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Keth Caterers from Dandenong

In my simple kitchen
Food is still warm
And I have a secret Recipe
That's the cleanliness.
Cuisine really Asian and bit spicy
But please don't worry.
When the water's boiling
I pour you a fine Sri Lankan blend Tea
Of Broken Orange pekoe
Into your tiny porcelain cups.
And I am sure you go home happily
But the weekends your crazy wallets cry
Let's go there once again.
I am sorry these days little lull
As I was pregnant and temporary shut the windows
When my little Rascal comes to the town
Your kettle boils again!

*To my daughter Tharindu and Son-in-law Kelum for their determination, where they reside in Australia.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Have pity on those who love each other and are separated

Mom you suffered nine months and rest of the life until you died.
I continue and almost fifty eight years now.
On my birthday..........greetings and gifts come along from Australia and Sri Lanka.
My eldest daughter Tharindu and Son-in-law Kelum write,
Wish you a healthy & wealthy life and may your dreams come true!
The youngest daughter Thilini and Son-in-law Chinthaka insists
We could not ask a better friend than you.
Yes of course, my loved ones we are born friends.
It's our fault we broke our own peaceful nest and scattered into different parts.
But the links are much stronger than earlier in the chain.
I drew a World Map in my complicated mind.
I brought Australia to Canada and sent her to Australia
And my tiny precious island Sri Lanka pushed towards Hawaii
And sent Hawaii into the Indian Ocean.
But still it's too far to touch.
Oh! My beloved wife hugs as usual
You are a Sun in my winter Igloo
And a full Moon in the mysterious summer hut.
I kept a piece of cake for my missing son 'Marco'
from my beloved's home made delicious chocolate cake.
My grand son Siluna being a taller day by day
And I dream he becomes a Captain one day
Who steers well in the Ocean of life his seaworthy Vessel.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Eastern Grey Kangaroo

'Macropus Giganteus'
Is this your tribal name?
And we are human beings.
You live in Australian Green
And we like to hide in your secured pouch
To see our daughter and Son-in-law in Dandenong North
Oh! Our friends Alison and Jerry too.
All of them may surprise when we jump out to their premises.
Dear Kangaroo, You are so innocent like us
And we are friends indeed.
We reduce our weight and never give you a burden.
In your warm pouch we dream a cold pasture.

*To Tharindu & Kelum...............Alison & Jerry........!
[Tharindu, the stamp on your letter with two Kangaroos really amazed me.]

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Bridge Rainbow over the River Sky

As soon as I recovered from Hay Fever
My congested nostrils cleared
And I could sniff as usual.
A rare fragrance from Dandenong in Australia.
My daughter Tharindu and son-in-law Kelum reside there.
She conceived it seems,
What a happy news wind brought?
If a boy I would like to call him 'Siddharta'.
And if a girl 'Yashodara'.
Nine months; more than enough
Learn Martial arts and get a black-belt
To fight with the mysterious life.
Nine months; quite enough
Learn dancing
To dance with the melancholy song of life.
Your old grandma [still looks young and could marry again]
And your old grandpa[ Cowboy on a wooden horse]
Waiting anxiously to see our grandson or granddaughter.
When we get the permission to cross the bridge rainbow over the river sky?

*I humbly dedicate this poem to Alison & Jerry

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Familiar voices echo from Massachusetts!

*Shani the young poetess from Massachusetts;
I dedicate this poem in gratitude to her courageous family who gave us tremendous help as same as hospitality in our hard times in the USA.
They are in-laws of my daughter.............and our friends too.

'Hello Grandma & Grandpa!
We're already here.(Grandson Siluna, Daughter Thilini & Son-in-law Chinthaka)
Our Grandson called us and he wants to know when we go there and see them?
Yes, that's our endless dream and not yet finished.
Our eldest daughter & Son-in-law, Tharindu & Kelum in Australia
When they join us and sing together?
Oh! What a great comfort?
Then one day the old couple could have rest in peace hand-in-hand quietly
With a big permanent smile for a Toothpaste advertisement!

