You must contrive to bake with the flour you have.
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The Fury Of Cooks
Herbs, garlic,
cheese, please let me in!
Souffles, salad,
Parker House rolls,
please let me in!
Cook Helen,
why are you so cross,
why is your kitchen verboten?
Couldn't you just teach me
to bake a potato,
to bake a potato,
that charm,
that young prince?
No! No!
This is my county!
You shout silently.
Couldn't you just show me
the gravy. How you drill it out
of the stomach of that bird?
Helen, Helen,
let me in,
let me feel the flour,
is it blinding and frightening,
this stuff that makes cakes?
Helen, Helen,
the kitchen is your dog
and you pat it
and love it
and keep it clean.
But all these things,
all these dishes of things
come through the swinging door
and I don't know from where?
Give me some tomato aspic, Helen!
I don't want to be alone.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Bread Hair
Im a wigged-out daddy with bread on top
I dig an easy-bake granny with a whiskey mop
If you love me, you neednt the whole wheat crop
cause they had a useless battle andll never stop
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Youre drivin all my hope away
Im a pumpernickel-do for you, dough you do
Use a yarmulka of hallah bread if youre a jew
I belong to cayope*, I be the wheat for you
Yeast and flour, bake an hour, its annoying shampoo
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Drivin all my hope away
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Youre drivin all my hope away
Thats a gone rug, buddy
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take Your Life Off Pause
If you hesitate to bake it,
You or anyone will get to taste the cake.
Why is there a procrastination?
What is it you await to negotiate?
You will never know how that cake is rated.
Or even worthy of debate.
If you hestitate to bake it,
Pointless becomes the time wasted.
Take your life off pause,
Because you're seeking first to appease.
Take your life off pause,
Add to your life flavor.
Don't be afraid to dip into mystique.
Take your life off pause and bake it.
Take your life off pause and bake that cake.
Take your life off pause don't you fake it.
Take your life off pause don't wait too late.
Take your life off pause.
And...
Eliminate those tightened jaws.
You will never know how that cake is rated.
Or even worthy of debate.
If you hestitate to bake it,
Pointless is the time you waste.
Take your life off pause!
Bake and taste it.
And...
Take your life off pause.
Why negotiate?
Take your life off pause!
Bake and taste it.
And...
Take your life off pause.
Don't wait too late.
Take your life off pause!
Bake and taste it.
And...
Take your life off pause.
There is no need to debate.
Take your life off pause and bake it.
Take your life off pause and bake that cake.
Take your life off pause don't you fake it.
Take your life off pause don't wait too late.
Take your life off pause.
And...
Eliminate those tightened jaws.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From Seats to Feet
A style that brings the people,
From seats to feet...
Is something that isn't easily done.
Especially if more than a few are pleased.
This is a skill of a master,
Unmasked.
And more than any other,
Who has crafted a task.
And it...
Takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
It takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
Yes it,
Takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
To whip a cake to taste takes more than a...
Shake and bake!
A style that brings the people,
From seats to feet...
Is something that isn't easily done.
This is a skill of a master,
Unmasked.
And more than any other,
Who has crafted a task.
And it...
Takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
It takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
Yes it,
Takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
To whip a cake to taste takes more than a...
Shake and bake!
No need to ask a master what is the task.
When people move from seats to feet,
They've been razz-a-ma-tazzed.
And it...
Takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
It takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
Yes it,
Takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
To whip a cake to taste takes more than a...
Shake and bake!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of A Baker - Originally By The Small Faces
Theres wheat in the field
And water in the stream
And salt in the mine
And an aching in me
I can no longer stand and wonder
cos Im driven by this hunger
So Ill jug some water
Bake some flour
Store some salt and wait the hour
While Im thinking of love
Love is thinking for me
And the baker will come
And the baker Ill be
I am depending on my labour
The texture and the flavour
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Making It Real
Making it real,
Is like a good meal...
One gets to taste.
In a moment that can not be replaced,
When making it real.
Makin it real,
And using all...
Ingredients.
Gives a joy as if this is heaven sent.
When making it real.
Making it real,
Is a feeling no one can ever rate.
And those exposed,
Will appreciate...
The taste of what is real.
Making it real...
Shake it up before you bake it.
And using all ingredients.
Shake it then you bake it.
Gives a joy,
As if heaven sent.
When making it real.
Shake it up before you bake it.
Making it real,
Is like a good meal...
One gets to taste.
In a moment that can not be replaced,
When making it real.
Making it real...
Shake it up before you bake it.
And using all ingredients.
Shake it then you bake it.
Gives a joy,
As if heaven sent.
