Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"ghee" poems
2 cups of atta flour mix it with a cup of lukewarm water add a pinch of salt Ready to knead the dough Knead it soft, knead it hard Throw it on the air Roll it on the table Rest it for sometime While you check on your curry Perfect TENGGIRI fish curry Put it in microwave, Nuke it the aroma fills the air... Smells good... salive drops oppss... Heat the pan now dear 8 chapati all together fresh in a bowl one by one roll it well make it really round a little bit of ghee, hmm... smells like heaven my daughter waits with a plate in her hand one chapati ready, two chapati ready, three chapati ready, Mummy I leave the plate on the table now I want to switch on the tv My daughter comes back all three chapati are stolen... She screams out loud WHO STOLE MY CHAPATI????? And the chapati war begins.....
0
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 8:33 AM UTC
CHAPATI WAR IN MALAYSIA KITCHEN
#Her wails rent the air *O God how unfair you are to have snatched him from me the only man that truly cared never treated me badly. Without him is a life to grieve empty meaningless take me too O God relieve this pain of no redress!* Shouldn't we bring a costly cot of mahogany or such wood asked the men what was her thought about carrying her man so good. Shouldn't the pyre be of sandalwood the fuel a pure ghee your husband ma'am was a man too good to be burned ordinarily. She paused a while frowning dark a shadow passed her face a hint of wince made its mark a pall of uneasiness. *He's gone to never return the onus is now on me to run the days with meager earn and not spend wastefully. ordinary wood would burn as good kerosene would do well prudence demands not one should be lavish in funeral.*#
0
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 8:37 AM UTC
Funeral
I jump with glee And break my knee Eat homemade ghee And **** with Lee.
0
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 5:16 AM UTC
What do you do?
I’ve been waiting for so long, On the road that never ends Migrating between seasons to my Pastoral lands north and south Searching for your unfamiliar face In forest foothills, swarming buses And basins next to the Ganges. I can wait till the moon hits the sea The time- till you come, till you come. Flashing lights, chiming bells, Inscent sticks and a peculiar charm- You carried, they said. But you’re flesh and blood for me Truth and reality knotted between My garland of jasmine flowers. I can wait with full heart and glistening eyes Till you come, till you come. There is no haste, I’m anticipating an upcoming There is no starry blanket or mount chariot But there are fireflies and a summer sun Playing peekaboo with my shadow Behind the mangrove forest Envisaging your ticket to this world. A crew of lasses claims and expects you But you’re beyond love they could conceive. Let the world scream, cry and yell I still can wait till you come, till you come. You’re a friend, philosopher and guide I adore, worship and awaits your arrival. Merchant ladies who walked my hut Asked me all day to keep a ghee lamp I lit a thousand lamps and still you dint- Walk my shed. This life is not long enough To witness thy face, eternal and mysterious I can wait till you come, till you come. The journey is beautiful, endless and offhand, Walking through lanes strangely acknowledged But there’s a feeling familiar still so odd. The walk is not to say good bye but it’s a quest, A prayer to reach your mountain nest. There is the world- cirrus and starry nights I can escape for the time forever from tides- That counts the time- to the unknown! I can’t wait, till you come, till you come.
0
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 11:44 AM UTC
Till you come, till you come
I’ve been waiting for so long, On the road that never ends Migrating between seasons to my Pastoral lands north and south Searching for your unfamiliar face In forest foothills, swarming buses And basins next to the Ganges. I can wait till the moon hits the sea The time- till you come, till you come. Flashing lights, chiming bells, Inscent sticks and a peculiar charm- You carried, they said. But you’re flesh and blood for me Truth and reality knotted between My garland of jasmine flowers. I can wait with full heart and glistening eyes Till you come, till you come. There is no haste, I’m anticipating an upcoming There is no starry blanket or mount chariot But there are fireflies and a summer sun Playing peekaboo with my shadow Behind the mangrove forest Envisaging your ticket to this world. A crew of lasses claims and expects you But you’re beyond love they could conceive. Let the world scream, cry and yell I still can wait till you come, till you come. You’re a friend, philosopher and guide I adore, worship and awaits your arrival. Merchant ladies who walked my hut Asked me all day to keep a ghee lamp I lit a thousand lamps and still you dint- Walk my shed. This life is not long enough To witness thy face, eternal and mysterious I can wait till you come, till you come. The journey is beautiful, endless and offhand, Walking through lanes strangely acknowledged But there’s a feeling familiar still so odd. The walk is not to say good bye but it’s a quest, A prayer to reach your mountain nest. There is the world- cirrus and starry nights I can escape for the time forever from tides- That counts the time- to the unknown! I can’t wait, till you come, till you come.