P.S.
Sonny! America is a big ripen Orange and we're small ants.I have already quitted smoking and I want to check your poor old Grandma's piggy till that how much she has saved for the journey? Really I must have an iron wallet otherwise these tricky coloured notes would fly always.
I must mention the name of poetess from West Virginia/my life-school teacher Sandra Fowler(West Virginian Nightingale) for her devotional prayers and our utmost gratitude!

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Kettle

There’s many a house of grandeur,
With turret, tower and dome,
That knows not peace or comfort,
And does not prove a home.
I do not ask for splendour
To crown my daily lot,
But this I ask – a kitchen
Where the kettles always hot.

If things are not all ship-shape,
I do not fume or fret,
A little clean disorder
Does not my nerves upset.
But one thing is essential,
Or seems so in my thought,
And that’s a tidy kitchen
Where the kettle’s always hot.

In my Aunt Hattie’s household,
Though skies outside are drear,
Though times are dark and troubled,
You’ll always find good cheer.
And in her quaint old kitchen –
The very homiest spot –
The kettle’s always singing,
The water’s always hot.

And if you have a headache,
Whate’er the hour may be,
There is no tedious waiting
To get your cup of tea.
I don’t know how she does it –
Some magic she has caught –
For the kitchen’s cool in summer,
Yet the kettle’s always hot.

Oh, there’s naught else so dreary
In household kingdom found
As a cold and sullen kettle
That does not make a sound.
And I think that love is lacking
In the hearts in such a spot,
Or the kettle would be singing
And the water would be hot.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The sad Castle of our little World

Our new roost a tiny room
And no table and chairs.
I sit on the bed and scribble this
While my beloved tastes a chicken broth from a teaspoon,
And she stuck in the Kingdom of her Kitchenette.
'Darling where is that miniature cheap bottle of Whiskey? .
The previous night I kept somewhere.'
She measured and gave me a small sip from the same teaspoon.
Then I grumbled; 'Oh! It's not enough my painkiller as the World still rotates.'
She kept quiet angrily.
Through the broken window panes I see the faraway floodlights in a Stadium
And I whispered to my beloved; 'I would like to play football again like younger days.'
She smiled like Mona Lisa.

* To our dearest daughter Tharindu.Inoka
We received your graduation photograph and the copies of relevant certificates today.
We are so proud of your achievement, May the winds be always at your back.
Really we missed you darling!
Merits to Kelum! One of our precious Son-in-laws who struggled the entire journey for bringing you up to this standard.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Pot And Kettle

Come close to me, dear Annie, while I bind a lover's knot.
A tale of burning love between a kettle and a pot.
The pot was stalwart iron and the kettle trusty tin,
And though their sides were black with smoke they bubbled love within.

Forget that kettle, Jamie, and that pot of boiling broth,
I know a dismal story of a candle and a moth.
For while your pot is boiling and while your kettle sings
My moth makes love to candle flame and burns away his wings.

Your moth, I envy, Annie, that died by candle flame,
But here are two more lovers, unto no damage came.
There was a cuckoo loved a clock and found her always true.
For every hour they told their hearts, 'Ring! ting! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!'

As the pot boiled for the kettle, as the kettle for the pot,
So boils my love within me till my breast is glowing hot.
As the moth died for the candle, so could I die for you.
And my fond heart beats time with yours and cries, 'Cuckoo! Cuckoo!'

poem by Robert Graves
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No Time To Eat

'nd there you have it, folks, so, from what you just read

take from a moment and consider my dear broken head

I've got some problems boiling in my brain

but they all get ignored, why worry, it's all the same?

this happens all the time? just look at me, I'm fine?

do I not look fine? I'm just fine I'm just fine?

