Jul 31
THE ESSENTIAL INGREDIENT
"Oh love is teasing
and love is pleasing. . ."
my sister sings to the cake
she is about to bake.
"And love is a pleasure
when first it's new. . ."
The rich Christmas mix
listens with all of its ingredients.
"Ahhhh but as love gets older
sure love gets colder. . ."
the brandy & fruit
weep into the bowl
"...and fades away like
the morning dew."
There is a lot of brandy in the mix.
There is a lot of brandy in sis.
Sad Irish folk songs
appear to be
the essential ingredient.
A pink and green balloon
clings to the ceiling
refusing to come down
by poker or by broom.
Takes refuge in the corner
just above the Christmas star.
My heart is breaking
with baking.
"I know my love
by his way of talking..."
flour in her hair
making her so ghostly
as if the original protagonist
came back from the grave
and sang her heart out
". ..and I know my love
by his eyes so blue..."
until the creambuttersugar
is all fluffy.
He voice adding a zing
of lemon peel.
At this stage
the eegs are beaten
". . .and if my love leaves me
what will I do?"
Slowly slowly whipped
to form peaks.
Now the cake is tipsy.
So - is sis.
I am drunk
on her singing.
My mind is in mourning
for all the love loved
and lost.
She daubs my nose and laughs.
I lick it off.
The tip of my tongue
a windscreen wiper!
And so the brandy fruit mixture
is folded in.
I can still taste
her singing.
Her cake the only cake
I could ever ate and oh
her almond icing!
These songs forever
her.
And still she sings
down all the years
and I love her versions
the best!
"...and a troubled mind sure
can know no rest
and still she cries bonny boys are few
and if my love leaves me
what will I do!"
*
Ahhh it's such an elemental memory for me...I can at a second's notice step back into it in an instant. I'd bawl my eyes out....the words....the melody....everything was real to me.
Couldn't possibly forget these songs and the singer...they stained my soul. She used to sing them very quietly and so soft and tender....even today they haven't been surpassed...they used to **** me. And when she got to the bit where "...he takes a strange ******* his knee and he tells her things that he once told me..." it was all much too much! I thought they were exquisite!
Her voice and that moment tied to her apron strings lives forever in my mind. It is a little jewel of time that has never diminished ever. I was too young to understand the brandy factor and could never understand how other people's cake and almond icing just couldn't get next or near to my sister's!
My big sister hated my poetry and said "You can't be writing poetry 'cos you are my brother!" i pointed out that a certain Mr. Cohen had a sister and that didn't stop him( not that I was comparing myself to Lenny). Whenever anybody else liked it she was furious and couldn't understand why for heaven's sake. Nevertheless when I wrote about this little moment she changed her tune and was thrilled to be remembered in such a touching moment.
"Oh love is teasing
and love is pleasing. . ."
my sister sings to the cake
she is about to bake.
"And love is a pleasure
when first it's new. . ."
The rich Christmas mix
listens with all of its ingredients.
"Ahhhh but as love gets older
sure love gets colder. . ."
the brandy & fruit
weep into the bowl
"...and fades away like
the morning dew."
There is a lot of brandy in the mix.
There is a lot of brandy in sis.
Sad Irish folk songs
appear to be
the essential ingredient.
A pink and green balloon
clings to the ceiling
refusing to come down
by poker or by broom.
Takes refuge in the corner
just above the Christmas star.
My heart is breaking
with baking.
"I know my love
by his way of talking..."
flour in her hair
making her so ghostly
as if the original protagonist
came back from the grave
and sang her heart out
". ..and I know my love
by his eyes so blue..."
until the creambuttersugar
is all fluffy.
He voice adding a zing
of lemon peel.
At this stage
the eegs are beaten
". . .and if my love leaves me
what will I do?"
Slowly slowly whipped
to form peaks.
Now the cake is tipsy.
So - is sis.
I am drunk
on her singing.
My mind is in mourning
for all the love loved
and lost.
She daubs my nose and laughs.
I lick it off.
The tip of my tongue
a windscreen wiper!
And so the brandy fruit mixture
is folded in.
I can still taste
her singing.
Her cake the only cake
I could ever ate and oh
her almond icing!
These songs forever
her.
And still she sings
down all the years
and I love her versions
the best!
"...and a troubled mind sure
can know no rest
and still she cries bonny boys are few
and if my love leaves me
what will I do!"
*
Ahhh it's such an elemental memory for me...I can at a second's notice step back into it in an instant. I'd bawl my eyes out....the words....the melody....everything was real to me.
Couldn't possibly forget these songs and the singer...they stained my soul. She used to sing them very quietly and so soft and tender....even today they haven't been surpassed...they used to **** me. And when she got to the bit where "...he takes a strange ******* his knee and he tells her things that he once told me..." it was all much too much! I thought they were exquisite!
Her voice and that moment tied to her apron strings lives forever in my mind. It is a little jewel of time that has never diminished ever. I was too young to understand the brandy factor and could never understand how other people's cake and almond icing just couldn't get next or near to my sister's!
My big sister hated my poetry and said "You can't be writing poetry 'cos you are my brother!" i pointed out that a certain Mr. Cohen had a sister and that didn't stop him( not that I was comparing myself to Lenny). Whenever anybody else liked it she was furious and couldn't understand why for heaven's sake. Nevertheless when I wrote about this little moment she changed her tune and was thrilled to be remembered in such a touching moment.
