Think of a most unusual kitchen utensil. Write a poem personifying the kitchen utensil. For example, instead of this picture simply referring to an egg fry ring, maybe the egg fry ring's name is Harry and he wants to set the world record for the most eggs fried in one pan. How would you tell his story in poem form? Also, you need to experiment with rhyme scheme. For the structure of this poem, you need to write 5 stanzas with at least 4 lines per stanza using a specific rhyme pattern. Good luck and post your poems as comments.
23 comments:
Wisk
We laugh all the time,
We gossip and scream
Our parents say we’re out of control and are crossing the line
We cook almost everyday; my friend is amazing at mixing cream.
We’re always together and no one can take that away
In the summer time we are usually at the bay
During winter we bake homemade food
No matter if we’re in a good or bad mood.
She listens to what I have to say
And I listen to her talk every day
We walk side by side
I would be lost if she died
When we are baking
Everyone wonders what we are making
We dance and sing
While listening to music that goes ring ring ring
She is my best friend
We’re going to be till the end
We take every single risk
My best friend is a Wisk
"Billy the toaster"
Little billy the toaster
was a friendly guy
but o so silly
he bought all his desires
but not another Eggo
he tried to date a blender
but we all no how that ended
his fate was with ms.sally
he was dating another toaster now
she had some good traits
now she had to chose either him or eddie
but who should she date now
Jim got jealous by this ordeal
that will never happen with his fate
billy set the table for there date
and it all worked out great
the end is clear but who should decide
Sally was true to him like a wall and poster
it worked out o so good
this was true love of two toasters
Tongs
I am a set of tongs
When I clap, I sound like King Kong
My best friend is spaghetti
Her name is Betty
My silver body makes me shiny
I have a little stub for my hiney
My claws are fierce
They could put you in tears
My eye is a small indent
Making spaghetti is an event!
The sauce so dear
It could put you in tears
Life in the bucket is a party
All the utensils are never tardy
We sit party day in and out
Until one day like today, someone takes us out!
Penelope the Pancake Pan
Penelope the pancake pan was left in the store sitting by herself
Nobody gave a glance or even a stare
She felt all lonesome on a empty shelf
She wasn't quite popular but indeed very rare
She could not give up, for she was too ambitious and strong
For Penelope looked very bland
She's been tired of sitting all day long
Penelope needed a hand
Her fellow friends, fork and spoon
They helped her attract attention
Many more customers came rushing in by noon
(Penelope pointed at)"Wow, look at this!" she heard someone mention
Penelope was taken home to a place she can finally bake
She was able to make wonderful treats
Pancake batter and oven was all it takes
She felt good to finally be put under the warmth and heat
Penelope was overwhelmed with joy
Everyone enjoyed her desserts and sweets
She screamed, "Oh boy!"
Penelope felt special and oh so very neat
“The Risky Whisk”
Twisted wire coming together like a mesh fence,
Going for the dive into batter I become tense.
What good is a whisk if it’s not quick?
Swiftly spinning who will get the last lick?
Not one of the most popular tools,
But I have a few tricks up my sleeve not like those other fools.
Usually put in storage before it’s my time to shine,
A new cake mix in the grocery bag this is a sign.
My time is coming soon for me to show what I can do,
A birthday has arrived and the gooey mix is giving me my cue.
I spin into action twirling and whirling inside the bowl,
A new top speed as I land my jump I am in complete control.
Now for the big trick I have been practicing for so long,
My triple axel “loopdy-loop” for this one you really need to be strong.
My buff muscles prevailed and I stuck the landing,
That performance was quite outstanding.
30 seconds is all the time the box said to mix,
So back inside the cold wooden cave until the next time I perform tricks.
Though I am used quite rarely I know I am cherished dearly,
I am the most unique of them all clearly.
Spork
It is not a spelling mistake I am I spork
Not a normal fork, or spoon but a strange unused spork.
My name is Henry the spork and I can help you eat your pork
I am great at slurping soup because I am also used to scoop
I cannot compete to stab you meat
Nor can I cradle like a ladle
But when I am used I am glad
Because I am usually by myself, sitting in a cold dusty shelf
Being a spork is also very sad
I had a fork mother and a spoon dad
They always fought and discussed
Why having a spork child would be such a fuss
I was made fun of as a kid
But I had twice the fun as everyone else did
I didn’t fit in but that was ok
I just chilled with Tony the toaster all day
Tony and I have some great stories
Like the child who yelled “more cheese”
I don’t care if I don’t get used
I rather snooze and watch the news
Scott the spork
Scott the spork was always left alone.
Sitting around he would just moan.
He was a very lonely spork.
No one would use him for eating pork.
Until one day he was picked
He was so happy he got sick.
So he wasn't used.
He felt so abused.
Finally he went to someone and said. "USE ME!"
They did as he said and has some peas.
So happy he jumped and danced
Until he fell on the persons pants.
Now hes too dirty to use.
So he was thrown away with a tissue.
Now he just sits on a rusty pan.
Telling the story of how he was used to eat peas in a can.
Bender the Blender
There once was a blender
His name was Bender
When no one was home
He would come alive and roam
He would go all through the house
As quiet as a mouse
All his friends would be there soon
The knife, the fork, and even the spoon
All the Kitchen utensils would gather round
And run around all over the ground
But everyone is bummed
Because they hear the engine of the car hum
Put away the forks and knives
They can no longer come alive
They have to draw the line
And wait until next time
Cleaning up messes that
Start out as nothing
Eventually work themselves
Up and I’m often left to clean
With no thanks
I’m used a lot even though
I try to help, but just like
Anything else I’m a
Great help
Tears squeeze out when
You ring me dry of
All I have that’s left
Inside
Eventually I dry and there
Is hope so I cope and
There is no use to cry
Over spilt milk
First I was clean now
Look at me, all is starting
To part from once was the
Start
The Poor Mushroom Slicer
Oh slicer, oh slicer, the others knives cry!
