Mama in my kitchen
4:20 PM Posted In My Poetry Edit This 0 Comments »
I opened a little stall
Cooking food from my Mama's secret recipes
Trying to live up to my mother's legacy
Of cooking with love and pride
Such sumptious food, which brought our whole family
Cousins, aunties, uncles and friends gather
Seated around our marble dining table, together
We look forward to my mother's food.
Mama was in New York
She worriedly asked that I delay
Opening my little stall
Wait until the day
She returns to contribute some of her dishes
And give me advice, love and even labour.
Upon Mama's homecoming, she could not wait to visit my little kitchen
On the first day and she said it was lovely
Subsequently her eyes scan the space around her
Like a health inspector
Then she pointed out all the specks of dirt
Scrub them off, your kitchen should be spotless.
The next day, she bought me 2 large bowls
There are not enough containers to display my food.
Then, came 2 additional ladles, each bowl should have its own ladle;
A stainless steel hook organizer to hang all my ladles.
Of which Ma religiously remind me to look for a carpenter, to get it hung.
The next week, I received, an expensive wire sieve.
And lo, a set of 9 knives of different shapes and sizes
Which came with a sharpening tool.
Shall we get another chopping board?
One day, I was cooking curry
Stirring the chicken in my hot wok,
Mama stood behind me,
Then she said this, "You are indecently dress, I can see through your pants".
Let me take over the wok, go and buy a new pair of pants, do HURRY!"
She tells me that my skin is no longer flawless
My hands are rough to the touch
They resemble the hands of a hawker
She hovers beside me as I cook
Turning the gas to lower the heat
You are burning your food!
After I cook, she starts to scrub
My kitchen counter
And with swifts strokes she sweeps
My kitchen floor
Quickly clean up before
Your customers, start pouring in.
Oh Mama, please don't be angry
When I return some of the things which you buy
For it is after all a little kitchen
And I just don't have enough space
To store too many things, it brings me to a daze!
Allow me to have my own work space
To decide what I need
Sometimes when I am busy
I do become a little crabby
And it makes me uneasy
Having you hover inches beside me
I do listen
And I do appreciate
The food that you cook for me and my stall
After all,
It is your legacy that I'm trying to live up to.
Cooking food from my Mama's secret recipes
Trying to live up to my mother's legacy
Of cooking with love and pride
Such sumptious food, which brought our whole family
Cousins, aunties, uncles and friends gather
Seated around our marble dining table, together
We look forward to my mother's food.
Mama was in New York
She worriedly asked that I delay
Opening my little stall
Wait until the day
She returns to contribute some of her dishes
And give me advice, love and even labour.
Upon Mama's homecoming, she could not wait to visit my little kitchen
On the first day and she said it was lovely
Subsequently her eyes scan the space around her
Like a health inspector
Then she pointed out all the specks of dirt
Scrub them off, your kitchen should be spotless.
The next day, she bought me 2 large bowls
There are not enough containers to display my food.
Then, came 2 additional ladles, each bowl should have its own ladle;
A stainless steel hook organizer to hang all my ladles.
Of which Ma religiously remind me to look for a carpenter, to get it hung.
The next week, I received, an expensive wire sieve.
And lo, a set of 9 knives of different shapes and sizes
Which came with a sharpening tool.
Shall we get another chopping board?
One day, I was cooking curry
Stirring the chicken in my hot wok,
Mama stood behind me,
Then she said this, "You are indecently dress, I can see through your pants".
Let me take over the wok, go and buy a new pair of pants, do HURRY!"
She tells me that my skin is no longer flawless
My hands are rough to the touch
They resemble the hands of a hawker
She hovers beside me as I cook
Turning the gas to lower the heat
You are burning your food!
After I cook, she starts to scrub
My kitchen counter
And with swifts strokes she sweeps
My kitchen floor
Quickly clean up before
Your customers, start pouring in.
Oh Mama, please don't be angry
When I return some of the things which you buy
For it is after all a little kitchen
And I just don't have enough space
To store too many things, it brings me to a daze!
Allow me to have my own work space
To decide what I need
Sometimes when I am busy
I do become a little crabby
And it makes me uneasy
Having you hover inches beside me
I do listen
And I do appreciate
The food that you cook for me and my stall
After all,
It is your legacy that I'm trying to live up to.
