Beauty
It’s early Sunday morning
and every window
I look out of
is filled with golden
sunshine.
The forehead
of the house across
the street
is shiny and creased
by the shadow
of tree limbs.
The white birches
on Mt. Forist
are lifting their arms
like they’re taking
a shower in the spray
of the sun.
My off-white curtains
form a triangular
frame for the blue sky
peeking in through
the cedar branches.
And I’m sitting here,
in my navy blue
flannel pajamas,
the ones with stars
and crescent moons,
like the one I saw
last night,
sipping these bits
of beauty
one window
at a time.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Poetry Train: Homecooked Poems
A couple weeks ago, ReadWritePoem challenged us to write 5 poems about one subject so I remembered back to when I was a kid and the comforting foods my mom would make so I wrote five poems about memories of eating those foods.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
1) Chinese Pie
We grew up eating this about once a month but, when my son was going to school in Florida, a friend of his had never heard of it so it might not be as well known as I thought.
1. Peel, dice, and cook about 5 potatoes. When they are soft, mash them with butter and milk.
2. Saute about a quarter cup of onions in olive oil then add a pound of hamburg and saute them together.
3. Open a can of creamed corn.
4. In a casserole dish, layer the meat/onion mixture, the creamed corn, and top with the mashed potatoes.
5. Bake for a half hour or so or until bubbly.
Chinese Pie
My mother is mashed potatoes,
the cotton batting
of our family,
covering us
like a blanket.
So, on this night
when Nancy
starts laughing
when my brother
is getting hell
our father sends
her outdoors
until she can
control herself.
I face the window
and can see Nancy’s
face as she looks
in at us. She opens
her mouth
filled with corn
and hamburg
and lets it overflow
out onto her chin.
I try to ignore her
but can feel
myself beginning
to laugh. I pick
up my milk
and clamp my mouth
on the rim
but there is Nancy
making faces
in the window. I
guffaw and milk
splatters everywhere.
My dad throws down
his napkin
and retreats
to the living room
and the news.
My mom opens the door
for Nancy. We clean
up the mess. My mom
gives each of us
a hug.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
2) Graham Cracker Cake
1. Whip a pint of whipping cream until it starts getting thick.
2. Add about a ½ cup of sugar and keep whipping
3. Add about 2 tablespoons of powdered chocolate and keep whipping.
4. Then put a graham cracker on a dish and spread some of the whipped cream on it.
5. Continue layering the crackers with the cream until it’s about 3 inches high.
6. Use the rest of the whipped cream to frost the sides and pile it on top.
Graham Cracker Cake
The building
of children
is like erecting
a Graham Cracker cake
one careful layer
at a time.
Our kitchen table
was round
and I sat
next to my dad
the perfect place
for the first born
the one with his blue
eyes and curls.
Conversation twisted
in and around
like the scents
of the food
we were rapidly
devouring.
As a fifth-grader
I was the expert
on all things
and if I didn’t know
the answer,
my dad did.
Then Timmy asked
a question
and I opened my mouth
to show off
that I knew
the simple
answer
but my dad
answered first
and he was wrong.
I closed my mouth
and sat quietly
my heart
a crippled bird.
My mom brought
the dessert
to the table
and I noticed
that it was lopsided
and crooked.
I ate my piece
slowly
and wondered why
the whipped cream
tasted a bit sour.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
3) Whoopie Pies
Filling
1 cup milk
5 tbls. flour
1 cup sugar
1 tbls. vanilla
1 cup shortening
1. Cook milk and flour over medium heat until it forms a ball and then cool.
2. In a bowl put sugar, vanilla, and shortening. Mix
3. Add to cooked mixture. Cool.
Pies
½ cup cocoa
½ cup hot water
½ cup sour milk
2 eggs
1 ½ cups sugar
½ cup shortening
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
2 ¾ cups flour
¼ tsp. salt
1. Mix cocoa and hot water together.
2. Add the rest of the ingredients, mixing well.
3. Spoon onto a greased baking sheet in desired size.
4. Cook for 12 minutes at 350˚.
5. Cool before filling
Whoopie Pies
Nancy was our middle child
always second best,
bursting at the seams and wild.
