Golden

a poem about good old days and the loved ones

we were gathering on the narrow bench

near the plank table

a polenta wheel was steaming golden

under the forty watt bulb lamp

grandma untying her kerchief

grandpa slicing the onions in the middle

their yellowish core was for me

 

now there’s only yellow in my eyes

the sun rolling over round haystacks

the home made panettone color 

dandelions blooming and burning on Easter

my loved ones’ faces shivering on hot days

close to their last gate

 

my God why did You leave so much gold in my hands

the autumn climbs down yellow on the path

I’m exhausted like trees

I shall dream on these days

within a white butterfly sleep

 

 

                              

Author's Note

This is not exactly a poem about food, it is more about nostalgic feelings for the old days, for the loss of dear ones.

Reviews

[BLBrown]

I think this is a stunningly sad poem, and yet there is a softness to it as if you wrote it as a whisper, for so great was your loss. Clever to use "golden" to describe so much. I almost felt at the end that the "gold" had taken the place of those you love and you wanted them back, hence the shift to "white" in the closing line.

I'm very comfortable with your lack of punctuation, again, I think this lends itself to softening. You do a good job of using imagery on this: "I'm exhausted like trees."

I don't know if you are interested in poetic structure, but I think this poem could flow better if you applied a consistent syllable count. I think something like 10 syllables a line for this piece would be nice. This is just food for thought...for how to make a good poem great. In this vein, once you have your syllables down, an exercise in rhyme would take this over the top. All up to you! It's lovely regardless.

I would be happy to read a second version if you like.

Congrats on a lovely piece and keep writing!!

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

Thanks a lot. I am an undisciplined poet, i wrote only a few poems with rhythm or rhyme or syllable count. This is my style. Maybe I will try to write in a more rigid structure a few poems in the future. In my own language I don't write structured poems, I don't use a metrical scheme.

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

I forgot to say, this poem is indeed sad, I was deeply touched by the loss of my grandparents. I agree with you, trees have to bear their burden of leaves and flowers or snow.

[BLBrown]

Thank you for sharing that. God bless your grandparents. I'm sure they are together in a better place.

As to structure, I too fought to write free form, not wanting to be inhibited, for a long time. Then I gave it a shot and began to realize that it improved the overall flow and sound of the poem, which is always my goal. Here is a simple example of how a poem can sound with meter. You should always read your poems and others aloud...you must hear the sounds.

http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/bbrown/1005164/

You can use meter without this style, which includes old english.

[Serenity Faith]

I loved the imagery you presented in this. Very nostalgic indeed ^_^ and quite beautiful...

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

Thanks :)

[zainul]

I can imagine how nostalgic you became while creating the lovely piece.
I also became nostalgic remembering similar situation in my environment.
Congratulations!!!

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

Many thanks, zainul.

[zainul]

You are most welcome,Cristina.

[Marie]

What is gold once withers, falling like autumn leaves which cannot return to the tree...

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

Beautifully said, Marie.

[Dr. Wood ?]

another great poem written with your usual depth of feeling....but it should be why did you LEAVE so much gold in my hands...Surely. Pardon me if I am wrong

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

One of my few mistakes Dr. Wood. It slipped my mind. I believe that there are not too many errors in my poems, but a few must be there for sure.
You are kind, thanks :) !

[....]

I really enjoyed this write, it's contentful and emotional,
so nicely written and expressed

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

I am very pleased you enjoyed my poem :)