Long Cast iron Poems
Long Cast iron Poems. Below are the most popular long Cast iron by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cast iron poems by poem length and keyword.
Darkness arrives by five o’clock
Before the dinner table is set
Tan lines are all faded and gone
As if the bathing suits our skin did forget
White snow now blankets our once green lawn
Where a snowman stands on patrol
Winter days display on my calendar
Something over which I have no control
Throw a log on the fire to keep us warm
As the flames devour its feast
Shadows of leafless limbs on the wall
Starting to look like a winter’s beast
Eating Brunswick stew five days in a row
Simmering in the cast iron pot
I am happy to consume another bowl
As long as you serve it up hot
Crawling under the comforter to keep us warm
As the radiator sings out with a hiss
Helping our tangled body’s heat to rise
By sharing another passionate kiss
Others can fly to Florida
Chasing a warm winter sun
Being here inside, hibernating with you
I think is much more fun
Toasty mornings with teakettles whistling bring to mind Danish days on Marata’s
horse farm, ponies prancing in the unusually warm sunlight, and new fangled
sparkling silver water fountains. Mirada, Karen and Laura’s Mom hosted Bob, Jamie
and I for a summer vacation. We had just settled into the whitewashed kitchen
when the problem was presented to us. For years the housed herd of guest horses
had been watered by filling lovely old white porcelain cast iron tubs which had been
scattered all over the rolling green fields of the farm in Faum.
Mirada had the forward thinking idea of saving farm hand time [and her the hourly
wage] of piping water to these beautiful horses with new fountains! Yes, my
lovelies, all you have to do is push your nose right here. Out bubbles crisp cool clean
water, minus the dead flies, which often drowned in the old tub! Seems horses are
very suspicious. Nope the herd was having none of it. Soon, if not cajoled, they
would be passing out from lack of water in the Danish summer’s heat. What foreign
creature had replaced their friendly old white tub of water? Where was their water?
They saw no water. Sure there was a scent of it from that pole but “What the
heck?” snorted the black stallion shaking his head at the girls.
We were told there would be no breakfast, lunch or dinner for us until we helped
get those horses watered. So off we went, shuffling our feet to a meet and greet
with the herd. Marata and the girls knew the horses. We almost knew a horse from
a cow. I went right up to this large black beauty, pet his nose and rubbed my cheek
on his face, love at first sight! Blackie started following me and we walked toward
the fountain. Then the sun glanced off the dreaded thing and he shied. I pushed the
control, filled my hands with water and brought him some. Lordy, lordy he drank
from my hands! The herd behind him whinnied. I tried to get him nearer the fountain
but it was a no, go. He’d drink from my hands but not the fountain. It just goes to
show you, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink, is really
TRUE!
*The next morning Laura begged her own pony AGAIN to drink. He finally did the rest did too then ;)
