Best Cookbooks Poems
the Covid 19 pandemic has changed
the entire world ... and me personally
I am a different person now
have found a serenity and tranquility
I never had
with such depth and feeling
and weep for those who have died
and those struggling to live
~ I can find a stillness and beauty in small things
and I am able to forgive and reach out with peace and love
able to look inward ... and I like the new me~
in our third lockdown here and it is strict
we are told to stay home .. our borders are closed
but I have found joy in on-line shopping and zoom visiting
and I may never have to go out again ...
but as a former nurse I needed a routine
to follow ...
~ I have a time for writing poetry and a time for art
a time to read and a time for research
I have a time to ponder and a time to journal ... ~
my nest has never been so clean and tidy
oh yes, I have a routine in place for that too
I tend to dust a lot ... and talk to plants
have been looking at Mom's old cookbooks
found some great recipes to try
have decluttered my closets ... and my mind
and thank God for my sweet cat to snuggle up with
~ I have been an introvert all my life
always seeking silence- a need
like breathing air ... now, I let it wrap me in silent wings
after this pandemic quietude ... the butterfly in me
... will emerge ~
___________________
May 11, 2021
Poetry/Free Verse/looking inward
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1353-966-11
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Your
Philosophy During This Pandemic
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judged 05/14/2021
First Place
Categories:
cookbooks, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
Paula Deen the Butter Queen
By Elton Camp and María Camp
She is the butter makers’ delight
To nutritionists, she is a fright
Krispy Kreme with eggs and bacon
Great health risks are thus taken
Her bacon cheeseburger meatloaf
Is perfect if you are a gigantic oaf
For a nation that is already too fat
She sees nothing wrong with that
People who her cookbooks buy
Eat such and may too soon die
She had diabetes for three years
With no caution to change gears.
Her cookbooks flying
Right off the shelf
Likely contributing
To early death
It tastes good, she decreed!
Many folks with her agreed
So many calories, but it is so good
Eat whatever you like is what you should
After her disease she finally shared
To represent a diabetes drug she dared
Cigarettes warn, but not Paula Deen
Of butter, sugar and fat – she is queen
To “that word” she admitted use
There are allegations of other abuse
One is suing and wanting some dough
Is this former employee in the know?
An awkward apology, she did make
How many attempts does it take?
One wonders if she is sincere
Or if it is just fear for career
Whatever happens in the days ahead
Is her heyday officially dead?
Don’t be quick to rule her out
She still has pull and clout
Categories:
cookbooks, food, drug,
Form:
Rhyme
In my dreams, I hear whispers and echoes from abandoned books
Begging for attention, from their old bookshelves and cozy library nooks
Ghostly pages full of dust, some damaged from water leaks and mice
Genres untouched for decades, fiction, cookbooks, self-help and advice
I decided to try to find the old, abandoned town library, left dilapidated
Rumored it's haunted and unsafe, waiting to be a tear down as stated
It was gifted from a rich family, and cared for until no more descendants
The town couldn’t afford the upkeep and feared the rumored tenants
As I drove down a long country road, I could hear whispers of welcome
I spotted an overgrown gravel road with a faded and worn Library sign
As I read the sign, the colors sparkled and came to life for a brief second
I quickly blinked and the sign remained faded and drab but still beckoned
I walked to the library, hearing voices echo as I saw the oak wooden door
The granite steps were clear with an old gold skeleton key on the floor
I bent down to pick it up, once I held the key the library door opened
Books flew off their shelves, pages echoed as if their words had spoken
My alarm awakens me from my deep slumber as I remember my dream
I wonder if this new town has such a place and what It could mean
I grab the newspaper and there it is, the old town library is for sale
I smile, I now know what my future with the old library would soon entail
Categories:
cookbooks, books, dream, fantasy, old,
Form:
Rhyme
In this coming new year- I plan changes,
oh, I would like to burn this past year to ashes;
not seeking a metamorphose either.
Because there are parts of me that shine and glitter,
but there are parts with pain that I must leave;
and I will succeed because I believe.
