To make a limerick oatcake
Five spoonful of wheat flour it`ll take,
The first, second and fifth spoons of 7-10 syllables must chime
With a rhyme that flows smoothly through all times.
The third and the fourth spoons of 5-7 syllables are bound,
To hold to the same sweet final sound
To each other with the same air,
Though quite shorter they surely are.
Then one adds a cup of powdered milk grand,
One cup of rolled oat of a noble brand,
Half a cup of sugar one must weave,
With a pinch of salt as joke that readers shall believe.
Let `s not omit drops of vanilla, a spoonful of baking powder,
And half a cup of butter before bringing to a knead proper
By adding a cup of liquid milk, a little at a time,
Leaving the knead for a while to shine.
The knead is checked for correctness,
Rolled in little balls, flattened with sharpness,
Then placed on a preheated buttered pan
And set in the oven, eight minutes each side, to turn grand.
The grinding machine moves like a car, Flour falls like a little flower, Maiden collects them in a jar, They use for rangoli as flour, Ants are attracted by them, They eat them as a food item, This event takes place in December, It happens every year, remember.
_____________________________
_____________________________
444444 equals 24 trotters
6 heads
4 livers
4 hearts
6 kidneys
2 hams
Various scraps
5 hour boil time
Onions
Carrots
Greenpeppers
Garlic
Thyme
Basil
Bayleaves
2 cups of port
Rubbed sage
Salt
Pepper
_______________________________________________
Brunch Day
Sunday morning scrapple/ bacon and mushrooms
Scrambled eggs and cheese
Toast/butter and honey
Hash browns
Jam/jelly
Coffee
Beet, carrot,orange/vodka
Strawberry tart
Butternut squash tart/pecans
_____________________________________
______________________________________
Darling I may never have told you
Ain't nothing right without you
You're the star of the show
My leading lady
Keeping you happy ain't no chore
I love you
I guess I wanted you to know
Sometimes I get a little busy
we spend so much time apart
here a little something to make you smile
It comes straight from my heart
Said I love you
Ain't got no problems saying it again
_____________________________________________
Cured salmon rolled in sliced ham with sour cream eggyolk and dill....
The machine rotates , the white rice flour sheds like fog, and its fine and smooth.
Elsie, Lucy, Olive, this small boy's remarkable old aunts.
Oh, how they rubbed their hands.
But with glee or sorrow? Or even anger?
Elsie had a strict-looking expression -
when not rubbing her hands.
Lucy wore spectacles that pinched her nose
and, oh, had such a thin smile -
when not rubbing her hands.
Olive seemed serious, often frowning at me -
when not rubbing her hands.
But when they were rubbing their hands
they were ridding those hands of
flour that helped to make a cake or of
flour that helped to make a Yorkshire pudding or of
flour that helped to make joy -
the joy of making that cake or that Yorkshire pudding;
or of spiteful expressions they might wear when sneering
at this small boy, who would have to eat
their cakes or their Yorkshire pudding, or absorb
their sneers - sneers that were also smiles.
We remember our aunts in
the most remarkable ways.
I was a small boy.
(April 2023)
(Elsie appears in two other poems: "Aunty Elsie's Bathroom" and "Coronation for a King")
The real woman cries for flower.
A handed one makes her tower.
The much uplifted that hour!
Giver has but lent her power;
Just nothing would the day sour.
A woman, then free to glower,
If you'd promised her a flower
And it she saw not next hour;
As a replacement Bakers Flour...
Such a woman could make one cower:
For more than one grieving hour
Tongue-lashing men with full power?
"Go and sit down on your bower!"
Flour, who needs it?
I do! The cupcakes yell.
And me! Agreed the pie crust.
Me! Hollered brownies.
Me! Me! Me! The chili screamed.
Why do you need flour? Questioned the tomatoes.
The other soups snickered.
We all have to have flour for thickening, silly!
This was said by Potato Soup who is always a bit snotty.
I have to have flour! Said the cupboard.
I remember the time I did not have it
And my door got kicked really hard.
I remember that day! Yelled the canister set.
“I tell you, this screaming is coming from the kitchen.”
The kitchen door opened and the humans came in.
There was silence.
Mom says this dad says that,
What is this heck heck heck,
I run this way you run that,
Mingle things in this and that,
Mix in flour, eggs and sugar,
Instead, we mixed salt,eggs and flour,
Then answer this and that after tasting cake,
The life is full of such stories,
Enjoying working this,
Spoiling things that,
It is just like a MAZE!!
Flour is a blessed
To feed the whole floor
The lives men and plus
Flour is the flow of this floor
Flour
Makes a great paste
Tortes, scones, cobblers, muffins
Cinnamon and sugar crust, yum!
Cakes and pies would be nothing without it
Donut making relies on it
Throw in some sugar please
Necessary
Flour
Dust gathers on the shelf,
To fill the empty spaces.
There is a time and place,
To accept final defeat.
She survived the lions den.
Dancing the dance with her sisters
To the tune of hypocrisy.
A masquerade to mislead them all.
The crime of the century, is still written on her ageless face.
She blows smoke in their eyes,
In order to restore the humanity in her weakened faith.
You can taste the sweetness in the words she speaks.
She can mask her misery better than frosting can cover a cake.
Me bum is flat coz as a graphic designer I sat
Crushed it, didn't allow for expansion, it's a fact
Guess it's not a bad thing
No need to put it in a sling
Or walk around wearing a flour sack!
Memories
of
Sugar Cakes & Flour Sacks
Written: by Tom Wright
9/1/99
Sitting in prayer at Mothers door
As she lay in deepest sleep.
Her face, embedded with hand prints of time,
Told of a life, upon reflection,
That made me weep.
Near her bedside death had crept
Which would not be denied.
Life hadn't prepared me for this hour,
And all to soon she'd pass,
Once again I prayed and cried.
Void of suffering her ship quietly sailed
Far beyond the rolling tide.
Now hand in hand with Jesus,
Our Mother, of Sugar Cakes & Flour Sacks
Had crossed to Jordan's other side.
My Father grew up on a farm many years ago,
they never had very much this I do know.
During the depression times were really tough,
clothes made from flour sacks worked well enough.
My Aunt had a dress, my father a shirt,
Father was just a little guy just a little squirt.
But he remembers those days and how they made it through,
they did not throw anything out they just made do.
Sometimes I wonder where did they go,
those flour sacks that helped a nation grow.
JSergi
Contest: Whatever Happened to Flour Sacks
Flour sacks I remember you so well
full of golden grain, bran or flour
a slight but delightful musty smell
perambulating the atmosphere
Sacks cut up for all sorts of things
cloth shoes and dresses even trousers
rough coats that did not keep one warm
scarecrows dressed in sacks
Vegetables stored in sacks that are stacked
in rows inside the dutch barn ragged edges
where the rodents have been chewing happily
a veritable feast they will not go hungry
Sacks of cloth rule in my book
paper is not the same no way
a soggy mess when it rains
ripping as you carry them
Hessian sacks people knew would last
paper is only good for bonfires
or as twists to start the parlor fire
airless no good to store food through winter
written 11/22/2013
contest Whatever Happened To Flour Sacks
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