Continue reading...
44
Clouds floating under Moon light of cold night Just as snow layers accumulating all over land Make sky and plains pure white as buttermilk! Milk becomes buttermilk and butter to ghee and Cheese and yogurt byproducts of milk to enjoy As children to mother we nourish in life long...! Milk and honey flow as river if world is prosperous By honest and true lovers of work for perfection In all fields not calculating only money and profit! Churning milky ocean elixir was produced for angels As buttermilk is churned to produce butter for all To enjoy and live longer in the world to do better! As churning in base one another better one is made Painful pleasure is love to live life in enjoyment ever!
0
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 4:06 PM UTC
A Churn of Love!
I sit and stink, After cups of tea, conversations and melancholy The sweat is salty, an armpit attached to sentences- Ondaatje and the cat, Abramovic and tears, The hollow room and my single window that ached The smell and the grey torn shirt never got ***** I sit and stink, Desperate to walk, talk and get out of newspapers Scratch rich names out of the walls and retreat To untie the curly locks and let them breathe. A phone thrown at one corner and emails unread The world- a closed book with no pages. I sit and stink, Jeans pulled down to a wet floor European closet and the yellow sparky lights, Imagination erupted, there was no room to escape. I pencilled graphs, penned letters and painted snakes Self-portrait, Van gogh and a black and white me. I sit and stink, A friend, the jack and the brick house Dosa with ghee served for the jarred tilapias, They are all memories. Unremembered- Like running races and the temple music system. I wrote them down neatly, in a rectangle, they leaked. I sit and stink, An unfamiliar face in a place with no power Glenfarclas, smoke and Ra Ra Rasputin She danced. He watched. Her collarbones broke. He dug his nail, dirt at its corner, an unshaven facade It was grave, full of pain, his face and his eyes. I sit and stink, A ****** body inside the same grey shirt Scratching names next to the European closet With the old song from the temple music system. The unfamiliar face evoked all human senses The body is yet to take a wash.
0
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 11:01 AM UTC
I sit and stink
I sit and stink, After cups of tea, conversations and melancholy The sweat is salty, an armpit attached to sentences- Ondaatje and the cat, Abramovic and tears, The hollow room and my single window that ached The smell and the grey torn shirt never got ***** I sit and stink, Desperate to walk, talk and get out of newspapers Scratch rich names out of the walls and retreat To untie the curly locks and let them breathe. A phone thrown at one corner and emails unread The world- a closed book with no pages. I sit and stink, Jeans pulled down to a wet floor European closet and the yellow sparky lights, Imagination erupted, there was no room to escape. I pencilled graphs, penned letters and painted snakes Self-portrait, Van gogh and a black and white me. I sit and stink, A friend, the jack and the brick house Dosa with ghee served for the jarred tilapias, They are all memories. Unremembered- Like running races and the temple music system. I wrote them down neatly, in a rectangle, they leaked. I sit and stink, An unfamiliar face in a place with no power Glenfarclas, smoke and Ra Ra Rasputin She danced. He watched. Her collarbones broke. He dug his nail, dirt at its corner, an unshaven facade It was grave, full of pain, his face and his eyes. I sit and stink, A ****** body inside the same grey shirt Scratching names next to the European closet With the old song from the temple music system. The unfamiliar face evoked all human senses The body is yet to take a wash.
Continue reading...
