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The Unemployed
It was dark when I got home
Back from another frustrating day of job hunting
My wife was in the kitchen preparing tea
I could hear soccer fans on TV.
I had tea in silence;
Presence lost to one of those frustrating days
of present and clear danger,
redundancies, unemployment, credit crunch…
what a wasted day; I thought,
I could feel my wife watching me through my minds eye
Reading all the frustration through the lines on my fore head.
Things will be fine', she said;
I know', I mumbled
Honestly, I don’t
I finished my tea,
Hustled my used frame to the kitchen to wash up
As the house rules stipulates
Looking through the kitchen window
I watched as snowflakes falls from the sky
Each makes up a piece of a puzzle
In time, the garden was carpeted in white
Amazing; I mused
Just like a good poem.
poem by Chika Nwokeoma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Too Many Cooks In The Kitchen
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Theres too many minds on the job
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Everybody wants a piece of the action
Cooking the books and getting their fractions wrong
What we need is law and order
Everybody knows
Cant have chiefs without the injuns
Stepping on their toes
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Theres too many daps in the pie
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Everybody needs a place in the rat race
Playing games of power, its only a cat chase
Too many too many too many etc.
Too many cooks in the kitchen
[by the colonel]
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pick It Up Or Be Gone
Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Don't try to imitate,
Homemade cake.
Oh no.
And don't ever try to duplicate,
A delicious taste.
Or...
Butter up faked mashed potatos.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Pick it up or be gone.
Oooow.
Pick it up or be gone.
Yeah.
Pick it up or be gone.
Now...
Pick it up or be gone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mother Of Babies!
The society has retired and placed me in front of Television,
What I have, is the memory of the working life, glory and pain,
The spouse of mine reminds me of the shrunken apple,
The hazing sight, dreamy eyes that look to the doors knobs,
All of a sudden she has got up at the arrival of the kids',
Drives to the market to pick up the best for their favorite dish,
The giggling and laughing from the kitchen echo,
through otherwise silent and abundant ‘walls and curtains',
The moving of glasses, plates, bowls and happy minds,
The opening and closing of micro wave oven of,
Past year's stories to the updat of the current events,
The baking of sweet fragrant vanilla cakes and pies,
The mother and the children at the kitchen, living room,
Prayer room and even in their bed rooms,
I, as usual mind my business of tending of garden and the home,
The house becomes quiet again, when the working children leave,
When I ask my suddenly bloomed wife of two days,
To bring a glass of water, she turns and looks at me,
Oh! that shrunken apple! She tells she is too tired,
Oh! My children! Please tell me the secrets with no frills,
What do you have to make my wife so happy and thrilled?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alankar (Decor) -30
Kitchen clash (Double Rondeau)
How difficult it is to cook
In hot summer how a wife to cook
'Take rest, shall buy food from outside'
He says with concern on her side
Wife is happy she need not cook
Happy so life runs like a brook
Variety food, pleased they look
Seasoned hot, they know kitchen's stride
How difficult
Time in hand changed is her outlook
Changed is also her old cook-look
Styleless to stylish in set glide
Makes her new with glow to her pride
She can speak on her strife to cook
How difficult
How difficult but back a cook?
Daughter visits with siren look
There, stirs in dad's heart a high tide
Sneaks'cooking has been set aside
These days mom does not at all cook'
Enough for her to word and hook
Daughter counsels mom back to cook
To be in shifty husband's stride
How difficult!
Luck is but a wheel in life-book
So such a wife can't overlook
And mom vows never to abide
Honeyed words but put them aside
Blamed wife telling herself 'to cook
How difficult! '
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hope That I Get Old Before I Die
Sometimes I feel like being wispy
And once in a while I feel like being dry
But we're doomed and we're drowned by this feeling we surround
So I hope that I get old before I die
It's a long, long rope they use to hang you soon I hope
And I wonder why this hasn't happened
Why why why
And I think about the dirt that I'll be wearing for a shirt
And I hope that I get old before I die
Clear off the kitchen table darling
For on the kitchen table I must lie
I'm just tired for my wife just served the banquet of my life
And I hope that I get old before I die
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rat In Mi Kitchen
(chorus)
There's a rat in me kitchen what am I gonna do?
There's a rat in me kitchen what am I gonna go?
I'm gonna fix that rat thats what i'm gonna do,
I'm gonna fix that rat.
When you open your mouth you don't talk, you shout
And you give every body the blame,
But when they catch you up,
They will shut you up
And you got no one to blame
(chorus)
There's a rat in me kitchen ........