Late for supper, full of guile,
feeling like a guest
even though she was our middle child.
My father’d sit at the table, riled,
“Do you have to be such a pest?
Why are you so wild?”
Nancy just sat there and smiled.
“Why can’t you be like the rest?”
She replied, “Because I’m the middle child.”
And there sat the whoopie pies piled
on a plate with the filling pressed
between the layers, bursting and wild.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
4) Sauce
Growing up in a Catholic family meant no meat on Fridays. It seems that about eighty percent of our meals on that night consisted of a sauce my mom would make with some kind of fish. It was sort of like Tuna Wiggle but my mom didn't put peas in and she used a variety of canned seafood. It was pretty simple and we just called it Sauce.
2 cups milk
1 tblsp. butter
salt and pepper
2 tblsp. corn starch
2 cans of tuna, and/or shrimp, and/or crabmeat, and/or salmon
1. Pour milk into a sauce pan.
2. Add the butter and salt and pepper
3. Bring to almost a boil.
4. In the mean time, mix the corn starch with ¼ cup of water
5. When the milk is almost boiling, stir in the corn starch mixture
6. Cook and stir until thick and bubbly
7. Add seafood
Sauce
Family love
pours over us
filling in
our nooks
and crannies
sometimes whether
we want it to or not.
Our only telephone
perched on the wall
barely two feet
from my dad’s
place at the table.
When it rang
that Friday night
during supper,
I jumped up to answer.
“Hey, listen” said
my date for that night.
“I’m up at Flint’s
blowing my mind.
You want to meet
me at the dance?”
“If I’m there, I’m there.
If I’m not, I’m not.”
I responded and hung up.
All eyes stared,
all ears perked up.
I hadn’t even been out
with this guy, yet,
and, already, I’d have
to lie to my parents?
They sat there
expecting an explanation.
The phone rang again,
a slight reprieve.
“Hey, listen, you
want to go to the movies
instead? I’ll pick
you up.”
Acceptable.
I relayed that
and heads nodded,
eating resumed,
normal banter
flew back and forth
again.
He met my parents
as they were on their way
out to go bowling,
played a game of cribbage
with my brother,
then we walked
to the theater,
watched The Taming
of the Shrew,then returned home
to have hot
chocolate with my folks
and sister.
Conversation and smiles
drifted around
like the steam
wisping from our cups.
It was just another
Friday night,
another connection
of family,
another meal
of sauce
spreading it’s comfort.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
5) Soup
1 chicken, turkey, or partridge carcass
onions
carrots
celery
basil
salt
pepper
spaghetti broken into thirds
1 can of stewed tomatoes
1. Throw a leftover chicken, turkey, or partridge (my father and brother were avid hunters) in a large pot.
2. Cover with water.
3. Dice the veggies and throw them in, too.
4. Bring to a boil and let simmer an hour or so until everything is tender.
5. Remove the carcass taking care to leave the veggies in the pot.
6. Take all the meat off and throw the rest away.
7. Return the meat to the water.
8. Bring back to a boil
9. Add dried basil, salt, and pepper to taste.
10. Add the spaghetti and boil until soft
11. Add the tomatoes.
Soup
On Sundays
we’d have our big
meal at noon
so supper
was a light affair.
On this Sunday
after Thanksgiving
we are having
my mom’s soup
and leftover rolls.
It’s a delicious soup
with onions,
(Hey Saltines,
do you wear a bra yet?”
Timmy asks Sally,
the youngest
and most sensitive.
A tear plops
into her soup.)
and sweet carrots
(“It’s okay, Sal.”
My mom puts
her arm around her.)
and meat
(My father bangs
the end of his fork
on the table,
fist around it.
“Why do you have
to make her cry
all the time?”
he says to Tim.)
and stewed tomatoes
to add a little color
(“Dad, can I use
the car to go to CCD?”
Little does he know
I’m really going
to pick up my boyfriend
for an hour of parking.
“Sure,” he says.
I smile,
that little bit of wild
red showing in my
personality.)
and salt and pepper and basil
for spiciness
(Nancy pipes up.
