Upon the steamy broth of words we feed,
A spoon of sonnet’s spice, a pinch of rhyme.
Each simmered thought, a poet’s secret seed,
Stirred gently through patient hands of time.
The flavors mix—metaphor, verse, and sound—
In bubbling cauldrons, meaning softly sways.
Within the bowl, lost syllables are found,
And every line a seasoning conveys.
How savory the blend of joy and pain,
When seasoned hearts compose the lyric stew.
From humble roots, a feast of art we gain,
Where every taste and tone is rendered true.
So gather 'round this meal of crafty strains,
Poetry soup forever feeds our brains.
During war of gunfire and fear,
When the sky made the rain drops into tears.
Our Tamil mothers and sisters stirred the pot with quiet and trembling hands,
Kanji simmered - soft, thin and proud.
No feast of spice, no spice of pure joy,
Just rice and water, salt and a pure pain.
Yet in that round bowl, a pulse of one nation,
Beat gently through hunger and rain.
A scent of rice, the sound of rain,
A powerful prayer whispered through black night.
That one more dawn might be kind,
The one more meal might hold them tight.
Mothers waited by broken walls,
Fathers searched through dust, ash and flames.
Children sipped from rusted tins,
Too young to understand the pain and suffering.
When the war turned into dust,
Silence took the soldier’s roar.
Kanji remained - a taste of memory ,
Of the hearts that starved, yet asked no more.
After the broadsword's been hammered
After the battle blade's been tempered
While all the forge fires clamored
Their blood's been Semper Fi simmered
Die cast, more molded metal men
Die classed, just one more axe to bear
Bold swings from the hip once again
Gold medals rip lead through the air
Molten metal men by the scores
Molting fallen families mourn
We stoke our fires to warm our wars
One more Semper Fi tempered born
I like my fungi
sauteed in butter
in a pan with a chopped clove
of garlic, parsley and plenty
of salt and pepper.
Or sliced and simmered
in chicken stock
with arborio rice
and topped with parmesan
cheese in a creamy
mushroom risotto.
I like the musty,
earthy smell
that some fungi have,
the exquisite delicacy
of the gills,
the soft, spongy feel,
the variety of shapes
and colours that range
across a pallet
of grays, yellows,
pinks and purples
through to a bleed
of vibrant reds.
Fungi feed
the senses.
But most spectacular
of all is the fungi
that hides beneath my feet
in a buried network
of fibres thinner
than a human hair,
connecting a forest
in one enormous web
carrying nutrients
to hungry roots
and the secret language
of trees. Poetry
is like fungi.
When we lived beneath thatch-roofed houses,
Curry simmered in pots,
Flames flickered from firewood gathered
From hills and thickets.
When bullock carts creaked
Under paddy loads,
Harvests reaped from fertile fields,
Bicycles spun on dusty roads.
When sounds of hand-pounding paddy
Echoed from homes everyday,
Women weaving at fly- shuttle looms
Sometimes till late night.
And when caws of the crows
And chirpings of tea cricket at dusk heard.
Then we helped one another -
Life was simple,self reliant,and beautiful.
No Victory Day when the Genocide is NOW
The Nazis were defeated in war
their ideologies simmered
germinated in the wombs of today's monsters
many may not know
Zionists and Nazis held hands in the dark
they kissed and collaborated
now the Zionists carry the flag
changed the color not the atrocities
playing the victim
while they dance and slaughter
an army in diapers, while they kill your daughters
today's Zionists
condemned by the true Jews of the land
liberate the Gaza camp NOW
Tender chicken breast filets
Lightly dredged in flour
Sauteed then simmered in sauce
lemon and capers
served o'er spaghetti
Romano
cheese
Ask, and it shall be given you . . . "
from a portion of Matthew 7:7 King James Version
The valley was scorching. Air simmered despair
as its people prayed for rain.
Eyes cast skyward, they cried, “God, bring us relief.
This drought will be our bane.”
One evening a deluge came over the land,
washing their fears away.
They woke to sweet petrichor. Glorious light
flooded the break of day.