When you out on the street,
You practice lies and deceipt
And you scandalize my name
But when I catch you up
I'm gonna pull you up
I'm gonna check-out inside your brain
(chorus)
There's a rat in me kitchen .......
When yo deh pon the scene,
You make everyone scream
Because they know your so unjust
But when they catch you up
They will kick you up
Because you someone they cannot trust
(chorus)
There's a rat in me kitchen .......
You invade my space
Make me feel disgraced
And you just don't give a damn
If I had my way
If I had my say
I'd like to see you hang
(chorus)
There's a rat in me kitchen .....
(repeat chorus and fade)
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The trouble with my wife is that she is a whore in the kitchen and a cook in the bed.
quote by Geoffrey Gorer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Teacher's Beloved Wife
Adam was alone without Eve,
She became the source of his joy,
Not all, but known by a few,
Women's real ornament is to coy,
Marriage is the solution of many evils,
That also our requirements fulfills.
The lady is simple by her art,
She is my dear teacher's lovely wife,
Talks sincerly and laughs at heart,
That has come here leading a new life,
In kitchen, she'll be a good cook,
But in herself is a living book.
Regarding my teacher's Mr. Akmal Nazir's wife.
poem by Mohammad Muzzammil
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come on in My Kitchen
You better come on into my kitchen,
Cause its sure to be raining outdoors.
When a womans in trouble,
Everybody puts her down
She look for her good man,
Lord he cant be found.
You better come on
Into my kitchen,
Cause its going to be raining outdoors.
Theres a cold wind blowin,
Leaves tremblin on the trees,
Dont you know that that good girl
Ya shes leaving me.
You better come on
Into my kitchen,
Cause its going to be raining outdoors.
The woman Ive been lovin
Left with my best friend,
That joker got lucky,
Stole her back again.
You better come on
Into my kitchen,
Cause its going to be raining outdoors.
Well that good girls leaving,
She aint coming back,
Took her last nickel from her notion sack
You better come on
Into my kitchen,
Cause its going to be raining outdoors.
Mamas dead and gone,
Fathers no wheres to be,
I aint got nobody
To love and care for me.
You better come on
Into my kitchen,
Cause its going to be raining outdoors.
Yes, its going to be raining outdoors.
Yes, its going to be raining outdoors.
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band, music by Robert Johnson (1978)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Made Okay To Do It Your Way
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.
You complained,
That you couldn't take the weight.
And a waiting too late makes it okay.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sex In The Kitchen
Girl you're in the kitchen
Cooking me a meal
Something makes me wanna come in there and get a feel
Walk around in your t-shirt
Nothing else on
Strutting pass, switching that ass while I'm on the phone
Cutting up tomatoes, fruits and vegetables and potatoes
Girl, you look so sexy while you're doing the damn thang
I want
Sex in the kitchen over by the stove
Put you on the counter by the buttered rolls
Hands on the table, on your tippy toes
We'll be making love like the restaurant was closed
How would you like it, baby
(How would you like that?)
Tell me right now pretty baby
Hey man, I'm gon call you back
Girl you're in the kitchen, chillin in your robe
I'm saying to myself she better go put on some clothes
Tickling and teasing
Doing that little dance
Girl, you gon make me lay you down and give it to you one mo 'gain
[Chorus 2x]
Girl I'm ready to toss your salad
While I'm making love, I'll be feasting
Girl you're in the kitchen
Sweating up a storm
The oven's on 500
So you know the kitchen's warm
Girl you know just how to get into a brother's mind
Cause here we are still in this kitchen
Doing it for the third time
[Chorus (fades out)]
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Kitchen
The bosom of her virginity is all about this story,
And of a woman portrayed upon the walls of hope;
But like the horsemen riding upon their horses,
The kitchen is where you do cook your food.
I am not an African woman and,
I am not your African wife!
But the kitchen is there for you to cook,
So do not wrap up your nakedness in the wings of my mind.
Blow the ram's horn to understand this poem,
And take a walk along the coast of love to understand my mind;
For i am in the deep steep of love with a pupil of sin,
And she is not an African woman.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home
Favourite chair by the fire,
daily paper in your hand.
Children’s voices from the hall.
Cat curled up on your lap.
Wife in the kitchen cooking tea.
Home, the place you always want to be.
Eye lids are heavy,
after a long days work.
Relaxation is only a substitute for sleep.
The wistful words of your wife,
penetrate your drowsy mind.
Home is where the heart is,
a place of peace of mind.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whipping Something In My Kitchen
When the Sun wakes me up.
And it is at the crack of dawn?
I feel it appropriate,
On some days...
To lay in bed and enjoy it my way.