“I’ve kissed eight
different boys.”
My father shakes
his head.
Tim high-fives her.
My mom scowls.)
and strings of spaghetti
twirling around,
(“Whose turn
is it to wash
this week?”
“Pass the butter,
please.”
“Mom, can I go
to Rosie’s after school
tomorrow?"
“Hockey practice
starts this week
so I’ll be late.”
“Can you get
some more milk out?”
"Tim, Wanna
armwrestle?”
“I’ll clean up, now,
but dry the dishes
when I get back, okay?”)
and around
in the flavorful,
soup.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
1) Chinese Pie
We grew up eating this about once a month but, when my son was going to school in Florida, a friend of his had never heard of it so it might not be as well known as I thought.
1. Peel, dice, and cook about 5 potatoes. When they are soft, mash them with butter and milk.
2. Saute about a quarter cup of onions in olive oil then add a pound of hamburg and saute them together.
3. Open a can of creamed corn.
4. In a casserole dish, layer the meat/onion mixture, the creamed corn, and top with the mashed potatoes.
5. Bake for a half hour or so or until bubbly.
Chinese Pie
My mother is mashed potatoes,
the cotton batting
of our family,
covering us
like a blanket.
So, on this night
when Nancy
starts laughing
when my brother
is getting hell
our father sends
her outdoors
until she can
control herself.
I face the window
and can see Nancy’s
face as she looks
in at us. She opens
her mouth
filled with corn
and hamburg
and lets it overflow
out onto her chin.
I try to ignore her
but can feel
myself beginning
to laugh. I pick
up my milk
and clamp my mouth
on the rim
but there is Nancy
making faces
in the window. I
guffaw and milk
splatters everywhere.
My dad throws down
his napkin
and retreats
to the living room
and the news.
My mom opens the door
for Nancy. We clean
up the mess. My mom
gives each of us
a hug.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
2) Graham Cracker Cake
1. Whip a pint of whipping cream until it starts getting thick.
2. Add about a ½ cup of sugar and keep whipping
3. Add about 2 tablespoons of powdered chocolate and keep whipping.
4. Then put a graham cracker on a dish and spread some of the whipped cream on it.
5. Continue layering the crackers with the cream until it’s about 3 inches high.
6. Use the rest of the whipped cream to frost the sides and pile it on top.
Graham Cracker Cake
The building
of children
is like erecting
a Graham Cracker cake
one careful layer
at a time.
Our kitchen table
was round
and I sat
next to my dad
the perfect place
for the first born
the one with his blue
eyes and curls.
Conversation twisted
in and around
like the scents
of the food
we were rapidly
devouring.
As a fifth-grader
I was the expert
on all things
and if I didn’t know
the answer,
my dad did.
Then Timmy asked
a question
and I opened my mouth
to show off
that I knew
the simple
answer
but my dad
answered first
and he was wrong.
I closed my mouth
and sat quietly
my heart
a crippled bird.
My mom brought
the dessert
to the table
and I noticed
that it was lopsided
and crooked.
I ate my piece
slowly
and wondered why
the whipped cream
tasted a bit sour.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
3) Whoopie Pies
Filling
1 cup milk
5 tbls. flour
1 cup sugar
1 tbls. vanilla
1 cup shortening
1. Cook milk and flour over medium heat until it forms a ball and then cool.
2. In a bowl put sugar, vanilla, and shortening. Mix
3. Add to cooked mixture. Cool.
Pies
½ cup cocoa
½ cup hot water
½ cup sour milk
2 eggs
1 ½ cups sugar
½ cup shortening
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
2 ¾ cups flour
¼ tsp. salt
1. Mix cocoa and hot water together.
2. Add the rest of the ingredients, mixing well.
3. Spoon onto a greased baking sheet in desired size.
4. Cook for 12 minutes at 350˚.
5. Cool before filling
Whoopie Pies
Nancy was our middle child
always second best,
bursting at the seams and wild.
Late for supper, full of guile,
feeling like a guest
even though she was our middle child.
My father’d sit at the table, riled,
“Do you have to be such a pest?
Why are you so wild?”
Nancy just sat there and smiled.
