My Trip Seasonings
My hands are but extensions to my brain
Where i prepare my food
Seasoned with trip spices and oh..sweat..(LOL)
Dramas are made by onions
As tears flow down to my nose and mouth
And see my detractors yelling at me
And yes, seasoned by anchovies and other shrimp and fish
Ginger are but vexations to the soul
Where one touches base and find its center
Leading me on to my weakened state
Of womanhood and finds strength in my mate..Aha!
Olives, basil leaves, raisins
Are reserved to more foreign tongues
As i vowed to myself
To stick to the basics, aside from salt, pepper and sugar
As mandatory elements
To keep the fire from burning
These are as i say 'haven'
To my neophyte taste buds
Other wise. i would salivate
Like a hungry dog over a bone
With or without my trip seasoning
Last but not the least
I prefer eggs as binder
Without which as in some cases
Renders your work done
Note: On my attempt to be a nice cook in the kitchen..He he
thanks for any wild reactions and comment
Meggie Gultiano
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-trip-seasonings/
