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George Krokos Oct 2023
The stylish kitchen
was where the chicken
had to be prepared
and couldn't be spared
by the good old chef
who was known as Jeff
on that fateful day
with the baking tray
placed in the oven
heated to govern
the cooking of which
was a dinner pitch
for that very night
with the stars so bright
in the sky above
everyone would love
who were invited
and be delighted
on that occasion
without persuasion
to share in some feast
not saying the least
that could've been said
if it was just bread
with a bowl of stew
for some hungry crew.

And so it happened
they were all fattened
by the food they ate
as they supped 'till late
and when the time came
the guests couldn't blame
the chef or the host
for the chicken roast
and the side dishes
which pleased the wishes
of all the guests there
who enjoyed the fare
with many a thanks
without any blanks
and there it ended
the night presented.

All the guests who came
did not leave the same
because of the food
eaten that was good.
-------------------
Written in May,2022.
Indulging in a bit of creative flair rather than any actual dinner occasion although it does make me hungry about what I might have missed out on..
Safana Dec 2021
Be always be...
Someone with a
childish tongue
pronouncing light-
Blue diamond words
With courage and zeal
In the daylight
and the night
In the sunshine
and night shade
No matter how much
Hard the bone
is to break
kenz Sep 2021
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”
-kenzie<3
I love creative writing.
Sarafæl Jul 2021
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
Jennifer DeLong Apr 2021
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 🦏
4/2021
Jade Wright Apr 2021
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.’
Melony Martinez Mar 2021
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
Trembling

The larder
Stocked with oats and rice
Pots

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!
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