The first meal was an object lesson of much variety. My father produced several kinds of food, ready to eat, without any cooking, from little tin cans that had printing all over them.
quote by Mary Antin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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MaMa's Cooking
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
It's an assortment of goodie things
Chocolate, pies and banana pudding
Enough food and that's Mama's cooking
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
Apron in hand and lasting impression I didn't want to miss
Everything seem perfect from beginning to end
Enough food and that's Mama's Cooking
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
Smiling faces and a gentle speech of o.k.
Noone knows how much the void I can't fill
Enough food and that Mama's Cooking
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
Being polite and sincere would carry the weight
Seemingly enough she has the greater plan
Enough food and that Mama's Cooking ahead
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
The napkins, plates and never-ending why didn't it last
Noone knows how much the void I can't fill
Enough food and that's Mama's Cooking again
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
Craving for the turkey and dressing pan
Not to admit, seemed a bit much
Enough Food and that's Mama's Cooking again
So nowadays, I look for the needle in the haystack
Wishing on the times, she would come back
It's been 10 years, since I said thoughs word's
Enough food and that Mama's blessing for us
Missing mom everyday becomes second-nature for me
Enough food, Enough love and One day she'll see
For know I'll take her spirits with me and others will speak
Enough food, Enough love and One day she'll see
poem by Natasha McGee
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Gourmet vs the Usual
a good food and a good drink
seven days a week
I wouldn't ask for more
I'll just eat with love and won't get bored
I tried cooking my own food
following mom’s recipe
but it didn’t taste exactly as
when mom’s the one cooking
Oh, I realized
I couldn't buy in the store
an ingredient mom has when cooking a food
I couldn't buy love and patience
in the fresh market or in any grocery
poem by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
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She Takes
She takes one step back
And falls to the ground
Can not seem to stop laughing
Joking they say to all she has done
Not nearly what she sees tonight
All kinds of time she says
All kinds of time
She has all kinds of time
Drinking with despair they take her down
Throwing it all around
She has no money to spare
As she ask for help from her friends
All kinds of time he says
All kinds of time
He has all kinds of time
Writing it all for him to see
The way he use to be
No father around as she passes out
From not sleeping she's been wishing
All kinds of time they say
All kinds of time
All kinds of time to break her down
Nothing around as she picks herself up
In a place that has no name
Came on a bus with a bottle
She's been drinking
She settles down with no help
Can't remember the last night she felt sound
All kinds of time she says
All kinds of time
She has all kinds of time
poem by Sara Pounds
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All Kinds Of Time
The clocks running down
the teams losing ground
to the opposing defense
the young quarterback
waits for the snap
when suddenly it all starts to make sense
he's got all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he takes a step back
he's under attack
but he knows that no one can touch him now
he seems so at ease
a strange inner peace
its all that he's feeling somehow
he's got all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he thinks of his mother
he thinks of his bride to be
he thinks of his father
his two younger brothers
gathered around the wide screen t.v.
he looks to the left
he looks to the right
and there in a golden ray of light
and there his open man
just like he planned
the world is his tonight
he's got all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Appetite
It is appetizing, the meal is appetizing,
I consumed a mighty warrior of steel.
My concession was plain, just give me food
So I give you a meal, food for two now.
The concert repeats, I laugh and cry forever,
But still I smile and giggle with dizziness.
The groups of people look like apes with food,
The two of us are fed, what of the rest of us?
My appetite is satisfied, but your meal surrounds
And loves me, like two of us in the middle of feeding.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Object
You know you turn me on
Eyes so white and legs so long
But don't try to talk to me
I won't listen to your lies
You're just an object in my eyes
You're just an object in my eyes
Sophisticated smile
You seduce in such fine style
But don't try to fool me
'cause i can see through your disguise
You're just an object in my eyes
You're just an object in my eyes
But i don't mind
I just don't care
I've got no objection
To you touching me there
Object object
Object object
Object object
Object object
You know just what to do
Lick your lips
And i want you
But don't try to hold me
'cause i don't want any ties
You're just an object in my eyes
You're just an object in my eyes
But i don't mind
I just don't care
I've got no objections
To you touching me there
You're just an object object
Object object
You're just an object
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cooking and taste
eating the same tasteless dinner at the only diner
the umpteenth time, a thought came to my mind
am i a guinea pig or one of its kind
or was there a conspiracy behind
has my taste buds gone out of date
why is all so tasteless, that is the food i ate
i dared to ask the manager why the taste is so bad
bang came a caustic reply, this is by the best cook he ever had
(insinuating a problem not with his cook but with my taste)
well then it has to be my taste buds i thought
directing all my efforts to the food i had bought
then came storming, the savior, inside the hall
in his hand was the same food for which i have taken the fall
indignanlty he shouted at the manager
this food is so bad that even his dog had refused to had
hell i thought even the dog has a better taste
why, why am i such a waste
the dog in me forced me to start cooking that very day
the dog in me does sometimes refuses to eat what i cook
the human in me requests him to hav another look
for, when people are struggling for one square meal a day
how can i keep the food i cooked at bay,
hence i eat, taste or no taste, everything i cook, every day.