“Why can’t you be like the rest?”
She replied, “Because I’m the middle child.”
And there sat the whoopie pies piled
on a plate with the filling pressed
between the layers, bursting and wild.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
4) Sauce
Growing up in a Catholic family meant no meat on Fridays. It seems that about eighty percent of our meals on that night consisted of a sauce my mom would make with some kind of fish. It was sort of like Tuna Wiggle but my mom didn't put peas in and she used a variety of canned seafood. It was pretty simple and we just called it Sauce.
2 cups milk
1 tblsp. butter
salt and pepper
2 tblsp. corn starch
2 cans of tuna, and/or shrimp, and/or crabmeat, and/or salmon
1. Pour milk into a sauce pan.
2. Add the butter and salt and pepper
3. Bring to almost a boil.
4. In the mean time, mix the corn starch with ¼ cup of water
5. When the milk is almost boiling, stir in the corn starch mixture
6. Cook and stir until thick and bubbly
7. Add seafood
Sauce
Family love
pours over us
filling in
our nooks
and crannies
sometimes whether
we want it to or not.
Our only telephone
perched on the wall
barely two feet
from my dad’s
place at the table.
When it rang
that Friday night
during supper,
I jumped up to answer.
“Hey, listen” said
my date for that night.
“I’m up at Flint’s
blowing my mind.
You want to meet
me at the dance?”
“If I’m there, I’m there.
If I’m not, I’m not.”
I responded and hung up.
All eyes stared,
all ears perked up.
I hadn’t even been out
with this guy, yet,
and, already, I’d have
to lie to my parents?
They sat there
expecting an explanation.
The phone rang again,
a slight reprieve.
“Hey, listen, you
want to go to the movies
instead? I’ll pick
you up.”
Acceptable.
I relayed that
and heads nodded,
eating resumed,
normal banter
flew back and forth
again.
He met my parents
as they were on their way
out to go bowling,
played a game of cribbage
with my brother,
then we walked
to the theater,
watched The Taming
of the Shrew,then returned home
to have hot
chocolate with my folks
and sister.
Conversation and smiles
drifted around
like the steam
wisping from our cups.
It was just another
Friday night,
another connection
of family,
another meal
of sauce
spreading it’s comfort.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
5) Soup
1 chicken, turkey, or partridge carcass
onions
carrots
celery
basil
salt
pepper
spaghetti broken into thirds
1 can of stewed tomatoes
1. Throw a leftover chicken, turkey, or partridge (my father and brother were avid hunters) in a large pot.
2. Cover with water.
3. Dice the veggies and throw them in, too.
4. Bring to a boil and let simmer an hour or so until everything is tender.
5. Remove the carcass taking care to leave the veggies in the pot.
6. Take all the meat off and throw the rest away.
7. Return the meat to the water.
8. Bring back to a boil
9. Add dried basil, salt, and pepper to taste.
10. Add the spaghetti and boil until soft
11. Add the tomatoes.
Soup
On Sundays
we’d have our big
meal at noon
so supper
was a light affair.
On this Sunday
after Thanksgiving
we are having
my mom’s soup
and leftover rolls.
It’s a delicious soup
with onions,
(Hey Saltines,
do you wear a bra yet?”
Timmy asks Sally,
the youngest
and most sensitive.
A tear plops
into her soup.)
and sweet carrots
(“It’s okay, Sal.”
My mom puts
her arm around her.)
and meat
(My father bangs
the end of his fork
on the table,
fist around it.
“Why do you have
to make her cry
all the time?”
he says to Tim.)
and stewed tomatoes
to add a little color
(“Dad, can I use
the car to go to CCD?”
Little does he know
I’m really going
to pick up my boyfriend
for an hour of parking.
“Sure,” he says.
I smile,
that little bit of wild
red showing in my
personality.)
and salt and pepper and basil
for spiciness
(Nancy pipes up.
“I’ve kissed eight
different boys.”
My father shakes
his head.
Tim high-fives her.
My mom scowls.)
and strings of spaghetti
twirling around,
(“Whose turn
is it to wash
this week?”
“Pass the butter,
please.”
