Food to suit your Mood

Here is a bit of nonsense on the theme of food and its consumption. With thanks to Facebook friends who helped me with food-related words, and for my tree surgeon cousin who demanded that addition of a cheese related verse. Free verse with a rogue dabble in rhyme. I might adapt some of this for the Waitrose ‘Year of Poetry’ (link below), if they allow things already published on blogs.

Consumption

My mum loves licking lids
It makes her feel primeval
(or as primeval as one can feel
without a long journey
or a second human being)

My dad eats slowly, meticulously
separating dishes into forkfuls
of individual component parts
He never leaves a morsel
Never clatters his knife and fork

My cousin likes his food well rounded
Whole cakes
and truckles of cheese
They remind him of the sturdy logs
he creates by cutting down trees

I eat, mostly, whilst alone
with my dinner on my lap
staring blankly at fruit-based gadgets,
and spend too much time
chewing over stew and stewing

Link to Waitrose Year of Poetry
http://www.waitrose.com/home/inspiration/year-of-poetry.html

Erasure

Below is an erasure poem that emerged in a writing workshop led by Kirsten Luckins earlier in the week:

Walnut front, indubitably.
Silver back, haunting.
Where are eighteen bath towels, decades later?
Spilled.

I love erasure poems. A great way to come up with some surreal nonsense. Nothing to do with Andy Bell. They are basically collections of words and phrases you like, extracted from a page of other people’s writing. A sort of robbery come cut-and-shut job really. Often presented as pages of text with lots of black marker across it. Have a look on google images.

Today’s small stone:

We all live two lives side by side. One life to share and one to hide.

Kirsten (of the workshop) has a blog: http://kirstenluckins.wordpress.com

In other news, I have entered a flash fiction (250 word story) for the Bridport prize. Might as well start audaciously, after all. I might add a poem tomorrow.

A new blog begins

A small stone from today’s visit to the razzle-jazzle central library in Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

The sweet smell of pipe tobacco, on the old man who is lending me a pen, reminds me that the golden days are not over.

If you don’t know what a small stone is and you would like to find out, try this link:

http://www.writingourwayhome.com/small-stones/