Campfire Meal
There is nothing like a meal
From a flaming hot campfire
It cooks the kind of food
For which you’ll never tire
A slow cooked smoky brisket
The best you ever got
Along with homemade biscuits
Cooked right in a iron pot
The beans are so hot and spicy
Your taste buds will yell hooray
The food is so delicious
I don’t know just what to say
The sweet corn and potatoes
Are cooked on the campfire too
Grab a plate and get in line
That’s just what you want to do
It’s the cowboy way of cooking
I’ll grab some firewood
Join us at the Rockin L & H
Where nothing else tastes as good!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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A Place Called the Matador
They started cooking food
A very long time ago
Creating a recipe because
They loved the Chile relleno so
Perfection the objective
Ingredients fresh and fine
To bring forth a creation
That nowhere they could find
So the spent many hours
Of every single day
Cooking the best product
In their very special way
Chili’s are most important
Ingredient of this food
Dough was mixed as well
Oh, it was extremely good
The Matador still remains
The food still as delicious
Devotion to the craft
That has become infamous
I had a chance to see for myself
Cooks who know the score
A product like no other
A place called the Matador!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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For the most part this is a place to find down-to-earth advice on everyday cooking, eating, food shopping, cooking equipment, and nice things to put on your table.
quote by Arthur Schwartz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You want a lesson? I'll give you a lesson. How about a geography lesson? My father's from Puerto Rico. My mother's from El Salvador. And neither one of those is Mexico.
quote by Jennifer Esposito
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Food For Thought
She hid it
but it became clear to her
even as a child
she was obsessed with food-
all the world and her relationships in it-
became things to be tasted;
consumed.
In her twenties she did not date men
she tasted them
and became bored
with them as one becomes
bored with the routine
of every day the same meal;
food was orgasmic to her
in its variety
but too,
this was something she had to hide
because being that way also
had its guilty side;
all day long
she thought about what she would eat
that night
and the next day
or even reliving
a last meal
re-tasting it in her mouth
it all seemed natural to her
because it seemed to her
others seemed to share as well
foods power.
It was a need to take
the outside in
to feel it in her mouth
swallow it down
tongue on texture
then a final act
of it resting inside her
as she digested it,
sometimes bulimically
to assuage guilt
it being hidden heavings
in bathrooms, hers and those
of her friends
but always returning
to the need to fill up the Empty
to feel full
filled
to make it through some nights
eating
to assuage grief
sometimes to celebrate
often late at night secret eating
munching, ingesting
taking in
gorging on
cake and ice cream
chocolate
and potato chips
even beer
or liqueur
with exotic
items like mangos
and papayas
all carefully laid out before her
because she liked the ritual of it
the handing
the smells
the preparations and the cooking;
fork and spoon lifting high
to the altar of her mouth
to her wide lips
resting briefly upon her fiery tongue
to the savoring
the plunging onward
into the alimentary canal
to its final
warm resting place
inside.
And then the guilt
always the guilt
about what she had done
then on to the next day obsession about her weight
the battle of the bulge
of the unwanted thickening sure to come
of the terrifying knowledge
her eating at night
it would show up
decorating her waist line
her hips,
her thighs
crime and punishment come alive
visible for all to see.
She reveled in her pregnancy
eating herself
to 51 additional pounds
and not losing all of them back
despite furious exercise;
ultimately welcoming mother hood
because cooking for her kids kept her in touch
with food
and after all
no mother
was expected to be thin;
and then escalator down
she gradually gave up
food had won
and she knew
that with advancing age
she could not lose back the years.
In despair, kids and husband now gone
she decided that it was not the food she'd been carving
all those years
rather it was a feeling of being filled up
being loved
food was just a poor substitute
And dear reader you ask what then?
