Short Margarine Poems

Give me a taste of yellow butter please.
Not that crummy oleo or margarine.
I want homemade rolls not that store bought stuff.
And beef and noodles made by my mother.
Nothing else....

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Our eyes met in the supermarket queue,
She sent my heart a flutter,                                      
But then all thoughts of love ebbed away, 
In her basket, margarine not butter....

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Rub-a-dub-dub,
Margarine in a tub,
Without any butter the table is bare
The crumpets, the muffins, 
Bread from the loaf tins
They all need to be buttered thick
For the most satisfyingly simple fare...

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The hours fade away
Like old men at evening
Wearied of the day
As their lives drift by,
Like the slow /swift sailing 
Of clouds in a margarine sky
And fall in flakes as the pendulums sway
To those man-imagined measures of decay....

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At the furthest bank
This river flows
I dip my trembling toes

The highest cloud
I’ve yet to reach
I sit and then I eat

The horizon 
Won’t yet soon evade
And then I’ll sit beneath its shade

Rationed
Stretched thin
One drop of margarine
On burnt white bread

In the darkest cave
I’ve dared to dwell
I cry and scream at hell...

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The day was killed 
diving in the books.
A lamb was dyed to
please the race.

You gambled for water
huddled in eyes.
I wanted to scatter the pearls
on cheeks.

Drenched in gasoline you
tried to send the message.
A flame was ready to
light the dark.

Margarine had the lustre
but was not a gold.
A red hot iron will
tell you the same.


Satish Verma...

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We are the first dead in this house
Books in dysfunctional piles; debris,
Tins of old paint in the garage,
Airtight as the finish on bedroom doors.
A density of standing air,solemn
With the austerity of dried cornflowers.
Sour margarine on thin grey bread,
Old gruel of past weekdays, gone;
Children`s laughter in a bottle,
Too late, too cold, now not part of it....

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Spring lingered margarine for weeks in disguise
 not a hint of summer on the rise
then the first day of July
 rain no longer cried
threaten walks
  heart stalks
  golden pokes 
embraced heat stroking
 as humid perspiring looms
 cue fair flaxen sunflower in bloom.
bold brilliance glowing faces in summer dance.







for Dear Heart's Writing Challenge 2
July 2nd,2019...

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No store bought jump starts
Cool creamy dough kneaded by hand
Baked until golden then cooled so slightly
Carefully sliced and slathered in butter
Because margarine would never do
Sun ripened berries diced and stemmed
Tossed gently with sugar forming the glaze
Fresh heavy cream beaten in a chilled bowl
Using a wire whisk until stiff peaks stand
Placing the layers one on top of the next
Then garnish with diamond wedges of fruit...

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Christmas 1947

It was a time of deep poverty
with flour, milk, and margarine
my mother made porridge
put the pan on the table
said to her three children 
dig in it is all we have
went to bed and bitterly cried
A child doesn't  know it is poor
we ate the porridge and fought
about who was to scrape
the caramelized bottom of the pan
We, children with belly full
went to sleep, my sister on the
sofa, my brother and I on the floor

...

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