Late November, the last days of spring
are beginning to preheat the air, the vast
outback furnace is set to fire up
for summer and ignite the northerlies.
But for now, the evenings are cool
as I take breath, float thoughts off
towards a dozen vague destinations
that glow on memory's horizon.
Old age sets you off on such journeys
as if to find something lost long ago
that seems to have left a lifelong cavity
at the very centre of yourself.
Meanwhile, the world calls me
to hear what it has to say in the sounds
of a November evening.
It is not interested in my memories.
It cares little that I'm old
and that my body is sometimes hell.
I am perfect for it to echo its sounds
just like an empty seashell.
Dark dreary December days
Mostly gray and white
The atmosphere depressing.
More night than day
My brain starving.
Why wasn’t I designed to hibernate?
To cuddle up and dream about better days.
It would be great
I could lose weight
While doing nothing.
It’s a win win
But no, not this time around.
Or forever for that matter.
I will have to buck up
Lift my chin, dust the snow off.
Put that fake smile on.
Preheat the car
And keep truck’in.
There’s no hibernating
That’s just a dream.
I have to wake up to the reality
I live in inevitably
In Minnesota.
chill to take my breath away
the tailpipe streamers
this day trip must take place
a cozy talk
heater on sun-strength
Dad bundled up
dust, sweep, mop
clean and sanitize
drop and talk
olives stabbed
martini sipped
Dad dips
his glass
to Mom’s ashes
preheat air fryer
flipping burgers
preheat oven
turning frozen fries
drop and talk
my Dad’s alive
this day trip must end
with tailpipe streamers
wall to wall traffic
and a warm smile
and a hand
as my husband
helps me unload
drop and talk
after I text
my Dad
and he
texts back a red heart
and tells me
he loves me
Ingredients:
~ A pint of stress
~A cup of anxiety
~A tablespoon of guilt
~A pinch of regret
~A dash of hopelessness
~A sprinkle of self-doubt
Directions:
- Mix all the ingredients in a large bowl
- Stir well until you feel a lump in your throat
- Pour the mixture into a baking pan
- Preheat the oven to 350°F
- Bake for 30 minutes or until golden brown
- Let it cool for 10 minutes
- Cut into slices and serve with a side of tears
*I wrote this poem on January 20, 2024, as part of a ’30 days of poetry’ January challenge. This was day 20 and the prompt was: Write your poem in the form of a recipe. This can be for something tangible, such as a cake, or it can be a more abstract concept such as love or happiness. List ingredients and directions for mixing and tips for cooking up your concept to perfection.
It's January and the cold winds blows
the frosty weather beckons snow
Stay inside within the warmth of hearth
preheat the oven for it's time to start
Bake those cakes and them some pies
a peach cobbler and muffins rising high
Biscuits and scones and homemade bread
cookies galore keep that sweet tooth fed
Jailhouse chili recipe from good old dad
hot homemade soup like as a child you had
Hot coffee and tea and apple cider to brew
don't forget a favorite mom's great beef stew
In the warm kitchen with yummy smells
hot tasty food chases away the chills
If outside the temperature drops fifty below
inside the house winter cooking makes the kitchen glow
Family and food on a cold winter's day can't be beat
because the more you make the more you eat.
boring into my day once again,
leaves having blown, gathered;
trees reticent, stark.
friends in the shivering North
blanketed with delightful snow,
white as my socks…
...confetti
some south of the border.
~
nimble cold of snowmen —
carrots planted, curve
of tiny stones, Santa’s coal
for eyes.
the shovel’d path from door to door —
preheat of Toyota’s engine.
finding mittens from naughty kittens,*
but this mama-grand would spoon
the fruitfill’d pies onto chattering tongues.
laughter crackling in fireplace. joy
jumps from house to house,
lingering in the snowflake sky.
books stacked like logs, candlelight
and peppermint scented —
room wrapped in a quilted hug.
what childhood does remember...
boots spent and sleepy sleds.