When making it real.
Shake it up before you bake it.
When making it real.
Shake it up before you bake it.
When making it real.
Shake it up before you bake it.
When making it real.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If You Bake It
If you bake it...
So hard it is to then look for escapes.
To create.
If you bake it...
It is easier to face it than to fake.
What you have baked.
People know a flavor,
And the origin of scent...
If you bake it,
To create.
And if you bake it...
So hard it is to then look for escapes.
To create.
People know a flavor,
And the origin of scent...
If you bake it,
To create.
If you bake it...
It is easier to face it than to fake.
What you have baked.
If you bake it...
It doesn't make a difference if you're naked.
You can't even fake it,
If you're naked.
And if you baked it...
It doesn't make a difference if you're naked.
You can't even fake it,
If you're naked.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Man’s God’s Vessel of Special Make!
God doesn’t allow us problems, we can’t take;
He won’t abandon us nor us forsake;
Accept your yoke and cross for Lord Christ’s sake;
But be alert, righteous, always awake!
‘Take up your cross and follow me! ’ Christ spake;
Let Tempter’s craftiness come in our wake;
No crocodile can harm us in a lake;
Though clay vessel, we are God’s special make.
Let sufferings come, travail and pain or ache;
We cannot eat as well as keep the cake;
Why mix more flour, if we can’t surely bake?
The Holy Spirit shows us what is fake!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-11-2010
poem by John Celes
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Recipe For Chocolate Chip Cookies
Chocolate Chip Cookies
¾ cup sugar
¾ cup packed brown sugar
1 cup butter, softened
2 large eggs, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
¾ teaspoon salt
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips
Preheat oven to 375 degrees
Get a large bowl for
¾ cup of sugar
¾ cup of packed brown sugar
1 cup of softened butter
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
And 2 large beaten eggs
Mix by hand in large
Get a small bowl for
2 ¼ cups all- purpose flour
1 teaspoon of baking soda
And ¾ teaspoon of salt
Stir all ingredients together in large bowl
Drop dough in rounded tablespoonfuls
On to ungreased cookie sheet
Bake the cookies 8 to 10 minutes
Or until light brown
Remove from cookie sheet
And then enjoy
poem by Kelsey Isham
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Lemon Cake
The radio plays
Sunny afternoon, it's The Kinks
She's in the kitchen, cooking.
All chaos reigns,
flour, butter, mixing bowls
her, trying to make lemon cake.
She sings loudly
as chefs do in restaurants,
cafes and bakery shops.
It's a lemon cake
like her ma' used to bake
She sings loudly
and the radio's blares,
the telephone rings
and the dog barks.
The neighbour, next door,
throws her watering can about
in protest of the racket.
Fresh lemons fill the air
as I watch from the cat basket
my whiskers twitching
fur bristling, back arched
my eyes -
on the cat flap.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Sonnet- What’s Life Truth?
The Sun bestows its light during the day;
The Moon's mirror reflects the same at night;
In life, we learn to give others some way;
Or help others see life in God's true light.
In life, we give others more than we take;
Mind you, we bring nothing with us at birth;
The flour God gives determines what we bake,
And when we cease, we go to Mother Earth.
Why slog all life to earn a wealth we leave?
'Tis wiser sharing it with those who live;
The yarn of life decides fabric we weave;
'Tis wise to take lesser and more to give.
True happiness on earth is when we give,
Our excess wealth to men, struggling to live.
poem by John Celes
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American Made
Give me some antiseptic
To wash this headache away
Give me a syringe
To inject the pain
Give me something pretty I hope I'll never be
I'd rather be creepy and very strange
Give me a cake that I can mix and bake
In a Betty Crocker oven that I will break
Bake it up and we will
Stab Stab Stab
Come on
song performed by by Jack Off Jill from Sexless Demons And Scars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gobi Manchurian
Remember you are not living for eating only
To change taste you may take this.
This chinese cuisine would be ready
With in fortyfive minutes.
You are the starter and
This is yours main course.
You can take the ingredients
Like couliflower plain flour
Corn flour spring onion ginger
Garlic salt soya sauce green chilli
Tomato ketup oil water.
Preparation method to taste.
Make experiments in this
Revolutionary new way.
