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Famous Kitchen Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Kitchen poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous kitchen poems. These examples illustrate what a famous kitchen poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

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by Paterson, Andrew Barton
...as beat to rags 
When the hoppers rose for their morning flight 
With the flapping noise like a million flags: 
And the kitchen chimney was stuffed with bags 
For they'd fall right into the fire, and fry 
Till the cook sat down and began to cry -- 
And never a duck or fowl in sight. 

"We strolled across to the railroad track -- 
Under a cover beneath some trucks, 
I sees a feather and hears a quack; 
I stoops and I pulls the tarpaulin back -- 
Every duck in the place was...Read more of this...



by Thomas, Dylan
...coughing, then
holding them out again as though waiting for the explosion; and some few small aunts, not wanted in the
kitchen, nor anywhere else for that matter, sat on the very edge of their chairs, poised and brittle, afraid to
break, like faded cups and saucers."

Not many those mornings trod the piling streets: an old man always, fawn-bowlered, yellow-gloved and, at this
time of year, with spats of snow, would take his constitutional to the white bowling green and b...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard
...es on. They
had not quite adjusted themselves to her body. I could tell you about her ass. We went
into the kitchen.
She took a jar of instant coffee off the shelf and put it on the table. She placed a
cup next to it, and a spoon. I looked at them. She put a pan full of water on the stove
and turned the gas on under it.
All this time she did not say a word. Her clothes adjusted themselves to her body. I
won't. She left the kitchen.<...Read more of this...

by Sexton, Anne
...am sorrowful in November. 
The kettle is whistling. 
I must butter the toast. 
And give it jam too. 
My kitchen is a heart. 
I must feed it oxygen once in a while 
and mother the mother. 

* 

Say the woman is forty-four. 
Say she is five seven-and-a-half. 
Say her hair is stick color. 
Say her eyes are chameleon. 
Would you put her in a sack and bury her, 
suck her down into the dumb dirt? 
Some would. 
If not, time will. 
Ms.<...Read more of this...

by Hughes, Langston
...I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides, 
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America....Read more of this...



by Frost, Robert
...SHE stood against the kitchen sink, and looked
Over the sink out through a dusty window
At weeds the water from the sink made tall.
She wore her cape; her hat was in her hand.
Behind her was confusion in the room,
Of chairs turned upside down to sit like people
In other chairs, and something, come to look,
For every room a house has—parlor, bed-room,
And dining-room—throw...Read more of this...

by Angelou, Maya
...slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.

Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.Read more of this...

by Angelou, Maya
...from the ledge,
Clap hands, let us invite joy into our conversation,
Courtesy into our bedrooms,
Gentleness into our kitchen,
Care into our nursery.

The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain
We are a going-on people who will rise again.

And still we rise.

Poem read at the Million Man March...Read more of this...

by Neruda, Pablo
...r,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celeb...Read more of this...

by Sandburg, Carl
...>

Look at songs
Hidden in eggs.. . .
When the morning sun is on the trumpet-vine blossoms, sing at the kitchen pans: Shout All Over God’s Heaven.
When the rain slants on the potato hills and the sun plays a silver shaft on the last shower, sing to the bush at the backyard fence: Mighty Lak a Rose.
When the icy sleet pounds on the storm windows and the house lifts to a great breath, sing for the outside hills: The Ole Sheep Done Know the Road, the Youn...Read more of this...

by Hacker, Marilyn
...brave"
if I take off my shirt in a hot crowd
sunbathing, or demonstrating for Dyke Pride.
Her bravery counters the kitchen knives'
insinuation that the scars be made.
With, or despite our scars, we stay alive.

"With, or despite our scars, we stayed alive
until the Contras or the Government
or rebel troops came, until we were sent
to 'relocation camps' until the archives
burned, until we dug the ditch, the grave
beside the aspen grove where adolescent
boys used t...Read more of this...

by Whitman, Walt
...ouse and stopt outside; 
I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile; 
Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak, 
And went where he sat on a log, and led him in and assured him, 
And brought water, and fill’d a tub for his sweated body and bruis’d
 feet,
And gave him a room that enter’d from my own, and gave him some coarse
 clean clothes, 
And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awkwardness, 
And remember puttin...Read more of this...

by Whitman, Walt
...asometers, artificial fertilizers, 
Smiling and pleased, with palpable intent to stay, 
She ’s here, install’d amid the kitchen ware! 