“Mom, can I go
to Rosie’s after school
tomorrow?"
“Hockey practice
starts this week
so I’ll be late.”
“Can you get
some more milk out?”
"Tim, Wanna
armwrestle?”
“I’ll clean up, now,
but dry the dishes
when I get back, okay?”)
and around
in the flavorful,
soup.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Sunday Scribblings: Oracle
My classroom
had no windows
so knowledge
waltzed around
the space
mingling with our
breath and settling
in the kids’ brains
since it had nowhere
else to go.
We were reading
Antigone and I was
explaining how Danae’s
father had been to an oracle
and discovered
that if she ever had
a son, he would grow
up to kill his grandfather.
To prevent that,
he locked his daughter
in a tower so no man
could get to her.
But he forgot about Zeus
who disguised
himself as a golden
rain and impregnated her.
The kids just stared
at me, thinking,
trying to imagine
that happening.
Finally, one girl asked,
“How?” and before
I could formulate
an answer,
a boy piped up,
“I guess Zeus
forgot his Trojan.”
Laugher
and giggles
somersaulted
and did jumping jacks
all around the room.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Question: Does anyone know how to insert those two little dots above the "e" in Danae? I tried inserting them as a symbol in Word but that just erased the e and added the dots. Thanks!
had no windows
so knowledge
waltzed around
the space
mingling with our
breath and settling
in the kids’ brains
since it had nowhere
else to go.
We were reading
Antigone and I was
explaining how Danae’s
father had been to an oracle
and discovered
that if she ever had
a son, he would grow
up to kill his grandfather.
To prevent that,
he locked his daughter
in a tower so no man
could get to her.
But he forgot about Zeus
who disguised
himself as a golden
rain and impregnated her.
The kids just stared
at me, thinking,
trying to imagine
that happening.
Finally, one girl asked,
“How?” and before
I could formulate
an answer,
a boy piped up,
“I guess Zeus
forgot his Trojan.”
Laugher
and giggles
somersaulted
and did jumping jacks
all around the room.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Question: Does anyone know how to insert those two little dots above the "e" in Danae? I tried inserting them as a symbol in Word but that just erased the e and added the dots. Thanks!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
ReadWritePoem Monthly Challenge: 5 on 1: Day 5
Soup
1 chicken, turkey, or partridge carcass
onions
carrots
celery
basil
salt
pepper
spaghetti broken into thirds
1 can of stewed tomatoes
1. Throw a leftover chicken, turkey, or partridge (my father and brother were avid hunters) in a large pot.
2. Cover with water.
3. Dice the veggies and throw them in, too.
4. Bring to a boil and let simmer an hour or so until everything is tender.
5. Remove the carcass taking care to leave the veggies in the pot.
6. Take all the meat off and throw the rest away.
7. Return the meat to the water.
8. Bring back to a boil
9. Add dried basil, salt, and pepper to taste.
10. Add the spaghetti and boil until soft
11. Add the tomatoes.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Soup
On Sundays
we’d have our big
meal at noon
so supper
was a light affair.
On this Sunday
after Thanksgiving
we are having
my mom’s soup
and leftover rolls.
It’s a delicious soup
with onions,
(Hey Saltines,
do you wear a bra yet?”
Timmy asks Sally,
the youngest
and most sensitive.
A tear plops
into her soup.)
and sweet carrots
(“It’s okay, Sal.”
My mom puts
her arm around her.)
and meat
(My father bangs
the end of his fork
on the table,
fist around it.
“Why do you have
to make her cry
all the time?”
he says to Tim.)
and stewed tomatoes
to add a little color
(“Dad, can I use
the car to go to CCD?”
Little does he know
I’m really going
to pick up my boyfriend
for an hour of parking.
“Sure,” he says.
I smile,
that little bit of wild
red showing in my
personality.)
and salt and pepper and basil
for spiciness
(Nancy pipes up.
“I’ve kissed eight
different boys.”
My father shakes
his head.
Tim high-fives her.
My mom scowls.)
and strings of spaghetti
twirling around,
(“Whose turn
is it to wash
this week?”
“Pass the butter,
please.”
