I'm at the age where food has taken the place of sex in my life. In fact, I've just had a mirror put over my kitchen table.
quote by Rodney Dangerfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Broken Mirror
My life is almost over; that's a fact
Statistically derived but simply true;
I look into the mirror, but it's cracked
And so reflects two, three, or more, that lack
Cohesion. Which one's goal shall I pursue—
My life is almost over; that's a fact—
In time remaining? Luggage largely packed,
Past boxed and crated, little left to do,
I look into the mirror, but it's cracked
And won't be fixed and always did refract
The one before it into at least two.
My life is almost over; that's a fact,
But life cannot be lived in the abstract
And begs for certainties that it once knew:
I look into the mirror, but it's cracked;
I look away in search of the exact;
Nights melt the shadow shrinking from my view;
I look into the mirror, but it's cracked.
My life is almost over; that's my fact.
poem by David Berman
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Food On My Table
Come and see the food on my table,
For it is prepared for you and me;
And, i am waiting for you in the room of my love.
Life is full of surprises and i want to show you my love,
And here comes the sun of the morning to touch your heart;
For, it is right for you to be beside me at this table.
The food on my table,
As soon as you receive my letter means that i love you;
For life is full of surprises and i want your love,
So come and let us share this food on my table.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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To Seek Food
Hunger is to seek food,
Food has one eye and one ear.
The food we abstain from are the heads,
The food is caring over us, and we maintain
Our lives with the food of the day.
Liquors are taken as food,
With a brain too bright,
A table and a cook is required,
Forming my life as a whole.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Those Brown Paper Bags
I'll always remember, when I was a lad
Those brown paper bags, brought home by my Dad
I'd climb up on a chair, and Momma would smile
To see all the food, that would last, for awhile
Momma be so happy, to fill up her shelves She'd kiss Dad, for giving so much of himself
He worked day and night, and never complained
Just to keep his family free from all pain
I'm married now and life is the same
Only now like Dad, I never complain
So, now I thank God, that I am able
To put food, for my kids, on my kitchen table
poem by Alverna Reimold
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Your dressing table in the hall
In the house in fifth avenue
I put a small pink white marble table
below a mirror in the corridor
with a bowl with flowers standing on it
that acted as your dressing table
and as a place of display
where I saw your face smiling back at me
while you were doing your hair
teasing with curling tongs
or reflections of the rows of paintings
with the wood floor fading into the distance
and now that mirror and table
is probably still there,
but you are living alone
in that big house
and will never again
smile back into my face.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Poor
Out of the farm came the harvest,
And out of the kitchen came the food well prepared;
Then it was set on the table for you to eat,
But do think about the poor when you do have enough.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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An event to recall on Mother's Day - That mother is no one other than me
Summer evening
Sun still harsh
Me, then fourteen
My mother's younger sister
Came forward to tell
A story about a mother
Mumbai, then Bombay
Highrise residential quarters
Fourth floor
Big Hall
Two big bed rooms
Two baths
Big kitchen
Grill-less windows
Free flow of air
Lot natural light
A mother in the kitchen
Preparing food
For her husband
And their three sons
The youngest about two years old
Left on the kitchen table
Mother being busy around
The child not seen now
Mother realised just then
Would have slipped
Across the open window
She was right
The child has fallen
But on the sun shade
About four feet below
Her two year old son
On an open sun shade
Not less than forty feet
Above the ground level
No time to lose
No time waiting for help
From outside
Mother too slowly
Slipped about four feet onto the
Just two feet wide sun shade
Picked up the child
Put him onto the kitchen work table
Managed to climb back to her kitchen
I was thrilled
I was to ask a number of questions
One important being
Is the mother is so courageous
My aunt finished telling
That mother is no one other than me
And that son is no one other than
My third son
Both that mother and son
Are safe, living and active
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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My grandmother was the greatest cook in the world. She could just go in there, the whole kitchen would look like a tornado hit it and then she'd come out with the best food. Then she'd sit at the table and she wouldn't eat!
quote by Edie Brickell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everyday Life And Chocolate
Everyday life and Chocolate.
