Kneaded Poems

Midnight Sun

Last night we danced in sweet romance,
we burned like the midnight sun.
Your wanton kiss was utter bliss,
our hearts fused, then beat as one.

By candle-light I held you tight,
lust played our favorite song.
Our bodies moved, sizzled and grooved,
seduction's magic so strong.

Our two minds raced as my lips traced
the smooth contours of your skin.
Fingers kneaded as eyes pleaded
for hunger to glide on in.

Burning, shining, redefining
the power that pleasure holds.
Deep and slow, two bodies aglow,
our rhythm was liquid gold.

Desire ached as our flesh baked
and ecstatic rivers flowed.
Our bodies screamed and our eyes gleamed,
for delirium... We rode!

The love you gave, the love I crave
reached inside and made me whole.
Each sated breath, each little death
hurt so much it healed my soul.

Ikigai: Petals in Stillness

Spring — Passion

Kintsugi dawn—
white plum scents night air
tea rises in stillness.

Cranes cross pale sky;
child laughter drifts on moss.
A garden remembers.

Summer — Vocation

Tatami breathes—
cicada shells cling
reborn softly.

Koi flicker below
ripples fade in quiet hands.
Evening thunder calls—

incense drifts
forms bow.

Autumn — Mission

Fox lanterns kindle
shoji float through silver mist—
ancestral spirits stir.

Stray dog nestles
by the gate;
even strays seek warmth.

Tea vapor
recalls morning.

Winter — Profession

Snow settles
on stone lanterns
pine needles in palm.

Cold brushes fingertips.
Crane arcs slowly—
silhouette lingers on old walls.

Work kneaded
with laughter;
fire clothes darkness.

Completion — All Seasons as One

Sakura scatter—
petals dance
mirror tea vapor.

Breath holds the garden.
Circle closes
opens anew.

Tea cools,
reflects sky—
time folds gently.

The First Bite

Kneaded clouds in saltlight bowls,
rolled paper thin, then baked
into a crescent shaped croissant.
Buttered with mist.
The first bite and you fall from heavens,
crumb by dream-soaked crumb.

Getting the Recipe Right

     She kneaded and rolled it past midnight
        precisely added egg-white

     Yet she still didn’t get the recipe right
        ‘til she mixed love in with daylight

Pancakes

Pancakes are so delicious
with maple syrup.
it's made of all- purpose flour,
kneaded into paste,
with baking powder.
it's fluffy.
yum!

DOUGHNUT

Dough kneaded and leavened,
Designed in circular shape.
Dent in the middle
Deep fried or baked
Dipped in sugar syrup and glazed. 
Dutch immigrants’ popular sweet.
Delectable snack, favorite of kids.

Brother Stream

Brother stream was my closest friend.
sifting from my slag a few shinning gems.

Putting the shine back into my heart
after our dear mother departed.  

Brother stream, gently kneaded his signets to swans
a beckon of light whether it be dusk or be dawn. 

And when he was betrayed by life's jagged sin
the signets that he'd raised flew back unto him.

Brother stream, wove my burlap raggedness
into something resembling his down gentleness.

He guided me away from the devil's black charade
lifting me just above life's crimson cascade.

Brother stream who once took a beating for me
the truth is the truth so now we all can just let it be.

Brother streams heart was speckled with gold
My brother stream whom the lord, called back home.

fun with words in July

jiggling juggernaut jockeyed judo
katie’s Korean kitties killed with kudos
lively llamas listened, learning Latin
Mischievous miscreants misused satin
Needless nimble noodles kneaded themselves
Opulence and opals were seen in land of elves
Paralyzed parlor poodles paraded past purple pails
Quarrelsome queens quickly collected quick quails

What is Kneaded

Knead the mind with prayer and reflection
no need to bring in outside deflections.
What you need is already there...
God shined the synapses
lay gold leaf atop gray canyons
where the potential of miracles lie.
It will take at least a lifetime
to realize that petals of tranquility and truth
can survive the most vicious fire.

