"hospitality" poems
Casualty: my interest fading
Once waxing moon now seen waning
And I did concede your irksome warning
And watched as the rest played out
So let bygones be gone, fallen out by the side
Of this road, worn down, still restless, keeping straight
Eyes glinting off token little bits of hospitality
Mother nature being so inclined at times
The stress so unnerving, I hardly doubt it
But tension is eased once it comes to acceptance
And I accept in full, finding time to unwind
Winding stretch of lonely road, dotted here and there by
An occasional landmark
Or a lonely tractor pulling behind it
Iron bars, old and rusted
Found in their hold
Bales of hay or
A small little pond
With a bench beside it
Holding initials carved against the grain
With a heart surrounding
As mine beats slower
At last, the sun begins going down
And the moon grows brighter
Even in its state
And my feet move faster
Though my body is withering
I feel this separation growing
As my mind takes flight and leaves me
Behind, in the twisting twilight
And alone, I walk along
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 6:31 AM UTC
Golden light spills out,
The only mess in this place,
I won't have to clean.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC
Derartu, Haile, Tirunesh
Kenenisa, Meseret, and all
With a similar footfall!
Displaying a superb
Long-distance athletic feat
When many superstars
Awe inspiringly you beat
And as a result of it
When your sought-for
Fought-for
And nation- prayed-for
Dream proves a hit
And also with kudos
A stadium full of people opt
You to greet
And when spectators
Accord you a high five
It is for your country's flag
You immediately dive!
Also on the podium
while Ethiopia's row-wise
Green,Yellow and Red
Emblazoned flag,
Shoulder high,
Soars above
You express
Your umbilical cord-tight
National love
With tears that
Trickle down each of
Your cheek,quick.
Is it because
Reminiscent of
Each living hero
With a life sacrifice
That brought colonial
Aggression to zero?
Is it because
The bounty of the land
You grew up
Seeing first hand?
Is it because
The cherished corner
You cut in the heart of
The poor but prideful
Ethiopian neighbour?
Is it because
The unity in diversity
That showcases
Ethiopia's identity
Or citizens hospitality?
Is it because
At heart strings a tug
Or ,among others
Gratefulness to
Your iron-strong lung
When you hear
Ethiopian anthem sung?
Is it because a secret another
Deep down you harbour?
Is it because the Fertility
Hope and Sovereignty ideals
The flag advance,
Also Ethiopia's being
A beacon of independence
What is more
The nation's renaissance
Which in a curtain of mist
Before your eyes dance?
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 5:02 AM UTC
Vanity has created insanity in humanity,
the worldly hope men set their hearts upon,
possessed by Money, power, fame &respect;
empty pride inspired by an overweening
fruitless human desire,
wining and dining as the clouds darken in the
middle of the night,
as they settle for a life of deceiving enjoyment,
eyes are faded while he rest his body for a new
day,
he turns & roll in discomfort while he sleeps,
dreams are clashing, the fear of been poor
strikes his mind,
meanwhile the poor sleep in comfort ,
he won't wake up unless you wake him,
men of exotic fast cars,
Sell their soul to feed their vain pursuit,
and their happiness to feed their ego,
a life of unsubstantial enjoyment, reality awaits
its faith,
as it will be too late to plea of insanity in
eternity,
no hospitality for mental spirituality,
the vanity of human wishes reflect upon
superficial vision of human unfulfillment,
In essence that leads to eternal death.
the poor can't control his pain,
as tears drop from his eyes uncontrollably,
watching man with his fruitless ambitions,
as he settles for worldly materialistic goodies,
living beyond his means,
So many years on earth yet unsure of the
hereafter,
living a life of insecurity & fear of the unknown,
mention the word death ,he will ponder &
begin to wonder,
what his fate will be,
Vanity upon vanity,
When his time elapses,
he won't be left with anything but his good
deeds,
No mansions, no cars, no fame, no sweet voices,
what a life of vanity!!
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 3:34 AM UTC
Like a male monkey you rises up
And thumps hard your chest-it is you and you only!
