From Paul Fowler:
While you might want to use the common definition of cooking as the preparation of food
you could get even more creative like "the joy of cooking the books" or use the old adage "too many cooks spoil the broth". Use your poetic imaginations and let's get cooking.
I lost most everything in a fire in 1998. This is the last in a series of 8 poems I wrote about it.
ReplyDeleteTHREE YEARS LATER
The Cookbook Section
I never memorized what
could be written down, did not
want to take up space, needed it
for conversations, baby
stories, lost friends, former loves.
My recipes burned. I could
not make crust for apple pies,
pumpkin pies, each Thanksgiving,
each Christmas as I had for
two decades. Could not make nine
bean soup, the recipe typed
up by a friend I have not
seen in ten years. Could not make
pierogies from notes taken
as my sister made them with
no recipe. I found a
new cookbook with a perfect
pie crust recipe. After
trial and many errors,
I can make nine bean soup once
more. I must go to Erie,
visit my sister Linda,
get her to make pierogies.
I have learned to simply laugh
when I reach for lost items.
Like phantom limbs, I feel them
as if they exist, I have
learned not to wonder what things
I do not remember. Now,
I memorize recipes.
Wonderfully evocative. A beautiful rendition also, of the collections we who collect recipes might have and a poignant reminder of the preciousness of friends' gifts.
Deleteso powerful in the emotions this poem evokes. the sadness of loss and the discovery of newness. love it.
Deletei get the symbolism, but also my pie crust is truly awful ha ha. don't know what " pierogies " are...they sound dangerous - love and peace - paul.
DeleteI can’t eat these days. But it all sounds good. And I agree, wonderfully evocative.
DeletePierogies ARE dangerous. Far too edible. They are delicious.
DeleteSerafini's
ReplyDeleteAh the fragrances that greet the nose
mouth watering flavors waft through the air
paradise for the palette awaits
when vegetables and spices unite
Serafini's cooks were culinary artists
never a disappointing visit
they served you with flourish and flair
Oh how that first bite teased your tongue
When memories of home float
through my mind on a nostalgia trip
they are on the ribbon that unwinds
Those distant memories of days gone by
We can forget the hard times
even the sad but never the ones
that brought us pleasure and joy
So I lift my glass to the cooks
Savor the past when I can
life's recipe can be messy at times
but we can write our own cookbooks
save only the memories we want to keep
aaawww like it bonita. a recipe for life. if i had to re do my life's recipe, i think i'd leave out a lot of the spice - hey, i'm sweet enough - love and peace - paul.
DeleteBeautiful. And I loved Seraphini's. I love the way you use the real foods both as foods and metaphors for life. Nicely done.
DeleteMaybe you don’t need to make your point so explicitly at the end. If you just say “the recipe” we’ll know it’s life’s recipe. And I want a different last line, one that evokes instead of insisting. Good poem.
DeleteLove it! Lift your glass to the cooks indeed, fine idea. Very nice last verse too. Excellent interpretation of the prompt.
Deletethanks to bonita for putting my promt up. missed the weekend with hayfever and other nonsense.
ReplyDeleteTOO MANY COOKS
i like to cook
but never use a cookery book
i don't care how it should look
it's the taste that counts
not what money it takes in large amounts
just gimmie the seafood pizza, from lispy fae's pizzareia
and a cold can of beer
always good at cooking the books
without getting suspicious looks
but too many cooks spoil the broth
and arouse a great deal or wrath
she always loved the little chickeny things
be it breasts, or wings.
and you've told me about some of your mouthwatering creations. you can cook for me anytime. this is kind of all over the place but it words. I like the last two lines to pull it all together.
DeleteI can only cook from a cookbook even still. I worry about amounts of ingredients if I don't have a recipe.
DeleteToo many coos indeed, I agree. I enjoy cooking with friends however, but not many, at one time that is...cute poem.
