks.
No recipe, no measurements, just
a mess she can never quite fix.

She walks through the grocery store
like a stranger in a foreign place,
staring at shelves lined with things
she doesn’t know how to use.
Aisles stretch too wide, labels blur,
and the pressure knots in her stomach
until she turns around, empty-handed.
She just won’t go next time.

She can bake, though.
She knows the way sugar melts into butter,
how vanilla warms a room,
how patience turns batter to gold.
But sweets feel like a confession,
like proof.
So she says she can’t.
Pretends her hands are clumsy,
her cakes always sink.
Shrinks behind the lie
because it’s easier than the truth.

She just wishes she could cook.
Wishes she could make something people need.
Wishes she didn’t feel like a failed recipe.

#life #selfimage #sad #imagery #cooking #baking

Jason Aull Mar 27

The bitter chef

The mean old man,
he’s serving food.
I’m not a fan
of how he’s rude.

His angry voice
and bitter way,
give me no choice
but stay away.

I dare not feel
his rotten soul.
Such icy steel
just takes its toll.

If I avoid
while he prepares,
I’m less annoyed
in vile he shares.

And so I wait
for him to go.
And play with fate
I do not know.

This poem was inspired by a poet on hello poetry. I live in a group home. A lot of the food is not that bad. It’s the attitude of many of the chefs that really ruin the eating experience. There is not much I can do about it. I just have to wait and hope things get better.

#eating #cooking #anger

Jonathan Moya Mar 23

My Jesus Hour in a Taco Bell

I feel at home at Taco Bell, as the cuisine
echoes the worst of my mom’s cooking:
cheese that tastes like beans,
beans that taste like rice,
rice that tastes like flour.

It’s where I go when I am missing someone,
usually near their Jesus’ hour, between
the last sip of a lunch hour Pepsi
and the first after school Cinnabon
Delights clutched and munched
in little fingers.

I'll lean in whenever a raven haired Circe
at a corner table, resembling Sabrena—
that witch who first broke my heart—
casts a disdainful glance my way.

They’ll tug at the corners of their
bad girl leather jacket, gather
their familiar charms, and
shoot me a bird as
they vanish in
the smoke of
memory.

And then, on some evenings, customers
with my mother’s laugh will walk in
and then out, their arms cradling
grease-slicked terracotta bags,
sacred relics in the
fluorescence.

The smell of cheap tacos in brittle shells
filled with Hamburger Helper,
gummy cheese, old lettuce,
canned diced tomatoes-
that heavenly mess
masquerading as
a meal would
pull me back
to her
cocina.

In the haze of the Taco Bell fryers, the grease
sings of her failures and resilience.  Like her,
I would smile through it all—always
apologizing yet always trying—
in the end,  scraping meat
off chipped plates

remembering my mother’s taco shells and
refusing to wipe away the grease,
letting it linger an echo of
loves imperfect folds.

#nostalgia #resilience #humor #longing #tacos #grease #memory #cooking #family #yearning

Abbott J Hardison Feb 18

Don’t Dare

Don’t reconcile with a rebel,
If you’re scared to run with rebellion.

Don’t you try and cook,
If you’re scared of being burnt.

The trampling feet of warriors,
And the licking flames of devotion,
Will cast your foolish soul to the ocean.

If you’re not ready to run with life don’t put on running shoes

#running #rebellion #ocean #advice #fire #cooking

Mica Wood Feb 8

Mangonadas For Dinner

Mangonadas for dinner,
or maybe just a snack.
Cooking isn’t my forte—
an unfortunate skill to lack.

But when I was a child,
my brother caught on fire.
He leaned against the stove
as if it were his pyre.

Falling to the floor,
he stopped and dropped and rolled—
and luckily for him
the fire was controlled.

I ran upstairs in terror!
I screamed and I cried!
I thought I’d lost my brother—
I thought that he would die.

Lifting up his shirt,
he showed his big, black scar—
Such a drastic contrast
I could see it from afar.

Anxiety came in,
and never did I learn
to cook myself dinner—
too afraid to burn…

A true account of my first memory with fire.

