Salad Days
By Bee
- 1402 reads
All this fascination, congratulating
one another on the weather
as if it mattered that we woke
and noticed rain again,
or snow cold in the kitchen,
thought starting days on tea
a great achievement.
Sun flared rainbows at windows
as we fell into odd longed for letters,
hating we still checked for errors -
grammar, etc. What did it matter,
when we'd never speak again,
or see the green; the hazel shining?
Celebrating Salad Days - a sad excuse
for peppering our plates with vinegar
in order to shock dry palates back to life.
Stabbing slabs of icy lettuce only
offered satisfaction - turned bitter
water on the tongue, the essence
in the seasoning, regurgitated
as we slept and woke the same
as future yesterdays,
alone to face the wall.
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Comments
Some truly wonderful lines
Some truly wonderful lines here, Bee: 'Sun flared rainbows at windows', and 'Stabbing stabs of slicy lettuce', to pick out but a couple. Great writing
Tina
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I always take notice when a
I always take notice when a poem turns, admiring the manipulation and skill that it takes. I echo the above from Annest And Tina.
Excellence as standard. You set your own bar so high Bee. You cleared it easily on this occasion.
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Hi Bee
Hi Bee
Beautifully done, and such a poignant subject. Very thought provoking.
Jean
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Took me a bit of thinking to
Took me a bit of thinking to 'get;. At least I think I got. Is it something like Larkin's 'First Sight' , that as we age existence becomes more detached from the unviversal essence of things, until existence becomes nothing but dressing / seasoning?
Thanks for reading. I am grateful for your time.
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Some wonderful use of words
Some wonderful use of words in this poem Bee. Every line had some great metaphors that made this poem special.
Jenny.
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Loed the quick, quick slow of
Loved the quick, quick slow of it all and I keep turning over the phrase, 'the essence in the seasoning' as it tumbles off the line and into another. Such a lovely phrase.
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