At The Kitchen
she is preparing
breakfast
and i can hear the
pounding of the
pestle and the mortar
spices perhaps
black pepper
and some sliced layers
of onions
there is something that
i do not want to hear
the sound of
tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Island Fever
Island fever
I think Ive got a touch of island fever
I do believe I feel a bit sauteed
This morning I was just some nonbeliever
Tonight I feel Ive joing a wild crusade
I never thought of life as being breezy
I never thought of time as time to play
I never thought that I could take it easy
But all those feelings changed for me today
Layers and layers of spices and flavors
Are finding their way to my brain
Layers and layers of costumes and players
That make my whole life look insane
Palm trees and views I cant believe
Why would I ever want to leave?
I think Ill take my shoes off and go walking
Down beside the caribbean sea.
I like the funny sounds of parrots squawking
I think I hear a hammock calling me.
Layers and layers of spices and flavors
Could this be some kind of charade?
Layers and layers of costumes and players
I think I will join the parade
Layers and layers of spices and flavors
Could this be some kind of charade?
Layers and layers of costumes and players
I think I will join the parade
I think Ive got a touch of island fever...
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spices
Of the spices of life,
Of the spices of love,
Of the spices of peace,
Of the spices of my mind,
Life in Africa maters to me lot.
Of Black Cumin,
Of Red Peppercorns,
Of Black Mustard,
Of Cayenne Pepper,
Of White Mustard,
Of Mixed Peppercorns,
Of Mahaleb Cherry,
Of Szechuan pepper,
Almost everybody is with a mobile phone in Africa!
But strong alcohol are consumed daily by the majority unemployed.
In Africa,
My mind sits and writes;
Because, life in Africa matters to me a lot.
Of Coriander, Ground Ginger, Fenugreek, Turmeric and Paprika!
Like the struggles daily in Africa for a survival;
But one day, we will get there.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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If Only I Could Hear
if only i could hear...
not the cry of hunger,
but the cry of that which feeds.
not the pounding of the guns,
but the silence of peace.
not the tears of the homeless,
but the sound of hammers building shelter.
not the shuffling of money,
but the sound of needs being met.
not the cry of the sick,
but the sound of healing.
not the voices of anger,
but voices in dialogue.
not the bitterness of prejudice,
but the harmony of tolerance.
not the lies that bring division,
but understanding breaking down walls...
if only i could hear...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Preparing Dinner
I watch the pot on the stove
Water is overspilling
The rice is cooking
With bubbles galore
I smother chicken in sauce
Sauce that is made up of green pepper, black pepper and onions
Accompanied with that is the All in one spice.
Watch out for the toilet paper
The spices start talking
The chicken gets fried
The smell of breyani echoes through the house
I chop the potatoes as well as the carrots
I open up McCain veggies
And distribute it with the food
I put more spices in and the McCain veggies
Gets assimilated into the food
The pot is filled with colours
The steam fills the house
The brown chicken starts talking to the yellow potatoes
So does the carrots
The rice is strained
It rises to the core
I use tastic rice
Because it is the best out of them all
I set the table with plates
And it is ready to be filled
One by one they get dished out
First the rice (centered) and then the potatoes and chicken
Ice cream is served as desert
Coca-Cola is poured into glasses
The sweet taste bubbles in my mouth
The hot food burns my mouth
While the cold drink soothes its pain
I smother tomatoes and onions with vinegar
And serve them next to the food
The sauce gives the tongue extra kick
And goes down with a good drink
poem by Lee John Siebritz
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Black Market
Wasted face that swallowed time
With armageddon crawling
Shes insane, this friend of mine
And shes always bawling
Hear her calling
Hear her calling you
Hear her calling
Hear her calling you
Theres a place within her mind
With graves already falling
Shes insane, this friend of mine
And shes always bawling
Hear her calling
Hear her calling you
Hear her calling
Hear her calling you
Shes preparing for the flood
The deluge and the sliding mud
Shes preparing for the flood
Running on black market blood
Black market blood
Wasted face that swallowed time
With armageddon crawling
Shes insane, this friend of mine
And shes always bawling
Hear her calling
Hear her calling you
Hear her calling
Hear her calling you
Shes preparing for the flood
The deluge and the sliding mud
Shes preparing for the flood