I have strength and courage,
will not be held hostage;
I am a survivor,
grief will not be my anchor.
Each day, I will be thankful for my home,
because some only have the streets to roam;
and the days and long nights can be so cold.
I will promise that more poems will unfold,
I intend to study more and read books;
fiction, poetry, and cookbooks.
My words will be quiet,
calm will be my spirit;
serenity will me mine,
and happiness will twine.
_________________________
December 29, 2017
Poetry/Rhyme/In This Coming Year
Copyright Protected, ID 17-9776-79-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Categories:
cookbooks, new year,
Form:
Rhyme
BEWARE the BEAST! She bites! She Snores! She Snorkels!
No wonder Dragon likes her so much! She also Snarls, and Drools!
No one dares to wake her up… After they’ve done it, a time or two.
Yes! This is our leader, the one, Dragon thinks is so wonderfully Cool!
The beast is totally in control… Even Grandpa Troll gives her, her due.
She forms our thoughts and reshapes minds, with only, her look so true.
No one would ever gainsay her word, or trouble, it would definitely brew!
Now who is this one… who is sound of limb… and even fiercer of mind?
No! I dare not tell you! She’s hears everything, reacting quickly, all the time!
It all started when she bought a ‘self-help’ book on the new Internet line.
Followed by ‘Be The Assertive One’, and then ‘How to be in Control!’
That was when we all backed off, and where she definitely, lost control!
When she read an ‘Efficiency Training Book’, our hopes were truly gone.
We want our old MOM BACK! We should never have complained, on and on!
Honest we’ll NEVER do it AGAIN! We’ll be ANGELS… truly, one and all!
Yes! We’ll even stop to make our beds. And then we’ll be no trouble, at all!
We missed the days of Fun! Fun! Fun! So we quickly devised a great plan!
We brought her a cup of her favorite tea, with a chill pill dissolved inside.
Then we tucked her, gently, onto the couch, as she was about to drift off.
She awoke with the TV remote, in her hand. Her favorite shows were on.
We confiscated those new books, and left, her old cookbooks in their wake.
It might take a day or two… but we see signs that a full recovery she will make.
Lets just give her an itty bitty little break… Then get ready her running shoes.
She Snarls, and Snorkels, Snores, and Drools. She’s back! Mom! We love you!
Categories:
cookbooks, fantasy, fun, funny, happiness,
Form:
Light Verse
Passing of an Icon
An accomplished Lady of recondite letters
Writing humanity to free from its fetters-
From your clever Prose being deciphered,
With skewed minds, is where you differed.
And where, with prejudice, our minds think
Fellow Human beings can foul or sting
Indeed, there the Grass can loudly Sing!
Your discerning Eye and your sharp Wit
Endowed your firm hand with incisive writ-
Doris Lessing, rendezvous of every culture,
You ardently celebrated the pen’s rupture
With that broad mind and feminine looks
Reminiscent of the Golden Notebooks(s);
Thrall from callous confines of Cookbooks!
Doris the Amazon, you were sadly dismissed
Yet, in our hearts you’ll be happily missed;
The Vim, the Spirit, and your Idiosyncrasy
Will be cherished as our invaluable legacy:
Of a male Chauvinist or me a cold raptor,
From time immemorial, being a cruel captor,
To bow stepping forward to accept the Sceptre!
**Dedicated to the Great Writer; Doris Lessing, upon her passing on at her home on 17/11/2013.
JM
Categories:
cookbooks,
Form:
Rhyme
In total darkness flesh rests
and at first light rises.
Sky blue eyes search
bibles and cookbooks for direction.
Bless cheeks with pink powder blush.
Punch dough down.
Dress fingers in white flour dust.
Invoke a flame.
She commands all the elements,
motions us to stand and watch
at her tall stove-pot.
We peer over the edge
into galaxies of hot oil.
Planets pop and bob into life.
Aroma undoes us and
time floats hellishly slow.
