"cookery" poems
ARTICHOKES are very nice roasted with pine nuts
Who likes BANANA cream pie?
They say that eating CARROTS improves your eye sight
Along the river Nile there are many DATE palms
ELDERBERRIES make a flavorsome wine
Piths from a FIG can easily get stuck between your teeth
Nape tape and shape all rhyme with GRAPE
HORSERADISH has a hot tangy taste
ICE-PLANT is a much used vegetable in Chinese cookery
The oil extract from JUNIPER BERRIES produces quine
My sister likes KALE steamed with lemon rind
It is so nice to munch on a LETTUCE leaf
MANDARINS are presently plentiful at the green grocer's
NEEPS can be mashed or left whole
On a hot summer day chilled ORANGE juice goes down well
Has anyone got a good PUMPKIN scone recipe?
Lashings of QUINCE jam were spread on my toast
The lady next door grows RHUBARB
SPINACH gave Popeye much strength
Smothering sausages in TOMATO sauce is sensational
UGLI is a member of the citrus family
In New Orleans you'll find fresh VELVET BEANS
WATERCRESS salad is so easy to prepare
XIGUA is a type of WATERMELON
YAMS are a staple of the New Guinean diet
ZUCCHINI bread is delicious fair
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
I'll tell you Minaz's story.
1. I know a girl from Kolkata,
But lo! She is a stock for laughing.
She is such a big klutz,
She messes up everything.
2. Once she wants to be a singer,
But lo! She can't actually sing.
She tries her best to be melodic,
But is far away from melody.
3. Again she hopes to be a painter,
But lo! She can't actually paint.
She tries her best to be artistic,
But what she draws is far from art.
4. She now takes up cookery classes,
But lo! She can't actually cook.
She tries her best to bake a cake,
But blows apart the oven for the bake.
5. Then she hopes to be a dancer,
But lo! She can't actually dance.
She tries her best to be elegant,
But what she does is more of a prance.
6. Fed up, she tries to be a gardener,
But lo! She can't actually tend to any.
She tries her best to sculpt the hedge,
But what becomes of hedge is only shorter.
7. She goes to a monk in Darjeeling,
Seeking some advice & tells him all.
The monk is a smart one and says,
"Get married to a martial artist and tend to your child."
Now Minaz is happy and is no longer 'The Ultimate Klutz From Kolkata'.
The martial artist husband helped her attain control over herself.
Coming of a child into her world was life transforming for her.
Just a bit of love can work wonders for the life of anyone & everybody.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
a great ingredient
I've discovered for cookery
in the past it was never
added to my recipes
for I wasn't aware
of its tasty properties
recently a friend
introduced me to it
now all my meat and vegetable dishes
are super hits
those bland old recipes
of an era gone by
no longer in my kitchen
do they apply
garlic is now my favorite
cooking additive
and on my crockery plates
long shall it live
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 8:42 AM UTC
First poem of the Day: Yes Ma'am!
The discussion that follows is pertinent,
If you are over a certain age limit,
Whereby, having survived, you are entitled
To certain discounts that shall remain nameless
(Still reading? cool)
Having recently entered said stratosphere,
I became painfully aware,
There is no precision tool created that
A man can call his woman in public
Without setting off fiery eyebrow raising
Let's state the facts:
She gorgeous, she's hot,
She goes tango dancing after 10 PM
With bad boys from Argentina and the Ukraine
But that is not the problem, for she loves
Her poet's nookery, like he adores her cookery
No, my issue is more conventional,
Indeed, not boundary breaking sensational,
It is ticklishly delicious,
I don't know how to introduce her in public,
Or in a quaint phrase, in polite company
She has rejected
Lover
GF
Mi amore
Woman,
Companion
Hardly indiscreet and something the world has quite accepted,
Tho she dances nightly, on this particular dilemma,
She provides no guidance, dancing here too,
All around the problem
One day she intro'd me as her fav poet,
To which I acknowledged by addressing her as
My number one fan,
Which seems to have stuck,
so I acknowledge her as such,
And always add a polite, respectful, winking,
Yes ma'am!
