posted by annes @ 9:32 AM
Frosty Spoon! Frosty the foon was stuck in great doomWhen the kitchen was about to boom He ran to the sideWhere there was no place to hide He grabbed the knife To save his life But this was not enoughThe foon thought this task was way to tuffThe foon jumped and screamedDodging the enormous beamHe slipped and fellHitting the dinner bellHe ran across the counter to run awayBut only the trashcan was in his way The foon escaped great doom Because he was a frosty spoon
Larry loved to be a forkMostly cause he loved the taste of porkBut Larry hated knifes because they always got in his wayEspecially when Larry was at restaurants in the California bayWhen he was there he was only used for meatsHe was sick of it and he had only been there a couple of weeksLarry knew it was time to go somewhere were he wouldn’t have to deal with knivesHe knew of one place on Fourth Street called jivesOn Saturday night Larry was ready to get outIt was a crowded night so he knew he could get aboutAfter he was gone he was amazed because it was easier than he thoughtBut now it was time for the long walkWhen he made it to Jives Larry was so happyIt was a long night and he was quiet nappyBut he knew he still had to get inHe snuck through the cracked door thanks to the windWhile inside a waitress picked him up off the floorThen the walked through a big doorLarry found himself at home at lastHe was glad because knives were now in the past
I used to be his favorite on those rainy days; he would run to kitchen to use meHe would get the flour and chocolate chips; but I was most important, you see Without me there’d be no cookies, because I mix the mouth-watering batterThey needed me, a beater; I would twirl and twist to make the batter fatter But now he has no time, so in the dark drawer I stay As a beater I long to make a batter I want to swim in that lovely mix all dayAfter I was done mixing, he would lick me clean He has forgotten all of that now that he’s a teenYears have passed; I still lie in my cell It’s been so long I won’t be used again, I can just tell I awake in a new place It is a moving caseI fear that this is it; I know I will end up in a trashcan Now out of the case, I am in a new kitchen next to a pan He hands me to his little girl and explains what I do and what my part is I make a sweet treat once again and now a new little one is in my heart
Tipsy the tea pot had nothing to doSo she decided to go to the zoo It wouldn’t be easy to do this aloneBut Tipsy the teapot could always pretend to be a gnomeDuring this tripShe would accidentally dripFor she was boilingDue to the milk’s spoiling The teapot started to cry With fear that she would die She took a pit stop Where she got control over her pot She made it to the zoo Where she heard a cow mooLater after hopping a mileTipsy met a friendly crocodile She caught a ride from a fishTo meet up with her friend the dishThen they said good bye And Tipsy began to fly She flew up and aboutUntil she fell due to her doubtShe landed on a foxAnd then was thrown in a brown box For she had no teaBut she still had her gleeShe escaped eventuallyAnd wanted to potentially Go homeBecause she missed her best friend the combWhen she arrived backShe was given a snackBy a huge group of friends Who told her to stay with them behind the glass lensNow she’s home And she’ll never be alone
drubalI really liked your kitchen poem, it was really easy to follow and flowed well. Well done!
Kayla i like your poem it had good rhyme scheme.
The wooden stirring spoon BobOnce had a jobBut one day he ended up in a soup that was to hot.The soup hardened into a dot.Just as Bob’s girlfriend walked in,Bob was trying to spread jam to thin.Bobs girlfriend said,“I have not been fed!”When Bob and his girlfriend got married,Bob asked if he looked hairy.His girlfriend said noBut he may have to go.Bob ended up in a hospital with burns on his faceBecause he was having a raceWith his girlfriends other manBob went to the hospital to let his cool in front of a fan.
I like everyone's poems. They are great and they are really creative
There once was an unhappy pizza cutter named Chuck,he was unhappy because he had bad luck.Every time they ordered pizza from a store,he would be left in the drawer.He longed for pizza he could slicehe would be so careful and precise.But the pizza man kept coming to the door,he couldn’t take it much more.Unfortunately, he was never used again,he just laid next to the old whisk named Ben.both were now unneeded thingsand both used to be treated just like kings.So Chuck stayed in the drawer,thinking about how often he was used before.
