Posted in Cooking, Poetry, Prose, Relationships

My Cucumber Dip

Hung in the air
deciding whether to strike me
or not.

My chili cheese puffs, smouldered
on the stove,
while she looked through the drawer
for knives, looking for the sharpest tool
in her shed,

Cooking a meal for her
an art form, without an equal
tomato juice on my lapel
made the neighbors fear blood
while I only savored the flavor
of last night’s dinner,

While she began
tossing sharp implements
while I behind
the refrigerator door
cowered,
I feared for an end
an end to our relationship

while the cucumber dip
still hung in the air,

And I?
I desired her hands,
buttered with chili mayo
running along my taste buds
once again

Oh, how I loved to be in the kitchen
with her

When her knives were sharp enough
to capture my attention…

Posted in Cooking, Poetry, Prose

I Bit My Lip

I bit my lip
deliberately
wanting it to feel
the sting, the retort
not denying it
what my hands felt
as I gathered the
burning nettles
of my morning soup,

Alas, alas
those green devils
losing their bite
when meeting
the boiling water
denying others
the numbing feelings
thereof,

I considered then
a bit of salt
to rub into
the wound
thus making the recipe
complete…

Posted in Cooking, Denmark, Poetry, Prose

Lately, Attraction

The wiles and ways
of women close to me
not suffering the whims
of unrequited love,
nor drowning in unsavory thoughts
of lust, or boiling passions,
being steered, only
by the presence of such trifles
in making such a simple thing
as brownies, using ample amounts
of sugar, and butter
baked to perfection
with love being, just a bite
away….

Posted in Cooking, Poetry, Prose

My Morning, Temptations

My morning
eggs looking like eyes
two, tempting the chili
burning in my mouth
to play with it,
keeping my varied tastes
apart, letting them
distinguish between the good
and the evil of their company
knowing that in the end
they will devour each other,
such is life, regardless if those eggs,
two, winked or blinked,
or, winced
as the chili burned my eyes
awake
and the egg yolk ran down
my freshly pressed orange juice
shirt..

Posted in California, Cooking, Prose

Carrot Cake, or Not

For her
a carrot cake, making
a small decision, I took
for pleasing her, with no ulterior motives
what she chose not to believe
of me,

Baking a cake, or making soup
no nobler tasks from one to another
unless she suspected, that I
desired her ever most greatly
to fall for the one of her dreams
right here and now
in my love kitchen

The sugar, was acceptable
and the frosting as well,
but drawing the line, she did
at tasting the finished product
in its most raw form, existing

I just stood there
sporting my most sexy oven mittens
and ruby red apron, shouting of passion
while she waited and watched
and counted the minutes, the seconds until
the elegance was complete,

While waiting and watching, standing there
admiring her with my half-baked ideas
wondering if forgetting to add the can
of crushed pineapple would cause us to part
before the final product of our love
had cooled enough to eat?

Watching her expression
her lips of passion, her eyes afire
while the epitome of elegance
being the cake, or her?
chose that moment in time
to seal my feelings for her
not unlike leftover cake,
burned in the pan

Never to let go
again….

Posted in Cooking, Poetry, Prose, Relationships

On Her Mind

On her mind
the simplest of all
pleasures
he waited and watched
her eyes light up
when he entered
the room,
Surprise!, he might
have yelled, waiting
for her accolades,
the tight embrace,
the promise of pleasures
of the night,
The joy she saw
the ultimate of her
relationship
Chocolate Truffles,
tied with bow, red
sealed with a kiss,
She reached out
wrapping her arms
around his body, pushing
his bewilderment out,
slamming the door
thus enjoying her
carnal desires,
her chocolate pleasures
alone….

Posted in Cooking, Poetry, Prose, Relationships

Nothing Less Than

She had her standards
and to love her properly,
passionately, fervently
without thoughts of other
lovers, past or, present
I had to abide by her wishes
giving her exactly, what she desired
in that degree, in those ways
most pleasurable, the intense
the sublime, my complete
and utter attention, with
72% Chocolate
and nothing less than that….

Posted in Cooking, Copenhagen, Prose

Sushi, Thai, Punjabi

What this City offers
aromas, bitter looks
foreign tastes

I don’t feel as if
I have sampled enough
during my stay
while I swam about
in this concrete pool
of humanity

My senses
honed and sharp
for the hunt, the chase
the capture of what to sustain
myself,

The deed done
The unknown being conquered
Having fallen prey to,

Pastrami Pizza
in the wilds of Copenhagen….