#fire #cooking #brother #dinner #burn

Abbott J Hardison Jan 17

Abstract Reenactment Of Baking Soup

An electric connection,
Between my mind,
And my fingers.

I moved to wash my hands,
As the water froze fresh from the faucet,
My hands began to spark and fry.

Now I have frost burn,
In my electric skin,
From washing my hands in Michael's kitchen.

Now I'm wishing,
I never needed to make solid soup,
I could've stayed wet,
Contrary enough for my body's technology.

Inspired by the music of MF Doom, a recounting of when I made soup in Michael's kitchen. Wicked dream.

#soup #cooking #dreams #music #water #electricity #kitchen

Nigdaw Dec 2024

a moment in the kitchen

Alexa
Enya
oven
rain
tumble drier
cats
washing machine

#moment #kitchen #noises #cooking

Kewayne Wadley Nov 2024

Cheap Spatula

I flip the pancake over like
you've flipped my love for you.
The skillet hot with butter
and a splash of oil.
The batter becomes thick,
flattening on one side
raising before falling.
The edges becoming crisp,
a mix of heart and soul
and all the simple, consistent
consideration in between.

When I am alone, I can make
the perfect pancake.
But when someone is watching,
I flip the batter too soon.
The circle is broken, and the batter
bakes unevenly on the skillet.
It still doesn't take away from the taste.
Sometimes, I still feel like a fool.

All it takes is the heat of reciprocation
whether the spatula is cheap or
expensive.
I eat it anyway,
just like you've flipped my love for you.
I brought a better spatula.
I'll drizzle you in butter and syrup,
and eat until I can't anymore.

#love #cooking #vulnerability #personalgrowth #growth #pancakes #flippingapancake #pancakelove #flippedlove #heart

Klausyuer Oct 2024

Kitchen Odyssey: Carbonara

"
Forged by Mom's tender hands,
In the fiery lair of the kitchen where I was once a squire.
We swayed our aprons like a hero’s cape,
Bravely marched through the crucible’s draconic breath.

We unsheathed our wooden spatulas,
Raised our mighty metallic forks,
And lined our legion of spices, ready to make the dish.

Like witches,
We simmered the water with salt from the Baltic Sea,
And oil procured from the labyrinth of shelves.

As we waited for it to rattle with bubbles,
Our sweat poured like the pasta we threw,
While we smacked our iron pan into the horns of the oven.
It screeched an ear-piercing clang,
And we retaliated with our hearts beating a battle cry as we started for war.

My general ordered me to lay a grease trap.
Minutes passed; it sizzled,
The pan fired back boiling oil,
But we stood like walls—unyielding, fierce.
Brave onions leapt into the fray,
Sacrificing themselves, leaving us to grieve in tears
As the battle raged on.

The onion’s bittersweet, crispy breath inspired the garlic to follow,
Crackling in courage as it joined the heat.
Soon, bacon met the fire—
Crisping, releasing the smoky guardian from the labyrinth’s depth,
While mushrooms from the Elven forest charged in the clash.

The holy grail of Filipino-style Carbonara sauce rained on the battlefield,
Uniting the fallen, boiling *** and all,
Turning the *** into a smooth, white, creamy ocean with a steaming, smoky, crisp aroma.

We scooped our pasta water and drained the rest,
Baptized the *** with silky, snake-like pasta,
Adorned it with grainy black pepper,
And sprinkled it with golden cheese,
A finishing touch for our dish.

We cheered in victory as we prepared the feast,
Our kingdom rejoiced in tears at each slurp and each lick of our savoury dish.
As laughter echoed and stories flowed,
Mom crowned me the Carbonara knight,
A token of triumph for a job well done.
"
-Klausyuer: The ****** Poet

Enjoy the meal :3

#family #cooking #food #humour

MetaVerse Jul 2024

○•●°●°○•dles of N○●°•dləs

Rrrrrrramən
n°○°●•○●•dles
are °•●○dləs
and ○°•●dles
of n●°○•dləs,
●○°•○•●°dles.

#ramen #soup #cuisine #culinary #japan #japanese #noodles #cooking #food