One of those times…

Often times, with(out) rhyme or reason
I cook up a poem and sprinkle it with season

My words, just like the food that I cook
Can appear as one thing upon first look

Simple, country, amateur dishes
Like green eggs and ham or chips and fishes

But should you be willing to read ‘tween the lines
Or take the next bite, I hope you’ll find

Layers of meaning like layers of flavor
Words that surprise and tastes to savor

The nuance of herbs and hints of spice
The question I leave you with “naughty or nice?”

And, if you care to, witness you will
The care that I use to practice this skill

Whether gliding the pen ‘cross the paper’s bow
Or fondling keys, like I’m doing now

Salting or peppering, kneading or rolling
For grilling or frying, baking or boiling

My use of the pen or the knife does not matter
The result is the same whether poem or batter

I want you to love it and then ask for more
Not for the praise, not to keep score

I want to feed both, the mind and the belly
A creamy word-spread to go with hot jelly

It’s said all a good cook needs in the kitchen
Is to express love through food (and to feed dem dats bitchin’)

So what does it take to make a good poet?
A mind a bit quirky and not afraid to show it

Let’s cook