Deep in the briars of doubt 
within the muck of the mind
dust devil's like to tease
weaving petals to the lye.

Gather up the pristine petals pronto
before they wain-wither- petrify.
Make fantastic arrangements with God.
Be as a ruby throated hummingbird 
traversing crystal time-sipping the nectar of divine.
For what is Kneaded in prayer, becomes what is truly needed within your precious life.

Making Bagels

A hands-on workshop was such fun
In Montreal today.
We made real bagels, all from scratch 
In a yummy, local way.

Our teacher made us feel at home
(Makes sense - he lives there, too!)
As, patiently, he demonstrated
What we had to do.

Eleven of us washed our hands
And tied our aprons on,
Then measured the ingredients 
And mixed ‘til they were gone.

We kneaded and then shaped the dough 
With Will to supervise,
Then watched them boil and added seeds
And, much to our surprise,

We made delicious bagels
And our group felt really proud!
As a born and bred New Yorker,
I was thrilled and also wowed.

If you visit Montreal, make sure
You find Will’s class and go
For a wonderful experience
That will delight you so!

Haikus on humour - II

When I failed to pass 
Out from Communism class
It was my poor Marx.

Which dinosaur has  
A rich vocab to help us?
Why, a thesaurus.  

Spread across all world, 
A shepherd-less Indian herd,
Reservations unheard. 

I badly needed
That job as bakery aid,
And dough was kneaded.

In your middle-age,
O worry not of old age,
Turn over the page.
__________________________  
Haiku |02.03.2024| humour

account-trees money

the time-river-bank be
lined with account-trees branching...
so the dollar-leaves float

to where they be economically
kneaded as future debt for weaponry...
from an even-easier scrooge

who computer-eyes future
decades of payback that never end till...
the last dollar-plum-met

says those who profit from fighting
are nothing but existent school-yard gangs...
to be sent to fight on melting icebergs


stan sand

The Bluest Avalanche

Earth once had a heartbeat.
Everything was sparkling-alive...
The sun and dirt.
A spec of pyrite
rainclouds teasing the earth. 

All that man touches eventually dies.
Wars spring from iron hands.
From the malignant flavor of religion.
From love gone feral.
For the lust of petrol lands. 

When God kneaded man.
He kicked a mustard seed...
igniting the bluest avalanche.
All things beautiful were crushed.
All that is good was despised-disfigured.
Unrecognizable is the devil's latest fad.

This is the age of the ogre.
The age of opaqueness.
The age of the sub-cultured.
Dark matter of the soul percolates to the surface.
Faith is pulverized into the skin of oblivion.
The meek will inherit the stain of a dead earth.

Crust What I Kneaded

you just can't resist freshly baked bread 
at yeast I can't - crust me, I've tried!  

it whispers - 'I know you loaf me 
                          you know you knead me 
                             you butter hurry up
                               crumb and get me!'

Early Things

When I was born
the light was in other people’s eyes.
warm hands coddled
spills of milky mew-shaped thirsts
dabbed at my whiteboard mind.

I began to wink the world into shapes;
as a new Loosely fleshed presence
I turned listless in the blood-warm bud.

Early things showed up to crowd my eyes,
back-lit beings leaned over a bar of sound,
spoke in warm froth.

Nameless images came and went
red and yellow plastic spheres and beakers
some had mouths to sooth raw and runty wonders,
all as incomprehensible as a wet nose.

Then that light-box of undeveloped things
fell apart only to come together;
I saw the garb of perception
arise from a fitting room floor.

A wind-tossed leaf entered my empty stage
green was no longer a shadow crossing
a white faceless backdrop.

There I was,
an early thing, gathering yeast
for an as yet un-kneaded  brain
watching and sorting visions of returning caregivers, 
and the nameless similitudes
that sometimes cooed, or that passed-by me
latter to be horded, made to be
countable.

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