How lonely, how lonely, the poor little guy.
With no purpose or reason, he sits in the drawer,
Twiddling his fingers, feeling useless once more.
He cries in his corner, his blades how they rust,
He feels like a mushroom covered in dust.
Wait, mushroom? He thinks to himself,
Why that’s what I’m for! I slice fungus from the shelf!
He dances with glee; well, he would if he could,
And here comes the master, the one in the hood.
She picks him up, and he giggles with delight,
And for the first time in months, he comes into the light.
The master is careful as she sets him on the board,
And sets down a beautiful mushroom hoard.
The slicer is wiggling; his heart might just burst,
But wait; what is this, she grabbed someone else, first.
The slicer’s heart sinks as another appears,
This one is brand new, and his blades shine like tears.
“But thank heavens, the new one, it seems to be,
Hasn’t quite got the umph that master sees in me!”
Pizza Cutter
Odd you most certainly are
At first you look scary
When your near,I stay at a far
Your small and easy to carry
You cut threw our food
Those sharp edges grinning
Your wooden handle sqeaking as if in a bad mood
And your always at an inning
I wonder where you came from
Perhaps your strange appearance doesn't help
When its time to cook, you cant come
I wonder if you can cut odd things like kelp
In my household you aren't seen much
Maybe that's why you look so odd to me
I wonder if you were made by the dutch
You remind me of a knife, so please leave me be
That shining edge, looks so harsh
Your purpose doesn't fit your looks
Sometimes I just want to throw you in a marsh
Don't feel unloved, your loved by the cooks.
"The Strainer"
Yes I am a strainer.
My kitchen friends think I am a trainer.
"Wow" they say as I let out the water.
But I hold in the noodles long enough for the daughter.
“What is she making today?” you may ask.
Is it a spaghetti with some kind of mask?
No it is macaroni.
I let out the water as soft as a pony.
I love to see the looks on their faces
When the water spills out and noodles fill the spaces.
I let out a cry
When the noodles become dry.
I love the way it feels having the water spill out.
Sometimes it hurts so I have to pout.
I mostly enjoy my life.
It is not full of strife.
Here I sit, on the shelf
Feeling like a happy elf.
Living like a noodle trainer,
This is my life as a strainer.
I look inside your seemingly empty head
But i see your teeth instead
I can not wait until your belly is full
Now you will no longer be an empty hole
Into you I will pour
All of my ingredients galore
You love to chew
My concoctions two by two
First you stir then you chop
All into a big old glop
Then you mix and then you puree
With that you make my day
Swirl and twirl
I love to watch you whirl
All of my ingredients around
In you happiness is found
Now i will pour your contents into my cup
And my belly is now filled up
Thank you Mr. Blender
You have filled my tummy with splendor
I look inside your seemingly empty head
But i see your teeth instead
I can not wait until your belly is full
Now you will no longer be an empty hole
Into you I will pour
All of my ingredients galore
You love to chew
My concoctions two by two
First you stir then you chop
All into a big old glop
Then you mix and then you puree
With that you make my day
Swirl and twirl
I love to watch you whirl
All of my ingredients around
In you happiness is found
Now i will pour your contents into my cup
And my belly is now filled up
Thank you Mr. Blender
You have filled my tummy with splendor
round n' round all day long
theres nothing that can break our bond
we strive to be something more
but we just sit in the pantry door
sitting and waiting wanting to get out
we're trapt here waiting only to pout
mixing is what we do
it how we make it through
longing for the day to come where we can be the best
but we can't even compare to the rest
i'll just sit here collecting dust
waiting for the rust
it make take awhile
but we'll still hold a smile
is this our time?
its my time to shine
the has come to be the best
the ones who will watch will be the rest
this is where my life begins i won't get bored
just plug in my electrical cord
Our silverware
Xavia Herbert
I have always wondered what went on,
What went on when we were all asleep
And all of the curtains were tightly drawn
While I try to dream of fluffy white sheep
Then my thoughts drift to our silverware
What could those silly things do?
The fact that they just lay there
Just made me think of something new
Maybe our forks go out with the spoons
A walk in the sink or around the table
Illuminated by the light of the moon
Or watching a show on our new cable
Dancing around is what they do best
Asking the knives to join in as well
Slipping and sliding across the china chest
Clink! What was that? I think one fell
Maybe I’m just sounding crazy
A silly story I made up
The silverware are probably lazy
Just lying around till we wake up
Sharp and Edgey
just like me love for you
it cuts throught the steak
as the pain cuts through my heart
it will chop through a steak
like it can chop through my heart
the pain can come and go
but can never go away
the edges are long and sharp
they can but through metal
but when they are dull
they can leave you down and brittle
the pain will never leave
just like it never has
i will stay with me
till the day my life ends
this is a steak knife
it can be good or bad
you choose the path
and you will be here till the end
Soaking in water like human flesh,
some even made out of mesh
having a hard outer layer like human skin
they can even clean tin
little holes like eyes and ears
when you squeeze they even let out tears
They can clean up messes
and just like humans learn lessons
usually bright and yellow,
looking just like a jolly good fellow
you can squeeze them very tight,
they are also very light
they have edges just like an elbow
but, they are without a toe
sponges happen to be very smooth
and when rubbed on the feet are a nice sooth
sponges are cold like a pool
and are bad when used by a fool
they are also very flat
as well as long, just like a baseball bat
-Joey W.
Amazing nice work. This is very useful article. Thank you. For more
Do you know that your poem has been included in grade 3 English, Tamil Nadu State syllabus, India?
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