Nine days into the semester and my conscience is a mess

but the gloom makes a mixture so things all end up their best

like this, this rhyme, it's got a bit of bite

I'd like to share it with you all, share it if I might

it's only when I'm sick that I can say what I mean

when I'm all locked away, those paths can be seen

and the paths will be followed, follow them I must

so I become the person only person I can trust

Now can you see why I do not want to eat?

more important duties lay just ahead of me.

poem by D.M.L. Catseye
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I Would Go Crazy If I Dont Stop

I would go crazy if I don't stop
Hear my head beat as fast as the gong-gong beater
Climbing high into this realm of life I would drop
Into the boiling water with too many heater

I would go crazy if I don't stop
Giving my heart out on a silver platter
Perhaps I wish I was the frog who hop
In the broad day light were all his dreams shatter

I would go crazy if I don't stop
Feeding my emotion to a worthless swine
Like the mother pig who lives at the top
Lo I should run away in caves and hide

I would go crazy if I don't stop
Perhaps the best remedy is to lie and cry
Into this huge and hallowed cup
Which boils and keep all other tears dry

poem by Samuel Donkor
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Kettle boils like my anger

As the kettle boils.
So does my anger.
My anger is reder than the heat.
Its not just the heat of the moment.

The kettle is getting hot.
My anger nor depression will cease.
Its like some kind of disease.

As the kettle boils I melt.
In the heat of the depression.
And the mist of the anger

poem by Amy Kerswell
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Broken Windows Shattered Mirrors

Broken windows shattered mirrors
The tiny slivers fall like tears
They cut me till my arms run red
They make me wish that I was dead
And though I try to carry on
I know my time here's almost gone
Broken windows shattered mirrors

Broken windows shattered mirrors
I'm surrounded by these fears
I know I shouldn't be afraid
I feel like I'm locked up in a cage
I push and pull try to get out
I scream until I just can't shout
Broken windows shattered mirrors

Broken windows shattered mirrors
I'll have bad luck seven years
I know it's just a superstition
But I also know it's pure intuition
That made me stay not fade away
So I could live another day
Broken windows shattered mirrors

poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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Canadian Folksong

The doors are shut, the windows fast;
Outside the gust is driving past,
Outside the shivering ivy clings,
While on the hob the kettle sings.
Margery, Margery, make the tea,
Singeth the kettle merrily.

The streams are hushed up where they flowed,
The ponds are frozen along the road,
The cattle are housed in shed and byre,
While singeth the kettle on the fire.
Margery, Margery, make the tea,
Singeth the kettle merrily.

The fisherman on the bay in his boat
Shivers and buttons up his coat;
The traveler stops at the tavern door,
And the kettle answers the chimney’s roar.
Margery, Margery, make the tea,
Singeth the kettle merrily.

The firelight dances upon the wall,
Footsteps are heard in the outer hall;
A kiss and a welcome that fill the room,
And the kettle sings in the glimmer and gloom.
Margery, Margery, make the tea,
Singeth the kettle merrily.

poem by William Wilfred Campbell
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Please feed my daughter

It's been a long time since we've had food and water.
I don't care about myself but please feed my daughter.
I hate to inconvenience you or to intrude.
But my daughter will die if she doesn't gets some food.

She's a sweet girl who is adorable and her heart is pure.
My entire world will collapse if anything happens to her.
I asked others for food but they all said no.
They didn't give a damn and that was pretty low.

I'm willing to do some work around your house if you'll spare a meal.
I'll do anything to feed my daughter except steal.
I lost my home and my job and I'll appreciate any food that you'll give her.
If she dies, I want to die too because life won't be worth living unless I'm with her.

poem by Randy Johnson
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Life Is Temporary, Here Is My Temporary Life For You

life is temporary, so temporary that it is like something
that you see
and then don't because it has escaped like slippery water from
the hold of your hands,
ephemeral
like a mist, like a fuming vapor from boiling water,
like an air that merely passes by your gaze
like the wind
that comes and goes away from your window
like a cloud that drifts
away from your roof, like a leaf that falls from a tree,
like a flower that blooms today
and tomorrow goes away in the wilting petals
life is so temporary like the ticking of the clock
that you hear at night
when again you cannot sleep
this is life
this is my life it is so temporary
and with all my heart
i will hand it to you as a gift
take it
take it

do you think that my life now exends your life?
do you think that you with my life can live a litlle longer?

