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The Song of Cooking

The sword of hunger snips the squeak of the intestine, which is like a cry of a new born baby, from my stomach. Chop! Chop! All chefs! To cook! To cook! You must go! Cutlery jumps, stoves burn, veggies fear. I open the cupboard with the strength of an elephant as I inspected what will be on the menu, and flipped the recipe book like a pastor who just lost his verse.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




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Date: 1/21/2016 8:54:00 PM
MIHAIL, Awesome Poem, thanks for sharing **SKAT**
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Date: 1/7/2015 7:48:00 PM
Hi Mihlali...you can only appreciate this poem if you're hungry, so I am, therefore I do...great imagination...rgds, Thabang
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Makunga Avatar
Mihlali Makunga
Date: 1/8/2015 8:33:00 AM
Thank you very much Thabang, I really appreciate your words, thank you.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things