"caramelizing" poems
If you’ve only ever smelled fir trees covered with freshly fallen snow-
then you haven’t smelled it.
It’s an acquired smell, for sure.
It comes just in between the whiffs of
mashed potatoes
mashed carrots
mashed peas
mashed turkey
hell, mashed ginger-ale for all I know. . .
Somewhere amongst that microwaved menagerie, masked with the smell of eau de toilette,
it lives, and smells sweeter the longer brown sugar bubbles on top of caramelizing yams.
If you can’t smell it, maybe you can find it.
Not many can, or do.
It hides in plain sight, though.
A lost and found box with accumulated cobwebs - everything still unclaimed.
A flyer for free puppies that no one ever took because they were “too much responsibility.”
Maybe there aren’t enough seekers in this game of empty rooms and blank guest books.
But keep looking, until bingo prize hand-me-downs after school plays look like Oscars.
You won’t see it until it makes you believe that plastic Mardis Gras beads are Tiffany-blue boxes.
It’s not so much in the nose, or the eyes as it is in the endurance.
Endure the voiceless Glenn Miller until his brass bellows become her voice -
whispering “I love you” to the effortless rhythm of “Moonlight Serenade.”
And imagine her,
swapping her orthopedics for black heels,
elegantly taking Pop’s hand as he helps her up from her wheelchair,
to join him for just one more dance.
Watch as they become the sepia-colored couple in every anniversary photo.
That black dress. Those fake pearls.
The crescendo of the band.
It’s hard to miss when it’s screaming at you.
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
I was told I didn’t need to know the Ingredients
For making a child with a heart of Gold
That they were born holding a Medal
Which said they owned everything and All
Of it was because they had convictional Purpose
The doctor would cry and bring a rose Flour
To thank the mother for Baking
An excellent batch of babies, Soda
Would be poured in champagne glasses, Salt
Sprinkled a top its head to spread like Butter
The flavours of intellect and it also Softened
The hearts of others around; old wounds Granulated
Smelled like caramelizing Sugar
Inside the room, the bodies Packed
Together to peer at the Brown
Strings of hair atop the child, who’s Sugar
-like shrieks of life broke open the Egg
Of love and made it taste like Vanilla
Its tears looked the most Semisweet
A dripping fountain of Chocolate
Fondue, be careful not to Chip
The teeth when it grows, it will grow Coarsely
Then, like jagged pebbles Chopped
With a dull knife; finally, assemble the Nuts
And bolts tight because this will hurt ,if
Not properly done, or simply toss away if the kid wasn’t desired
Oct 20, 2021
Oct 20, 2021 at 7:37 PM UTC
and the sun is
warming the long
muscles in my back
and the beer is cold
and ****** on my lips
and the smell of onions
caramelizing with steaks
on a pop-fizzing bbq
is tickling my nostrils
and my soul is unfurling
it's wing...there is a hope
of the joy of spring
in this friday afternoon air
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
Words etched into the wall (above)
by the augmented fifth
Merely (below) displaced fifth
Blistering drywall
Voweling (in) out the love song
Caramelizing (out) paint
German Shepherd tilts
his (between) her head
Doesn't quite like (around)
The augmented fifth
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:29 AM UTC
Stepping on a sound puddle
Beaten by the wall of mute dark
shooed and cooed by the voices in the sky
The smacking of gentle lips before they sigh
The sound of your life
The doors begin slamming one by one
As you run down the corridor, run
Hands clapging in a dooming chime
the laughter washing through your hair
Stop.
Start to dance.
Lift your fingers and strum.
Strum like you’ve never strummed.
The beat grows beneath your feet
Flowers spreading into a senseless street
Boom Boom.
The voice. The base.
Your lungs filled with heavy sugar
dark sugar.
Caramelizing as you dance.
Move. Move.
Until that skirt lifts, until those toes hurt.
A carriage of snapping fingers
Delivering beat, that once belonged
To the silence.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
the vertigo of dwarves--
seven bites into a snowy
apple.
caramelizing dusk.
a full viewing.
her overslept perfection.
her eyelashes flaking off
tremorous go betweens.
her cheeks, rash & unapplied
blush--what's soup to winter.
or what feigns the circulature
of a latter stir.
Jan 12, 2024
Jan 12, 2024 at 6:16 AM UTC
dawn aches behind my eyelids
such a yearning for sleep
unsettled thoughts
wrinkle the mind
I can not smooth their
inconsistencies or
carelessly tuck them back
within steadfast dreams
they creak down hallways
a long shadow billowing
in moonlight, hair tossed
as waves crashing, releasing
suspending - I crave
the certainty of silence
this unrest disrupts
the manicured space
where I have painted
tranquility
but I find, if you count
backwards
you can forget sorrow
misplace concerns
gather flesh
to warm
brittle roots
5, 4,
secrets drift behind
an arched wing
3, 2
lightning retreats softly
into dim heartbeats
caramelizing time
as amber light
fades to
black
Sep 12, 2020
Sep 12, 2020 at 4:59 AM UTC
A sense of pleasure rippled through me as I felt him hug my skin
kissing me softly, caramelizing my pale outer exterior
Even though you are too bright to see
I could feel you constantly watching me
-EC
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 12:25 AM UTC