Running on black market blood
Black market blood
Black market blood
Black market blood
Black market
song performed by by Placebo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beat my heart like the gong
Beat my heart like the gong
At the feast of san vicente
Beat it softly with your
Pink palms and if it does not sound
Beat it with greater force
Like mortar and pestle
(No sound still)
Beat it again please patiently
And if it sounds
Let us go on a long journey
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tomorrow Is Such A Long Time
If today were not an endless highway
If tonight were not a crooked trail
If tomorrow werent such a long time
Then lonesome would mean nothing to me at all
And only if my own true love were waiting for me
And if I could hear her heart softly pounding
If only she was lying by me
Then Id lie in my bed once again
I cant see my reflection in the water
Cant speak the sounds that show no pain
I cant hear the echo of my footsteps
Cant remember the sound of my own name
And only if my own true love were waiting for me
And if I could hear he heart softly pounding
If only she was lying by me
Then Id lie in my bed once again
Theres beauty in the silver, singing river
Theres beauty in the sunrise in the sky
None of these and nothing else can touch the beauty
That I remember in my true loves eyes
And only if my own true love were waiting for me
And if I could hear he heart softly pounding
If only she was lying by me
And she could lie in my bed once again
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Sandwich
as you take that sandwich
i remember 1971
the ham, and mayonnaise
the purple sliced onions
and cucumber
that you slip between
a big sandwich which you
say is too delicious
that is not how i saw it in the 70's
you were too young then
to know the connotation of the word
or the metaphor of being sandwiched
between two warring forces
who wanted to win by killing each other
they were all civilians mind you
sandwiched between the armed and dangerous government
and the armed and more dangerous rebels
the ham, and mayonnaise
the purple sliced onions
and cucumber
that you slip between
a big sandwich which you
say is too delicious
in the 70's they were not delicious at all
they were maimed, and bloody, killed on the streets
and public plazas bombed and brains scattered
on the hot cemented pavements
people kept in hog wires and secret
detention places
brothers all but so insensitive to the
the roots of humanity
Cains and Abels
the ham, and mayonnaise
the purple sliced onions
and cucumber
that you slip between
a big sandwich which you
say is too delicious
when all i need is simply a bitter tasting coffee
without the sugar and cream
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The skill of using a mortar and pestle never leaves one.
A pestle upon a peg, and a mortar upon a clothes line.
Cork and Sip
Sausage.
Beef and sautéed.
With a bit of soy sauce.
Bedded with sliced onions...
And green pepper.
Wrapped in foil.
Tin,
I prefer.
Baked in a preheated oven,
At 350 degrees.
And left for at least one half hour.
Then served with garden grown tomatos.
Appetize yourself with this.
Remove the cork and sip...
On your White Zinfandel!
'OH...
How could I forget the dashing of brown sugar?
Do it...
If you dare new sensations! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The wind that carried the mortar will not fail to carry the pestle.
Tomorrow Is A Long Time
(words & music by bob dylan)
If today was not an endless highway
If tonight was not an endless trail
If tomorrow wasnt such a long time
Then lonesome would mean nothing to me at all
Yes and only if my own true love was waiting
If I could hear her heart softly pounding
If only she was lying by me
Then Id lie in my bed once again
I cant see my reflection in the water
I cant speak the sounds that show no pain
I cant hear the echo of my footsteps
I cant remember the sound of my own name
Yes and only if my own true love was waiting
If I could hear her heart softly pounding
If only she was lying by me
Then Id lie in my bed once again
Theres beauty in the silver singing river
Theres beauty in the sunrise in the sky
But none of these and nothing else could match the beauty
That I remember in my true loves eyes
Yes and only if my own true love was waiting
If I could hear her heart softly pounding
If only she was lying by me
Then Id lie in my bed once again
If today was not an endless highway
If tonight was not an endless trail
If tomorrow wasnt such a long time
Then lonesome would mean nothing to me at all
Yes and only if my own true love was waiting
If I could hear her heart softly pounding
If only she was lying by me
Then Id lie in my bed once again
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Hear....
i hear the cry of a thousand naked voices.
i hear the sound of the turning wheels.