36
how to make ghee how to to clarify, place the salt free butter in pan turn the heat on very low, then just listen............ first, silence-- then sounds of drizzling rain for a while grow to a creek starting to flow then hear the steady rain pelting on leaves (if it starts to sound like popcorn, maybe turn the heat down), then let the rain keep trodding, until it gets quieter and quieter and quiet then turn off flame, the ghee is ready strain, and bottle
0
Sep 20, 2019
Sep 20, 2019 at 1:49 PM UTC
sounds of ghee
Peter Schiff has sounded the alarm bells, the crash is eminent and dollars are going to make no sense. Invest in Irish Butter, it is the best and safest way to spread your wealth, even on toast, no meltdown. Cheddar No Shredder, is the motto in Tralee, where the Paddy's are a smiling with their Guinness and their Ghee. For Isabella Guinness.
0
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 8:00 AM UTC
KerryGoldTM
***i wish i could take the credit but its the combination of ghee and honey that brings me to ecstasy with schisandra you will be elevated but use her mindfully because she’ll easily blow your mind this lonely existence burns like a fire i offer you these words a speckle of hope or a thread of rope as artifacts from an earlier time that connects us to our home i know its difficult to cope with all this tragedy so lets resurrect an an anthology of goodness what are we choosing to remember only the cold embers of yesterday’s funeral pyre or the flames that leapt through the air while you shouted higher and higher its ok to be proud of nothing forever warming our backs by the fire so many ancestors stood proud behind you never once do they judge you so why must we collect impertinent insults from our neighbors when they prefer to sit around and savor the mesmerizing nonsense that captivates their souls called television i am beyond understanding sandwiched between anger and demanding justice first we must conclude that the world is broken so we can decide on the proper attitude or adjustment***
0
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 2:24 PM UTC
latitude of gratitude
Easy form, just one, two, three done Doesn't have to rhyme, can be free Three lines simple, I've mess up-ghee
0
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 10:36 AM UTC
Triodyne
The old man is dead His two shadows and the apparition Looking on anxious,horrified and relieved. Finally the son is of any use Lighting the pyre emboldened by the fire Raging in his throat and belly Lived so alone with the two shadows And the apparition. But, a jolly crowd To bathe his sins and embalm his skin With ghee. Tea and *** passing hands, ***** and tobacco smoke unlocking The mind. Nephew in epiphany, discovers The soul did not escape through the mouth But through the ******* Defective death, needs prayashchit. 13 days! Too long to atone for a Life time of neglect! The kulin hands The old man chose for his only son Finally stirs, a feast for the departed soul Offered at twilight under a banyan tree By the holy bank. Ahhh! Moksha! I wonder, for whom. The apparition struggles to raise a hand, A cry, while the shadows melt away.
0
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 9:01 AM UTC
The Pyre II (the old man is finally dead!)
*żar nal girsz-ghee-oh-baksyl; dar gisz kubteel, wła di koph teal?! ki goor kar yam... ba ga knee!* he who instils fear in others... instils the same fear in himself, as the shaky knees test to see whether instilling fear works, and loving in return becomes a shadow of a pebble when the shadow of the mountain illuminates further than the footsteps dare print onto it into the helium sphere of expression sounding depressed: pipsqueak & chipmunks don't make you laugh? but they'll make you buy an output of civilisation of the no. 1 single sung in that ultra-soprano: i almost wished to have written ultra-castrato... but then i realised, the popes loved eating scrambled eggs for breakfast... so there was nothing left to squeeze.
0
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 7:27 PM UTC
azog's linguistic deciphering
I wanna live With the asana girl We could be happy Drinking our ghee With my asana girl She speaks in their slogans I nod and say yes We roll on our mats and Breathe through our noses My asana girl Twelve yogis humming A sitar for show The raja relaxes And waits between chants For his asana girl I don’t need no money I’m happy as hell somehow Karma’s a ***** y’know You see it’s all a big show Om... om... om Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
0
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 2:33 PM UTC
Asana Girl
_back_ Wind hisses. Water runs. Leaves rustle. Bees buzz. Roosters cuckoo. _forth_ Bird takes flight. Napkin falls from the string. Cat jumps from a 7-foot door. Man splashes water on face. _back_ Almost-ripe mangoes. Jackfruit cut open. Garlic tadka in ghee. Just-washed hair. _forth_ Cool wooden swing. Fly hovers over my skin. Strand of hair against my face. Hot tea almost burns tongue.
