Pots Of Food Poem by Naveed Akram

The chamber pots are going cold,
Food inside seems to get bold;
For heat is the miracle of the wealth,
I greatly stare at this layer of health.
The pans and pots fall down again,
Cutlery has shrieked always in pain.
The audacious mind is a special tension,
Pull the leads and wires for cohesion.
A little betrayal is a little worrying,
But the kitchen speaks to you, annoying.
I have a plate and solid goblet of gold,
Beaming with light, delight as it is told.
My dinner and lunch punches and kicks,
In a match of distress, and then he licks.
Taste must dismiss the outer despair,
Tasty meats are rolling in the mouth in here.