“Mom, can I go
to Rosie’s after school
tomorrow?
“Hockey practice
starts this week
so I’ll be late.”
“Can you get
some more milk out?”
Tim, Wanna
armwrestle?”
“I’ll clean up
but dry the dishes
when I get back, okay?”)
and around
in the flavorful
soup.
1 chicken, turkey, or partridge carcass
onions
carrots
celery
basil
salt
pepper
spaghetti broken into thirds
1 can of stewed tomatoes
1. Throw a leftover chicken, turkey, or partridge (my father and brother were avid hunters) in a large pot.
2. Cover with water.
3. Dice the veggies and throw them in, too.
4. Bring to a boil and let simmer an hour or so until everything is tender.
5. Remove the carcass taking care to leave the veggies in the pot.
6. Take all the meat off and throw the rest away.
7. Return the meat to the water.
8. Bring back to a boil
9. Add dried basil, salt, and pepper to taste.
10. Add the spaghetti and boil until soft
11. Add the tomatoes.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Soup
On Sundays
we’d have our big
meal at noon
so supper
was a light affair.
On this Sunday
after Thanksgiving
we are having
my mom’s soup
and leftover rolls.
It’s a delicious soup
with onions,
(Hey Saltines,
do you wear a bra yet?”
Timmy asks Sally,
the youngest
and most sensitive.
A tear plops
into her soup.)
and sweet carrots
(“It’s okay, Sal.”
My mom puts
her arm around her.)
and meat
(My father bangs
the end of his fork
on the table,
fist around it.
“Why do you have
to make her cry
all the time?”
he says to Tim.)
and stewed tomatoes
to add a little color
(“Dad, can I use
the car to go to CCD?”
Little does he know
I’m really going
to pick up my boyfriend
for an hour of parking.
“Sure,” he says.
I smile,
that little bit of wild
red showing in my
personality.)
and salt and pepper and basil
for spiciness
(Nancy pipes up.
“I’ve kissed eight
different boys.”
My father shakes
his head.
Tim high-fives her.
My mom scowls.)
and strings of spaghetti
twirling around,
(“Whose turn
is it to wash
this week?”
“Pass the butter,
please.”
“Mom, can I go
to Rosie’s after school
tomorrow?
“Hockey practice
starts this week
so I’ll be late.”
“Can you get
some more milk out?”
Tim, Wanna
armwrestle?”
“I’ll clean up
but dry the dishes
when I get back, okay?”)
and around
in the flavorful
soup.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
ReadWritePoem Monthly Challenge: 5 on 1: Day 4
Growing up in a Catholic family meant no meat on Fridays. It seems that about eighty percent of our meals on that night consisted of a sauce my mom would make with some kind of fish. It was sort of like Tuna Wiggle but my mom didn't put peas in and she used a variety of canned seafood. It was pretty simple and we just called it Sauce.
Sauce
2 cups milk
2 tblsp. butter
salt and pepper
2 tblsp. corn starch
2 cans of tuna, and/or shrimp, and/or crabmeat, and/or salmon
1. Pour milk into a sauce pan.
2. Add the butter and salt and pepper
3. Bring to almost a boil.
4. In the mean time, mix the corn starch with ¼ cup of water
5. When the milk is almost boiling, stir in the corn starch mixture
6. Cook and stir until thick and bubbly
7. Add seafood
8. Serve over toast or mashed potatoes with a veggie on the side.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sauce
Family love
pours over us
filling in
our nooks
and crannies
sometimes whether
we want it to or not.
Our only telephone
perched on the wall
barely two feet
from my dad’s
place at the table.
When it rang
that Friday night
during supper,
I jumped up to answer.
“Hey, listen” said
my date for that night.
“I’m up at Flint’s
blowing my mind.
You want to meet
me at the dance?”
“If I’m there, I’m there.
If I’m not, I’m not.”
I responded and hung up.
All eyes stared,
all ears perked up.
I hadn’t even been out
with this guy, yet,
and, already, I’d have
to lie to my parents?
They sat there
expecting an explanation.
The phone rang again,
a slight reprieve.