I CALL IT SLEEPING AWAKE AT NIGHT I RELIVING TRAUMATIC EVENTS SOMETIMES FALLING TO SLEEP AT SIX IN THE MORNING TO FIND MY DAY FILLED WITH NAPS DREAMS REM SLEEP VIVID VISIONS THIS IS WHY I AM NEVER ALONE THE HORRID THOUGHT OF FALLING ASLEEP ON A BUS WAKING UP LOST MY THINGS TORN BUS DRIVER YELLS THIS THE LAST STOP DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU GOING NO SIR WHATS YOUR NAME I DON'T KNOW THE REALITY OF TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY MY DOCTORS AT NASA CALLS IT EARLY ONSET OF DEMENTIA SO I RUSH TO KEEP WRITING EVERYDAY ALL DAY KERPING MY BRAIN ALIVE STRICKENED WITH NARCOLEPSY THERE IS NO CURE AND ITS NOT SLEEP APNEA IT'S THE BRAIN EVERY FEW MINUTES I FALL INTO A DEEP SLEEP RATHER IN A DOCTORS OFFICE GOD FORBID FLYING A PLANE OR JUST A NORMAL JOB VERY DANGEROUS I NEVER DROVE WHICH IS A BLESSING I'D PROBABLY KILL MYSELF FROM FRIGHT READING LICENSE PLATES LOOKING FOR THREATS MY THERAPISTS SAYS THIS IS NORMAL CAUSE I WORE WIRES FOR THE FBI MY JOB WAS READING LICENSE PLATES THE DAY OF MY CRASH A PLATE READ WITNESS I WOKE UP FROM A COMA BLESSING IS MY PARTIAL BLINDNESS DAMAGED EYE SOCKET MY VISION IS GONE I CAN'T READ PLATES ANYMORE FUNNY RIGHT A FEW OF MY CONDITIONS MOST PEOPLE NEVER HEARD OF NARCOLEPSY CRIPPLED ME NO ONE ELSE IN MY FAMILY HAS IT I BELIEVE HARRIETT TUBMAN HAD IT AFTER HER HEAD INJURY HIT IN THE HEAD WITH A CAST IRON WEIGHT I HIT MY HEAD ON THE DASH AIRBAG EXPLODED MY FACE DOMESTIC VIOLENCE BEING STRUCK IN THE HEAD KNOCKED UNCONSCIOUS TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY EVENTUALLY WELL LETS KEEP WRITING THE DEEP SLEEP IN THE DAYTIME WHEN I OPEN MY EYES I'M STILL DREAMING SO IF DRAGONS ARE CHASING YOU IN YOUR DREAM WHEN YOU AWAKEN THEY STILL ARE AND THIS COULD BE EMBARRASSING AT CHURCH SCHOOL WORK SO MY DOCTORS STARTED ME ON NUVIGIL THIS KEEPS ME AWAKE ALL DAY SO I COULD SLEEP AT NIGHT AND HAVE LESS PASS OUTS DURING THE DAY SO I WRITE I WRITE I WRITE KEEPING ME CONCIOUSLY UNCONSCIOUS
The taproom is a crush.
You slide between heaving shoulders,
squeeze between pockets
of overheated laughter
to a small room set aside,
a place closeted in smoky isolation.
Here the barmaid appears on the half hour or sooner.
Mostly she’ll let the ‘snug’ be,
while a clot of patrons nurse their dark brews.
Grey mustaches puff in the stuffy fumes, noses drip.
In a cast-iron frame, a sooty anthracite smolders.
A fat creamy dog stretches on the scuffed linoleum;
as you step over it, it bares yellow teeth and farts
garnishing a long lingering funk.
There’s a rain-coated woman sipping in a corner.
You consider a few pick-up lines.
The plump barmaid arrives.
Calling for another you scurry to the counter.
Behind your back, the woman leaves.
When, with your foaming ale, you turn back to the room,
the locals are smirking,
as if they’d known all along
you would be leaving the snug - alone.
.
How about a One Pot Kitchen
Minimalist to the Max
First sort out Food
Millet - 5 grains
And a Clay pot
Rotate millets
Every 2 days
Soak and boil
Soak for 8 hrs.
In 5 times water
Leave it overnight
Thereafter COOK it !
first thing in the morning
Slow cook an hour on flame
Toss some greens and veggies
The porridge gets ready as base
With warm soup as the first course
add some crackling spice in Niger oil
Now we need just 1 more vessel ..that ..is ...all
I use a cast Iron ‘ kadahi’ from here on
Flame it hot ..cast iron pot...pour Ghee
Add some chopped onions spices et al.
The cooked millet porridge is tossed in
And voila you can make any no.of dish
And yes. NO compulsory need for Salt.
Now the real fun is ‘time management’
In a 24 hour cycle- Clay Pot is utilized
8 hrs soak 16 hrs to store the cooked
Lunch at 11 dinner by7 that’s 8+16 hr
(A 16 hr gap is suggested in between
2 big meals with light eat in evening)
Yes. Entire day the food stays fresh
+ Slight fermenting is encouraged
some add curd or coconut water
Sprouts ginger garlic turmeric
Boiled eggs potatoes sage
Vinegar Garnish
.