O Man! You forgets, who you are and what you are is Nature’s
She generously gives and she avariciously takes-
Just a few chances she is giving you to repent before she ruthlessly returns
She is a sharp, doubled edged sword-merciful and merciless!
Man, Humanity is not hostility: Humanity is humility!
Like Sheol that is never satisfied you want to swallow the whole world
Like death you want to take everything, big-small-you want to stomach all
Everything you want to keep to yourself, to be to your entitlements
You take and leave nothing at all for the harmless hopeless-the voiceless
Yet you easily forgets, when the angel of death calls it’s only you and your soul in burials
Your ill amassed pride, wealth and health is not with you anywhere in this your brutal trials
Man, Humanity is not gullibility: Humanity is generosity!
O man! O man! You fills the whole world with mortality
You have killed the sole essence of the soul’s endless immortality
With your undignified dishonesty, your free-will to filthy immorality
War you begins wealthy to get-war is a supernormal profiting business
Man, Humanity souls has never been subjects to severity but sanctity!
Innocent-as little as little children-you murders-they were inevitable!
Common civilians’ deaths are collateral damages-inescapable!
You forgets who you are-you are a little loaned, little you returns for judgment
Here no allies to look after your backs, no cracks to corruption kickbacks-
It is the fairest of all hearings, a ***** for a ***** it is not for a big spoon!
Man, Humanity is not ignobility: Humanity is dignity!
What you are given to govern you governs not
What you are given to take care of you pilfers all
For you and your lineages eternal legacies-the richest ever to have graced the earth!
Yet you forgets, Master a little while returns to put you to a rigorous account
And whoever much is given-that much is also expected, what will be your report?
Man, Humanity is not royalty: Humanity is loyalty!
Humanity is a community, not a sorority of individuality!
Humanity is not infidelity: Humanity is honesty
Humanity is not how wealthy: Humanity is how a loyal legacy
Humanity is not how large is your multinationals entity:
Humanity is how huge is your small heart-its hospitality
Humanity is a humble history, a saintly story!
© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 1:23 AM UTC
A head, gnashing and screaming
Forgiving my unknown hospitality
Pretty is weakening
I'm a fatality deemed
Obnoxious is my scene
The mocking and mimicking comes easy for me
No secret, I envy the earth's energy
Depressed, sitting in my fancy dress
Shoving and tugging with desirable credibility
I ravish my personality
Amused?
As I show my tender meat bleeding
Kissing, authentic generosity
A bit suggestive
Confidence in deranged descriptions making others nervous
Excuse me, I must leave my head is blistering,
Popping,
Gushing and oozing profanities
Dented durability, consume me
I love the fact I'm lacking
Becoming one with the barbaric queen
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 1:06 AM UTC
Devised by Cosmic Boss
Sourced by parents
Aided by obstetrician
Nursed by pediatrician
Nurtured by nutritionist
Counseled by sexologist
Treated by orthopedist
Stressed by physiotherapist
Directed by dietician
Nudged by nephrologist
Nerved by neurologist
Contained by cardiologist
Consoled by psychologist
Interspersed by dentist,
Sighted by ophthalmist
Conditioned by physiology
Terminated by mortuary
The inexorable Lifeline Express
Of hospitalized hospitality
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 6:42 AM UTC
.
Kalypso sports within the waves
luring sailors to watery graves
but if they make it to her isle
there they may tarry for a while.
Food and wine are given a'plenty,
they are rocked into lust so gently,
Nymph, Maidens, Bacchanalian revelry
lead the sailors into darkest devilry.
*** and sin are openly displayed,
a salacious procession, ***** parade,
And all men their vices expressed
seek the comfort of Kalypso's breast,
her hospitality soothes, allays their fears
as she slowly steals away their years.
