Best Kitchen Poems
-Poetry Soup Kitchen-
Grab your aprons and spoon
Today we will not think of the stars and the moon,
Open your eyes, be grateful for all we have
Together we can paint the world
In any which way we desire
Let's give, live and celebrate the New Year
Poetry Soup Style
Happy New Year
2015
By:PD
Adventurous Asparagus
Edgy
Veggie
All over the Stove
Splatter
Matter
Don’t let Pa Find This
Risky
Whisky
Brother Got the Macaroni He Wanted
Dinner
Winner
The Hostess Treat that Hid in the Pantry Corner
Stinky
Twinky
Oops! Leftovers Two Weeks old
Fateful
Plateful
For Brian Strand's the 'ALL YOURS (Feb 23)' Poetry Contest
Hearts mangled by grief
Lost in separate mazes
Cooking a half-hearted meal
A turn of the head, a quick glance
Trembling hands reach out
Right hand in left, a gentle waltz
to sweet soul sounds on the radio
We danced in the kitchen
Then hold your baby tight
Hold your baby so tight crying song
Swaying to Harold Melvin and the Bluenotes
"If-you-don't-know-me-by-now"
Tear soaked necks and shoulders
Melting into each other
Melting and blending into one
We danced in the kitchen
Oh how we danced
How we danced to the moon
How we danced to the dawn
How we danced in the kitchen
Sweet Jesus let it be so
Let it be so again
Let the music play on
Let us dance one last song
Let us waltz one last waltz
Let us dance in the kitchen
A collaboration by Tania Kitchin, Lin Lane, Jan Allison and me that was inspired by Charles Messina's recent POTD.
It's a pooper scooper; that's what we need
But I doubt they will willingly concede
It'll take jury and judge
for those who refuse to budge
No matter how many of us agreed.
Cara never wrote an honest line
Her poems just stink, they're not sublime
They all just reek like poo
Should be flushed down the loo
Needs to stop stealing poems online
Ken was so ill, thought he had a bad flu
And freaked out when he saw his poo was blue
He went to have some tests,
Praying his bowels rest
Told he ate too many berries, who knew
Poor Tania's cat pooped on the floor
Then wiped it's butt on the loo door
It's too late in the night
To see this poopy sight
Cat faeces in house folk abhor!
She lets her dog out for a pee
When under a bush she can see
A skunk ready to spray
She gets her dog away
Phew! no skunk spray on poor Ziggy.
I suggest the site be fumigated
For some who need to read it translated...
"People who post their poop
Don't belong in our group"
Hope this current trend becomes abated.
In the past folks wrote their own poetry
On display for the whole wide world to see
But many are quite sly
Use robots and AI
It's cheating and reeks of dishonesty.
Written on 4th September 2026
Once our home was filled with love,
from God up above.
My kitchen had delicious foods cooking away,
as children played near by.
Many family and dear friends,
laughed and loved in my rooms of old.
One by one they went away,
all promising to come back someday.
My once pretty garden is now all weeds,
even the birds will not come near.
I'm A Forgotten Home,
I once was filled with love.
It's been 9 days since I've posted in PS because of being needed by my sister. She's progressing, but very slowly. Thank you to those who've expressed your concern and offered prayers for her recovery. My granddaughter is over her crisis.
I've had little time or desire to peek into PS, but from what I've seen and been told, not only is AI rampant but plagiarism has returned. I ask you, poets... which do you consider to be the bigger offender?
A poet's voice will not be drowned out in obscurity
when from our conscience thoughts it is displayed.
But when the soup is riddled with AI cheating
and plagiarism, it's rancidly sour with impurities.
No surge of waves will stop a poet's ink from flowing
nor will gusting tempest winds cast their pens away.
It's the deep desire to write that all of us are owing
to the need of words seeking escape from the mind.
Those of us who write from heart and soul...
yes, that sounds like an overused cliche,' but AI
poetry is just a click away, written by machines
and plagiarists steal it from another source...
posting it as their own. It's demeaning to the Soup,
or as Jan would say, "It's nothing more than poop!"