A sweet shop in the middle of nowhere, I had bought a box of chocolate,
but had no money, the owner took my sack of hay given to me by a farmer
to make a mattress, as payment. Now I sleep on top of a big kitchen table
for fear of rats. When I get up at night to drink water, I can hear them
hissing under the floor board. The candy man’s daughter is dying, she has
always been in love with her image and can’t bear the thought of parting.
from her mirror. Last night I fell off the kitchen table, dreamed I was back
at sea and my ship was pitching and rolling, bet it gave the rats a fright.
The phone rang it was my mother, couldn’t hear what she said, bad line
between heaven and earth. Went to the candy man’s daughter’s funeral
the casket was decorated with colourful sweets and expensive chocolate,
the sermon was light hearted the priest looked as he was on a high. I don’t
eat chocolate anymore, but live on raw carrots. So slim you are fat people
tell me; my diet is carrots I say and the rush to the green grocer to buy some,
but they continue to eat sweets. Things are looking up the farmer gave me
another sack of hay and a rat catching terrier, and every morning it puts
the night’s catch on the kitchen table.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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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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The Mirror Struggled
The mirror struggled; reflecting beauty such as hers
Prescribed a glory in the challenge – a fairytale
Or such as like! To shimmer back hypnotic hues
From auras of her skin – how do mirrors cope?
Hoary tales of pretty adolescent buds
Could never hope to match the tomes of dreamy
Pulchritude apprising us of such a belle as she.
The mirror shone; and as it worked itself, a moment –
Did it overlook the hidden melancholy?
Were melting eyes bedewed–? Florid lips imbued
With mournfulness? The hindrance of the silver glass!
Oh! to seek – to know the meaning of the sorrow!
She (with tearful hair, an image out of heaven)
Never opened up her heart. The mirror struggled.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
m irror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Dog Food
Pop
Im hanging around that same old scene
My girlfriend betsy shes just fourteen
Theres nothing better for me to do
Im living on dog food
Dog food is so good for you
It makes you strong and clever too
Dog food is a current craze
Eat some every day
I chew up my sunday mirror
I read about the rich I fear
Dog food is my whole life
Dog food composes my wife
Yum yum yum - woof woof woof - arf arf
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mirror Mirror
Mirror mirror
You tell lies
Who put crows feet
Round my eyes?
Mirror mirror
Hanging there
Who put that grey
In my hair?
Mirror mirror
Is that me
Is that really
Me I see?
Mirror Mirror
Stop your fun
That's not me
That is my mum
Mirror mirror
Don't stare back
For it's bad luck
If you should crack
Mirror mirror
On days like these
When what I see
Doesn't please
Mirror mirror
My mood this day
Will ask you turn
The other way!
poem by Stevie Taite
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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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Mirror mirror…
A mirror reflects all but lies.
Reflects the things
Everyone denies.
Reflects the way
You shaped yourself.
Reflects the things
Complex, simple, hidden and obvious.
Reflects the things
We have done in our lives.
Reflects the things
We don’t want to see.
But it has never reflected
Me.
In darkness and alone
I sit at the edge
Of icy cold black water.
Mirror mirror…
I sit their staring at no reflection
Thinking of the things I am,
Daughter, student, sister, lover.
But it does not define to me who I am.
I see all the things
I don’t want to see.
Perhaps than there is no “me”?
I do not exist in my reflections.
I can not find me in those titles.
Mirror mirror…
Perhaps then it is fact
Am I nothing more but that?
So should I satisfy with the things I see?
Is life’s lesson then that you should “just be”?
Is there nothing more then the endless time passing?