i hear the guns, and the moment after,
i hear the blood of bodies in the fields.
i hear the cry of babies without mothers,
i hear the hunger of faces without names.
i hear the whisper of god in the homeless,
the hearts of the poor in the falling rain.
i hear the truth beyond all lies,
i hear the hand that takes another.
i hear justice's cry for deliverance,
and the prayer of the stranger that is my brother.
i hear the hammer and wings of freedom,
i hear equality chanted and sang.
i hear the beat of life calling forward,
to dare, to give, tis not in vain!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dr. Joel Fleischman in nature. Not exactly the man you knew. He couldn't see past the Hudson River if he tried. He liked his fish smoked or preferable hand sliced from Zabars on a sliced bagel served with onions. Nature, to him, was an irritant. Birds didn't sing, they woke him up. A body of water wasn't life, it was a golf hazard..
quote by Robin Green
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flutter
word by word
she spoke to me
hidden neath a mess of bygone linnen
she listens as to dry a thousand tongues
my love is thin and thinning
some cherised flower
flutters through
gentleborn beloved you
kindness always
kindness always
i hear the sound
the sound she's left me
i stood her ground
no
they've swayed me
i hear the sound
the sound she's left me
i stood her ground
i hear the sound
the sound she's left me
wrapped tight
inside your shawl
we wander round this dingy hall
softly spoken
shaken tree
the ash grove we come to be
the blood run
the blood run away
from arm and leg to a warm heart
all our colors agree
in the dark
but no man lives upon that land
far enough for us to see
i hear your voice yeah
in the hum of this machine
i hear the sound
the sound you've left me
i stood her ground
i hear the sound
the sound she's left me
song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You cook vegetable soup
You cook vegetable soup
and I look at you
while you cut green beans,
carrots, onions, celery, parsley
and tomatoes into two pots.
There are herbs, spices
and pepper that you are scattering
and two types of soup powder
that you throw in
and the pots steam and buzz
while I am washing the dishes
and the smell
makes me hungry
and I wonder
if the soup
are going to taste as good
as it smells.
We drink tee
and there’s medicine
that you give for flu
to me
and it’s great
to be with you
to read the look
in your beautiful eyes.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chicken With a Twist of Deliciousness
I bought thin breasts of sliced chicken.
Thinking I would make a chicken soup.
So I then cut the breasts,
Preparing to create a meal...
I believed would be the best.
When I had this thought...
Season and sauté the breast.
Simmer them quickly,
In olive oil next.
Add I did...
Broccoli, onions and green peppers.
With carrots and celery...
Thinking perhaps some cauliflower,
And Soy sauce too...
Was needed in this aromatic stew.
This I did.
Before I lowered the heat,
And covered this with the frying pan lid.
I said to myself...
This needed a touch of brown sugar.
A splash of apple vinegar,
And a dash of lemon for taste.
Mine,
Of course!
I'm suggesting this,
Before it is ready to plate.
I think this took twenty minutes to cook.
But the smell of it increased my appetite.
And I couldn't wait,
To devour each morsel.
Knowing I had cooked up something,
Bonafide to get me hooked!
Oh yes!
I've already named it,
Chicken With a Twist of Deliciousness!
If you want some,
You will have to make your own.
None of this I am eating,
Will a dropp of it you get!
Oh,
Before I forget.
Add some basil, dill, oregano and garlic too.
I like to use red pepper as well.
You can try that,
If you wish to lick the dish!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pepper | Smart Mouth Poetry / lyrics
Sharp tongue, smart mouth
Fine line, know how
Stay calm, pull it together
Speaks soft, don’t sound like pepper
It hurts, tastes sharp
When you walk in, and start to talk
Cuts deep, feel it forever
My heart is burning, burning like pepper
Stop, sounding, like pepper
Scattering your pieces all over
You’re gonna, stay black forever
So I’ll ground you, the more the better
I’ll ground you like pepper
Ground you like pepper
Ground you forever
It would be better
If you stopped the pepper
Stop with the spice
Stop with the tone
Stop burning holes
Right threw my bones
I’ve got a heart
It’s soft and its tender
Try and be smart
Stop using pepper
poem by Life in a Poem
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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