She fell in love with a younger man
half her age
and he reciprocated.
the excitement of his loving her
made her feel for the first time in years
love
and gradually over a year
she lost the need for food
as a crutch.
More and more it became
for her a thing past.
Oh she did not suddenly become a size two
but she did become a better her
more energy
and she needed that energy
becoming more and more thrilled
with whom she then was.
And yes, the two did last;
food not so much exiled
as becoming for her
only a once over-indulged
repast
from her past.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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This One Meal
This one meal mom just made
All this food she prepared
This one meal, I remembered
Mom and I had a deal
She said 'Just Eat It'
I stared at the bread I just bit
Watching mom throw away the leftover
Did she even think about the world hunger?
I tried to stop thinking about all this
I couldn't look at my full dish
I cannot hide it
It is too hard, ..
All the world hunger..
From which people die
All this food mom just threw away
Kidney Beans, Sausages, Potatoes...
If only she thought of what she was doing
Throwing away all this food
If only she thought
of what this food could do
save lives, prevent hunger..
Help people live their lives longer..
poem by Klaudia Kuczynska
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In corn, I think I've found the key to the American food chain. If you look at a fast-food meal, a McDonald's meal, virtually all the carbon in it - and what we eat is mostly carbon - comes from corn.
quote by Michael Pollan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trash and Treasure
So different we are in so many a way
That, every body knows I do not have to say
In case you do not know, here I will cite a few
See how luckless we are and fortunate are you
At times you do not eat, just for the lack of mood
Desirability of food in the table
Decides if you will eat or the meal just ignore
Often we do not eat, because of lack of food
Availability of food in the table
Determines if ever we eat or not at all
Sometimes your kind of food strays to our larder
Not via the grocer, a courier or waiter
But via garbage dump we rake painstakingly
For food and anything of value there might be
And when you go shopping In a department store
You choose the clothes you wear by the size or color
By the brand or trade mark, It must be signature
To us size and color matter not anymore
We cannot be choosy or be meticulous
Whatever comes our way, make do, accept we should
For these things come to us via similar route
Which is the garbage dump, we do not have a choice
And the roof that we have Inches above our heads
Are materials you throw away, considered waste
After your palaces and villas you have built
Your trash are wealth for us, possessions we cherish
Author's Note: In third-world countries, many people depend on garbage cans and garbage dumps for their subsistence. This poem is about them.
poem by Pacific Hernandez
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Don't Waste Food
Hundreds and thousands have toiled under the scorching sun of summer,
to grow the food which so comfortably we eat.
think of food as the fruit of labor of thousands of hours,
rather than just rice and wheat.
millions die due to lack of food, so is their fate,
but we are lucky to have every time enough in our plate.
we may never go to the fields to produce the food,
but my friend 'food saved is food produced'.
so lets take a vow today to put in our plate only that much which we can eat,
so that even a single single grain may not go waste.
poem by Sunny Mittal
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A Father Image 11
Every time I ponder in solitude
re-evaluates my innermost attitude
no reason I can give to rationalize
every bit of me is sort personalize
surely a replica of my father dear
the genes all his and image I bear
of his physical attributes so clear
Care and love that my father shares
abound in me also through which I dare
bring joy to family of which father is good
really diligent he provides us staple food
every meal at the table he buys our family
rare the time when we have nothing to eat
all that my father do is work hard to get it
Best times I like to spend with my family
resting together at home and watching TV
and though my father is now old yet I try
to contact him every weekends to ask
on a date with mother becomes a task
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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Overweight with Food
Are you just a tub of lard and
Vastly overweight?
Do you think that when you die you'll
Need a piano crate
To act as coffin for your frame? -
Chosen as you die in shame, with
Only you to take the blame
For years of eating much the same:
A daily calorific fest
Gourmands of your ilk digest!
Is your heart in final fling and
Nearly set to burst?
Are your arteries bunged and clogged and
Feeling now the worst
For wear? - your aneurysm fit to blow
While blood as thick as rising dough
Cries 'Halt! ' to any hope of flow:
A dreadful state to put on show
In front of any nurse!
Best you hail a hearse.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Whose design is this?
How, if food is without spice?
How, if life goes without spice?
Spice is variety.
Variety is option for change.
The left out one is cursed
And the one acquired is blessed.
The user is ever jubilant.
12.0.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I don't like gourmet cooking or ""this"" cooking or ""that"" cooking. I like good cooking.
quote by James Beard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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