Kneading Life

I share the morn with autumn shades of rust,

and the maple tree stands in sky-swirled blue.

I sprinkle a handful of flour dust

casting my spirit like an ingénue.

These are the quiet moments that I love,

when light and water and substance combine;

and I can drift freely like clouds above

in the breath of the present and past, mine.

It’s no meager journey that finds me here

in this blue hour of reflective light.

I am the firstborn of my father dear

who strived and struggled and lost the fight.

Mother was an ache in the joint of time,

the long moan of a train riding the rails

who careened off track like a paradigm

or a ship left battered with tattered sails.

My sisters savor the east and the west.

They are the sugar and salt that arise

within the confines of my tender breast

whose dough yet rises like smoke in my eyes.

I am shaped by their footprints in the sand

washed clean by the echoes of morning light

and seasoned with help from a Master hand

who kneads me with pain to rival the night.

I punch at the dough and pummel the past.

Old lovers leave me with pangs of regret.

Each slice of my soul is a trumpet blast,

small crumbs of pleasure I’ll never forget.

Time has hardened my skin like calloused dough

in the womb of a burning winter fire;

and I embrace the flaming embers’ glow

letting it consume me, at once, entire.

Reviews

[¿]

Kneading dough in the kitchen is my fave task...but now that I got to know this can be relating to life I'd like to observe the kneading more closely...the whole hardwork and ingredients should be in proper portion nor the whole bread will be going in vain...like a struggling life...each step matters...!!
Thanks so much for this great read...I really like the butterflies and the envelope on your profile actually😊!!

[Robert Parlange]

Wonderful metaphorical poem.
Life, like bread-making, is labor intensive. Despite all that goes into it, sometimes it just doesn’t rise.
Beautiful.

[Donald Meikle]

As thoughts roll into memories and the rut becomes familiar climaxing in mixed feelings I can almost smell the waiting oven.

[alifeacoustic]

A beautifully creative picture you paint with the colour and sights of autumn, crisp and vivid against the interior smells of baking ingrediants describing superbly the journey of life, with all the participants and work involved in making who you are. A real joy to read.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i like the metaphorical use of the flour...kneading the dough tenderly, then violently to express the emotions of dealing with family and life...i could use some of that now, dealing with a family matter.

but just like the feel of kneading the dough...it is feeling life...something tangible, something we can touch, like feelings that become palpable...