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Makenzie Sep 23
Her cracked old hands from years of work
Chop away at these vegetables for a delicious soup
On the granite counter tops
The cream colored kitchen turning as safe as her warm hugs
Into this safe haven, an escape from boredom
“I'm gonna miss this”
“What do you mean it's almost done”
I love creative writing.
Sarafæl Jul 22
My kitchen is yellow
Ugly and faded
My kitchen is where
Late at night
I traded
Crumbs with a monster
A tiny little thing
That grows and grows
With growls and grumblings
She does not like the yellow
And neither say do I
Sometimes the hideous color
Makes her want to cry
So I placate her with cookies
Brownies and more
But my little monster
Throws tantrums on the floor
No amount of Nutella
Can get her off her knees
For my little monster
Has a minds disease
And I’m too busy fighting
That I can not see
The empty cartons of ice cream
Will bring her no true ease
I paint these walls
in shades of grey
The color gives life
to such walls
I thought I'd try
to go bold
but the walls
had best to be
in shades of grey
Now my job is done
The paint is dry
the cupboards look
so good against the walls
The owner is happy
and pays me well
Job well done
© Jennifer L DeLong 🦏
Jade Wright Apr 12
In the kitchen
of the top floor flat
I’m ignoring the dread
and preparing a sandwich

There’s garlic mayonnaise spread thick
from each seeded crust
tessellated lettuce
buttoned jalepenos.
It’s the ‘ham’ that confuses people-
you can’t tell that it’s quorn from within.

I cut it into squares,
my triangles were never neat enough.
Tomorrow as I crunch and bloat
I’ll be thinking of how to break the news
word the resignation
and sign it cursive sarcasm.

From now on,
no confused and
overbearing voice
will ask me-
‘I thought you were vegetarian?’
Inspired by Emily Berry’s, ‘Summer.’
Pan dulce se sienta en un plato de pastelería en mi cocina
Rara vez tocado, pero siempre admirado
Fresco y colorido y lleno de variedad.
Los panes delicados quedan sin comer
Todavía los compro como recordatorio de
Mi familia en otra tierra a un mundo de distancia
Parece más cercano cuando estoy rodeado por el sabor, los olores y las texturas de la casa de mi padre biológico.
Mi Familia
Mi casa en Mexico
English version
Pan dulce sits on a pastry plate in my kitchen
Rarely touched, but always admired
Fresh and colorful and full of variety
The delicate loaves go uneaten
I still buy them as a reminder of
My family in another land a world away
It seems closer when I'm surrounded by the taste and smells and textures of my birth father's home
Mi Familia
Mi casa en Mexico
Pots, pans and plates
Pots, pans

And the larder
A ghost house

The larder
Stocked with oats and rice

And when it is time to cook
And then the gas stove is lit for
A feast

Pots, pans and plates
- Rows of jars line
The windowsill

Preserves, chutneys, jams
Preserves, chutneys
- and mango atchar

That reminds me
Of India
Oh! Lord Gandhi!
Mel Dec 2020
After all is said and done

The microwave is still running
Why is it still running?
Jennifer Nov 2020
i sometimes float
in the kitchen
where to go.

the time oozes
from every crevice;
the digital numbers
on the oven

fall away like weak
magnets slip from the fridge
like my mind as i linger

on the floor, cradling
a cup of tea
yearning for an urge,
a drip of

but here i am, boring
as ever
filled with

frustration that frolics
and laughs,
telling me how good
i will never be

that’s all i ever do:
admiring others that do
more than me;

i am good at loving
and seeing,
but what will that ever
come to?

i sometimes laugh at myself
instead of being flattened,
i blow myself up
and burst.

sometimes i am plastered
against a wall,
and i give up
and blend in.
TIZZOP Sep 2020
flakes in the kitchen, flakes in the kitchen
my fate is holy like religion, old traditions:
live life greedily, follow your ambitions
without the stacks, i got an itching

thousand racks, volume of a bible
the day is black, that is my lifestyle
don't offer me gizmos, i know the skid row
above the earth, you see an airglow

above my head, you watch my hair glow
snow male machiny, breathing airflow
phantom with a whisk, never stop-and-frisk
my birthmark, no risk, twenty yumys in the carpark

when no one sleeps, the crowd dances
i'll be hanging with the focus, grabbin' chances
fountain flavour, the mountain and the savior
brash, blue bunnies burning all my moneys
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