Deleteit's mostly symbolic of course, but don't worry about your ingredients vic. put as much sugar in as you want and don't listen to t.v. chefs, with their " a pinch of tarragen " and " a sprig of parsley " crap. - love and parsnips - paul.
Deletei hate cooking with other people tash. it drives me nuts. sammie could burn water and her toast was always burnt for some reason....much like the woman herself ha ha - love and potato and mushroom pie....with grated cheese, of course - paul.
Deletesmoked fish omelette, with mushrooms and onions anyone? black pepper of course.maybe microscopic bits of garlic, sliced with a razor blade ( eerr that's the garlic sliced with a razor blade, not me ha ha ). top tip...never eat english food - love and baked fish, in a little dish - paul.
ReplyDeleteMaybe you’re the chicken,
ReplyDeleteThe skillet and the gas
Or you’re the match
That flares up and turns blue
Then orange, or you could
Be the oil that starts to smoke
Or maybe you’re the bread crumbs
The wet bird rolls in, and
A few of you flake off and float
In the hot oil that sizzles and
Adheres to you, maybe
You’re the crumbs on top, that stay
Dry and separate, so you think
Until the tongs, which are certainly not you
Turn everything over, and then it’s
Hard to tell which is you, or was you,
So if you haven’t made your mind up
It’s probably too late.
Really interesting poem, highly creative. (shakes head) wow. That's all I can say.
DeleteLove your imagery as usual. I read this over a few times and it sounds totally different if you read it in a "poet" voice or a "rap" voice. LOL
Deleteawesome! powerful imagery. love the innuendos.
ReplyDeleteus chickens tend to jump out of the frying pan in to the fire. we are still here though - love and cooking with gas - paul.
ReplyDeletegotta be straight up on the screen, with no notes, or spell checks. got waylayed by idiots today, who wanted to go to the pub. no time
ReplyDeleteTHE RAW AND THE COOKED
it's what we call cannibal country, south of the river
they won't actually eat you
they prefer pizza firms that deliver
but they'll take your wallet and leave you beaten in the loo
i miss cooking my dogs dinner, of liver and lamb
i miss sammie burning water
and doing unspeakable things with ham
couldn't cook to save her life
and was the devils daughter
but she was a friend to the long handled knife.
I have known people like that too--interesting how some can cook and others well, can't seem to find their way around a stove. Good poem, that last line is a killer. Good effort, straight up or not.
Deleteeerrr the last line did nearly kill her a number of times. woman couldn't even crack an egg, without getting it all over herself......and the things she put in the microwave....sigh - love and omelettes - paul.
Deletethanks bonita. i know i mentioned her again. sorry. i do miss cooking my dogs dinner a lot. the way she would bounce and spin and leap up to see if her supper was ready yet. with her " hurry monkey! hurry!! " face on - love and very small cakes - paul.
DeleteYes, love the last line!
Deletepowerful imagery and evocative. burning water is a specialty of mine also.
ReplyDelete
ReplyDeleteThe Joy in Cooking
My Fannie Farmer's is spotted and stained,
its spine is patched with sticky tape.
There’s many a book in better shape
yet none with joy ingrained.
The joy of a friend long gone from life,
a special friend for whom I pray
"With love and drippings," she wrote that day
when I was another’s wife.
Days of the past where have they gone
Melted, dissolved and vanished now
And what remains is the when and how
Of recipes made and done.
Yet joy is evident whenever I will
turn to the pages tattered and torn
for my memories are not outworn
and bring me comfort still
what i like about cooking, is you start off with a gooey mess and end up with something delicious, or if you are any of my ex girlfriends, it stays a gooey mess ha ha - love and little onions - paul.
DeleteYes, yes, yes. I even bought a 2nd copy of my "Encyclopaedic Cookbook" after that fire. There's always one book we go back to and falls open on the pages we use the most.
DeleteShe was a lovely friend and a mainstay of my life at a time when I needed one.
ReplyDeletelovely...left me with a smile
ReplyDeleteThank you Bonnie, you make my heart smile.
Delete