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 6:50 AM UTC
Today cops had to break up a riot in the cookery aisle.
Two-dollar waffle makers.
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 11:10 PM UTC
Father Why’s Glob
*And whan he rood, men myghte his brydel here
Gynglen in a whistlynge wynd als cleere
And eek as loude as dooth the chapel belle*
-Chaucer
A famous priest takes pictures of his meals
Writes detailed notes on how they were prepared
As he airplanes around the world attending meetings
To talk about people he doesn’t like
A famous priest takes pictures of more meals
Almost cellular closeups of bits of meat
While he is flying holy in first class
And praising his cabernet sauvignon
A famous priest promises prayers (and cookery tips)
If you will send him money for his many trips
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC
Her red dress and curls
are currently bespoke in her mind.
Walking home, past the overgrown duck pond,
towards honeysuckle lane
she nonchalantly recalls
her cookery classes
where see dreamed of preparing
welcome meals for a chosen one.
But of late, her mercurialness
navigates notional dreams
solitary by turn,
and then she cut her curls
to renounce her prior gains.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
I was late for school but it was cool, my chauffeur took the wrap
I even blamed the butler for the absence of my cap
My cravat was always crease-less and my slacks were really snappy
My shoes were always shiny, which made my pappy happy
Lesson one was cookery, but not for me today
So I sent our chef, an hour ahead, to make a nice soufflé
He usually does a marvelous job or when his mood permits
For Daddy signed him on a whim, after dining at the Ritz
Lesson two was Polo or Gymkhana if you must
So I chose fresh clothes and donned my hose as Polo’s upper crust
Oh I wish I’d brought my pony for the school ones just won’t do
They are barely fit for peasants, they are barely fit for glue
Morning break was late to take and the Polo match was drawn
But if you pleased, they’d bring cream teas to be taken on the lawn
I really didn't fancy Maths, so I stayed and sipped my char
For who could bear, and hour with Blair and his dreadful algebra
Lesson four was falconry with Mr Preston Love
His birds were plump but deadly and so quick off the glove
I loved to watch them soar and dive, a spiffing show for all
Reminds me of my gap year, hunting foxes in Nepal
Lesson five was cancelled as Mummsy wrote a letter
She felt that English won’t suffice and elocution’s better
So Wilson rolled up in the Rolls and whisked me off to class
I hope tomorrow’s much improved, for today was oh so crass
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 9:07 AM UTC
My sad mentality
Destroys my reality
Annihilates my honesty
All I have got is privacy
Not a shed of sociality
My life's complexity
Against myself a conspiracy
Emphasizes my stupidity
Locks up my humanity
Self pity is my speciality
It seems a necessity
Which confuses my phsychology
And Leaves nothing I wanna be
My life's history
I have waited patiently
To write in my corrupting diary
For I am no deity
If there was something godly
I'd have been killed furiously
That conclusion comes logically
Though simultaneously
I have lived happily
My neurology
I have kept in secrecy
Cause with my souls delivery
To the devils cookery
They feasted immediately
On my souls purity
My life's mystery
Won't be uncovered easily
For I life silently
In my ****** up fantasy
Which left nothing I wanna be
I have waited impatiently
For others to grow up with me
For without being remotely angelically
I have behaved, we'll almost elderly
Or I have tried to behave intelligently
Never drunkingly
And quite rarely
Entirely freely
On this I look quite positively
For it has allowed me
To stand against the waves unwaveringly
Looking upon life much more detailedly
Seeing more nuanced on life's complexity
And for the ability to do this comfortably
I must thank my family
While I can say all the above truthfully
There is plenty to say negatively
For standing against the norm unrockingly
Can at the best of times be quite lonely
And most the time I looked desperately
After those who floated by me oh so freely
While looking so unfathomably
Completely, worryingly, unanimously happily
At a world driven by the greedy,
Disgustingly, horrifying monsters of humanity
This have tortured me existentially
At times I have felt ****** up mentally
But as time passed slowly
Step by step I realized surprisingly
That it has left me allmost exactly like I allways wanted to be.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 3:14 AM UTC
A line cook at Denny’s (must have own pans)
Is an artist, accomplished in assemblage
Compositions of eggs (rather like Cezanne’s)
Toast, bacon, waffles for his decoupage
His gesso is the window layered in steam
Built of reflections and condensation
Hinting at the flowing Interstate stream
Beyond the No Smoking pumping station
The line cook has indeed his pans and plans -
Art, as the muse of cookery commands
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 4:06 PM UTC
Here's an ode to make us laugh,
Boomers resilient to the last,
Survived high school in the sixties,
Where we learnt cookery,
Girls did not have *****
Couldn't do woodwork, over it!