I would like to think the community is worth saving
but I've seen no signs of that taking place.
Indifference is not the attitude anyone should take.
If the site matters, clean it up... for goodness sake.
Leave your thoughts in comments if you're craving
a say and I'll respond when I can from a hospital room.
None of us should take for granted a single day of life
or our family and friendships for we are not immune
to life threatening issues that always take precedence
over everything else beneath the glowing haloed moon.
Chef 's Winter dishes are simply delicious, not too much oil or cream.
Rich or plain, taste tested to perfection, tiny portions sometimes steamed
He starts the day with freshly squeezed orange juice,coffee and toast.
And embarks on a fitness journey along the seaside in Adelaide.
Today he is going to create a seafood bisque inspired by his walk.
This morning whilst walking along the beach he noticed the outgoing
Tide and outlet left a long groove with definite honeycombe indentations
snaking parallel to the shore for a distance near a giant swirly starfish.
From an aerial perspective it looked like a Christo dragon , hardened ripples
representing the scales and the sometimes swirling patterns here and there
where the giant Sea-dragon moved, slithered or shifted about in the sand .
The Sea-Dragon must have laid there for some time before he disappeared
as his scales were deeply impressed and clearly embossed in the firm sand.
A clear body of water flowed in the center of this outlet echoing the scales
shimmering and gleaming with sunlight smoothly on the groove's surface.
Upon seeing this ,Chef etched it in his memory and began to mentally gather
ingredients for his creation.How could he give his bisque the dragon flavour?
Grilling the whiting, prawns and scallops with butter laced with honey , chilli,
cardamon + crushed nuts , garlic, a dash of brandy.......
then adding chicken stock , lime , thyme ,cracked pepper , rock sea salt and
finally pureeing the lot with a splash of coconut milk.
Man in Kitchen
So this is it, this place I’ve never been
I wander in and find it’s kept pristine
So this is where she disappears
And later on the food appears
Ah well! I’ll have to do my best
I think I’ll try that chicken breast
All I have to do right now
Is figure out the where and how
Unsuccessful, heaven knows
Why these things come all froze
But of one thing now I’m sure
There’s nothing for me in that drawer
Boiled potatoes, that sounds nice
Maybe with a pan of rice
Doors are banging, pans are flying
She can’t say that I’m not trying, hah
How much rice should I whack in
Sod it, shove the whole pack in
In the pan the waters pouring
This cookery I’m am so exploring
Pans are bubbling, all seems well
I’m creating such sweet smell
Now I see the rice exploding
And potatoes are imploding
This is harder than I thought
An easy meal I tried to sort
All my efforts are now gloop
So think I’ll fill on poetrysoup
Later on that night she says
Lets move the earth in many ways
Sorry dear, tonight no quakes
I have one of your headaches
Richard D Seal
11 March 2013
Mums Kitchen.
If I went back to the house of my childhood days,
I'm sure I'd see mum in the kitchen, as my eyes start to glaze.
Busily moving pots and pans from the stove to the sink,
I would hold onto that vision afraid just to blink.
Her blue and white apron all covered in flour,
preparing food and baking hour after hour.
Just hand written notes, no need for a recipe book,
Things made so many times she'd barely need to look.
I would sit at the table and into the kitchen I'd stare,
watching mum work away making such delectable fare.
The aroma's and smells that would waft through the house,
I'd breathe deeply and pretend that they entered my mouth.
There would be pasties laid on and the apple pie of your dream,
lamingtons, jelly cakes both all covered in cream.
cloud soft sponge cakes and chocolate chip bickies,
Mum made cooking look easy but was really quite tricky.
Mum would bring me some tea and load up a plate,
I wouldn't care about sugar or worry about weight.
Eating to my fill and my mouth gets the drools,
Then I would say, "Mum, your kitchen rules".