Categories:
cookbooks, childhood, family, life
Form:
Free verse
my nanna was like one of many family /friends id rely on te one id g run to when i cant run to noone else. She was the one that always toldme when i had stomach surgery be strong brea it will get better.
She was the one that said brea if you put your mind to it you can acomplish your cookbooks be the best chef ever she was always the one if im upset orin the worst pain ever she'd find some way to cheer me up even if it was talkn bout guys on in or recipes the times me and her would talk bout her hethern .how she wants me to get my GED and goto college to be a chef.
Well nanna i put my feet down in the ground more i aint giving up im gonna start my GED study guids finish my 1st cookbook with then the next 2weeks
Ilove u nanna always
Categories:
cookbooks, loss, me, me,
Form:
ABC
To mother Pearl with roses
Who loves not lies nor poses
Dislikes neighbors that’s nosy
Likes good weather that’s rosy
Mom is a very good cook
Cooks from scratch not from a book
In cookbooks she never looks
Cook’s lessons she never took
Momma Pearl now eighty three
Hoes her own garden you see
Has her own freedom to be
An amazing Cherokee
Bothered not by who you are
She still chauffeur’s her own car
Believes work, we all must bear
Works for elderly health care
Believes, healthy, wealthy and wise
Means, living life without disguise
Loves not neighbor’s unwholesome lies
But help’s him remove from his guise
Her motto, don’t you be cheated
Living character defeated
With a love that is depleted
A change in your life is needed
This poem I give, mother Pearl
To thee your rose, while in this world
You’ve never been a party girl
Desired not give the world a whirl
Hester Pearl’s rose, not of this world!
For: My Own Living Mother
Sponsored by: Rambling Poet
Placed # 11
Categories:
cookbooks, motherlife, mother,
Form:
Rhyme
Not so very long ago
When I wanted to bake
I would go to my cookbooks
For a recipe to make
Tattered and stained they were
History literally splattered on
Notes written like ‘doubles well’
Or ‘sponge cake by Yvonne’
….sometimes even a photo…..
Today for recipes I scroll the net
Searching methodically
For the only tab I want to find
Labelled ‘Jump to Recipe’
Now, I don’t know about you
But I don’t want to be besieged
By pages and pages of text
Cut and pasted for me to read
I know it’s to maximise SEOs
And other such kinds of device
But for God’s sake, get to the point
When ingredients and method suffice
I don’t want to know the origin
Of different pasta shapes
Or how cinnamon got its name
Or rare varieties of grapes
I have no objection at all
To a small communique
But screeds of text turn me off
So I’ve ordered a takeaway
Categories:
cookbooks, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
My fear is not of Joe with hair of grey, mind in disarray, coherence at bay.
Main concern not about his overall knowledge lack, or how he doesn’t know Iran from Iraq, or cause he wannabe black
My complaint is not the fuel cost rise, nor Junior's highs, I'm not one of THOSE guys...but what IF he dies??
Can't stress enough, when I say this stuff, the dark cloud is rough! Crossing that bridge is tough, beware the trolls down there, my Billy Goats Gruff.
Dress it up and call it 'strong', don't ignore sublime lyrics in her song, you're lost in the rhythm foot tapping along, but it's not right on, it's off and wrong.
I'm all for the melting pot I like fondue, but there's recipes to follow, You. Generations of cookbooks tried and true, anything else I find hard to chew.
Harder to swallow hence we spit, but the foulness remains you nearly choke on it, she leaves a bad taste that just won't quit, not even Altoids can last through term limits
You read the bumper sticker that my car was adorning, but drivers in the left lane tend not to heed the warning, take the wheel and drive yourself stop conforming, try to be so woke but you'll oversleep one morning.
No more hitting snooze or Biden your time cause the time is up. Is Kamala really in the house? YUP! Pessimist maybe but I see a half empty cup.
And going lower like that cup's a sieve, she's gonna set us so far back it'll be primitive, and not like Bedrock but
rock hard to live, not a pretty picture just lots of negatives.
