Cookala's thread of fear and trepidation

[Sorella]

Robert Hass! I love Robert Hass.
And so sorry about the arthritis, and so glad there is jewelry left! No special price, remember postage to Europe!

Very cool poem after Harry R, the recipe poet

Sorella

[Scrow]

Hello!

Oh, but the Metalworker's Lament is sad, but it does give us 'metaliferous masterpieces', which is such a gorgeous phrase. I love the recipe poem - it sounds delicious. If I have a fourth child, which is very unlikely but possible, I might well name then 'Mirapoix', just from that poem. No idea what it means, though.

Enjoy the Mooc! I think you've more than out-fluffed yourself here - you're a veritable angora sweater, and so should be excused to Robert Hass for as long as you like

Sarah

[casket N orbit]

“Death”, I like the firmness in the speaker’s journey into the is-nots. Such brief, yet refreshing images , like when the sun sets, “dip-sinking” and when waking from a nightmare, “cold sweat… still steaming your brow” that resonate with the whole poem.

“Migration”, vividly fresh images here too, especially the first two sentences with a semi-colon in between. Nice use of “conga” (had to look it up) with its slightly humorous flare. “there and not there”, I can so relate.

[cookala]

Sorella - thanks. and I did take the inspiration from HarryR. so there.

[cookala]

Scrow - Mirapoix is a French cooking term - it's a mix of chopped celery, onions and carrots. sometimes for a soup base you sauté the mirapoix in butter before you do anything else. other recipes call for adding it during cooking. generally, I will sauté first if I'm making a stuffing with it, or braising a piece of meat (to make a gravy). if I'm making soup or stew I just toss it in. thanks again for stopping in to read. your visits lift me!

[cookala]

CnO - and thank you, too , for all your visits - they inspire me to continue. glad those 2 are working for you, too!

[cookala]

16. New Path

I read my latest horoscope to discover
my planets are poised on the precipice
of a transit that promises to deliver
love and abundance,
though past experience makes me doubt it.

It tells me I am about to open
the door to a different world
where my feet will seek an unchartered path
as a new life force manifests.

I read this and I am surprised
by a sudden sadness, unbidden,
that sluices up from the depths;
I close my eyes against the dam
that threatens to crack in several places
and wonder why

I fear most what I desire.
I feel the stammer in my heart
fragile as bird wing; fragile as unhatched egg.
The calm comes only when hidden
amongst the tops of aerie trees.

Perhaps what I lack is the fortitude
to stand naked in the furies, bared
to the bite of changeling winds
and fear finding myself alone and helpless
foundering once again; and wondering
whether it’s more beneficial to stay hidden
or pack a first-aid kit.




.

[cookala]

17. Paean to Broccoli

Oh! globulous glory of green,
shall I count the ways I love thee?
Baked, boiled, souped or creamed;
raw in a slaw, drenched in dressing;
caramelized in butter until crunchy sweet;
ovenized beneath an herby parmesian crust –
Oh! how I lust for your cruciferous crunch
as I cut into a bunch of your wee-fisted florets;
I cannot help but take tiny bites of your crown,
roll your buds on my tongue as you’re pared;
even your stalks sliced bare offer an earthy treat.
Oh! Broccoli, you were made for me!

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

17. Paean to Broccoli

Oh! globulous glory of green,
shall I count the ways I love thee?
Baked, boiled, souped or creamed;
raw in a slaw, drenched in dressing;
caramelized in butter until crunchy sweet;
ovenized beneath an herby parmesian crust –
Oh! how I lust for your cruciferous crunch
as I cut into a bunch of your wee-fisted florets;
I cannot help but take tiny bites of your crown,
roll your buds on my tongue as you’re pared;
even your stalks sliced bare offer an earthy treat.
Oh! Broccoli, you were made for me!

The website ate my last response.

I like the exultant voice. I also like "ovenized" and "herby", but my Firefox dictionary does not.

Keep up the good work. We're more than halfway there.

BrianIs AtYou

[cookala]

hi Brian ! thanks for stopping in- much appreciated! don't you hate it when your post disappears into cyberspace after you've spent some time commenting? grrrrr!!!!! I know the feeling well, so well tht I've started copying my comments before I post, just in case. glad you liked the paean!

[cookala]

18. Damn the Silence

It screams louder than liked
there in the awkward moments,
in the breaks that slip-slide
in between sentences;

dammed up thoughts dominoe,
become a synaptic rollercoaster
set loose to wander the tracks
of dormant nerves, getting lost,
missing all the stations. Chaos proliferates

while silence spins;
tidy thoughts tumble out of sequence
and start to loop;
a snake bites its tail

as the thought train disappears
somewhere inside a dark tunnel,
chugging along full speed, spewing
What to say next?
What to say next?
from its overheated stack.




.

[Sorella]

For the record, cookie: until the service goes and comes back with its chronic capacity problems, let it be said, I am reading backwards to where I last fluffed as we speak.

[Sorella]

Oh globulous glory!! fantastic. must remember that Neruda has nothing on you Ode-wise.

The dominoeing of our ideas in the latest -- how it all collapses and leaves you empty -- screaming silence? every NaPoer knows that feeling as midnight approaches.

Posting this crossing fingers, and will be back.

[Sorella]

Lol first strophe of horoscope poem with scepticism! "though past experience makes me doubt it" --dry!
then it becomes serious, the dark you do well.

Aaaaand post! Holds breath

[5th column]

Hello Cookie, I can't believe how many poems have found there way into the thread without me reading. So many people.....

Damn Silence: Love, absolutely love the first and last S's and the snake biting it's own tail. April can do that to ya.
Broccoli: Made me laugh. I love the stalks raw once the knuckles are sliced off. You have my vote here
New Path: A keeper for post NaPo cut and dice. I thought S's 1 through 4 were already strong.
Metalsmither's: I've begun to wake up to one finger (the middle on my right hand), stiff at the knuckle. It's as though my own body were giving me the bird. And having been robbed by age of a number of sports I loved to play I'm with you on the void these things leave.

All told, still on a roll.