0
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
Swing
Smell of the first cup of coffee Text from a best friend The voice of my family And the cool morning rain The milky chai and biscuits The steaming hot pakode in the rain Hot daal chawal with ghee And curd rice with pickle The melody of my favorite song And the moves on the dance floor Singing while taking a shower And dancing with random moves Discovering a new song And playing it till my ears bleed Singing the song till I find Someone crazy about it like me Travelling with my best-friend And doing crazy pranks on each other Meeting a new person And finding we share the same interests Finishing up of an artwork Completing writing a poem Reading a novel entirely And binge watching TV series The sound of the ocean The feeling of sand beneath my feet The way the waves touch my feet And beautiful sand castles These are some of many things That makes me smile every day I had many smiles today Sharing one with you too!
0
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 9:17 AM UTC
Smiles
तुझसे नाराज़ नहीं ज़िन्दगी, my heart beat for it is as smooth as ghee, a resonating beat व्यक्तित्व क्या, but a comforting malaise made from products of hay and of stardust,a cosmic beat जब कोई बात बिगड़ जाये, i don't give a **** for feelings are like a giant, wits for complete beat कुछ भी तो नहीं, the sound of one hand clapping A dialetic pin,philosophy leaves me beat मेरा दिमाग दर्द होता है, no more discourse answers missing in the गीता, flat line heartbeat
0
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 2:09 PM UTC
कष्ट (kasht) // misery
we are the rainbow’s devotion in archaic motion a potion of nectar fulfilling wishes a *** of ghee, honey and yogurt poised precariously above and what a delicious tragedy it would be if that slippery *** of honey spilled upon us and covered all our clothing in its fragile offering once upon a time we walked naked upon the earth now we wear clothes and i’m still wondering if we have anything good to show for it
0
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 11:29 PM UTC
pantless pujas
Slowly ghee is burning. In peace and quiet placing diyas. Togetherness of family. Watching moving flames bring light into the dark. Shell✨🐚
0
Oct 31, 2021
Oct 31, 2021 at 5:46 AM UTC
Burning diya 🔥
Swami Krishna's eyes flashed lightning bolts illumining his round, brahmin raincloud colored face. Igniting logs in the huge fire pit for our ancestral puja he chanted ancient vedic hymns, it was a beautiful offering on this venerable Sunday morning. Rites for remembering ancestors is a tradition in many cultures, not so much in the west. Swami Krishna elaborated on its importance: We thank them for the good, for laying the groundwork and support of our lineage. We remember them with love and gratitude, he stated, wrapping the yellow and red priestly shawl closer to his body. Strong, musky, acrid, odor of wood burning stung our nostrils one by one, ritualistically we added ghee, incense sticks, flowers, herbs and rice to the auspicious serpentine flames I could sense my mother near spicy whiff of curry and channel no. 5 mixing with clouds of smoke A secret door slowly opened in the heavens as a procession of ghostly relatives took their place around the blazing havan It was almost high noon and Surya, the Sun God halted His brilliant chariot driven by 7 rainbow hued horses Hovering mid-air over our holy gathering He raised His Golden Hands in Blessing
0
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC
Ancestral Flute
Generous to all                   In every manner          Primal flutes, ghee abound     A spectral becoming          You, I, discarded plastic An infinitude            Boundless being     One of many, image of the sun
0
Nov 21, 2020
Nov 21, 2020 at 1:37 PM UTC
Beloved peacock