take it
take it
it is all yours

because i still love you because i have long been dead in this pain
of you
not loving me despite....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Childless Home

i have a home, not just a house,
you may disagree, but it is a home to me.
my heart longs for it
and my body likes to sleep with it.
i have this home and you may see it
and feel it, like it is your home,
but then you may complain,
there is no sound of a child yawning,
or a kid playing with his toys,
there is none in my home, but it is the sweetest home
i ever had, a simple home, with windows and doors,
a wife serving me dinner, only for the two of us
a table, two plates, two cups,
a set of spoons, a hot soup, and a happy
conversation.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poundcake

Poundcake
Yeah, shes gotta have a soul,
Or it wont feel right,
Were just playin, clean and simple
Wrapped up, nice and tight
In a home-grown, and down home,
That makes a woman
Cookin up that old time long lost recipe, for me
Its gettin hard to find
Guess it aint hip enough now
You take an average guy
Who cant identify
And theres a short supply
Of the fine, fine stuff,
Lemme get on, lemme get on, lemme get on some of that
Shake it up, pick it out nice,
Lemme get on, lemme get on, lemme get on outta there,
I still love my babys poundcake
Home grown, and down home,
Yeah, thats the woman,
Still cookin up an old time, long lost recipe
Lemme get on some of that,
Uh ha, uh ha, ho
Uh ha, uh ha, ho, yeah
I want some of that
Uh ha, uh ha, ho
Gimme some of that, uh ha, uh ha, ha...ow!
Oh, got some real fine, poundcake..
Ive been out there,
Tried a little bit of everything
Its all sex without love
I felt the real thing is poundcake
Home grown, and down home,
Yeah, thats the woman,
Still cookin with that old time, long lost recipe, yeah, whew!
Shes down home and down home,
Oh, thats my woman,
Gimme some of that,
Uh ha, uh ha, ho
Uh ha, uh ha, ho,
Lemme hold that
Uh ha, uh ha, ho
Uh, uh ha, uh ha ho, yeah
Home grown, and down home, whew!
Cmon, babe,
Gimme some of that
Gimme some of that
Home grown, way down home, yeah!
Uh ha, uh ha, ho, yeah
Gimme some of that, whew!
Cmon babe!

song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fish ‘n Chips - Food of Life

Oh how I crave for fish ‘n chips:
Our fine cuisine of world renown.
I dined on such a subtle dish
When QEII received her crown.

Oh how I need some fish ‘n chips;
I'll queue in pouring rain or snow!
What better way to warm my hands,
As soggy chips make fingers glow.

We Brits are famed for culinary finesse,
Like steak ‘n kidney pud no less;
Wondrous tripe; cottage pie;
Bangers and egg in lard to fry!

But fish ‘n chips - the crowning glory -
A dish to trounce the great kebab!
You think I care for chicken masala?
It's cod and chips that grow my flab.

Oh how I yearn for fish ‘n chips,
All poshly wrapped in the Daily Star,
Then caked and drowned in salt ‘n vinegar -
And stinking out my brand new car!

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

Food food food food food food food of life
Food food food food food food food of life

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Country Cuisine

Have you ever come across an eating place
That serves outstanding cuisine?
Well, at Fay, Oklahoma we found
An eating place that could serve a Queen

The flavors are absolutely delicious
Just simple ordinary country food
You could even take picky eaters there
You walk in and you are in the mood

To try each and every dish that you see
On the tables and on the menu
Because these folks’ know how to cook
The most wonderful food for you

So if you pass by Fay, Oklahoma, my friend
Want a meal with the best dessert you’ve seen
Stop by and have a taste
Of the most exceptional country cuisine!

poem by Marilyn Lott
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Pour It Out

It is closer!
It is really close;
But, there is water in it! !
So, pour it out before using it.

Bitter orange,
British way;
Sweet orange,
British style;
But, pour it out before using it.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Based Upon Appearances And Not Technique

As if children fighting over crumbs left,
On plates once stacked with cookies...
No one can get near the kitchen to clean it.
Or restore the cleanliness of its presence.
Since an argument has ensued,
As to who should do what with a doing to do...
To recreate the flavor of the cookies once munched.
And who is best qualified to imitate the recipe.
Based upon appearances and not technique or skills.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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