Short Utensil Poems
Short Utensil Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Utensil by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Utensil by length and keyword.
Childhood comes to an end when you go from crayons to the pen
*In this case, pen can mean writing utensil or penitentiary.
Best way to stop being a large dork
Put that utensil down, named your fork!
5/16/2021
Secret Love
Another Forking Poem
Shhhhhh... my precious love,
silver, long, hard, utensil
provider, of food.
by, Martin Braun
July 12, 2023
A professor has published his thesis
On removal of impacted faeces
Use the end of a pencil
Or a kitchen utensil
to dislodge clumps of faeces in pieces!
Told you it was a crap poem!
05/14/20
Wok
Main utensil
In kitchen
Fry and steam
All the food
The family eats
Meat and fish fry
All types of vegetables
Add a little oil
Fast stir fry cooking
There are tons of recipes
Oriental dishes are so famous
For generations, it is tradition
Many favorites can be cooked
Right in your own kitchen.
Your special mushroom soup is brewing.
The witches were cackling.
And giving me funny looks.
You are our taste-tester
The oldest, toothless one said.
I readily nodded.
Thinking they would have to
release me from these well-tied ropes
so I could hold a utensil.
Not realizing they aimed
to spoon feed me.
My mistake.
Woven into the fibers of every rug
Burnished in the grains of hardwood floors
Shining in the panes of sunlit windows
Carved into great oaken doors
Gleaming in newly polished silver chalice
A recipe of love, a woman's dearest wish
In the pride of her kitchen, aglow on each utensil
Baked into her every dinner's dish
GRAMMAR ALWAYS RULES
If if and and were pots or pans
There would be fewer conjunctions
But when because or some such word
Was changed into utensil it became absurd
For although since the demise of if and and
There have been no other losses grand
Nevertheless, heretofore, notwithstanding
The loss, we must retain our conjunctioning
"Happy Birthday to you!"
As the last bars are sung
the cake is brought out
13 candles shinning
on top waiting to be
wished upon.
With one wind sweep
the candles no longer
gleam. And with one
downward motion
of a sharp, silver utensil,
the cake is cut into
many slices.
The cake is gone
in one glup. Presents
of many shapes,
sizes, and colors
are brought out
and opened carefully.
It's a lovely
13th birthday.
Form:
Woven into the fibers of every rug
Burnished in the grains of hardwood floors
Shining in the panes of sun-lit windows
Carved in stately oaken doors
Gleaming in newly polished silver chalice
A recipe of love, a woman's dearest wish
The sparkle of her kitchen, aglow on each utensil
Baked into her every dinner's dish
Originally posted December 11, 2019
CV-19 environs seem to make this
poem even more relevant.
You taunt me with your golden glow
But, a leaden heart lurks below.
A wooden tomb of future lore
Heroes and dragons enslaved in your core.
You taunt me with your golden glow
But, red-tipped error is all you show.
Just scribbles and scratches between each lull
The magic locked up when you’re sharp or dull.
You taunt me with your golden glow
But, I should not blame you. I already know.
You cannot be more than a simple utensil
You’re no creative muse. You’re only a pencil.