Sunday, April 30, 2023

Palinodes

 

Image created by Bing AI




GloPoWriMo Day 30 - some palinodes to what I wrote earlier in the month






Write a poem they won’t understand




Hide it.

Bury it under exotic words and fashionable

figures of speech,

Shower them with similes.

Make your language as dense as a forest.

Surround them with a soundwall of 

alliteration. Resort to repetition, if all is lost.

Whatever you do,

make sure they won’t understand.

Hide it.

Hide it well.




This poem retracts views expressed here and here.





Image created by Bing AI




What It Might Become




The Egg



That morning song, your time to rise.

That midnight call, an ill omen.

Those wings, a shadow from above.

A feather, that you find

and keep for luck.




The Magic


It might have been inside you all along.

Or maybe it doesn’t exist.

Does it matter?




The Dictionary



That thing which lists and orders, 

That thing which informs and defines.

That thing which prescribes.

A collection of words.

A museum of exhibits,

their little wings pinned.

No escape.



The three short poems were written as an answer to these poems.








Saturday, April 29, 2023

So, You Want Nettle Soup?

 



Image created by Bing AI




So, You Want Nettle Soup?




Nettles may sting and prick your skin,

but don't let that stop you from diving in

to a bowl of soup that's creamy and green

with flavors so fresh and rich and clean. 


I can see you coming, armed with shears.

You must be hot in those thick clothes. 

Rubber gloves won’t help, for I will find a way.

You didn't notice that hole in the bag?

Once I’m in there, you’ll think you are safe.

I am sure you’ll want to take off those gloves.

Then I’ll attack and get my revenge.

Until then, I’ll lie low and 

pretend I am dead.




GloPoWriMo Day 29 - a two-part poem that focuses on a food or type of meal

This poem is a dialogue. The first stanza was written by Bing AI. The second stanza was written by me. 










Friday, April 28, 2023

The Little Black Notebook

 



Image created by Bing AI



The Little Black Notebook




So many forgotten names. Zdenka’s fruit cake. Zdenka is no longer alive. Olivera’s Spanish cake. I don’t remember eating this one. My mother couldn’t really cook or bake, but she loved eating. Apparently, she honoured the person who had given her the recipe, which is nice. Nada’s coq au vin. I wonder where she is now. We used to eat this every Sunday until I could no longer stand it. I wish someone would make me coq au vin now. Ankica’s Slovakian cake. Now, that was delicious, though I am not sure if it has anything to do with Slovakia. I didn’t know Ankica had given her the recipe.  That must have been so long ago! I should focus, I need to find the chocolate cake.  Branka’s meat pie. She died too. I miss her. I never liked meat pie. I still don’t. I loved Branka’s pancakes. Vinka’s fish stew. I hated the stew and only ate the bread. Slobodanka’s honey pie. Now, that doesn’t ring any bells. I don’t even remember eating it, but sometimes she would write something down just because someone said it was good.  No, I don’t remember half of these recipes, but they sound delicious. I have to try this pasta. Olgica’s baklava! That’s a secret recipe. If asked, she will make it for you, but she will not tell you the ingredients. How did my mother manage to convince her? Never mind, here it is. And here is the chocolate cake. It says Mom in brackets. My grandmother’s recipe. So many recipes. Fruit cake (Mica). Ice cream (Hranilovic). Hungarian pie (Jola). Blueberry wine (Mom). Moussaka (Simka). Soft cake (Juca). Chestnut cake (Brana). Milica’s cake. Canadian cake (excellent). I am going to keep cooking and baking, until I have tried out each one of them. I bet she used to think that too. I will need to start right now, or I will run out of time.






GloPoWriMo Day 28 - an index poem 




Thursday, April 27, 2023

The Tuftroot of Pain

 


Image created by Bing AI




The Tuftroot of Pain





Here’s my only houseplant, the only one that survived,

its little back bent over, 

from where a heavy curtain fell and broke its spine.

Yet it refuses to give up,

its leaves still green and vibrant.

If it’s in pain, it is not telling.

And here are the three of us, all strong and feisty:

my grandmother, my mother and I.

All in our fifties, our backs bent over, 

each one nursing her own pain.

My grandmother, small and gracious,

her face upturned, as if

listening lovingly.

My mother, leaning forward, as if

suddenly forced into humility.

And myself, my shoulders rounding, 

my eyes cast downwards, as if

in modesty, though I am anything but

modest.




GloPoWriMo Day 27 





Wednesday, April 26, 2023

Vasa's Cake

 


Image created by Bing AI




Vasa’s Cake




This story should be told

like a fairy-tale:

Once upon a time

there lived a prince called Vasa.

For the cake you will need:

eggs and sugar

He fell in love with a fairy,

tall and gracious,

thin and frail.

Her name was Jelena.

walnuts and flour

One day, she fell ill.

They said she would die.

some dark chocolate

There was a doctor in Vienna.

some milk

So, Vasa sold everything he had.

melted butter

orange juice

By this time, you must have guessed:

Vasa was just a humble merchant and

Jelena was just a local beauty.

Yet, this is a fairy-tale and

it should be told as such.

some orange slices

vanilla extract

For, like a true hero, he saved his love.

And, like a true hero, he was rewarded.

some water and a pinch of salt

Neither a palace, nor a magic carpet

but a cake, to bear his name forever.




GloPoWriMo Day 26a portrait poem that focuses on the subject’s name

Here's more about Vasa and Jelena. The original recipe is here, and you can run it through Google Translate if you are curious about the cake itself. It is not easy to make, but absolutely delicious. 






Tuesday, April 25, 2023

Peppermint Field

 


Image created by Bing AI




Peppermint Field




If you dream you are in a peppermint

field, (if you get lost in a peppermint 

field in your

dream), its aroma on your

skin, the memory of its

touch, its

burning taste on your

tongue, its soft rustling

call in your ears,

if you get lost in the fields of

green, feeling

exposed 

and in need of

guidance, 

you will wake up,

the remains of your

dream scattered around you, this roadside 

grass that others walk on,

your heart.





GloPoWriMo Day 25a love poem that names at least one flower, contains one parenthetical statement, and in which at least some lines break in unusual places.




Monday, April 24, 2023

On Heartbreak

 


Image created by Bing AI





On Heartbreak



The first crack 

marks 

the earliest development stage.

It is

sometimes muted,

sometimes delicately fresh in flavor.

After a period of silence, the second crack begin,

softer and gentler,

deceptively nuanced, enigmatic,

richly to sharply bittersweet.

At least, that’s the stereotype.

The quiet finish centers around

pipe tobacco and scorched clove.

Burned bitter tones dominate.





GloPoWriMo Day 24 - a poem in the form of a review

This found poem is based on darker-roasted coffee reviews found 

on this website.