Page+1+for+Sept+2nd+poems

Mommas baking cakes in the majic oven A tune a sounds, so it has to be something That mysterious melody calls to me like a whisper full glossed lips is where this music comes from So much gloss my mother, the woman with all the jokes, woud say, "it looks like you ate a whole bucket of chicken." I couldnt do anything but smile and laugh - Jeaniya Johnson (group version)

In my mothers kitchen, the smell of a hot comb, and dead hair makes its way through my nose. I jump from the heat while the heat from the stove hit my face i kow that this burn feeling could not be replaced this burning feeling stung more then mase -Brittany Arnold (group version)

Green flowers on the table, Dead flowers on the floor. Mom walks in with groceries, She just got from the store. I go and grab an oven mitt, To get the bird off the pit. -Tyre Miles

peas, string beans, collar greens, in my mommas kitchen flowers sitting on the table dying in the vase, in my mommas kitchen cousins cooking, laughter and play, in my momma kitchen -Kiah Rothschild

Erika Shanklin Flies, Insects, Rodents, Roach

So much difference in approach

The view is in the eye of the beholder

The beholder begins to see the bright lights

that leads to his future

All I saw were the flies hovering around the dead plants

I couldn't move it myself, so I called my Aunt

Inside Grandma's Kitchen

The door to the kitchen swung shut as Grandma eased into the kitchen, the usual ingredients for Sunday dinner spread on the table. Collard greens with a ham hock for flavor ready for the pot, and a peach cobbler ready to go in the oven for dessert. The familiar click of the oven before it sparks to life, and the laughter of the women gathered 'round the table. The stories they tell, those are our stories, the tales of us, inside grandma's kitchen

Marion Sawyer

Inside Grandmother's Kitchen By Benjamin Gonzalez

My grandmas kitchen is full of robust aromas, the smell of freshly chopped vegetables permeates through the air, as the soup cooks, the smell travels through the house, the kitchen warm now, the outside is remains cold, the heat emanates from within the walls of my grandma's home.

Group Version

My grandmas kitchen is full of robust aromas, the smell of freshly chopped vegetables permeates through the air, the smell warms my heart, and by looking again i continue to fall in love, they whisper sweet nothings into my ears, the sound touches my heart, I feel the life I have needed and wanted all along, the warmth emanates from within her home. (thnx for posting both versions!)

//** "Making Memories **//" Fresh Herbs growing on the kitchen window sill Chicken on the cutting board The smell of sweet potato pies emanate through the room I can hear mama's conversation as she talks on the phone All's a clamor as we prepare for the holidays Mothers voice and the aromas of home cooking fill our home Fill it with joy This is what memories are made of. --Whitney J great descriptive images WJ

//**"Hair Did"**// //**fresh greens in the sink, crunch**// //**deleafed from the stem**// //**next sink over, my sisters head**// //**her perm set in**// //**now rinsed out**// //**i hope chemicals dont sour my collards**// //**not alive hair clogs the drain**// //**fire on stove waiting to tame the mane**// //**sister hollers**// //**mom hollers at her**// //**that burn mark will be there tomorrow.**//

//**edward fernandez**// //**(Great poem EF!)**//

//** "Behind Every Smile" **// Flowers bloom and insects buzz As honey flows with sweet nectar The kitchen is active with life, vibrantly colorful And yet there is something haunting in the background Secrets that are being hidden behind fake smiles that hide the truth By: Georgina G. (excellent images Georgina)


 * "MY MOTHERS KITCHEN" **

My mother's kitchen is painted green And looks like a forest. My mother’s kitchen is filled with plants and veggies With the scent of a farmer’s crops, in blazing heat My mother’s kitchen was alive, when she was alive But now everything is dead My mother’s kitchen now has dead plants, with dead insects on the floor Spoiled fruit caused rodents to drop dead under cabinets. My mother’s kitchen now smells like rotten poultry, that the paint now wears The kitchen now resembles a forest in despair Female cousins, Aunts, and nieces sing outside Begging me to come out, instead of hide But I feel so lost inside! My mother is gone and I feel like my oven, which is now on fire So I guess the question now is should I leave? or burn with this fire?

= = = = =**In My Mothers Kitchen**=
 * -Jacqueline Johnson (really beautiful, thanks Jacqueline) **

**//Dust floating lightly in the air as//** **//fresh greens wash in the sink.//** **//Their smell bringing life to the//** **//dead flowers left by my niece.//** **//The smell of my mother's famous sweet potato pie//** **//vents through the kitchen, swinging through//** **//the odor of existence.//** **//Just like this newspaper that lies selfishly on the table,//** **//this kitchen has seen history.//** **//The handles on the oven distorted from the first fire.//** **//The fridge a lite grey from the dust of my grandfather//** **//whose heart died before the flowers.//** **//A bowl of spoiled fruits engaged in the//** **//pieces of parsley that my sister laid to rest.//** **//Only in my mother's kitchen is where//** **//souls swing loosely like fallen hair.//** =<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">**- Kiani Shaw** = =<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">**(this rocks Kiani)** = = = = = = The Works Of The Kitchen = Awoke to the smell of burnt hair This is how i rise It is now the start of a new day My mother has clients backed up Starting from the kitchen to the living room den They range from my neighbor, my sister, and kinfolk near and far It all starts with the clicks of the burning stove Almost like the clicks of my hoopty honda engine trying to make its start There are no burners left to start breakfast as my stomach grunts loudly Each one covered with a curling irons and hot combs Maybe I'll just make a bowl of honey combs This is the living my momma makes in her kitchen but not enough to awaken our dead lights when the first of the month hits I give my mom a kiss and I'm out the door Off to make my living in this cold cold world.

