bread

NaPoWriMo Day 7 – The Great Divide

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

The prompt today was to create a poem that is also in the form of a list.

The Great Divide

To make a home you need more than bricks and mortar
Or well seasoned timbers.
You need money to furnish your nest
With warm beds and comfortable chairs
And food in the fridge and the cupboards.

Your cupboards must never be empty.
Love is never enough when you’re hungry
And you have no money for pleasure.

What you may have is too much time.
You may try very hard to be happy
You may cling to each other with sadness
But the world won’t let love exist
When the power goes out in the winter
You children won’t stand a chance.

In an ideal world there is warmth and laughter
The table will never be empty.
The house will smell of warm baked bread
Angel cakes rise in the oven.

Outside the windows the sun will be shining.
You will sit in the shade in your garden
Watching your children play,
Forgetting the great divide
Between nothing at all and plenty

© A.Chakir 2023

Baking Bread

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

knowing you were coming home tonight
i resolved to bake you bread
and fill the house with warmth

i gathered driftwood from the beach
i rose at dawn to light the fire
so the dough could rise

i went down to the cellar
to find a fine red wine
i stumbled on the stair

when i came back the fire was out
the fire beside the stove collapsed
it needed swift repair

by the time i mended it
my hair was full of soot
i had to take a shower

i went out to the market next
i bought the finest cheese
and olives black and green

time was growing short by now
i sank my hand into the bowl
almost in despair

i slammed it on the board
i kneeded it, i pummelled it
and left it there to rest

i went out to the beach again
to calm my savage breast

a good bread must be blessed

the kitchen is a peaceful place
when baking scents the room

good bread is earthly grace

my mind filled with the thought of you
i conjured up your face

good bread is an embrace

returning through the garden
i picked one summer rose
to set beside your place

when you came the bread was there
with olives, yellow cheese and wine
mixed with salt sea air

blessed with love and welcome
and smiles to greet you home

good bread is like a poem

Storytellers (a pantoum)

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

when the power went out we were ready
the oil lamps were already filled
the white candles stood in their holders
all was comfort and warmth

the oil lamps were always filled
we gathered more brushwood and bracken
all was comfort and warmth
we kindled the fire, made it crackle

we gathered more brushwood and bracken
piling on driftwood and logs
we kindled the fire, make it crackle
the flames rose high as they burned

piling on logs and driftwood
we sat near the fire as it blazed
the flames rose high as they burned
we sat by the fire, telling each other tales

we sat near the fire as it blazed
while the wind rattled the roof tiles
we sat by the fire, telling each other tales
life went on unchanged

while the wind rattled the roof tiles
the bread was steadily rising
life went on unchanged
until the power came back

the bread was steadily rising
we flicked a switch on the radio
when the power came back
the world stepped into the house

we flicked a switch on the radio
bringing nothing of value to us
the world stepped into the house
the house grew instantly colder

bringing nothing of value to us
now all would be darkness and shadows
the house would grow instantly colder
there is no source of heat these days

now all would be darkness and shadows
I miss the wood smoke and firelight
there is no source of heat these days
I miss the stories we told

 

 

(this is a re-write of an earlier poem I posted – called Without Power – I rewrote it as a Pantoum to see if the form improved it – I think it has)