Tag: poetry
Saucijsjes
The thing to remember about cooking with grandma is that Nothing is exact No measuring cups or spoons Just dollops, scoops, and pinches Everything is by touch and taste Until it is right First divide the sausage Six to a pound if you are feeding the family Twelve for a party Already I’m cheating…
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To Camp
Soul sick and weary The road to Yosemite Promises cleansing Never the same journey twice Bonds renewed, joy recovered This Tanka poem was inspired by our yearly (sometimes twice yearly) trek to deliver our son to church camp in Yosemite, Kentucky. He has fun with new and old friends, but it is also a…
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For Camp
Sandals Sneakers Socks Boxers $20 for Canteen Shorts Sweatpants T-shirts Hoodie Bible for study and leadership Rain poncho Toothbrush Toothpaste Comb Ukulele for musical interludes Shampoo Soap Sunscreen Sheets Playing cards for rest period Pillow Blanket Towels Swimsuit Benedryl for allergies
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The Last Straw
You are the last straw the final stroke the crack in the dike the match to the powder Image from Flickr
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Mommy Truth
No You can’t have the last cookie It’s been a rough day, week, year That oreo is all that stands Between Momma and losing her fingernail grip on sanity Do You want to risk life as you know it It’s been a rough day, week, year There isn’t any wine in the fridge But there…
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Love
Love is a carved wooden goblet Wood darkened by age and use Base sprawling wide, solid, unshakable Stem spiraling upward The generous curve of the goblet whispers stories once carved deep now erased by the caress of countless touches While the lip of the cup runs round endless and smooth to the mouth The well…
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The Sandwich
Spread transparent thin Where is the meat, cheese, flavor? Nothing to relish. Craving delectable bites spilling juice over my chin
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Because You Asked About the Line Between Religion and Faith
Books walls rules structure Music poetry prayer Bulwark and support Minefields and cracked foundations Blood and ashes on our lips In ancient mountains Touch comforting newborn cry Rain soothing dry earth Nurturing bloom and fruit for Nourishing spirt and flesh Religion a tool Gripped to protect or destroy Faith benevolence A gift to…
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From My Deck
Breeze stirs evergreens Black ears perk up at bird song Charring burgers tease Blooms tilt to meet last sun rays Feet up, work gloves discarded Learn how to write your own Tanka poem and #JustWrite.
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I Am From
I am from orchards and soccer balls, windmills and beaches where it is too dangerous to swim; I am from hillsides of waving white and pink blossoms and truckloads of dark-faced strangers to reap their fruit; I am from secret hideaways earned by battle-scarred arms and legs and hair torn out by the roots yet…
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