-**Devon Boone *Makes snapping noise with fingers to my own poem Lol*** (*snap* *snap* too => Dr. S)

mom's kitchen I came home from school and went to straight into my moms kitchen. the smell of food pulling me to the kitchen. there were some green vegetables cooked by my sister. they taste pretty good. it makes me keep eating and eating. Harpreet Sahota

Group 2 Collaborative Poem Exercise

"__Platter Perfection__" Fish smells great when cooked to perfection Together put on a platter ready to serve Before we ate My grandmother says grace I couldn't wait to eat the peach cobbler

Posted by: Derek Webber (love it! makes me hungry)

In my mother kitchen every Sunday morning you could find my grandmother preparing Sunday dinner and cooking breakfast before Church. On her feet in front of the kitchen sink cleaning some mustard greens as the homemade buttermilk biscuits are cooking in the oven. At the same time she would have bacon cooking in that old cast-iron skillet on low fire. Just as the sense filled the house my grandfather would come in with a couple of dead chickens from the backyard for my grandmother to prepare for that evening meal with the family. Rosiland Duffey (great description Rosiland - this also makes me hungry!)

Step into Nana's kitchen Burners clickin, hot steam bellowing from the pots, while the temperature in the oven steadily rises The intrinsic smells carry you through the door Echoing off the wall you hear her melodies whispering sweet nothings -Dorothy (good sounds!)

Rays of sun Shines like a spotlight Her favorite spot in the world oven fire on dead batteries in drawers Ferns in the windows bringing a lively feel walking in with a pleasant face carrying groceries she knows what she is cooking for this sunday night -Aundrane Fletcher (strong images & description)

9/2/11 By: Anthony Martinez

My Mother's kitchen.

Beautiful green flowers remind me of her smile.

I remember when the power went dead when she was preparing Christmas dinner.

My grandma's kitchen was my mothers learning center, where she became a cook.

When they are both in the same kitchen, great food and cake fragrances come float throughout the house. strong sense of family - thanks AM


 * By: Romi Jawanda **


 * In my mothers kitchen. **


 * Greens and all veggies could be found. **


 * But never could you spot a spoiled fruit. **


 * My grandmother, sister and Aunt helped. **


 * They all came for cooking and baking. **


 * In my mothers kitchen. **

Soul Food
 * (strong family!) **

In my grannys kitchen a good ol’ southern meal is made

In my grannys kitchen she cooks it from the soul fried chicken with the hint of kindness greens a smell of passion pies with the delicious taste of love

In my grannys kitchen life conjures around the dinner table the sweet aroma overwhelms the senses making everyone speak in tounges Pass dat der younder, Min ya mannas,Say da grace

In my grannys kitchen is the seasonal taste of game sight of decaying flesh that dulls the senses to the bone as cuts are made and seasoned over open flame

In my grandmas kitchen A good ol’ southern meal is made Its sweet aroma overwhelms the sesnes Leaving you speaking in tongues

In my grandmas kitchen A taste I will never forget

In my grandmothers kitchen Is a cook That cooks from the soul

In my grandmas kitchen Wher ol’ southern meal Is made

-Raymond Mitchell excellent language choices RM

"**Home**" Home is where the oven is baking, Home is where my aunts gossip, Home is where the greens are boiling for Sunday dinner, Home is where fussing occurs over the dishes, Home is where the fresh scent of peach cobbler ignites my taste buds, Home is where Grandmother knits her slippers, Home is filled with love, Home is in my mothers kitchen.

-Peter Bowie

The afternoon sun shone hazily through the green tea-stained kitchen curtains. Nan tediously searched for her pie sitting in the windowsill, but couldn't find it. Nana starts to cry hysterically because she couldn't turn on the oven. Granpa sits in his rocking chair, listening to the baseball game on the old transistor radio. -Group 3 (Sheila)
 * Sunshine In My Kitchen**

Its hot in here, extremely hot. Must be those hot collard greens granny got in the pot The smell lingers like a never ending scent forgetting all of lifes sorrows only seeing what is meant so much love to be found in here; from auntie Jean and God mommy Sara, so much care. Its getting hot, I feel the heat from the oven. Looking at cousin Lauren pulling out the cornbread she smiles at me with a " Can you help me cousin?" Been thinking about changeing the clock above mommys head ain't tickin no more, battery must be dead cant wait for dinner tonight to be surronded by love, something given by the Lord a tradiiton valued forever and forever more

Sunday night

- Courtnei Johnson

My mother's kitchen big and nice, My mother bake us cookies as we like, She make dinner everyday and at night, We say grace before every night, and with the beautiful candles giving us a bright light. Juan Gastelum