Categories:
cookbooks, america, patriotic, people, perspective,
Form:
Rhyme
You’ll do it yourself – the day after the doctor
said, “no heavy lifting.” And your husband
(dreaming again) insisted on a patriarchal turkey
like you always used to have, when he’d
handle the fowl part of Thanksgiving.
You fixed side-dishes; but cooking giblets,
stuffing the bird, making gravy – that was his
domain. You just stayed out of his way.
But this morning – 20 pounds of thawed raw
flesh in the sink – he swore he couldn’t
remember a thing about it, so it’s up to you.
Lifting down the great ceramic crock
from the top-shelf cabinet; mixing chunks
apple, celery, onion, mushroom, cornbread for
the stuffing… well why not, it’s up to you,
you have some cabbage in the fridge
that needs using, and cabbage has such a sweet-
peppery taste. Stuff the cavities, ease that
ponderous turkey onto its rack in the oven.
Three cookbooks spread out on the table, full
of theories on salting or not, stuffing
or not, how long at what temp… you’ll
just wing it. That’s how a bird gets through life.
Categories:
cookbooks, family, holiday,
Form:
Free verse
is it possible that i am doing this now
seems like just last lifetime i was eating cold french bread and just as cold lunch buckets in a parking lot
i think i still have the footprints on my chest that still feels cold to the touch
i remember my stomach expressing himself by saying an elongated 'OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH'
i thought about the copper
i thought about the other change
i thought about cookbooks and eating certain food a certain way to display my disbelief
now look at me....opening a suitcase
i am actually packing clothes in it
i am going to the car and putting said suitcase in the trunk of this here car
then i am going back inside....not to pack up my belongings....but to put another bag in the trunk
i am thinking about exits, snacks, coolers, and rest areas
once upon a time it was plasma, water, iron, and protein
i am another little person who has come a long way i guess
then again, little noah is healing from a hernia removal from his groin
hell, after his mother told about his ordeal, again i am humbled
i am moved to praise Him for myself and pray for little noah's full recovery
once again, my mind grows through another one of God's Left Field Lessons....
Categories:
cookbooks, growth, inspiration, introspection, prayer,
Form:
Free verse
I am a collector of cookbooks from every store,
I can never have enough I always need more.
Cookbooks with pretty food pictures galore,
I find them on every shore.
When I travel near and far,
I find a cookbook that is a real star.
With thousands of great recipes to cook,
How in the world do I just take one look?
Cookies are oh so sweet,
Much better than a red beet.
Maybe I need to look up meat,
We can add some cheese and let’s eat.
Maybe a salad will be healthy,
But I don’t think it will make me wealthy.
Hundreds of cookbooks are lined up in a row,
I hope they do not fall on my toe.
Now off to my kitchen to see what I will cook,
Should I read a cookbook for just one more look?
7/13/2019
Categories:
cookbooks, drink, family, food, friend,
Form:
Rhyme
"Books are uniquely portable magic."
Quote by _Stephen King
________________
Books, I love and seek them out in dusty places,
cookbooks, art, poetry and dictionaries of all kind;
in nooks and piles of books scattered and in tidy cases,
sketchbooks cobweb covered are such a great find !
Many appeal to me- while I go deeper wandering,
plenty are gathering in my "like" pile to purchase today;
any, I would love and so I am pondering and pondering,
twenty or so is a good number wouldn't you say !
Old pages once loved- yellowed, tattered I will save,
mould can be repaired so in my pile I keep placing;
gold leaf covers, I will keep you from a book grave,
thresholds of discovery - oh, why am I still pacing !
Wow, I better stop, because I have to get them home,
now, is the time for tough love and a decision;
oh, I CAN get them home- even the many large tome,
I cannot leave a single one- that is my decision !
___________________
March 8, 2021
Poetry/Rhyme/Used Books
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1334-915-08
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Bookshop
Sponsor, Kai Michael Neumann, Judged 03/18/2021
Submitted into the Premier contest, Your 2021 N-A Choice 2
sponsor, William Kekaula, Judged 05/03/2021
Seventh Place
Categories:
cookbooks, books,
Form:
Rhyme