Instead, made a pudding of suet,
Fat, fat, fat, eating to rue it!
Jun 2, 2020
Jun 2, 2020 at 11:20 PM UTC
A cookery show with noshes and gnaws -
People giving a ‘burger rounds of applause
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 4:06 PM UTC
*I find her countenance visible in the
trees
Autumn gratuities of windswept -
beautiful leaves
Simple southern cuisine by the
maplewood hearth
Forever inquisitive if we had enough
Quietly singing hymns , perfecting her cookery
in a simple country kitchen well into dark* ....
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 4:05 PM UTC
This day
I became a cook
I did, I did
I read a book
of cookery things
it led me this way and that
and now
I make great beans on toast
So from now
you must
all
call
me
C H E F P@ul
@@@
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 1:27 PM UTC
Hannah is a medical student with a serious addiction to video games
~ A Biography ~
Hannah Lauren Donaldson is a 22-year-old medical student who enjoys adult colouring books, cookery and spreading fake news on Facebook. She is gentle and generous, but can also be very sad and a bit depressed.
She is addicted to video games, something which her friend Oscar Dustin Hammond pointed out when she was 18. The problem intensified in 2019.
She is English who defines herself as straight. She is currently at college. studying medicine. She is obsessed with selfies.
Physically, Hannah is in good shape. She is average-height with bronze skin, grey hair and brown eyes. She has sticking-out-ears.
She grew up in a middle class neighbourhood. Her father left when she was young, leaving her with her mother, who was an addict.
She is currently in a relationship with Horace Keith Cummings. Horace is 18 years older than her and works as a builder.
Hannah's best friend is a medical student called Oscar Hammond. They get on well most of the time. She also hangs around with Brandon Reynolds and Carmen Watts. They enjoy playing video games together.
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 11:22 AM UTC
A cookery class
The smashing of a glass
The dress that was too pretty
A tape from a friend
Looking at a man
It really was so petty
You were strong, this spurred him on
Made it justified, to him.
We watched it happen
The punches, the slapping.
Wanting to stop him but really how could we?
Just children, afraid of how this could end.
We plotted and planned
Use pots? Use Pans?
We could no longer take it.
Feeling so helpless, lost and bereft.
Watching our mother be beaten.
It eventually ended.
She healed and mended
Got stronger and never looked back.
As for us, we're grown and gone
But you cant always forgive and forget.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
A cookery class
The smashing of a glass
The dress that was too pretty
A tape from a friend
Looking at a man
It really was so petty
You were strong, this spurred him on
Made it justified, to him.
We watched it happen
The punches, the slapping.
Wanting to stop him but really how could we?
Just children, afraid of how this could end.
We plotted and planned
Use pots? Use Pans?
We could no longer take it.
Feeling so helpless, lost and bereft.
Watching our mother be beaten.
It eventually ended.
She healed and mended
Got stronger and never looked back.
As for us, we're grown and gone
But you cant always forgive and forget.
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 3:31 PM UTC
I came from the valley of memories
travelled through the corpse of forest
saw the brook flowing so beautifully
Sparkling like a cookery
I came from the river of life
travelled with time
flowing so brightly
Just like a camelia
I came from the hidden caves
As wide as the canes
lived in the dark
Just like a cork
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 9:44 AM UTC