11/18/2020
*Nursery Rhyme - Three Little Kittens
Preheat quite low, wee pinch for color flow
A little bit of molasses dripped slow,
with a bit of lemon and watch skin glow.
Sprinkle cayenne pepper for warmth and blow.
Strike lite blows, cream all the way to the, "Ow,"
repeat stroke a little harder, "sweet Joe."
Cream the butter and brown sugar and throw
evenly round the bottom and below
to taste till hot stiff peaks, "loving you so."
Excellent with your hot coco, you know.
12/30/2019
Poetry Contest: First Time Here - Any Monorhyme
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
10 lines / 10 syllables per line
Preheat oven to extreme
beat whites with scream of anger
add cup of mixed nuts
when soft peaks develop, slowly add venom
when it is glossy, add ego, seethe for 20 minutes
Serving size: 1/2 of truth
Number of servings: millions
Wild beans!
You make my farts sing!
You make everything poopy...
Wild beans...
Wild beans, I think I'll bake you
Cuz I wanna eat for sure
So come and preheat the oven
I'm lovin' Wild beans!
I’m not one to boast
But this morning I was able to look up from the abyss
My mind clear and sharp
The wave subsided
The overwhelming rush of love and regret abated.
And for the first time in weeks
I didn’t burn the toast.
Looking ahead toward dinner
I may take some root vegetables,
Parsley , rosemary and olive oil
Preheat the oven to 400
Cut out my tortured heart, add it to the root vegetables
And let them roast.
Wild beans
You make my farts sing
You make everything poopy,
Wild beans.
Wild beans, I think I'll bake you
Cuz I wanna eat for sure
So come and preheat the oven
I'm lovin' Wild beans...
MEAT LOAF DINNER
Ahh! A dinner makes, I thinking of
A Meat loaf dinner
I need to Preheat oven to 350 degrees
I must go to the store and buy some,
3 lbs of ground chuck
@ $4.99 a pound
1. I'll gather a large bowl, combine the beef
2. egg and onions
3. some milk and bread crumbs and oatmeal. ...
4. In a separate small bowl, combine molasses brown sugar, tomato paste ..
5. Bake at 350 degrees F for 1 hour.
Serving in this dish
with baked potatoes
and corn and cabbage
3/27/18
written by James Edward Lee Sr. ©
Honeycomb pans preheat in the sun;
filled of warm nectar so sweet;
confection made by bees.
Cooperation among honey bees;
bakers collaborating with sun;
produce oozing nectar, sugar-sweet.
Natures flowers, filled with liquid, sweet
thanks to numerous, hard working honey bees
crafted in an oven of radiating sun.
A sweet tooth has ancient sun;
Sol bakes flowing rivers, sweet;
with the help of his buddies, the bees.
Without worry I sit and wonder
When the next batch will come.
Dough rolled out, stretched and pulled,
Broken into pieces and stuck in the oven. Without the confines of an cookie cutter; natural in every way. An free form of emotional bliss laid flat on the pan.
I patiently wait, green plate on the table waiting for the oven to preheat.
The dough rises becoming smaller.
I only hope you understand
How lovely it is to be near someone you love.
Without the concealment of air tight bags they are free, the cookies that bake in the oven soon to be placed on a plate, devoured.
Introduced to the seduction of crumbs that come together; sweet, delightful
Before it fully hardens.
Soft, delightful.
Skinny dipping in an pool of cookie dough.
An illusion of things whole until broken apart by lips in full desire.
Drenched in saliva of deep need
Simultaneously becoming an memory
As well as a part of smiling lips.
The mistletoe that hangs above the heart.
Waiting for another batch made by your hands
please, would you kindly teach me how to make sense?
write me up a list of ingredients?
i need rest
i need rest
should i preheat the oven to 1,400 degrees?
maybe it'll bake better if i watch more closely?
i need rest
i need rest
i forget the rest
i forget the rest.
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