Using the mind all the time,
Is a 'burning-out-of-mind' doer.
And I had been done...
To be 'done' to do that over again!
With a winning of 'anything' as a destination.
I longer deliver to myself those messages.
When the Sun wakes me up.
And it is at the crack of dawn?
I feel it appropriate,
On some days...
To lay in bed and enjoy it my way.
And do nothing but...
Whatever I wish.
And do nothing but...
Nibble a bit.
And do nothing but...
Chip and dip!
If I'm not whipping up,
Something in the kitchen.
Or do nothing but...
Whatever I wish.
And do nothing but...
Nibble a bit.
And do nothing but...
Chip and dip!
If I'm not whipping up,
Something in the kitchen.
Using the mind all the time,
Is a 'burning-out-of-mind' doer.
And I had been done...
To be 'done' to do that over again!
With a 'I Have To Win' attitude.
I longer deliver to myself those messages.
When the Sun wakes me up.
And it is at the crack of dawn?
I feel it appropriate,
On some days...
To lay in bed and enjoy it my way.
And do nothing but...
Whatever I wish.
And do nothing but...
Nibble a bit.
And do nothing but...
Chip and dip!
If I'm not whipping up,
Something in the kitchen.
Or do nothing but...
Whatever I wish.
And do nothing but...
Nibble a bit.
And do nothing but...
Chip and dip!
If I'm not whipping up,
Something in the kitchen.
I wish you could see me whipping something in my kitchen.
I wish you could see me whipping something in my kitchen.
I wish you could see me whipping something in my kitchen.
I wish you could see me.
I wish you could see me,
I wish you could see me whipping something in my kitchen.
I wish you could see me whipping something in my kitchen.
I wish you could see me whipping something in my kitchen.
I wish you could see me.
I wish you could see me,
I wish you could see me whipping something in my kitchen.
I wish you could see me whipping something in my kitchen.
I wish you could see me whipping something in my kitchen.
I wish you could see me.
I wish you could see me,
Right now!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sex In The Kitchen (remix)
Girl, you're in the kitchen
Cooking me a meal
Something makes me wanna come in there and get a feel
Walk around in your t-shirt
Nothing else on
Strutting past, switching that ass while I'm on the phone
Cutting up tomatoes, fruits and vegetables and potatoes
Girl, you look so sexy while you're doing the damn thang that
I want
Sex in the kitchen, over by the stove
Put you on the counter by the buttered rolls
Hands on the table, on your tippy toes
We'll be making love like the restaurant was closed
How would you like it, baby
(would you like that)
Tell me right now, pretty baby
Hey man, I'm gon' call you back
Girl, you're in the kitchen, chillin' in your robe
I'm saying to myself, "She better go put on some clothes"
Tickling and teasing, doing that little dance
Girl, you gon' make me lay you down
And give it to you one mo 'gain
[chorus 2x]
Girl, I'm ready to toss your salad
While I'm making love, I'll be feasting
Girl, you're in the kitchen
Sweating up a storm
The oven's on five hundred
So you know the kitchen's warm
Girl, you know just how to get into a brother's mind
Cause here we are still in this kitchen
Doing it for the third time
[chorus till fade]
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He who does not pick up a pin cares nothing for his wife.
Wife- better half of life
Wife is the better half of life
Give wife love affection as soul-mate
Wife is not glorified maid as said
Wife do not want money salary honorarium
Do not make hulla gulla and do not beat drum.
Mian bibi relationship should not be commercialized
Third party intervention in family relation vandalized.
Wife is not a domestic labourer
Wife is backbone of the family
The maile stone of the family
Wife is the torchlight of the family
Wife is the colorful star
Do no put any question to her.
Wife is there to give everything
Wife is not to take anything in return
Wife is the goddess.
Only mad man can say wife is a domestic servant
Make wife a wife life-partner better half
And enjoy life freely.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Third Of July
It was the third of july on a cool cloudy sky
I set in for a storm in the makin
I relaxed as I sat up in our three room flat
While my wife was in the kitchen bakin
Thoughts passed through my mind of no special kind
Like faces that look like the others
Tomorrow they say is independence day
And I guess Ill go eat at my brothers
I believe that a thought has just gotten caught
In a place where words cant surround it
It concerns the years past and the shadows they cast
And my path as I walk around it.
It was the third of july on a cool cloudy sky
I set in for a storm in the makin
I relaxed as I sat up in our three room flat
While my wife was in the kitchen bakin
Thoughts passed through my mind of no special kind
Like faces that look like the others
Tomorrow they say is independence day
And I guess Ill go eat at my brothers
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you want a fine wife, don't pick her on a Sunday.