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Mincemeat Tarts

Me mother used to make a mince-meat tart, Old country way, with loads of shredded meat! Can’t say, I liked it, till the second bite! And then, the taste caught you… there was an art To making tarts that waited to surprise They took three days of silent preparation, And all three days, full joy, anticipation, For when she baked, good cheer was in her eyes! It was the only time she didn’t grump, It was a dance! She closed drawers with a bump, She got happy, when she was making pies! Put Norman Luboff on to cheer our hearts… I'd say, the gift was mom, not just the tarts! 7/18/2019

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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Date: 8/4/2019 5:40:00 AM
back with congratulations! So happy to see this poem on the winners' list! Blessings :)
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Date: 8/3/2019 1:31:00 PM
Lovely poem, Andrew. Congrats on your win.
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Date: 8/3/2019 12:07:00 PM
Congratulations on your win! Well done! So descriptive and a joy to read.
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Date: 8/3/2019 11:49:00 AM
I loved my grandma's mincemeat pies...congrats on your win.
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Date: 7/21/2019 10:49:00 PM
The love, tenderness, and art woven into both your poem and in your mom’s baking... perhaps the most crucial beauty is that found in the simple things.
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Date: 7/21/2019 1:54:00 PM
A touching sonnet and yummy tarts. By the way, Luboff means Love in Russian.
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