© Pagan Paul (05/12/18)
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 6:58 AM UTC
The bleeding has no bias
From the Congo to Dallas
The days of waiting, the Fever-soar
The African corpses were out
Of view, from the World’s eyes
If a sneeze can defile
Ebola can ride airplanes
Traverse Seas, all through
Your plastic gloves, your pores
Contagious still with death
Your fear may taste the curse
A thousand dead more, a common ache
The bleeding has no bias
Jesus will not bring you back from the Dead
We have to walk through Hell alone
They say, I have no more words
The bleeding has no bias
No funding, on protocol that works
The virus rages on, splitting old scars
Of what it means to be from the
Old continent, of what it means to be black
And the coughing up of more blood
Where paranoia and fear are conditions
As common as kindness and hospitality here
The panic of believing a silent enemy
Can catch you without you knowing
These are the days of waiting
These are when the numbers soar.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
Here, now, I sit quiet thinking about
all the times
When like pendulum I was lost in crowds
and noises (like pendulum)
to and fro.
I replay recklessly the jobs that soaked me up and
the times of life living no life
How quickly we tend to forget the spaces above clouds
low on air but high on intoxication
The valleys hidden beyond horizon
The shrubs welcoming with berries amidst thorns
streams and brooks to displease your thirst
and the soft bed of moss and grasses
The no man land, the nature- full of hospitality
I must go there, the place that came searching for me
The place I have in my dreams
Let me walk out for a while
jumping off this walls we built
Lets go dancing to the sound of silence
Country roads, lead me there
Mountains are calling and I must go!
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
My old great-aunt Elaine with her withered hands gave me $200 and beaded handbag
"This your mad money," she told me, as we sat on that nursing home couch, "And it ain't for your purse. This goes in your shirt, where only you know you got it."
The assisted-living nurse chuckled to herself. They got along, my great-aunt and her.
"Why?"
"Cuz if you get angry," she said, in that Marlboro-raspy voice of hers, "And you gotta go, you walk out on your date and you leave 'is *** And then you got your money for a strong drink. And your cab."
The nurse laughed
My aunt re-situated herself on the nursing home couch. Elaine Dauterive. Her mind was going, and so was her health, but she was as regal as a queen on her throne in that moment
her fire-red hair, ungrayed, was her crown
No cape as royal as that sleeping gown.
"Don't you think for once second I can't take care of you, honey," she said in that creole drawl, and I knew what she meant
Because even after she'd gone I would have that mad money
All stuffed in my bra for when I needed it
Because she was older than time, for me, seeing things like
The Great Depression, World War II
What I read in history books
I'd be ****** if I took what she said with even one grain of salt because Auntie-Lane, I'll be ****** if I don't love you
And I know you're on your way out and
I'll buy you whiskey in the afterlife with some of that $200 cash that you busted your *** scrounging up for me
Southern hospitality at its finest
And those liver spots redder than wine adorn you like badges of honor for all of the years you've endured
My elder - creole woman, with a soul as fire-red as her hair, breathing more smoke than air
My old dragon
On a pile of gold: her mad money
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
a physicist
a man of culture
a man of love and hospitality
lonely walks around the streets of his desert planet
in friendly but ruthless roads
roads full of light and talks
seeking his future and his past
feels lost in the magic of tomorrow
and tangled by the uncertainty of yesterday
yet he is committed not to give up
he won't fail
but he won't succeed
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 10:42 AM UTC
In the West I learned western hospitality
Free spirit, free drugs, more ***** more love
If you can remember your problem your doing it wrong
But if you forget your responsibilities you're not worth much
Party everyday pretend you don't understand the methods of your madness
Walk the streets half naked in half a foot of snow
Party, study, party, study
party, party, party
CHURCH
repent and once it strikes midnight start again.
In the North I learned Northern hospitality
It's called minding your business
It's called I have to get somewhere
If you have a question you also have a smart phone
It's not my job to tell you the norm.
You'll figure it out
I learned to walk fast, speak briskly and tell everyone to mind their own business
In the South I learned Southern hospitality
It's where people talk nice to your face and ***** behind your back
It's where the idea of ownership has stemmed way before the monogram
It's where if they only have two faces they are genuine and where they'll feed you fresh apple pie
filled with arsenic
Where you can trust your neighbor only as far as you can throw them
Where everyone's a little racist, a little homophobic, a little god-fearing
In the South I learned
Hospitality
--------------------------------------------------------
A/N
I was born and raised in Denver, Colorado.
Currently I reside in North Carolina.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
I have left, pig-mudding drunk,
having sipped from stock to stock on fraying cheer, stages.
