Poem #1 Pies
Pies, pies, and more pies.
Flours sifted, strained;
strained shaken.
Butter folded;
but you folded;
gave in to the deception.
Knead, need flowers;
knead, need, knead.
Rolling, pushing, and pulling;
don’t knead too much, didn’t need that much.
Laying it out,
all on the line.
Cut the dough in half,
and separate the two, one here, and one there.
What an odd pairing, paring knife in hand, slice the apples not too thick and lay one out.
Lay one out, fill with fruit, top with sugar, butter, and sprinkle the cinnamon.
Place the other on top hugging the edges together and hope that it works out.
Bake until golden and pray it doesn’t leak, drip, spatter across your whole life.
Let it cool down, cool down, calm down; it will be alright.
Everything works out for the best, it works out,
out of your hands now.
Wait for a while until you taste, don’t want to get burned, not again.
Wait, wait, and wait;
There are plenty of freaking pies.
Poem # 2
Hands
Hands do, feel, touch, connect, love, knead, pound, grab, throw, catch, wave, paddle, scratch, slap, clap, point, let go, beckon, halt, tear down, build up, and heal.
Hands do it all!
I really enjoy the combination of light and heavy in this pieness. It feels like you accept despair for a second and then revel in the letting go and in the end you trust. All that in a pie.
ReplyDeleteThanks Wendy for your comment and point of view. You really got it. YAY.
DeleteMaybe you will "get" me to come to one of your bollywood classes. I'm hoping for this coming Tuesday.