Grandmother's potholder is frayed,
it had a matching kitchen towel
full of bright sunflowers peeking over a fence,
given to me as a wedding shower gift years ago,
somehow the two were separated from too many moves,
the potholder survived years of use and Grandmother didn't,
I hung onto the potholder for nostalgic sake,
when I had company for dinner it was buried in the bottom drawer
because of its well-used, faded and stained condition,
I tried to throw it out with the garbage but guilt overtook me,
my hand shaked as it was held over the kitchen can,
Grandmother's smiling face appeared before me,
I returned the frayed potholder to its rightful place,
a special spot for the elderly revered with grace.
May 15, 2020
Categories:
potholder, memory, nostalgia, passion,
Form: Free verse
You catch and keep my hand from out of the fire ;
You embrace mine burning hearts desire;
Molding me, comforting my involving my be holding
the potholder
A blazing urn, you hold;
Your earnest soothing touch;
Your chilling voice;
You keep and kept my heart and body from out to fire;
You embrace me my burning desires;
Holds me comforting my heated plight,
might be a cool be beholder;
You keep me from burning, potholder;
5/13/20
The Potholder Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
Categories:
potholder, analogy, caregiving, endurance, metaphor,
Form: Lyric
Oh wait dear tiny black grumpy termite
Listen to my forgotten yellowed tale
Before you ruin my faded crease with a bite
How this perky white became so pale
Little Tommy had been to a huge fete
To taste rubbery sugar candies in red
He'd got 5 coins to savour a full plate
Candy stall blinked in golden ahead
Just then he heard a man say out loud
"Perky white potholders for just 5 coins
From burning heat thy hands they cloud
Fingertips to wrist to where elbow joins"
Tommy thought of his darling mother
Who cooked yummy sweet pies to him
And hid one blistered hand with the other
A child aged 6 weighed his choices so dim
So he bought me off for his dear mother
She loved my warmth on snowy nights
I lived long enough for her than any other
Yellowed, proud, I don't fear your bites
May 11, 2020
Categories:
potholder, yellow,
Form: Rhyme
When you handle your hot dishes
and set them on table so you can eat
You put them on a holder that
protects your table from the heat
Thats the job a pot holder has
to hold your pots when they are hot
Or decor to put upon a wall
When your pots are not.
An oven mitt protects your hands
when baking something sweet
to reach into the oven to
pull out your sweet baked treat.
Regardless of what you may call it
Well, for names it has a few.
Make sure that your using them
For they have a job to do.
5/8/2020
Categories:
potholder, jobs,
Form: Rhyme
Hanging around
between jobs, on the hook.
Enjoying moments,
often fleeting, to sneak a look.
Overall, grateful
for this home and life.
Dare I dream
you’ll be my wife?
I can only hope
you feel the same.
I’ll be patient
until you take my name.
As long as it takes,
I’ll never quit.
A shy potholder
in love with an oven mitt.
Categories:
potholder, courage, romance,
Form: Rhyme
I looked at my potholder an thought about
The many years it has been around
In my head I brought it to life, like the time
I imagined that it was dunk on New Year's day
When it soaked up all the wine and alcohol
That had been spilled on the table
It also caught fire on Thanksgiving day
When it was accidently
Left lying on top of a hot burner
Ooh, that had to leave scorch marks
For Christmas I imagine that the poor little thing
Tried to push open the oven door when
It was accidently left inside with the cookie sheet
It was also in a brawl when a hungry husband
Gets slap across the face with it, for sampling food
If my potholder could speak
It would say plenty
Categories:
potholder, emotions, fun,
Form: Free verse
Fecund sewer ingeniously knitted
An ornately crocheted potholder was made
Bragged her complete oeuvre at first
But its worthless in everybody’s sight
It may be futile or trifling
What can it flaunt is nothing
The Cuisiner's hands are sheathed
From scorching cauldron was protected
No acclaim, no reward travail
From first light to nightfall with ill
Hard work makes it smeared and filthy
At old age, it will be banished away
Categories:
potholder, poems,
Form: Free verse
I was poised to trash an old potholder
In favor of the latest version bought
When the urge to write poetry came strong -
"My home is here - without it I have nought"
I recognized my Muse at work at once
"What can this be?" thought I, and wrote ahead
"Long ago this was a Poet Holder -
It was intended as a Muse's bed."
"Mundane replaced the romantic spirit,
And concern for the Muse's comfort died.
Holding pots became more important then,
And our creations have waned though we tried."
I was stunned and looked at what I held.
I placed it 'neath my pillow as my wife stared -
She shook her head and walked slowly away,
But deep inside my Muse knew that I cared.
4-24-20
Contest: The Potholder
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Categories:
potholder, poets,
Form: Rhyme
Time-worn and hanging there, for many years,
next to the newer, thicker, standard ones-
it stares at me and stirs fond memories
of how much joy it brought to her back then.
With large green eyes, that look a little sad,
as if to say it misses her and all
the hugs and kisses it received- although
was not used much as its intended role.
Oh, sweetest, kitty potholder, how you
amused my little granddaughter those days.
You were the first thing she would want to find
when visiting- and straight to you, she'd run.
Your kitten shape, with whiskers, pointed ears,
and cozy opening to place her hand,
engaged her little mind, as she'd pretend
you were her pet to take care of and love.
Now, more than twenty years, it still hangs there-
no way that I can move it from its spot.
Such memories of when she was a tot,
who held you, kitty- close against her heart.
April 23, 2020
Contest: Potholders
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Categories:
potholder, happy, memory,
Form: Blank verse