When alive and livingsocial within webbed wide world analogous to an emotional hell I never experienced pomp and circumstances, and quavers with inconsolable tears graduation theme song popularized courtesy Sir Edward Elgar, thus suicidal ideations no longer relevant yours truly need not quell he rages against series of unfortunate events comprising his life and hard time (one protracted existential crisis) and yell like a rebel into the infinite abyss of darkness. Every subsequent high school graduation year antedated since June ninety seventy seven where yours truly stepped to the podium to secure his diploma (I barely squeaked by from one grade to the next) stricken with anxiety and experienced urge to sprint mile a minute evoking manic tear zipping by at light speed creating spindleshanks to blur as pair sorry excuse for legs burning ghee until reaching destination re: a specific rocking in casbah Kashmir actually a sought after interview with popular Emir. Personal mailer daemons aside Azrael readily befriended me before I died and ably, eagerly and willing obliged to guide these lovely bones of mine went for out of world joyride away to subterranean habitat where heavenly delight magnified sense and sensibility overarching credo unconditional kindred acceptance downplayed prejudice and pride communion among apostolic auras and personas spied greeting halo trusting word of mouth as adequate signal to be verified nullifying former dependence on prescription medication to thwart becoming zombified. The following pharmacological medications taken courtesy to cope with anxiety, obsessive compulsive disorder, panic attacks and generally curbing tendencies to avoid physiological symptoms such as: nausea, palmar hyperhidrosis (unrelenting sweaty palms), and vertigo. GLYCOPYRROLATE, TAB 2 MG (thrice daily) CLOMIPRAMINE CAP 50 MG (once nightly) RISPERIDONE TAB 1MG (once nightly) FLUOXETINE CAP 20MG (once daily) PRAZOSIN HCL CAP 1 MG (three pills nightly) BUSPIRONE TAB 15MG (twice daily) PRAMIPEXOLE TAB 1MG (once nightly) CLONAZEPAM TAB 0.5MG (once nightly AMITIZA 24 MCG (prescription laxative - as necessary)
0
May 31, 2022
May 31, 2022 at 8:43 PM UTC
Sublimated death wish no longer permeates thru mine every cell
When alive and livingsocial within webbed wide world analogous to an emotional hell I never experienced pomp and circumstances, and quavers with inconsolable tears graduation theme song popularized courtesy Sir Edward Elgar, thus suicidal ideations no longer relevant yours truly need not quell he rages against series of unfortunate events comprising his life and hard time (one protracted existential crisis) and yell like a rebel into the infinite abyss of darkness. Every subsequent high school graduation year antedated since June ninety seventy seven where yours truly stepped to the podium to secure his diploma (I barely squeaked by from one grade to the next) stricken with anxiety and experienced urge to sprint mile a minute evoking manic tear zipping by at light speed creating spindleshanks to blur as pair sorry excuse for legs burning ghee until reaching destination re: a specific rocking in casbah Kashmir actually a sought after interview with popular Emir. Personal mailer daemons aside Azrael readily befriended me before I died and ably, eagerly and willing obliged to guide these lovely bones of mine went for out of world joyride away to subterranean habitat where heavenly delight magnified sense and sensibility overarching credo unconditional kindred acceptance downplayed prejudice and pride communion among apostolic auras and personas spied greeting halo trusting word of mouth as adequate signal to be verified nullifying former dependence on prescription medication to thwart becoming zombified. The following pharmacological medications taken courtesy to cope with anxiety, obsessive compulsive disorder, panic attacks and generally curbing tendencies to avoid physiological symptoms such as: nausea, palmar hyperhidrosis (unrelenting sweaty palms), and vertigo. GLYCOPYRROLATE, TAB 2 MG (thrice daily) CLOMIPRAMINE CAP 50 MG (once nightly) RISPERIDONE TAB 1MG (once nightly) FLUOXETINE CAP 20MG (once daily) PRAZOSIN HCL CAP 1 MG (three pills nightly) BUSPIRONE TAB 15MG (twice daily) PRAMIPEXOLE TAB 1MG (once nightly) CLONAZEPAM TAB 0.5MG (once nightly AMITIZA 24 MCG (prescription laxative - as necessary)
Continue reading...
63