I have stood in foreign basements; sweaty cellars of youth;
begot by attitude breeding spaces of the hip;
drawn circles searching for love in recreating nonsense:
a silly pupil, moon-eyed, out of breathe.
I have heard them quack, reveal their cords;
heard them whisper a thousand and one secrets,
heard them deconstruct their circumstances as pilgrims, penniless and sick.
I have their memories now, an image of a depressed,
ass-imprinted pillow soaked in liquor and a feeling of nausea
where ribs sleep on this couch tonight, every night.
I have heard one refute the weight of living, ******
on the banks of his best friends hospitality, and thought
How much is it worth?
And I have envied every **** greasy pored hipster,
the ones fixing on makingitnew now kind of clan; stared blankly at fashion,
a culture back door where pink fish scales sparkle high from runway halters
to the tops of grown men, bearded and chesty.
And your mothers pearls sit, not your mother’s pearls but your mother’s, mother’s pearls,
that old world clout ornamented around those hairy *******
Oh yes, I have seen men become peacocks, charmed animals of **********
seen them teeth at discourse in the noise they create, wide-mouthed and pointed;
I have seen them masked like frantic felines: wooly bully cats trying-to-roll their own meter,
their tobacco stained black charcoal over soft bricked lips quiver to their beats:
those painted lemmingings, without a parachute: kamikaze felons.
I have desired absolute sterility: white china,
in the egg of a toilet bowl I spewed out, shut-up my exuberance for the night;
sorry-pleaded my resolutions to gag out the naughty nouns in my life.
I have quit; turned in my lust for performing the lioness, paw-licking,
snarly creature: the predator of my youth, and now,
I am pretty-headed, tamed in bath oils and schedules;
a spotted fox, in plain view, one medium-sized mammal getting by.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC
My Godmother being Emma Williams
A woman who died at 98
A God fearing Godmother to whom I truly appreciate
I still remember her even to this date
Mrs Emma Williams was more than a Godmother as I always called her Aunt Emma
My Godmother was a woman of true love
She was born in Barnwell, South Carolina having hospitality to think of
I remember going to her house, she would always cook me a meal
At one point, we lived in the same Brownstone in Brooklyn, New York
My Godmother lived on the Second Floor
We lived on the First Floor
What happy memories I have and remember
When my Godmother moved away to another location, I still visited her
I remember one afternoon she pulled a bag of laughs out, and all I could do was laugh uncontrollable
I also remember when my Grandmother died, and I called my Godmother for encouragement, I told my Godmother I wanted to cry
She stated, “Don’t you cry as you are never alone”. I felt inspired, and saw a world that I never known
Now my Grandmother and Godmother were good friends
But my Godmother is being remembered, and will never ever be forgotten
“My heart extends into Heaven, and my focus being on my Godmother. The joy you gave me here being on Earth. You enriched with my life full of goodness and blessings beyond. I will remember you now and forever more.
Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 7:21 PM UTC
One man and lots of women
Gathered in your kitchen
For a barbecue and luncheon
Full of banter, wit and glutton
Wrecking ***** and chat roulette
And an 80s design vignette
The food was finger licking
And the company uplifting
What congeniality
Thanks for the hospitality
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
I was asking for something specific and perfect for my city,
Whereupon, lo! upsprang the aboriginal name!
Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly, musical, self-sufficient;
I see that the word of my city is that word up there,
Because I see that word nested in nests of water-bays, superb, with tall and wonderful spires,
Rich, hemm’d thick all around with sailships and steamships—an island sixteen miles long, solid-founded,
Numberless crowded streets—high growths of iron, slender, strong, light, splendidly uprising toward clear skies;
Tide swift and ample, well-loved by me, toward sundown,
The flowing sea-currents, the little islands, larger adjoining islands, the heights, the villas,
The countless masts, the white shore-steamers, the lighters, the ferry-boats, the black sea-steamers well-model’d;
The down-town streets, the jobbers’ houses of business—the houses of business of the ship-merchants, and money-brokers—the river-streets;
Immigrants arriving, fifteen or twenty thousand in a week;
The carts hauling goods—the manly race of drivers of horses—the brown-faced sailors;
The summer air, the bright sun shining, and the sailing clouds aloft;
The winter snows, the sleigh-bells—the broken ice in the river, passing along, up or down, with the flood tide or ebb-tide;
The mechanics of the city, the masters, well-form’d, beautiful-faced, looking you straight in the eyes;
Trottoirs throng’d—vehicles—Broadway—the women—the shops and shows,
The parades, processions, bugles playing, flags flying, drums beating;
A million people—manners free and superb—open voices—hospitality—the most courageous and friendly young men;
The free city! no slaves! no owners of slaves!