Meet my friend the beater, his name is JakeHis favorite food is Angelfood Cake,He runs the kitchen like a cop, so he is not very lovin,Mess with him and he will throw you in an oven,Jake the beater didnt get along with the plates,So he told them that he might have to determine there fate,So everyone minded there own beeswaxUntil one day when the beater got a faxHe didn't know why he wasn't being used, But he sure wasn't amused,So now that he lay bore,he bagan to go back to his old beater ways and spread a lot of gore,His name is Jake and his favorite food to make is chocolate cake!!!!!
There once was a salt shaker,Who lived in the home of her maker.But she was all alone,As she sat on her table of stone.There once was a pepper shaker,Who lived in the house of a baker.He too, sat by himself,On a lonely, cold, metal shelf.One day the salt’s maker,Walked into the home of the baker,He wanted to buy some bread,But saw the pepper shaker instead.“Take me with you!” the pepper screamed,And he almost heard him, almost it seemed.For he grabbed the shaker and asked for the price,For the maker thought, it was rather nice.The baker responded with “2.81”And the maker paid and was done,And the shaker was put in a bag,And the heavy pepper made it sag.But soon he was at the home of the maker,Where he met, the salt shaker.“Hey,” he said to her,And to him she said, “Hello fine sir.”They were both excited to be together,And hoped that this could last forever.Soon after they had met,They had everything set.For the baby was soon to arrive,And in their lifetime they had five.Three were girls and two were boys,Rose, Cindy, Tammy, Tom and Troy.And that was the life they had,It ended good but started bad. But things can change in a heart beatSo the life of the shakers was rather neat.
Joey the spatula was very happy indeedHe was always happy to do a good deedHe loved to be used It always kept him amusedUntil one sad day when Bob the prongs came along Joey knew he wasn’t very strongBut still Bob the prongs became the favorite utensilHe was almost used as much as a stencilJoey thought that his days were over as a utensil and he became very sadAt times he was became madHe lived in misery and despairHe didn’t think that it was fairUntil one day Bob no longer could be repairedBob asked if he could be sparedBut he was no longer needed Joey was happy that he was finally defeated
Nicholas the shiney knife who needed a pretty wifehe was fed up with life so he set off for a wifehe searched high and lowbut no wife for nicholas the shinny knifeone day a sparkly spoon rolled into town with a dirty old fork named LarryNicholas was in love with this spoon she never left his mindbut Larry the dirty fork loved her aswellit was rumored that larry the fork loved big juicy porkOne night Nicholas the shiney knife poisoned larrys the forks beloved pork long story shortafter we lost larry the old forkNicholas and the spoon fed happily ever after.
I am just a lowly plastic spoonI’ve been sentenced to a life of doomNo other utensil will be my friendBecause they know I will shortly come to my endI come in a box with 60 others just like meIn that box I lay in wait for the day I will be freeIn the other boxes I hear laughing from the forksThey say I am lower than even a spork At night the store turns out its lightsAnd I get dreams with many frightsBut in the morning they come backI always hear the click and clackThen one day I see a light and begin to feel my greed,For I believe I’m being freedBut in truth I’m being usedWhy must I be so abused?I’m taken from my make-shift homeAnd given nothing, not even a combOut on a table I am laid Used by eaters for their aid In the trash is where I goBut this isn’t the final blowAfter that comes the dumpWhere I am turned into a lumpWhy should I hope for everything?When I know I shall never gain a thingI am just a plastic spoonWho knows his time will be over soon
The forks name was NorkNork lived in New YorkNork loved the feeling of going through meet because it felt neatHe thought he was the best utensil even better then a pencilHe just sitts and spittsHe would always be popping and hoppingNork started a fight this one nightThey heard walkingThey got really scared.Nork runs and hides in a can andScoon lays on a pan.--
Said the fork to the spoon, “I wish we were a foon,Just imagine what we could do together.”But said the spoon to the fork “If we were a sporkOur individuality would be gone foreverSo as the spoon went aboutThe fork began to shout“People have two hands not three!”“But you stupid forkYou’re a true dorkFor people need both you and me.”“But to get done the jobOf getting your corn off the cobYou need to dig and scoop at the same time.”“But to slurp up your soupYou can’t dig; you can’t scoopOne thing will do it just fine.”But then said the knives,“We’ll end both your livesIf you don’t stop yelling at each other!”So said the fork to the spoon,“Let’s get out of this room,You’re right, let’s stay as just brothers.”So said the spoon to the fork,“It’s going to workBeing separate to divide and job.I’ll take the ice creamWhile you can stab green beansThe fork and spoon, Jim and Bob.