Millets in Clay pot
Experience Zen in kitchen
A Pound of Bacon
David J Walker
Think of this
As you think of that
The frying pan seems to be
The logical plan to burn fat
And I get the obvious connection
To my affection for bacon
juxtaposed
To my burgeoning belly
But - - - think of that
The fat just melts away
In the heat of the cast-iron skillet
Think of this
No diet---no exercise--- no way to say it
Other than burn it
Burn that fat away
Before you eat it
It isn’t that hard
to reduce the lard
And then reuse it
Let’s say to
Fry a chicken that is
“Finger Licking good”
I say you should because
Everything about the pig
That I dig
Is organic
Think of that
Burn the fat before you eat it
Think of this
Tomorrow morning heat
The skillet and repeat it
Mornings, light and smiling
Coffee brewing, black
Meat frying in a cast iron skillet
Grease, flour and milk, stirred together
Gravy poured over steaming biscuits
Granny’s breakfast – typically
Grown to life from a wood cookstove
Noon, gentle sunshine
Picking cornfield beans, breaking
The beans and then washing them
Placing them into a vessel, a pot
Seasoned with pork - fatback
Cooking over the sweaty heat
Of that stove where oak and birch
Smoked with flames of dripping
Perspiration falling from faces
Who were encouraged to listen
With wistful wishes warming
Hearts who know Granny’s garden
Will sustain the whole lot of a family
From the Appalachian mountains
Evening, flickering fireflies
Dancing through the night
Flavoring the heart with joy
As the porch swing squeaks to life
Reminding the heart that loves
Lives here, amid the beans and trees
The biscuits and pork drippings
Grease for gravy, seasonings
And the mind just a bit gladder
Because there is this devotion
Family with foundations of love
Brought to life by His presence
It is their faith that awakens
The mind, the heart, the soul
To the light that survives the test
Of time, of memories, of sighs
In the air of reminiscence, memory
Breathing music through the night
Singing praise to the God of love
The reason for all that delights
The wonder of a prayer satisfied
To the memory – this is the good life!
u CHOOSE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
Theme chosen - 15.Love
April 9, 2022
When I was just a small tot
I remember lying on my Grandmother’s lap
Face down in her apron of old sack cloth
Scents of her cooking ingrained in its depth
I was carried off to a peaceful slumber
Those are times I fondly remember.
She rocked babies from her children of seven
On an old straight back chair we thought was heaven
All the while still sweetly singing
An old lullaby song that’s still ringing
In my memories yet
Sundays we gathered around our grandparent’s table
Watching her use that old apron
To take hot pans from a cast iron stove
To us, no better food could be served
Than what Grandmothers’ hands made with love.
She gathered eggs, and vegetables from her garden
Feeding the chickens with the corn gathered
Up in the folds, and the bottom
Of that old sackcloth apron she wore .
Grandmothers over the years have done the same
Though memories fade over time it seems
This memory for me is one clear and sweet
I look forward to that time we’ll meet
In Heaven’s kitchen with loved ones we know
Eager to see Grandmother in that old apron she wore.
©?Deborah M Kelly
Aug 2021
Battle axe (For the 2nd Half) ... "At last!"
Way too fast past the rescue rascal hassling haphazardly mastered dastardly bastards' fractions of captioning cast iron spiraling wired wax on wax off golf cart Bart Simpson minced garlic cubes boob tube huge goober schooner dooms Days Taser taker wafer run stun gun NOT funny honey bun for one shunned lonesome wholesome quotient potion grunt of a stunt punt the ball into mid autumn leaves fall raking reiki draped date maker place mat patty whack hacky sack crap slapped happy tap dance romance slanted jambalaya riot spliced mice diet quiet cheese, please teases on both knees bereavement easing Fort Leavenworth girth that brings birth to twerk twerps slurred slurping squirts of hurting beef Jerky lurching around the church yard disbarred and charred crash cars 100 yards too far to see scars Mars rover Range Rover Red rover come over 4 leaf clover lawn mower seed Sower leaf blower as NOT just another voter devotional spokesperson swerving tertiary but too scary hairy fairy blue berry merry go round sage turns the page safe and sound clown town brown bag the sandwich fad dude and all of that...
The bedlam lifts if only for a while;
a brief but needed calm falls on the house
when she departs for school aboard the bus.
Though trying hard to suppress overt smiles,
I grin in the direction of my spouse,
for any more would be superfluous.
But storms can interrupt our best laid plans
and so it seems our calm was but an eye;
no sooner had we contemplated peace,
than fires gave way to cast iron frying pans:
a chance that funnel clouds could fill the sky
and pressures here at home might soon increase.
Who is this damned administrative fool
who brought it on himself to close the school?
—————
A Brisbane Sonnet: abcabc defdef gg