Cook Poems - Poems about Cook

Melting pot hasn’t melted **** for years Just mixed vegetables and the unclean seers Same thing every corner Cold, cold, never warmer It’s the temperature. It’s too low. Let’s turn up the heat We are solo dolo sweetcheeks Let it unfold, take a couple sneak peeks Cover up the hole where the lies leak A start taping mouths shut, When the lies speak In a dog...

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Problem Statement, cook county, sheriff in style ! My father’s daughter was engaged to my father’s sister’s son. My father’s mother opted out to have a side to join the festive eve. She (narrator) stopped as she (interpreter) intervened. O yeah! Your tortilla and your taco and your feeling!!!!! Self reliance and legacy of family tradition. Whom to say?...

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When I want to cook others beg me to stop. I once baked a cake that when rolled could hop. We made it into balls and watched it go down the walk. Some of it was whisked away by a determined chicken hawk. Hope that bird does not die, my sister said. She loves to cook, can make pies, puddings...

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Egon Hedin the cook When I joined the ship as a second cook I had trained as a baker, on a tank ship with forty crews, one, who could bake a passable loaf was needed The cook’s name was Egon Hedin, he had an ascetic face with an aristocratic nose, one felt like bowing to his lord...

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Cockroach germs come off their feet Walking on used dishes with left over sweet Cook goes after the bug with a yellow broom Cockroach runs rapidly out of the kitchen room Cook thinks everything will now be okay Not knowing the roach laid forty eggs that day in the cupboard under the kitchen sink the eggs are cozy, sort of in the...

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Remove outer sleeve and packaging Place in large oven proof dish Ride dolphins perpendicular to the beach Paint weightlessness with fluorescent paint Season to taste and add thoughts provided Bake on medium heat for real before serving ...

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The humble cook Once upon a time, a cook was a person who prepared food for hungry people, simple food like meat cakes in gravy and boiled potatoes one needed not to be a genius, but the person knew how to fry eggs or scrambled eggs could read and write in order not to mistake rat poison for garlic...

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The best moment When you heard appreciation With your boss and see their happiness But it's a saddest moment Deep inside thinking of your children And hoping you can cook for them too Hoping that you make them happy As you did for them Of course there's always be a reason That you’re doing it for them Working...

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Fish Garlic Paprika Salt Black pepper Rosemary Olive oil Carrot Purple onion Hot red pepper Butter Zucchini Basil Avocado 4 eggs White or Parmesan cheese....

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Matzo ball soup, gefilte fish cook me up a Jewish dish Kneidels and kreplach, knishes too a bissele Chinese, egg yong foo… Chopped liver and herring and if you’re...

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There once was a man named Ike Who purchased an AI wife He thought it best To give her a test Before warranty ends midnight He programmed her to be unique To sing to cook to clean He did forget The naughty tricks She made love most mechanically ...

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A ship's cook  The sea is dark, clunky, and calm today slowly undulate  turns white where the ship's bow has plowed a furrow that stretches for miles. Gulls still follow us, shrieking and waiting for the cook to throw overboard waste food, tomorrow gone back to the coast waiting, for another ship I fiddle with the radio in the galley, find a...

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For me, I’d love to stay and chat but all this tea and cake is fat that I do neither want nor need. If I stayed, it would be for greed. So she learned to cook in health and I would give her all my wealth to eat the luscious food she made, and so I talked and talked and stayed....

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the cook and his sister once I was a poet blinded by the shiny pebbles, by the shore of purity and heart delight, but it was not to be although it was said about me in India, this man is really innocent My sister stood crying at the railway station in Montreal so, what are the tears for Are...

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My mommy lets me lick the bowl when she makes sugar cookie dough. She shapes them with a cookie cutter and brushes them with lots of butter. And when she puts them in to bake, I stare and stare and wait and wait. They are hot; she uses a mitt. She lets them cool; she cleans a bit. Soon we’re ready to make...

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