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"peppercorns" poems
Step into to her world, a world where she lives - Of colors a plenty and flavors many, A flick of a hand, in measures she gives, Spices that tantalize, worth every penny. Red chillies an ounce, turmeric a pound, Spices scarlet, earthy, exotic, Peppercorns, cardamoms, whole or ground Brown bay leaves, cinnamon, aromatic. Wonders for the body that soothe and heal, Nurturing from nature, a stoic promise, From the choicest gardens, as senses reel, Fragrance of flavors in sensual bliss. Within her world, another world entices... Her voice in sweet whispers has tales to tell, Magic in dark eyes, the mistress of spices, With a flick of her hand she'll cast her spell. ( inspired by the title of the book with the same name. )
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Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 7:08 AM UTC
The Mistress Of Spices
artful creations colors, charcoals paints stone and clay wood and paper bringing life from lifeless form from formless can the artist choose? ~~~ garden creations shades of green jade artichoke asparagus fern, forest and jungle mint, moss and pine shamrock tea, olive mixed with a multitude of blooming hues can the gardener decide on one? ~~~ kitchen creations sweets and treats savories and piquants cakes and pies meats, stews casseroles butter, garlic lemon rosemary and thyme parsley and saffron onions caramelized to sweet peppercorns and cardamon tamarind, turmeric nutmeg combined in precision joy and love can the chef say which is best? ~~~ and thus I challenge any poet can you choose your favorite "child"?
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Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 5:56 PM UTC
Sophie's Choice
The smell of oolong still speaks your name. In the tea and spice shop I drift among leaves and peppercorns, petals and sugar, I want to fade into the muted tones of flavorful hulls, curl into the scent of cinnamon and cardamom. Pulling down the iron goddess of mercy, I realize the veneer of curled baroque leaves rest on a sandbag. Shadowed abundance, a pretty lie, hollow, futile. Too much like us. The Cheshire glimmers of what we could have been. What I always wanted you to be, and what you sometimes were. A small edge, tiny supply to fill my cup, flavor fading too quickly. Replacing the jar, I realize there must have been a last day I named you mine. The last time I called you boyfriend, partner—by our last talk, it was already finished, the last note in a fading song, off tune. I cannot recall the shape of my lips, the weight of your name, the tenor of my voice, the bend of my tongue, much less the listener. I still hear you, through the broken measures of a desperate song. You say you still love me, but perhaps I never told you, dear, I prefer coffee to tea.
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Sep 1, 2021
Sep 1, 2021 at 9:58 AM UTC
Coffee & Tea
architectural mollusks     are falloping through                               my brain                         squeezing past the                          instincts that         have kept me down My instincts,               once brittle sea stars                           that splintered                                     into cracked                                  peppercorns,                  are now mixed with            the breathy liquid         of squid, lubrication for the spiny paths ahead They blow their ink between my inverted vertebrae       injecting Jello into bone                            busting through                         fiber and tissue like                           fresh-skimmed                     lavacream and all my muck rises to the top in a neon rawness that I find beautiful Soon my burning crevices will be cooled fossils will turn to flesh and, as sure as knowledge springs into action I will make for the shoreline like a cephalopod rocket silky smooth my fins spun into wings touching magic as they glide
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Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 5:29 PM UTC
sea change
They say it depends where you're from as long as you don't miss the meat, (sometimes I prefer pork) soy sauce and vinegar, garlic (as much as you can peel) bay leaves (a couple, maybe) and peppercorns. They like to tell me where I'm from as long as they smell the added sugar, the occasional potatoes, the mix of chicken and pork. And through my teeth, I tell them that there is nothing that different about me.
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Feb 4, 2020
Feb 4, 2020 at 10:33 AM UTC
Chicken adobo
A gentle pungence of the nutmeg Burns the hands that dwell in its ashes Sprinkle generously, lest you want the concoction, to turn out bland. Yet, how would bland be? A curry. Dressed in an assortment of spices, As, Cardamoms and Peppercorns and Cinnamons and Aniseeed_ Do add a bay leaf as you temper the potion to a base. It is joy, manifold_ flavours not just in conclusion but odyssey of the process. It is joy, unbound, creation nienté could bring about such happiness ! Joy of the 'Kitchen Wizard' is in his pots and potions found !