Mirror mirror…
Perhaps it is why it is never said
That a mirror holds an answer.
poem by Zarina Binda
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God comes to each of Us in different ways
God is everywhere
if he has come to you
and you have found him
in your Padi field
Let him be your Padi God
praying to him day and night
for a rich harvest
if he has come to you
and you have found him in the Kitchen
Let him be your Kitchen God
praying to him day and night
to keep the table filled with Food
if he has come to you
as a God of War
let him be your War God
praying to him day and night
to keep your country safe
dont fight over these gods
for they are one and the same God
who has come to you to fulfil your needs
and if you are too confused by
all these gods just pray to
the one and almighty God everybody
has given a different name
so that he can monitor all your needs
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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My Feathered Friend
You were my funny, little feathered friend;
To your every need, I would always tend.
You’d stand under a running tap, trying to catch the drips.
In your brightly coloured birdbath, you loved to take a dip.
In your mirror, you thought you’d found a new mate,
And your food, for him, you’d, very kindly, regurgitate!
For hours on end, you could roam freely out of your cage;
You’d happily spend ages, shredding a newspaper page.
Some of your acrobatics, used to scare me half to death;
Scared that you’d fall and hurt yourself, I’d hold my breath.
On the lace curtains, you’d sometimes catch your claws.
I had to be extremely careful, when I opened any doors.
Through the rungs of your ladder, you’d sometimes squeeze;
This often worried me, but you, it really seemed to please.
I’d often give you a freshly washed, lettuce leaf to eat,
But you bathed on it instead, and thought it was a treat.
The wallpaper, above the kitchen cupboard, you’d often chew,
And when you spied me eating food, you’d want some too.
You’d fly on to my head: you liked the softness of my hair;
Then you’d get yourself all comfy, and nestle down there.
Shiny, sweet wrappers, you’d always pick up, and throw away;
I replaced them onto the table, but the same action you’d replay.
Your antics, and funny little ways, often made me laugh;
You were often amusing to watch, and really quite daft.
It’s been ten long years now, since you passed away,
But one of your long tail feathers, I still have today.
Recalling your life, a smile appears upon my face,
And, in my heart, you will always hold a special place.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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One God shining in a miillion ways
they say god is one
and he is everywhere
he found him in his kitchen
and calls him his Kitchen God
praying to him night and day
for enough food on his table
some found him in the field
and call him their rice god
praying to him every season
to be blessed with food for the family
some women found him at the door
and call him their door god
praying to him each morning
for safety of the house
some found him in the mountain
and call him the mountain god
praying to him day and night
to bless their ancestors' spirits
they think dwell with Him there
another found him at sea
and call him the sea god
praying to him day and night
so that he could catch enough
of fishes to make his day
each of us looks and finds god
in some ways, calling him
our own god, in our own way
- the god that answers every
earnest call for his blessings
at the door, in the field, at sea
.....everywhere....
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Oh Mirror
Mirror, mirror,
On the wall
Who's the THINNIST
One of all
Oh reflection,
I know its not me
I'm just too FAT
AND UGLY
Mirror, mirror,
On the wall
Who's the SKINNIEST
One of all
Oh reflection,
Stand up straight
Suck in your GUT
Then I may not hate
Mirror, mirror,
Clear and bright
Please don't WATCH
As I starve tonight
Oh reflection,
I'm stuck in this body
With food to fear
And you to HATE
Mirror, mirror,
Broken and shattered
Don't stare at ME
With this body battered.
poem by Lailani L.
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Kitchen Bitches
Round table they all meet, set up in the kitchen.
They had a book highlighted with their so call friends name,
They all did their homework report and came to tell about the information that they've gather.
Pour their tea ready to talk about anecdotes,
the conversation is backbiting about their friends life
The kitchens bitches spread intimating rumors about they friends who live way better than the kitchen bitches
They begin with 'word of the mouth is! '
They love to gossip, it is like a rush they need every week,
this meeting make them feel good about themselves and also put them in the right mood
'Gossip conference is over, so next week lets meet at a new location! '
Their small minds discuss people, but they're blind to see that they own life is more mess up than anyone on the block.
Kitchen bitches only dislike gossip is when you gossip about them.
Ever member of the kitchen bitches even talk about the misssing member when they move to a different kitchen.
poem by Brittany Wongus
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