Remember you are not living
Only for eating.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Rock Me Baby
(b.b. king, j. josea)
Producers: chris lord-aldge, tina turner and roger davies
Album: whats love got to do with it (94)
Rock me baby, rock me all night long
I said I want you to
Rock me baby, rock me all night long
I want you to rock me like my back aint got no bones
Roll me daddy like you roll your flour dough
Want you to
Roll me daddy like you roll your flour dough
I want you to roll me till I wont no more
When you see me coming go get your rockin chair
When you see me coming go get your rockin chair
I want you to rock me, rock me away from here
Rock me baby, rock me all night long
I said I want you to
Rock me baby, rock me all night long
I want you to rock me like my back aint got no bones
Roll me daddy like you roll your flour dough
I said I want you to
Roll me daddy like you roll your flour dough
I want you to roll me till I wont no more
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the Breadline
In the baked dough of flour, water and yeast
they were chatting merrily while baking.
The robust baker listens; ' flour said' I was in a big field
and then after the crop they took me to a mill and they grind.
Water laughed and said' I don't know where I have come from? '.
Yeast said 'I was a fungus dear; not only in the bakery
in the brewery too a good demand for us.
I heard that they make bread, cake and so many varieties out of us.
Our price goes high everyday and a poor cannot afford.'
History says; Marie.Antoinette said to the poor
'if you cannot eat bread then why don't you try cake? '
And the following day they invaded the fortress Bastile.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Frying Pan's Theology
Shock-headed blackfellow,
Boy (on a pony).
Snowflakes are falling
Gentle and slow,
Youngster says, "Frying Pan
What makes it snow?"
Frying Pan, confident,
Makes the reply --
"Shake 'im big flour bag
Up in the sky!"
"What! when there's miles of it?
Surely that's brag.
Who is there strong enough
Shake such a bag?"
"What parson tellin' you,
Ole Mister Dodd,
Tell you in Sunday-School?
Big pfeller God!
"Him drive 'im bullock dray,
Then thunder go;
Him shake 'im flour bag --
Tumble down snow!"
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Contemplative Sentry
When all night long a chap remains
On sentry-go, to chase monotony
He exercises of his brains,
That is, assuming that he's got any.
Though never nurtured in the lap
Of luxury, yet I admonish you,
I am an intellectual chap,
And think of things that would astonish you.
I often think it's comical
How Nature always does contrive
That every boy and every gal,
That's born into the world alive,
Is either a little Liberal,
Or else a little Conservative!
Fal lal la!
When in that house M.P.'s divide,
If they've a brain and cerebellum, too,
They've got to leave that brain outside,
And vote just as their leaders tell 'em to.
But then the prospect of a lot
Of statesmen, all in close proximity,
A-thinking for themselves, is what
No man can face with equanimity.
Then let's rejoice with loud Fal lal
That Nature wisely does contrive
That every boy and every gal,
That's born into the world alive,
Is either a little Liberal,
Or else a little Conservative!
Fal lal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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The Flour Bin
By Lawson's Hill, near Mudgee,
On old Eurunderee –
The place they called "New Pipeclay",
Where the diggers used to be –
On a dreary old selection,
Where times were dry and thin,
In a slab and shingle kitchen
There stood a flour bin.
'Twas "ploorer" with the cattle,
'Twas rust and smut in wheat,
'Twas blight in eyes and orchards,
And coarse salt-beef to eat.
Oh, how our mothers struggled
Till eyes and brain were dull –
Oh, how our fathers slaved and toiled
To keep those flour bins full!
We've been in many countries,
We've sailed on many seas;
We've travelled in the steerage
And lived on land at ease.
We've seen the world together
Through laughter and through tears –
And not been far from baker's bread
These five and thirty years.
The flats are green as ever,
The creeks go rippling through;
The Mudgee Hills are showing
Their deepest shades of blue;
Those mountains in the distance
That ever held a charm
Are fairer than a picture
As seen from Cox's farm.
On a German farm by Mudgee,
That took long years to win,
On the wide bricked back verandah
There stands a flour bin;
And the dear old German lady –
Though the bakers' carts run out –
Still keeps a "fifty" in it
Against a time of drought.
It was my father made it,
It stands as good as new,
And of the others like it
There still remain a few.
God grant, when drought shall strike us,
The young will "take a pull",
And the old folk their strength anew
To keep those flour bins full.
poem by Henry Lawson
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I don't think you can contrive any sound.
quote by George Shearing
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet XIII:The light that rises from your feet to your hair
The light that rises from your feet to your hair,
the strength enfolding your delicate form,
are not mother of pearl, not chilly silver:
you are made of bread, a bread the fire adores.
The grain grew high in its harvest of you,
in good time the flour swelled;
as the dough rose, doubling your breasts,
my love was the coal waiting ready in the earth.
Oh, bread your forehead, your legs, your mouth,
bread I devour, born with the morning light,
my love, beacon-flag of the bakeries:
fire taugh you a lesson of the blood;
you learned your holiness from flour,
from bread your language and aroma.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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