The beautiful city, the city of hurried and sparkling waters! the city of spires and masts!
The city nested in bays! my city!
The city of such women, I am mad to be with them! I will return after death to be with them!
The city of such young men, I swear I cannot live happy, without I often go talk, walk, eat, drink, sleep, with them!
4.2k
Passover Moon's
****** hue
eclipses
the ordinary
in veils of
miraculousness
obscure
rouge
halos
illume
elliptical arcs
guiding
footsteps in
a righteous
exodus
across
troubling
waters
forsaking
hovels
with
painted
doorjambs
dripping
lambs blood
Mezuzahs
bleat
memories
holy
murmurs
bespeaking
lamentations
of ancient
hosannas
our
desperate
supplications
flesh out a
distressed
humanity
seeking
deliverance
from the
vengeance
is mine
Elohim
may it
be nigh
we wait
watching for
an always faithful
Good Deliverer
to honor the
covenant
to lift
despair
with a
liberating
yoke
lugging
leaden
burdens
Oh Holy
of
Holies
banished
in the wisp
of a bitter herb
our
distended
bellies
fill with
unleavened
grace
sweet
droplets
of manna
consumed
with extreme
gratitude
arriving
at journeys
end to
promised
lands
fully
satiated
and free
to rest in
sanctuaries
of radical
hospitality
luxuriating
in an infinite
abundance
for all
sojourners
Selah
Music Selection:
Big Mama Thornton
Go Down Moses
Oakland
4/15/14
jbm
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
stayed with a woman
and her sister
for a few weeks
up by the chesapeake
on a little river
with a dock
that audienced
the most beautiful
sunsets
a man could witness
she was a good woman
widowed
quick to think of others
before herself
never got drunk before noon
worked hard and long
for the money she earned
and I appreciated her
and her hospitality
her sister
smoked ****
and drank expensive wine
on that dock
during the earliest hours
of the day
looking upwards
all the way till that
beautiful sunset
I would join her
while her sister was hard
at work
I appreciated my woman
for her work habit
for the *** and the
hospitality she gave so
willingly and passionately
however I also appreciated
her sister
in many of the same ways
which is why I was asked
loudly and violently to
cut my visit short
after only two
quick weeks
I still miss
those sunsets
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
At times people in this life
Are quite petty, full of spite
Why can't they open their
Hearts and their eyes
Reach acknowledgement
That to make others suffer
Is not so contrite
Turn acts of hatred into love
Put others first
Find selfishness and spite
Are useless emotions, no need to always be right
Masterfully human nature
Can strive to rise above
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1Peter 4:8-9
Above all keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. Show hospitality to one another without grumbling.
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 9:29 PM UTC
What brief utterance this, the color of time
That gives more meaning than language can hold
To force a confrontation between unresolvable contradictions
Such as make malleable a gracious hospitality to ******
And sound trumpets of unwarranted discord
That lie and lament the reputation and experience of damage
Hold forth the envious clouds of displacement
To provide for the vicious energies of hate
Those oppressive weights of past problems
That enactment of intense and exhausting experience
Which embalms the tears of fresh bleeding
Without impediment dictates the human existence
Where the mistress of aggressive thought finds
Extremity of dire mishap a strenuous protest
Leads to well meaning certainty of illusion
And asks, art thou so in love with masks that you
Would transform thyself and as such
Bind a loyalty of angers to thy touch
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
Somewhat back from the village street
Stands the old-fashioned country-seat.