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh I’ve got a secret to tell
I’ll whisper it to you; as I don’t like to yell
I’ve discovered a monster living in my house
It’s very very quiet, as quiet as a mouse
The biscuit tin is empty, not even a single crumb
Yet the packet was brand new, not even undone
All the chocolate is gone, oh what can I do
If I find the culprit I’ll bid him adieu
He invades my fridge when I’m not looking
I’ve not poisoned him yet as he survives my cooking
A miracle has happened since my son returned to university
I’ve not had to keep the kitchen cupboards under lock and key
10~12~14
Contest: Monsters and Marvels
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
~awarded 4th place~
When at home its often fast food I crave,
might even be leftovers that I saved,
always in a race,
open and shut case,
thank God for my nuke everything microwave!
12-20-16
Inspired By T Rex 'Hot Love'
Well she's his woman of gold
She won't do as she's told
A ha ha
She's his woman of gold
She shouldn't be so bold
When her hands are that cold
A ha ha
She casts her spell like a witch
She's not wearing a stitch
A ha ha
She casts her spell like a witch
She's not wearing a stitch
A ha ha
She really knows how to love
in her marigold gloves
A ha ha .
Well I’m faster than most and I cook a mean roast
A ha ha
Well I’m faster than most but I still burn the toast
A ha ha
In my sexy purple nightie I look rather flighty
A ha ha
Well she aint no witch
but she sure makes me twitch
a ha ha
Well she aint no witch
but she makes my life rich
A ha ha
I'm her two cent prince
and I give her hot love
A ha ha
ow ow hmmm
La la la la la la la
Oooh ooh the things she can make me do
Oooh ooh She can lay me down
A ha ha
La la la la la la la
ooooh oooh oooh
La la la
17th May 2014
By Jan Allison & Darren Watson
I was dancing and prancing
And singing whooped Dee Dee
Not realizing I was not alone
Until he opened his shirt to me
He threw out the mayo, some jam and some jelly, a real hoot.
I caught the chocolate milk in midair, he was dancing up a toot.
He laughed and winked and some ice fell down his crushed ice shoot
He was a rascal, a scoundrel and a womanizer to boot.
I have never seen a dishwasher who can move like you
he said holding out his hands.
The oven, his furious ex, reddened her burners and threw out some pots and pans.
We laughed and we swirled and we boogied and we dipped.
She threw out ovenware but The frig and I ducked every one.
I shut his door, so we could dance up a storm.
Refrigerator boogie was so exciting and fun!
Dishwashers are reputed to be the best dancers around,
And I was confident as we twirled, we were breaking brand new ground
The ovens burners were blood red now, the kitchen was like a Sauna.
I blew him a kiss and whirled away giving him back to his ex, so sound.
As they trotted through the the kitchen, laughing, their sensors lit,
I danced around them with a loud dishwasher's whoop Dee Dee
Now whenever the three of us decide to liven the kitchen a bit,
We dance cheek to cheek, and throw sauce pans, the wild three!
Kitchen Dancing
For Joshua
He swirls into the kitchen with a grin on his face.
His favourite song plays on the radio.
Hips and shoulders move to the rhythm.
This is my own private show.
His body moves fast; he almost loses balance.
His pre-adolescent legs getting longer every day.
He grabs my arms and raises them above my head.
We twist about together, socks on tile floor.
Laughing and breathless we dance until it ends.
He hugs me tight before he dashes off quicker than he arrived.
Him back to his games and me making his dinner.
A once daily ritual now less frequent than before.
My little boy is growing up, soon a little boy no more.
As I sit awhile at my kitchen window
And float weightless in the pond yonder
What if you and I were those geese?
My unmoored thoughts always wander.
Basking in the sprawling lap of nature
Soaking in curative warm sun’s rays
Waiting and looking out for each other
Turning our necks with easy natural grace
Me,following keenly your step and wade
Wanting nothing but your presence
Enamored with the haven of your gaze
Pure love-my life’s sole essence
On water, land or the limitless air
We could float away on our whim
And when furry goslings came along
We could teach them how to swim
Adrift,away in my mystical island
“Beep!” ,beckons broccoli in the oven rack
Naked cold of granite bites me hard
And once again reality snatches me back.
Written 05/19/2016 for Nayda Ivette Negron's contest "Reality"