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For Two
| Open Poetry #50 |
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For Two |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart 
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For Two Two cups flour two-thirds of a half teaspoon of yeast two thirds of a teaspoon of salt a cup of warm water. Mix well into sticky dough let set in a covered bowl. Eight hours, ok. Twelve hours, better. Eighteen to twenty hours, and a sour smell emerges. Sweet. Perfect. Flour a surface, ooze the sticky mass out, sprinkling more flour and pat, roll, pat, push, pat, barely nudging into a round shape. Repeat. Shape again, placing the soft round onto parchment paper. Score the top east to west, north to south. Cover with the empty bowl. See the old black cast iron Dutch oven the one with the lid. Oomph lift it to the cold oven, set inside and punch the thermostat to 450°F. Tap. Tap. Wait. Ding [or buzz or beep] and the oven says “feed me, I’m ready.” Remove the pot. Pick up the bread by lifting the parchment edges, hear mama’s words, “don’t trip, don’t spill, don’t touch the hot sides” Replays, replays, replays in your ears. Pot to oven, Cover to pot. Door closes – count the minutes, smell begins at twenty, but don’t uncover till twenty-five. Remove the lid, close the door, count three hundred seconds more so the browning can complete. Remove the pot, remove the bread. Step back, admire, give a quiet thanks to memories. In a silent minute, the crackling begins as cooling overtakes the crusty top, which still moves imperceptibly, readjusting itself, getting ready to please beyond the sigh, sight, smell, hearing, or touch. It has a name. Life. It readies itself for the palette of the tongue and the memory of Papa’s smile over Mama’s bread. © KRJ 4-6-2019 |
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| © Copyright 2019 Karilea Rilling Jungel - All Rights Reserved | |||
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bbynams Junior Member Posts 49 |
Not a critique so much as an exemption - What did I miss? This has a good beat. Or cadence I guess you'd call it. One of the types of writing I had a hard time learning. Forensic poetry. Should have gone into that. |
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bbynams Junior Member Posts 49 |
Also, I think you should call it "The Water Bill". |
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bbynams Junior Member Posts 49 |
I'm not trying to be a dick, but I butchered this up for you. Not even a reinterpretation I think. Just how I'm reading it. Too much? For Two Two cups flour two-thirds of a half-teaspoon of yeast two-thirds of a teaspoon of salt and a cup of warm water. Mix well into sticky dough covered in a covered bowl. Eight hours is ok, twelve hours is better. Eighteen to twenty hours and a sour smell emerges. Sweet and perfect. Flour a surface. The sticky mass oozes out onto a sprinkling of more flour pat, roll, pat, push, pat barely nudging into a round shape. Repeat. Shape again, placing the soft round onto parchment paper. Score the top east to west, north to south. Cover with an empty bowl. See the old black cast iron Dutch oven waiting. The one with the lid. Oomph! Lift it into the cold oven. Punch the thermostat to 450°F. Tap. Tap. Wait. Ding [or buzz or beep] and the oven says: “Feed me, I’m ready.” Remove. Pick up the bread by lifting the parchment edges, and hear mama’s words: “Don’t trip, don’t spill, don’t touch the hot sides!” replay in your ears. Cover the pot and the door closes – count the time. The smell begins at twenty, but don’t uncover till twenty five. Remove the lid, close the door count three hundred seconds more so the browning can complete. Remove the pot, remove the bread. Step back, admire, and give a quiet thanks to memories. The crackling begins as cooling overtakes the crusty top which still moves imperceptibly readjusting itself, getting ready to please beyond the sigh, the sight and smell. It readies itself for the palette of the tongue and the memory of Papa’s smile over Mama’s bread. |
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augustsky Senior Member Posts 828 midwest US |
Sunshine, I Loved this! it's warm & inviting..gave me a sweet pause to think of my own Mom & memories past.  Well done Poetess.. Sky~ ~Don't Quit Your Day Dream~ |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Although my sense of smell is long gone, my memory is not. Thanks for opening the oven Sissie! |
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Ringo 
since 2003-02-20
Posts 3684Saluting with misty eyes |
I have missed your writing....... This is as brilliant as ever We see the light of those who find the world has passed them by, too late to save a dream that's growing cold |
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David Young New Member Posts 8 |
Okay I am hungry for some real Sunshine poetry, your verse is the Taste of Poetry. Glad to see you are still posting here on PIP. I am now in Austin, making sense or shall I say cents. TOO BEE is to make Honey |
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Pilgrimage Member Elite
since 2001-12-04
Posts 3945Texas, USA |
This made me hungry for home, for Daddy smiling at Mama, and it's been too many years that they've been gone. |
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Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666California |
Beautiful in both thought and presentation. No better recipe for life than a vivid example presented us. |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
This is me, smiling. I love my poets! <3 |
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CarolineToo Junior Member
since 2018-07-22
Posts 17Florida |
This is just what I needed today. Sunshine and comfort food 😍 Lord how I've missed being here....life has been a whirlwind and shows no signs of letting me catch my breath. I came here to try anyway, and inhaled the wondrous smell of your baking bread and felt my grandma's soul tap me on the shoulder and say Breathe....and have a bit of bread and honey. Lovely stuff my friend! |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Caroline, I'm glad your grandmother came over to visit...that tapping on the shoulder is a great reminder of what we should listen to. Thank you, my friend. |
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Marchmadness Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271So. El Monte, California |
Comforting thoughts and comfort food. |
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