A battlefield of delusion
A victim in the walls of her own conclusion
Smothered by the tapestry of threading thoughts
The guilt lurking, persistent knots
Blind to the bright and forgiving revive
She descends into the depths of another disguise
A breath like suffocation
This powerful realm of obsession
The worn pages flip one by one
Her vision scattered before the setting sun
A burning flame that simmered
A dimming radiance in her eyes that once glimmered
Expect changes that you know will grow this love in time
Expect these changes which should not be dreaded, but open each of our hearts like ROSE BUDS
Expect changes of a frantic bride waiting for her groom.
The types of changes which tips its hat to an AUTUMN AFTERNOON. Expect fiery changes that may consume each of our hearts in flames.
One beloved to another expect these changes of subtle pains that come with TORRENTIAL rains
Expect changes of social madness at a spring wedding of BLISS when kissed.
Now seasons turn with a twist
And all is fair on a summer afternoon. Expect changes which may stay 'til the festive SPARK of JUNE.
When all has SIMMERED and is fancy and steamy, acknowledge these days as FINE and DREAMY.
Then the LAUGHTER of spring and summer mingle when autumn touches and more to tingle.
Soon WINTER RUSHES in, a lightly falling snow exceeding the joy I hoped for akin to HUNGRY WAVES LICKING THE OCEAN'S GLADDENING SHORES.
Expect changes with impossible meanings, and fair weather dreamings!
Is there anything you root for in our garden now?
Must I cultivate it to make it grow?
Can't seed so many plots, I know.
Is there anything you savour in our melting pot now?
Seasons changed, and our flavours compound,
True essence to distil.
Blinded by what familiarity steeps
You know our brew only too well, you see.
I taste bitterness, you drink me.
Remember,
The days when cultures were raw,
Just fresh and jubilantly spicy?
Where exactly did that zest go?
Preserved, yes.
Unspoiled, no!
Simmered away as steam from a kettle,
Aromas mingled over.
Vaporous, hardly distinguishable.
Whatever happened to our cultural bouquet?
Trying to bottle it is so hard.
Is there anything you relish in our feast now?
These days our palates just don't know.
We're still simmering.
Taste! Taste!
Bonfire fly it’s light high into the nigh
A flicker where I see you countenance
Ironically to splay the feast
In that glimmer
Something simmered
Two never be released
Touch me, rub me, kissy
Ask you if you missy
Princess in a grim’s fantasies
Another night I sit to sing to the sky
Sang this sylph dirge mellifluously
Arc rampart tracing hearts in the stars
You took my breast beat from me
Hollowed out my chest cavity
Scalpel edge serrated blades
I gaze up velvet lips edict low whisper
Keep it no there is no returns
It’s broken
Toasted teacakes,parmesan cheese
Croquetted chicken,fricasees;
Apple dumplings,yogurt creamed
Welsh mutton,in pudding,steamed.
Baked Alaska,Banbury cake
Lyons ices with Cadbury flake;
Gorganzola buttered roll
Side salad oil drizzled,in a bowl.
Melba meringue,warm mince pies
Filet mignon,mushrooms and fries;
Sunday roast in dripping jelly
Onions and peppered tripe belly.
Trout poached,not microwaved
Slowly cooked,and no time saved;
Thick fishstock,bouillabaissed
Beefsteak so lightly braised.
Hash browns,sausage,gravy and mash
Casseroled stew or goulash;
Poached,simmered maybe pressure cooked
Tempting meals from Granma's book.
then might we be One
who's husbandry you
have made me
night you excit me in
silence
that your voice shall sing our
love in song
than that we shall be
flowered, kissed, and satisfied
Than might we be as one
that you have madest me wait
simmered my passions
might you handle me
handled me into your purpose
that you may never need to
lie to evade me
Might we be as one
in truest lovers Honesty
as lovers
united together
in a quirkes of belonging
Then with one
another might
we love
never to speak of
us apart
might we love
might we love
might we forever be in love
I don't care
Wrinkles have appeared
I see ripples atop water
Sure as your laughter.
I don't care
Time have sagged your sociable self
I know the firmness of your faith
Your closeted strength I know so well.
I don't care
The spark in your eyes seem rare
Have simmered to a glint
Yet warm as your heart within.
I don't care
Your once sturdy hands and feet
Have slowed like wheels of time
I find as kind as you.
I don't care
Who cares for you
Like an inner guide by your side,
I do, I do, I do.
*
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