Best Kneaded Poems

I’ve watched him whither. He came to me a decade ago, stooped in pain. The fine-boned features of his face and the clarity of his...

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I had an IPod problem!
I fixed it, this is how!
I named the thing "Titanic",
by God, it's "syncing" now!

I was wondering where the sun goes?
I stayed...

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On the Potter's wheel
I am clay - 
sticky, messy red clay,
being kneaded like bread,
'till pliable.
In firm but gentle hands
the Potter molds and shapes me into
a...

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“WE AIN’T FORGOTTEN…”

You cried a smile
shadowing anger
beneath a canopy 
of love

Your necks filled nooses
tied with Christian knots
that never failed

Your wombs challenged
the holding holes
of sanctified graveyards

You...

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I remember Grandma's kitchen
When I was a newlywed.
To learn to cook was important
But not as important as what was said.

As she kneaded bread on the...

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Amassed bulging clouds 
Dashing enmity fusion, 
generously hovering
In jellylike kneaded layaway 
Mysterious noir over
Prairies quietly resting
Suddenly trapped under
Vicious wind’s X rated
Yelling zeal.

CarolineCecile - 10.15.12...

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Around the corner and half a block away, the flavor would grab me, tie me up to some irresistible force, then drag my nose to...

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Gossamer, gently cool,
brushed against flushed hot face,
like water pooled in desert land;
softness kneaded with much
glad wearing, not unlike
the feel of mother's wrinkled hand.


November 9, 2017
Knit...

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Inspired by the words of poetrysoup poet Vijay Pandit  "I think I know why the ocean flows"-From her poem: I think I know why...

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For forty weeks I kneaded a promise,
introducing myself
to an enigmatic stranger
that resided within
stretching boundaries
until he overflowed into my soul.

While his lungs searched the air
for breaths...

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I never spoke for him to leave, to follow and take my hand,
But I fear I may have, with something more powerful,
Than the sounds slipping...

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A thousand drops approach the fold.
Their mission, moisten, grains all whole.
To be lost when kneaded, tossed, or rolled.
Or mixed within the mixing bowl

For a lonesome...

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One would think that the feeling of being a slave would create understanding
One would think that racism would die off and cease to overtake our...

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enjoy the reed
now displayed as a satisfactory deed.
*          *       ...

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The early morning sunshine peeks
                    ...

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