“Hey, listen, you
want to go to the movies
instead? I’ll pick
you up.”
Acceptable.
I relayed that
and heads nodded,
eating resumed,
normal banter
flew back and forth
again.
He met my parents
as they were on their way
out to go bowling,
played a game of cribbage
with my brother,
then we walked
to the theater,
watched The Taming
of the Shrew,and returned home
to have hot
chocolate with my folks
and sister.
Conversation and smiles
drifted around
like the steam
wisping from our cups.
It was just another
Friday night,
another connection
of family,
another meal
of sauce
spreading it’s comfort.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
And in case you're wondering, the guy liked it so much at our house that we ended up getting married and we'll be celebrating our 39th anniversary in June.
Sauce
2 cups milk
2 tblsp. butter
salt and pepper
2 tblsp. corn starch
2 cans of tuna, and/or shrimp, and/or crabmeat, and/or salmon
1. Pour milk into a sauce pan.
2. Add the butter and salt and pepper
3. Bring to almost a boil.
4. In the mean time, mix the corn starch with ¼ cup of water
5. When the milk is almost boiling, stir in the corn starch mixture
6. Cook and stir until thick and bubbly
7. Add seafood
8. Serve over toast or mashed potatoes with a veggie on the side.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sauce
Family love
pours over us
filling in
our nooks
and crannies
sometimes whether
we want it to or not.
Our only telephone
perched on the wall
barely two feet
from my dad’s
place at the table.
When it rang
that Friday night
during supper,
I jumped up to answer.
“Hey, listen” said
my date for that night.
“I’m up at Flint’s
blowing my mind.
You want to meet
me at the dance?”
“If I’m there, I’m there.
If I’m not, I’m not.”
I responded and hung up.
All eyes stared,
all ears perked up.
I hadn’t even been out
with this guy, yet,
and, already, I’d have
to lie to my parents?
They sat there
expecting an explanation.
The phone rang again,
a slight reprieve.
“Hey, listen, you
want to go to the movies
instead? I’ll pick
you up.”
Acceptable.
I relayed that
and heads nodded,
eating resumed,
normal banter
flew back and forth
again.
He met my parents
as they were on their way
out to go bowling,
played a game of cribbage
with my brother,
then we walked
to the theater,
watched The Taming
of the Shrew,and returned home
to have hot
chocolate with my folks
and sister.
Conversation and smiles
drifted around
like the steam
wisping from our cups.
It was just another
Friday night,
another connection
of family,
another meal
of sauce
spreading it’s comfort.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
And in case you're wondering, the guy liked it so much at our house that we ended up getting married and we'll be celebrating our 39th anniversary in June.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
ReadWritePoem Monthly Challenge: 5 on 1: Day 3
Whoopie Pies
Filling
1 cup milk
5 tbls. flour
1 cup sugar
1 tbls. vanilla
1 cup shortening
1. Cook milk and flour over medium heat until it forms a ball and then cool.
2. In a bowl put sugar, vanilla, and shortening. Mix
3. Add to cooked mixture. Cool.
Pies
½ cup cocoa
½ cup hot water
½ cup sour milk
2 eggs
1 ½ cups sugar
½ cup shortening
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
2 ¾ cups flour
¼ tsp. salt
1. Mix cocoa and hot water together.
2. Add the rest of the ingredients, mixing well.
3. Spoon onto a greased baking sheet in desired size.
4. Cook for 12 minutes at 350˚.
5. Cool before filling
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Whoopie Pies
Nancy was the middle child
always second best,
bursting at the seams, and wild.
Late for supper, full of guile,
feeling like a guest
even though she was our middle child.
My father’d sit at the table, riled,
“Do you have to be such a pest?
Why are you so wild?”
Nancy just sat there and smiled.
“Why can’t you be like the rest?”
She replied, “Because I’m the middle child.”
And there sat the whoopie pies piled
on a plate with the filling pressed
between the layers, bursting and wild.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
ReadWritePoem Monthly Challenge: 5 on 1: Day 2
Graham Cracker Cake
- First, whip a pint of whipping cream until it starts getting thick.
- Add about a ½ cup of sugar and keep whipping.