ChopsticksThere once was a pair of chopsticksThey had some good times; they had their kicksThis pair of chopsticks was twinsThey were there for each other, there till the endThese chopsticks were very good at ping-pongOn all of the calls, they never were wrongThey were the best in the countryThey won with braveryOnce they traveled overseasTo play the best in other countriesThey played a double match against some forksThese forks were ping-pong dorksAlthough the forks were very goodThe chopsticks beat them like they shouldThe chopsticks were better than the restThe chopsticks were the best
Salad: Beware!By: John MooreTongs are a favorite chef’s cookwareBut if you use them please be awareThey just might snatch you, so be afraidBecause of their claws, you might need a band-aidIn a bowl there is some saladBut do not worry it is not very pallidSo when in the kitchen you must always hideBecause the tongs are never on your sideThese tongs are like a stuffed animal machineThe claw will come down and be really meanThese tongs do not really care who you areIf you get in their path you’ll not be in the salad barSo what will you do at the next buffet?You’ll be careful what you put on your big ol’ trayBecause although the salad is good for the bodyIn your way are those mean tongs, oh so naughty.
Fork/Pizza cutterThere once was a thing that nobody knewHe wasn’t exactly part of the crewHe was different then all of the restHe didn’t have the right amount of zestHe was part pizza cutter and part forkHe was crazier than Billy the sporkHe lived in a house on Crazy StreetSome people say his real name is PeteSome say he eats other silver wearSome say he eats them without a careIt’s rumored that he has a petBut there is no proof when you ask the local vetPeople go by his house cringing in fearLittle utensils walk by and shed a tearNo one knows this crazy old manBut everyone knows he’s not part of the clan.
Nice job class! Everyone did a really good job!
‘The Can Opener’There once was a can openerWho was new, shiny, and sharpIt sat on the kitchen counterUnder a clean, colorful tarpIt was electric with a white cordMade of plastic and steelIt was used quite frequentlyFor almost every mealIt sat on the kitchen counterNext to the coffee potWhere it could easily be foundAlthough it can be quite hotIt opened some soupIt opened some beansIt opened almost anythingIt is one mean machineOne day it met its matchTrying to open a large can of lardIt sparked and smokedEnding up thrown in the backyardHaving once been the pride of the kitchenThe opener suffered a crashOnce new, shiny and sharpIt is now in the trash
“Tame thy eyes,To sights of birds and skies”Cries the ladle with passion burning deep within its power hungry eyes.“Thou now shall quickly come with meTo lands of love, to worlds of simplicity”Freed at last from the kitchen, the ladle seeks to achieve absolute glory.“Be not afraid, be not at aweFor no one will see these sights, the sights we saw”The ladle travels to worlds beyond, until his ambitions become weary and raw. “Thou earnest the right to object and scorn,But as of now ill minded objections will not be born”In utter control, the ladle begins to tear apart worlds that need not be torn.“If now you be a worthy man,Bow to me…forever if you can”The Ladle crowns himself king, a crooked king of the land.“Thou shall not avail from these times! Twisted punishments for twisted crimes!” Death wraps the lands, as the king steals the spoons dimes“Be not weary, for I have been a good kingThose who stay loyal shall not feel the my wrath nor my sting”Yet the Ladle refuses to admit that he has done horrible things.“I’ve found an emptiness deep within,That which I hated and left, now be thy sin”Emptiness for every moment it misses its long lost kitchen.“How dare you sentence me to die!I am your glorious king, with power beyond measure, and tears that need not cry”Objective till the end, his crimes will be tolerated no longer. “Have mercy upon my soul,For I knew not I had a heart of rotten coal”But his words, honest at last, do not accomplish their intended goal.“And In time, thou shall count my blessings, however few.As I leave this world, I bid you, my people, a very fond ado” The death sentence of a crooked king is never something new.“I had tamed my eyes, to sights of birds and skies.Yet somewhere along the way thy will became that of power, and lies.What now are you waiting for?Pass the blame, know the score.”And down falls the axe, the king of ladles is no more.
Very amusing! Those poor utensils - even wit can't seem to save them.
Thanks for posting, definitely going to subscribe! See you on my reader.Utensils
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