How do you write a poem about a poem?
How do you write about a memory that is still so real?
A beautiful heated glow of flavour and love,
It still remains the one traditional dish -
The one true meal I could enjoy -
I continue to beg and plead for from her sweet hands.
And there are many of you who have never had one;
There are many of you who are wondering:
Noun or verb? Verb or noun?
That is the beauty of this beauty:
You will never know.
Your heart will not care.
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About the Creator
Kendall Defoe
Teacher, reader, writer, dreamer... I am a college instructor who cannot stop letting his thoughts end up on the page.
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Comments (10)
Dinner with Mom, even when only a memory, is nevertheless as sweet! Well-wrought!
Charming, Kendall. They say sharing food is the ultimate expression of love, and who better than from your mom, no matter what the meal is.
I'm with Novel too on this one! I'm hungry and my mouth is watering but I don't know for what hahahahahahaha. Loved what you did here!
The smell of fresh bread always got to me, especially mom's overnight buns.
Lovely, intimate, and so true!!!
PS: Go beyond the luscious smell of an apple pie as it bakes in her oven--to the awareness that you will likely lose this woman one day. Or go the other way to a virtually primordial memory that it was the arms of your mother into which you crawled for safety after a spill, a painful confusing burn, a run-in with your dad or a sibling or a playmate...The possibilities are myriad. The themes are universal. :)
Kendall, were I your writing coach I would say: Go deeper. The presentation is somehow too trite, too shallow to cover the heights and depths of a man expressing comfort/joy/worry/irritation/grief in a life-sustaining relationship with his mother. The simple couplet style adds to the impression of a more-childlike poem, rather than the contemplative call to values and to memory that would come from the deep mind of a son whose life has intertwined with his mother's since conception....Great poetry comes from one's higher mind, the unconscious, the hook-up with our Source. That has long been called the Muse. I would call it the living, vital connection one has with the spirit that is our true identity. If I want to write a poem on a certain topic, I ask my higher mind to create it for me: I may wait for months--and then one day, sitting in the mall on a Saturday, the poem flows through my mind -- thank heavens I always keep a journal with me. It is your job to develop your mind, broaden your vocabulary, read whatever you are drawn to as you absorb the world around you--but it is the High Self that inspires sublimely memorable lines of verse.
I think I'm on board with Novel on this one. On the other hand, it does make me think about all of the amazing things I miss from Mom's hands.
What the heck Kendall, now my mouth is watering and I don't know for what. You are such a tease,,,hugs to Mom,,,none for you.
I could feel you in this poem.