Memories Dish

I chop onions, the red ones, I like the flavour best
they are the ones I remember, harder to pare,
I take a snip and with unbleached twine
I twist around the herbs that grow.

I want to make a casserole, I want to make a memory,
make it come to life, explode, taste implode
put all the scents and the seasons of my life
stir, roll, take the taste long lost and re-cast
make it a movie of my life, all home grown

I slice, dice, tinge the wild mushrooms, in a splash,
add this and that, a peck, a bit of me,
make it plain, take it, shake it let it be exotic
I was once your orchid, rare, I grew in places
far from the prying eye.

I splash and dash, snip and snap
my dish of memories, a morsel on your lips,
I will cook and marinade and love and care
a dish I know in my core, the taste from my heart.



Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 682 times
Written on 2015-04-18 at 20:07

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
What a lovely dish you are (sorry for that sad pun). I enjoyed reading this as much as anyone would enjoy your partaking of your meal :)
2015-04-19


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Delicious! I like the activity of this poem. You are bustling about in the kitchen. I agree that the red onions are the best.
2015-04-19


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
As cooks we always fold ourselves into our dishes. We also cook by choice and therefore for those we love. You have said that and much more so very well.
2015-04-18



A very sensuous rendering of the desire to cultivate a memory.
Quite deliciously done.
Mouthwatering:)
2015-04-18