Watching her cook was like watching
a duck in water. Making use of the old
utensils and cookware of the hotel kitchen
she made a meal with an eclectic mix
of elements she had pondered over breakfast.
Sauté, mince, sear, season:
these words flowed from her lips
like a second language in time with the
steady chops on the cutting board
and I was mesmerized when she
moved in perfect rhythm from stirring
the mushrooms to flipping the
sweet potato hash into the air;
tasting and adding more olive oil
to marry the idea on her palate to the
reality on the stovetop.

Take a fresh Playstation
Add plenty of seasoned frustration
Marvel at the glory of this Machine
Roll a spliff made for Charlie Sheen
Game for 6 hours at room temperature
Squeeze controller until you see hairline fracture
Anger rising to the top
That guy lied to me, the one from the shop
Nothing but coffee flavour in this bag of Revels
Listen to your shoulder devils
Ask Playstation to work the way you want it
Refusal to comply, I miss 8bit
Swing controller like a ball and chain
Look, as its blue eye turns to red in pain
Proceed to dance on Playstation to tenderise
A madman reflected on the screen in disguise
Last salvation is on the warranty sheet
Enjoy, Bon appetit

will the French
please stop stealing words
from Pretty Olde English?
we can’t but fix a secret meeting
and choose a rendezvous
and we discover the French have already
stolen every secret including the word rendezvous!
Oh, the French, when will
they stop this pilfering of English vocabulary?
I buy some trinkets and stuff for my beau
and they tell me my beau has been taken by the French –
and to add insult to injury
(those thieves!)
they’ve stolen all the stuff too!
Oh, there’s no stopping the French.
I can’t even sit to dine and say
“Bon appetit!”
and they steal my words,
and they run off with the dessert…
and would you believe it?
those cunning French,
they even steal the restaurant and its décor!
Oh, the evil French, will they never stop this? -
stealing from fecund English, so simple and innocent…
You see, even the Great Poet John Keats
he starts his poem in English
La Belle Dame sans Merci
and no sooner had he written the title,
the French stole the very words! -
and so ******* was our Romantic John Keats,
he wrote the poem itself
in what he hoped could never be Frenched!
Ah, the French…would you please stealing
words from our Fair Damsel English….


And the Chindians too!
Chindians?
you know,
the Chinese and the Indians together!
(Yes, it’s a new word,
shows how inventive English is.)
Well, the Chinese have done it with
a smile and a kowtow! –
there you go, while you bow or cringe,
the Chinese steal the kowtow;
and before our very own eyes
today even in our modern world
the Chinese steal words like Dao, Zen, taofu,
chi, and feng shui;
and the Indians, not to be beaten,
and perhaps with a vengeance
to deal a fatal blow to the Raj,
they steal words like: nirvana, pundits, yoga,
juggernaut, pepper and curry

And of course
there are many more tribes and nations
in this merry global **** of Gloriana English
and there’s just nothing Britannia can do about it!
Oh, what’s the world coming to
when our Plain Jane English is molested like this;
and so I do my part
the Dark Knight coming to her rescue -
perhaps this earnest appeal in verse
will touch the hearts of the beasts and dragons
and they’ll keep their claws away
from our Fair Helpless Dame English

Half awake
dragging my legs down the stairs
found my sweet kitchen
through several yawns
and sleepy thoughts
Here's the seductive "Bombay Bread"
and a *** of Vietnamese strong Coffee
serve on the attractive kitchen table..
Breakfast everyone!!!

Bon appetit!

Sometimes
she was a feast
causing sin
to the eyes of many
The other times
she was a beast
an aesthetic ruin
laboring for a penny.

Dear lover, friend and foe

Sprinkle some of that denial
on my open wounds.
Prevent them from healing -
stir my past traumas;
mix them with my present sorrows...
Stir well till my -
inner peace boils eagerly
for a splash...
of your confusing behaviors.

Your exit plan -
smartly chops your goodbyes.

Take a sip and try the taste
of your drama
of your intentions
and future karma

- Bon appetit

"I'm gonna eat your ****!" I declared.
Afterward I asked her why she called her macaroni and chili dish, ****.
She said she didn't want anyone to have high expectations of her cooking abilities.
Later that week she invited me up for a pile of steaming crap.
Which turned out to be braised chicken in a garlic sauce.

It’s a gravy boat
Gravy is delicious
It’s a gravy boat
For your appetite
Spicy, nicey onions float
In the lovely gravy boat
If you should want to know
It’s not a train
Don’t buy a ticket
That’s not cricket
It’s a gravy boat
And it contains
Liquid velvet for the throat
Absurdly decadent and smooth
It’s a gravy boat, not a gravy train
I pour gravy on my food
It’s a gravy boat
It’s not a train
If it was then I’d complain
A train is always late
And I refuse to wait
Anyway, railway food’s appalling
Wait, I hear my dinner calling
It’s a s......... gravy boat
Now we’ve got that right
Bon, bon bon............
Bon appetite!  (or appetit?)

