Tag Archives: food

EATING ON THE EDGE

Photo by makafood on Pexels.com

The food has been cooked

too long, too hot.

The bowl is too hot to touch

without protection

of habeas corpus, 

due process,

freedom of assembly

to warn with free speech

that the food is too hot.

When the food is too hot

we must eat around the edges

where cooler air lowers

the heat and hostility

on the tongue of those

who eat from the middle

un-thinking, un-aware,

ready to mix up reality

thinking it will cool food down.

Eat from the edges.

Save the tongue for speech

un-damaged by the heat.

Cool air cannot reach the middle

until the edges have been removed.

Eat around the edges

to compete with the heat

and bring the heat down

until the food  can be handled

and the tongue un-mangled

until the food once again

can be swallowed

and the entire community fed.

Leave a comment

Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

TWO DIFFERENT TEA PARTIES

Louise at tea with friends

We sit together in the tea room,

four friends sharing stories of our lives

as we have done since first grade.

Now, older ladies at age seventy-five

the stories remain the same in the telling

if not in the content, with little to no surprise.

Our stories are those told by women over time

while their aged hands hold cups of calming tea

Heart-hands are held within the circle of our lives.

We studiously avoid this day 

what brings us to our knees to pray.

We know our country and our world’s democracy

is sadly  attacked, torn, bleeding and frayed

by hypocrites who lie and find distorted ways

to describe the problems we all face.

We agree the Republican Party is a disgrace.

Its leaders praise and offer support

to Putin, Orban and the sort of autocrat

who rules with iron hands and deadly fists,

claiming they are too MAGA strong to resist.

Laughingly, as if they are proud

supporters rally round Trump, shouting loud

with triumphant cheers, they form a crowd

of sycophants and fools who hide their fear

within the lies of those they cheer.

They no longer need to wear white sheets.

They are legally and openly armed to the teeth

to create a white supremacist militia.

They act with impunity in every community,

even in D.C. on the 6th. of January.

Hate crimes increase, threats roam the streets,

and gather openly in social media accounts

where they can hide their hate with open pride.

We old ladies have no fear. We have seen this before.

We have lived long enough to recall all 

those who “drank the tea” and raised the cup

to the “Tea Party” who plotted it all,

willing to watch America fall

so long as Republican supporters with great stealth

could retain their hold on power, and keep their wealth.

This is nothing new. We watched it happen as too few

paid any attention to how it happened and came to be

that we face the loss of our very treasured democracy.

They attack our very humanity, and make love a sin.

Their victimhood becomes a sign of religious grace.

Too many “find Jesus” as His words are replaced

with a false idol determined to win the race

to the White House and the presidency.

So, we sit together and drink our tea.

We may find it hard to stand on our feet.

But we shall not allow our democracy’s defeat.

We will vote for the only political party

we would be willing to invite to join us at tea.

Democrats all, we still can stand tall.

We may be a bit slower, but we go where we need to be,

to the polls to vote for those who still uphold the law.

We still speak what needs to be said

as facts remain alive, and truth is not yet dead.

We are still alive, as you can see. No one is too old

to uphold democracy and jail those whose crimes

are so many and so bold. We ladies recognize

that lies are still lies, no matter who enjoys their telling.

The con is not new, though the conmen may be.

Heat the kettle. Bring the water to a boil.

Brew the tea. Fill your cup. 

Drink the real tea and wake up.

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

AMERICAN LEFT-OVERS

Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

At a potluck buffet, one always expects to come to a feast.

The spread of food  excites the sight

and left-overs become inevitably

a blinding reminder we have had our fill.

What is left-over but the food we fear to taste,

or simply too much of a good thing gone to waste,

or food prepared by someone unknown,

or food in need of more seasoning,

or food in need of longer cook-time.

Always food not to our taste

is what we allow to go to waste. 

So we put it away for another day.

Too often we forget it still has value.

And, so it is in a country promising 

life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness

that we expect to always be satisfied,

and feel totally justified

in putting left-overs aside:

mothers, children, the aging, the homeless, the poor,

the hungry, immigrants and refugees,

Those who look different, love different

pray different, those whom we fear to try.

The left-overs from the American buffet,

forgotten or simply thrown away.

But, our hunger is never satisfied.

Leave a comment

Filed under POETRY

BURNT OFFERINGS

Burnt offerings

from a mother dead

thirty years past

left smoking hot

on the stove top

in a dream confused

by vegetables wrapped

in stars

the sweet smell of meat

charred to sugar

potatoes sliced and crisped

arranged across the sky

amid the stars.

discovered after she

was ushered to the car

to begin her own journey

away from me

food left behind

to nurture a daughter

nearly blind

with grief for other mothers 

and daughters, and self.

Ancient lessons taught

in the dead of night

of the power of burnt offerings

I had thought were hers

but in truth

are mine.

Leave a comment

Filed under POETRY

GAME OF PRETEND

THE GAME OF PRETEND

Louise Annarino

4-23-2013

 

Underpaid taxes

and overrun budgets

shutter rec-centers

factories

schools

hope

while dog parks flourish

with barks of pleasure

by pets at leisure

well fed,well groomed,well vetted,

paraded,protected pooches

while homeless children

follow unemployed parents

left behind middle class time

to unfamilar beds

at night,

up and out

at dawn

to make it through

one       more      day

without childhood play.

Thus, we pretend

our children are okay.

“Whoof”!

Time to feed the dog.

Leave a comment

Filed under POETRY