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Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 2:54 PM UTC
The Kitchen Wizard
Step into to her world, a world where she lives, Of colours a plenty and flavours many, A flick of a hand, in measures she gives, Spices that tantalise, worth every penny. Red chillies an ounce, turmeric a pound, Spices scarlet, yellow, in hues exotic, Peppercorns, cardamoms, whole or ground, Brown bay leaves, cinnamon, aromatic. Wonders for the body that soothe and heal, Nurturing from nature, a stoic promise, From the choicest gardens, as senses reel, Fragrance of flavours in sensual bliss. Within her world, another world entices, Her voice in sweet whispers has tales to tell, Magic in dark eyes, the mistress of spices, With a flick of her hand, she’ll cast a spell. Written in 2013 ( inspired by the title of the book by Chitra Divakaruni)
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Dec 1, 2023
Dec 1, 2023 at 6:37 AM UTC
The Mistress of Spices
When they had all they had to eat of peppercorns and roasted meat, they decided in extravagance to strip quite naked and to dance. I blame the barley wine, for that get together of a time but they denied it was to blame and said it's only high jinks and a game then invited me to join in, I declined quite rapidly and trotted home to have my tea. It was a normal day in Whitehall.
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Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
Waiting for the med's to kick in
When understanding the fact there may no longer be future days it's the little things which burn with the ugliest truth. Like not knowing what cabinet the olive oil and peppercorns are in or how much laundry detergent is left. Gasping yourself awake at the sound of barking dogs still haunting edges of every doorjamb.
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Mar 21, 2021
Mar 21, 2021 at 11:36 PM UTC
Grief, Ever-evolving
when i miss you the longing makes a home under my skin. drives pickaxes into my bones and reminds the marrow that i’ll never see you again my skin crawls and my fingers grow cold knowing i’ll never feel the crepe-y skin that felt like family my nostrils burn knowing they’ll never smell your scent j’adore mixed with a little bit of menthol your presence promised me a home as long as the stove was burning and there were people to gather around the table at dinner loneliness takes shelter and wraps its spidery hands around my vocal cords insecurity whispers into my ears that it won’t be the same without you that i’ll never feel okay without you that i’ll never feel whole without you as if going to church everyday and thinking of your steady voice and fervent Hail Marys weren’t enough to break me. as if hearing the crack of peppercorns before dinner time wasn’t enough to bring me to my knees. as if shards of ice don’t stab my heart when i hear the jingle of gold bangles on thing wrists as if jealousy and rage doesn’t consume me everytime i see an old woman knowing that it’ll never be my Nana on the other side. i see the farmer’s market and i hear you asking when the next time we’re going grocery shopping is. i see a tablecloth and i see bright eyes alive with the thought of throwing a party. i see a word search and i see the stains you left on the comforter when you forgot to cap your highlighter. the worst part is, is that i can still feel you i can still feel the warmth of your hugs i can still feel the mark you left on my heart there’s no emptiness. just constraint. everything is just too much knowing that it’ll be a long time before i can come home to you.
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Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 7:11 AM UTC
nana.
when i miss you the longing makes a home under my skin. drives pickaxes into my bones and reminds the marrow that i’ll never see you again my skin crawls and my fingers grow cold knowing i’ll never feel the crepe-y skin that felt like family my nostrils burn knowing they’ll never smell your scent j’adore mixed with a little bit of menthol your presence promised me a home as long as the stove was burning and there were people to gather around the table at dinner loneliness takes shelter and wraps its spidery hands around my vocal cords insecurity whispers into my ears that it won’t be the same without you that i’ll never feel okay without you that i’ll never feel whole without you as if going to church everyday and thinking of your steady voice and fervent Hail Marys weren’t enough to break me. as if hearing the crack of peppercorns before dinner time wasn’t enough to bring me to my knees. as if shards of ice don’t stab my heart when i hear the jingle of gold bangles on thing wrists as if jealousy and rage doesn’t consume me everytime i see an old woman knowing that it’ll never be my Nana on the other side. i see the farmer’s market and i hear you asking when the next time we’re going grocery shopping is. i see a tablecloth and i see bright eyes alive with the thought of throwing a party. i see a word search and i see the stains you left on the comforter when you forgot to cap your highlighter. the worst part is, is that i can still feel you i can still feel the warmth of your hugs i can still feel the mark you left on my heart there’s no emptiness. just constraint. everything is just too much knowing that it’ll be a long time before i can come home to you.
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