Anyway if there ever was a gravy train, (and I’m not saying there was,) the last train has gone forever, utterly broken, irreparable, too many  politicians scrabbling to climb aboard, (don’t you watch the news darling?)

As far as I can see, elocution and declamation
Thee this and thou that
Whence and wheresoever
Isthmus and anemone
Vitriolic and Diatribe
Bloviate and aplomb

But feeling has no discrimination.
Rococo words are not needed
Simply put is just as good
Too much icing makes a cake too sweet.

Bon appetit

there are some things
that are just written in ink.
the books that line my shelf
the music I play with my fingers
the startling waves I attempt to hurdle
my surfboard over
the recipe my abuelita passed down to
me of her famous tamales
my subscription to Bon Appetit
these constants anchoring me
when characters sketched by
pencil become too faint to feel,
its these delicate yet sturdy constants
that yank me out of sadness
with a "remember me?!"
with a "remember your abilities, young lady!"
"remember your divine calling to perpetually grow!"

you lie as a disguise
and want me to love the mask I see
when I claw to reveal
the scars always end up on me
you kiss my war wounds
after my trample under yo feet
you scrape my tears
then plate them n serve em back to me

Those born with an appetite for travel, know the feel,
    Going forever hungry, but relishing every meal.

In a world of wolves
and sheep
The shepherd
protects his flock
but come
Sunday evening
does he not
delightfully indulge
in succulent
Lamb chops

If I had prayed for every time I wanted to become a wolf. I'd have become you and you'd become me. A wolves cry howling "bon appetit."
The more I look, the bitterer I become.
The less I look, the wiser I become of things seemingly out of my hands.

People keep asking
why I act like nothing bothers me.

I say
you are what you eat
so once you start to believe
It's bon appetit.

Pull up your sleeves.
There's nothing in life that you can't achieve.

You put me on low
Let me simmer alone
All day long
While you worked
Expecting I’d be ready
When you came home

You set me
And forgot me

Bon appetit

Life is like
Making a baguette

It is about the process
(Though the end result is nothing to scoff at)

It takes work
And concentration

A focus and physicality
That brings a steady, simple joy

You will certainly mess up
But that’s okay,
That’s all part of the process

Fold it over
And try again

Make a bit of a mess
Find the beauty in it

Wait around a bit
Have a drink with friends
(Old and new)
While you wait

Et voilà!
There it is!
Bob appetit!
What a delight!

I found my gene in last century's famine,
I might cook tonight and try to be feminine.
Taking care of the plants plucked from sunlight.
Neglecting the machines and out with my hands.
Lettuce, carrots, celery, and the orphaned rice;
Milk, honey, coffee, and sizzling cheese;
Steak, pork, chicken, and the blushing shrimp.
Flakes of salt buried with vinegar,
reincarnated as purified sugar.
With pieces of rainbow clutched between my teeth,
Bon appetit.

The green mosquito came to visit me at night
I was her breakfast and I was her delight

"Bz bzzz bz bzzz bz bzzz" - she said to me
I only answered - "Let me be"

The green mosquito landed on a juicy spot
I wasn't sure if i'm annoyed or not

"Just get it over with" - I thought - "Bon Appetit"
I felt her tiny little weightless feet

"Well, pump away" - I told her - "be my guest" -
"I hope you like the taste and let me rest"

And then she fed on me, and flew away
Her life is short and I am still okay

Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner
Snack and Mid-night snack
Which one are you?
Appetizer, Entree, Dessert.
Drinks?
Nobody is suggesting cannibalism
Sometimes dessert is a term of endearment like morning, mid-morning, and afternoon delight
Chef, Cook, or want to be
The message is the way you love your life and enjoy it
Buon appetit
Buen provecho
Buon appetito
Smacznego
Kali drekolSIL
Hope everyday is delicious

C@rainbowchaser2023

World keeps eating cake
instead of cutting to the
chase bon appetit

                Kelly McManus

The mastermind, travels, faster than time, the subject matters of my inner laughter cracking my spine, I'm paralyzed from my pair of eyes down to my feet, I'm smiling wide so my style replies bon appetit, if I'm cynical, I sense my final spinal is vinyl, I'm head over, you're the Red Rover till I am over, wasn't sober but was detrimental, regiment spies, was somewhat wise cause I can't recognize my tribes, so decide, devise from the eyes that's open, to the scoping of a notion that will never be broken, higher hoping, is coping, these faster times, running tractors over Casper *******, MASTERMIND!

A couple of steaks
crushed garlic
some chilli flakes,
oil and marinade.

it's in the preparation
and
devotions made
table laid

Bon appetit.