To Taste A Word

To write with tongue in pen,
Saliva dripping ink.
The heady-remembered sensation
Of flavors long forgotten.
Sifted with fingers floured,
Arms limp from kneading
To have them
Penned to perfect succulence.
Until they are coined to smooth and creamy texture.
The rich-written smell of impatient waiting
For oven-crisped words, over-penned with
Timer-gone-slow.
The salt and pepper of a final read-through
Always spelling disaster to our over-spiced and cooled,
Now cookie-cut words.
The soufflé sinking deep in the pan of its paper-page dish.
Till loving eyes scoop up that first tender-tasting bite,
Till the sound of a thought drifts over two lips
With a satisfied sigh.
Our long-awaited, frustrated, penful recital:
Experimental, new-dished-out, tempting
A-rivals.
Bellies full, read-through finished, enough of the sauce.
We clear the dishes with the simple act
Of turning over the cloth,
To the next blank page.

Oct 25, 2010

Reviews

[OT]

oh yes, this is much stronger than the other poems of yours I've read - more descriptive - and more defined - nice

[HB]

That just means we have to spend more time in my new kitchen. ^.^

[Ariel B.]

I really, really like this one. The polish is exceptionally fine. Also it makes me homesick for all the time we've spent together in your kitchen.

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

It is amazing how we can take our other passions (music, cooking, etc.) and melt them into a pot, creating such a delicious taste of poetry. This is lovely!

[Cerebriation]

Your writing reminds me a lot of my own. I love this one. It brings me beautiful imagery. I can almost see colors in the words alone. It makes me wonder, and I love drifting astray.