Across its antique portico
Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw;
And from its station in the hall
An ancient timepiece says to all,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
Half-way up the stairs it stands,
And points and beckons with its hands
From its case of massive oak,
Like a monk, who, under his cloak,
Crosses himself, and sighs, alas!
With sorrowful voice to all who pass,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
By day its voice is low and light;
But in the silent dead of night,
Distinct as a passing footstep’s fall,
It echoes along the vacant hall,
Along the ceiling, along the floor,
And seems to say, at each chamber-door,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
Through days of sorrow and of mirth,
Through days of death and days of birth,
Through every swift vicissitude
Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood,
And as if, like God, it all things saw,
It calmly repeats those words of awe,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
In that mansion used to be
Free-hearted Hospitality;
His great fires up the chimney roared;
The stranger feasted at his board;
But, like the skeleton at the feast,
That warning timepiece never ceased,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
There groups of merry children played,
There youths and maidens dreaming strayed;
O precious hours! O golden prime,
And affluence of love and time!
Even as a miser counts his gold,
Those hours the ancient timepiece told,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
From that chamber, clothed in white,
The bride came forth on her wedding night;
There, in that silent room below,
The dead lay in his shroud of snow;
And in the hush that followed the prayer,
Was heard the old clock on the stair,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
All are scattered now and fled,
Some are married, some are dead;
And when I ask, with throbs of pain,
“Ah! when shall they all meet again?”
As in the days long since gone by,
The ancient timepiece makes reply,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
Never here, forever there,
Where all parting, pain, and care,
And death, and time shall disappear,—
Forever there, but never here!
The horologe of Eternity
Sayeth this incessantly,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
3.7k
Various Muscle groups with a name
A young aspiring bodybuilder died while achieving his own fame
The Human Muscle Hospitality of Shawn Robinson
He was the voice of encouragement
He was the concept of going the effort
Being honest with truth
All this while still in his youth
Shawn’s smile being his style
The weights game came in for a while
Yet remembering him on his buddy to buddy approach
When it came to Bodybuilding his passion was no joke
Don’t even try a Bodybuilding poke
His true words in what he spoke
Your life cut way too short
In everyone’s mind a comfort of sort
The weights are saddened
The muscles can’t flex
There is a feeling in the air of feeling perplexed
That was then, but this is now
Shawn’s spirit said “Keep training and continue to expose to the world in how”
My departure is not an end
But it is for your inspiration in continuing to begin
Bodybuilding is about achieving and conquering the odds
If the chain doesn’t break, there is no strength
Seeing your own efforts at every length
If you lose the concept and technique, there is no vision
If the effort isn’t seriously made, there is no reason
Remember me in all seasons
Think on my coaching words in wait and see
You will become in your training efforts the way you were might too be
All I ask is to have patience, but wait and see
Heaven knows the reason I was called up
My spirit will always sit high and look down
Help each other, but don’t become muscle bound
Remember the numerous conversations we had
Perhaps to some you got mad
My life was bodybuilding
My dream was to achieve
My challenges in overcoming the struggles
Bodybuilding is about being stuff, but I want you to be stuffer
Strength is in the mind then pulsates throughout the body
Mind over matter
My life has been lived to the fullest
Make yourself proud in my honor
Again just wait and see
I am in the arms of the almighty and that’s thee
Together we are one
But keep living as your life as only begun
Yesterday was only tomorrow passing by
Don’t cry
I want to see you achieve with every try.
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC
Move rack to lowest position,
Set to three seventy-five.
Pour in one and a third cups water,
Sprinkle egg whites (package A),
Blend on LOW till moist.
Beat on high (but remain patient)
Stiff peaks will form when gently
Dunking a spatula into your batter
(Be sure beater is AT REST before checking).
Sprinkle in cake flour (package B)
A little at a time on LOWEST setting
(Don’t forget to scrape the bottom and edges).
Pour batter into your ungreased tube pan,
Cut through batter gently with a butter knife
In a circular motion
To eliminate air bubbles.
Bake for at least thirty minutes
Or until top crust is golden brown
(Ovens vary so keep your eye on it at all times).
Cool by hanging tube pan upside down on bottle,
Loosen by making up and down strokes with spatula or knife.
Gently remove your cake.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 1:23 PM UTC