Bread and butter
Bones and blood
Air and water
Life.

O my Lord, help me move beyond
this downward expression of:
confused, constant complaining;
where’s the reflection of Love?

Is my simple Christianity like:
Stale bread with a harden crust?
Is my sad, suffering condition
a spiritually dry, wheat rust?

Lord, let me be broken for You,
so Your bright Light in me shines;
in service, let me be poured out
like sweet, sacramental wine.

The dryness of my worn Faith
has become worthless rubble.
No one wants “bread of affliction”
as a prompt for past troubles.

The bitterness of sour grapes
is never a healthy sign;
help get me off this crash diet-
of this broken bread and whine.

Lord, let me be broken for You,
so Your bright Light in me shines;
in service, let me be poured out
like sweet, sacramental wine.

Will people stop offering
me their cheeses for my whine?
Please break the endless cycle of
this spiritual decline.

Stop people from offering
me their cheeses for my whine.
Please break the endless cycle now,
before I run out of time.
.
.
.
Author notes

Inspired by:
Matt 5:16, 26:26-27; Rom 14:7

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.

It's important you know,
not to break bread with everyone.
Some are made of sour dough,
and some live just to make it.

Yogurt.
"I begin the day buying yogurt in a small favorite grocery store."
Not pizza, nor gatorade.

Bananas
although they are imported from afar and grown in monocultures.
Attract fruit flies in August.

Peaches
locally grown with rainwater. I ate all the farmer's peaches alone
stacking them by the railroad tracks.

Water --
rainwater, tap water, distilled water, carbonated water, spring water –--
deep gulps, infinite sips.

Nuts
in moderation, or not, unsalted, raw, replacing chips. His bowl
of filberts, almonds, walnuts quiet weekday mornings.

Edible plant parts --
roots, leaves, stems, flowers, fruit, buds. In olive oil
or butter.

Potatoes --
look online how best to prepare. Baked or fried. With a little
fish or meat.

Tea and honey,
play and prayer. Swimming and running,
talking quietly.

Bread?
Bread's possible as the Bible. Each is liable
to bloat us.

Wine and dandelions.
Dandelion wine's Ray Bradbury's story. Cans in a pantry, books on a
      shelf
to the end of time.

Pasta
we used to call spaghetti, never noodles. I wonder if I can remember
      how to make
grandma's sauce.

Tomatoes --
cherry, grape. Grab God's eye
going by.

I thought you bought me for a sandwich or something
I thought I was going to become butter toast to you—
Now you’re pouring paint into my ears while I sleep?
Stop,
the dreams are nice but I always wake up with a headache
And what are these you tuck inside my dough,
Indigo? Great—

You go to the coast and have the ocean tempt you with freedom
While painting me black from the inside out—
Good job, You’ve managed to convince everyone I’m a rock
I give up
Pour all the colors you can inside me, I suppose
Paint me scarlet red,
stick a few pieces of fresh green grass on top
And Start telling your friends I’m a tomato
Then feed me to seagulls when you’re done,
they’ll **** me out somewhere over Nantucket
And some tourist there with an obnoxiously large camera will shout out
Wow!, what a colorful lighthouse!

Passed hand to hand, kitchen to kitchen or made of your own strain.

Effervescent, warm as the crook of an elbow.

1 cup starter



Tang of the sea, dried in the sun or

Labored from it's ancient bed.

palm full of salt



Sustainer, banked sunshine

Hacked from the fields, ground in to submission.

7 cups flour



Chipped fired earth, with a blue stripe and lip.

Nouveau ancestral.

1 mixing bowl



Wadded in the corner of the last drawer, found.

Blue checked linen parted warp and weft for hanging.

tea towel



Baby on hip, hair hitched out of view

Hand stands in for a wooden spoon. Mix and rest.

magic bubbles



Forgotten on the back of stove, rediscovery.

Dusted hands slink along, through, around elastic shapes.

second rise



Expansion, gripping uppermost lip of the pan

Night falls, contraction.

bake



Bubbly sigh releases with tightening crumb

Evaporation, setting.

cooling





Slab sliced for breakfast.

Eaten with fork and knife.

peasant meat

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