4
But hold—don’t I forget my manners? 
To introduce the Stranger (what else indeed have I come for?) to thee, Columbia:
In Liberty’s name, welcome, Immortal! clasp hands, 
And ever henceforth Sisters dear be both. 

Fear not, O Muse! truly new ways and days receive, surround you, 
(I candidly confess, a *****, ***** race, of novel fashion...Read more of this...

by Chesterton, G K
...nd Eldred's tools were red with rust,
And on his well was a green crust,
And purple thistles upward thrust,
Between the kitchen stones.

But smoke of some good feasting
Went upwards evermore,
And Eldred's doors stood wide apart
For loitering foot or labouring cart,
And Eldred's great and foolish heart
Stood open like his door.

A mighty man was Eldred,
A bulk for casks to fill,
His face a dreaming furnace,
His body a walking hill.

In the old wars of Wessex
His sw...Read more of this...

by Sexton, Anne
...animal join its soul
as we kneeled before a miracle--
forgetting its knife.

The daisies confer
in the old-married kitchen
papered with blue and green chefs
who call out pies, cookies, yummy,
at the charcoal and cigarette smoke
they wear like a yellowy salve.
The daisies absorb it all--
the twenty-five-year-old sanctioned love
(If one could call such handfuls of fists
and immobile arms that!)
and on this day my world rips itself up
while the country unfastens along
w...Read more of this...

by Lowell, Amy
...e's violin.
Seven o'clock, the Concert-Meister gone
With his best violin, the rain being stopped,
Frau Lotta in the kitchen sat alone
Watching the embers which the fire dropped.
The china shone upon the dresser, topped
By polished copper vessels which her skill
Kept brightly burnished. It was very still.
An air from `Orfeo' hummed in her head.
Herr Altgelt had been practising before
The night's performance. Charlotta had plead
With him to stay with her...Read more of this...

by Tebb, Barry
...ographs of a departed wife and child.

All that remained of your family was a hidden coat of red paint

Beneath the kitchen windowsill and on a faded page the number for

Your long-gone neighbour, Lilly Clarke, ninety if she lives at all,

The memory of a lilac tree, the Anderson shelter hidden by the fence,

And the incomer’s invitation to call again and then and then...



We were wrong from the beginning, you always said, wrong

To be together, wrong to go ...Read more of this...

by Brautigan, Richard
...prepared for it. You're not fooling anyone by

taking your clothes off when you go to bed."

 He went into the kitchen, stepping around the littlest

children, whose wet diapers were in various stages of anarchy.

He made his breakfast: a slice of homemade bread covered

with Karo syrup and peanut butter.

"Let's go," he said.

 We left the house with him still eating the sandwich. The

store was three blocks away, on the other side of a field

covere...Read more of this...

by Ferlinghetti, Lawrence
...ng at stoplights
Beyond the cloverleaf turnoffs
'Souls eat souls in the general emptiness'
A piano concerto comes out a kitchen window
A yogi speaks at Ojai
'It's all taking pace in one mind'
On the lawn among the trees
lovers are listening
for the master to tell them they are one
with the universe
Eyes smell flowers and become them
There's a deathless hush
on the freeway tonight
as a Pacific tidal wave a mile high
sweeps in
Los Angeles breathes its last gas
and sinks into th...Read more of this...

by Padel, Ruth
...d of pearled-up mist for proof
That her man exists: that gamelans and tumbrils
Won't evade her. But now, among 
The kitchen garden's rose-haws, mallow, Pernod- 
Coloured pears, she unhooks herself thorn by thorn 
For the exit aria. For fade-out. Suddenly there he is
In the avenue, the man she's written to - Charon
Gazing at her with blazing eyes! Darth Vader
From Star Wars. She's trapped, in a house she didn't realize
Was burning. Her letter was a gate to ...Read more of this...

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