- Add about 2 tablespoons of powdered chocolate and keep whipping.
- Then put a graham cracker on a dish and spread some of the whipped cream on it.
- Continue layering the crackers with the cream until it’s about 3 inches high.
- Use the rest of the whipped cream to frost the sides and pile the leftover on top.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Graham Cracker Cake
The building
of children
is like erecting
a Graham Cracker cake
one careful layer
at a time.
Our kitchen table
was round
and I sat
next to my dad
the perfect place
for the first born
the one with his blue
eyes and curls.
Conversation twisted
in and around
like the scents
of the food
we were rapidly
devouring.
As a fifth-grader
I was the expert
on all things
and if I didn’t know
the answer,
my dad did.
Then Timmy asked
a question
and I opened my mouth
to show off
that I knew
the simple
answer
but my dad
answered first
and he was wrong.
I closed my mouth
and sat quietly
my heart
a crippled bird.
My mom brought
the dessert
to the table
and I noticed
that it was lopsided
and crooked.
I ate my piece
slowly
and wondered why
the whipped cream
tasted a bit sour.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
ReadWritePoem Monthly Challenge: 5 on 1
ReadWritePoem is challenging us to write five poems in five days about one subject. This popped into my head because the prompt in one of my classes for journal writing today was "Write about your mother's cooking." I made a list of all the comfort and favorite dishes my mom used to make and that got me to thinking about the emotions associated with them.
First, here's the recipe for Chinese Pie. We grew up eating this about once a month but, when my son was going to school in Florida, a friend of his had never heard of it so it might not be as well known as I thought.
Chinese Pie
My mother is mashed potatoes,
the cotton batting
of our family,
covering us
like a blanket.
So, on this night
when Nancy
starts laughing
when my brother
is getting hell
our father sends
her outdoors
until she can
control herself.
I face the window
and can see Nancy’s
face as she looks
in at us. She opens
her mouth
filled with corn
and hamburg
and lets it overflow
out onto her chin.
I try to ignore her
but can feel
myself beginning
to laugh. I pick
up my milk
and clamp my mouth
on the rim
but there is Nancy
making faces
in the window. I
guffaw and milk
splatters everywhere.
My dad throws down
his napkin
and retreats
to the living room
and the news.
My mom opens the door
for Nancy. We clean
up the mess. My mom
gives each of us
a hug.
First, here's the recipe for Chinese Pie. We grew up eating this about once a month but, when my son was going to school in Florida, a friend of his had never heard of it so it might not be as well known as I thought.
Chinese Pie
- Peel, dice, and cook about 5 potatoes. When they are soft, mash them with butter and milk.
- Saute about a quarter cup of onions in olive oil then add a pound of hamburg and saute them together.
- Open a can of creamed corn.
- In a casserole dish, layer the meat/onion mixture, the creamed corn, and top with the mashed potatoes.
- Bake for a half hour or so or until bubbly.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Chinese PieMy mother is mashed potatoes,
the cotton batting
of our family,
covering us
like a blanket.
So, on this night
when Nancy
starts laughing
when my brother
is getting hell
our father sends
her outdoors
until she can
control herself.
I face the window
and can see Nancy’s
face as she looks
in at us. She opens
her mouth
filled with corn
and hamburg
and lets it overflow
out onto her chin.
I try to ignore her
but can feel
myself beginning
to laugh. I pick
up my milk
and clamp my mouth
on the rim
but there is Nancy
making faces
in the window. I
guffaw and milk
splatters everywhere.
My dad throws down
his napkin
and retreats
to the living room
and the news.
My mom opens the door
for Nancy. We clean
up the mess. My mom
gives each of us
a hug.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Poetry Train: Essay
Essay
Weekends are parentheses
(I get up late,
wear pj’s all morning,
play games on the computer,
check email posts,
putter around the house,
have a glass of wine
in the middle
of the afternoon,
write poems)
in the paragraphs of my life.
Weekends are parentheses
(I get up late,
wear pj’s all morning,
play games on the computer,
check email posts,
putter around the house,
have a glass of wine
in the middle
of the afternoon,
write poems)
in the paragraphs of my life.
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