Sunday, August 26, 2012

The Recipe


On the pencil thin line
between dusk and darkness
She opens the gate of the unpainted fence.

Bespattered with attempts
The recipe, bent and worn, falls from her pocket.
The chain of faded words on tattered paper
ready to flourish among fallen rose petals.

Entering loss without a trace of knowing
She searches but is already forgiven.
The empty pocket waits-
remembering the link
to something essential. 


Dusk pencils her heart into darkness.


Notes- There was a frenzy of  an "event" over on the Sunday Whirls Facebook page on Friday. To choose the words each person was to look at the word just posted and use word association to come up with their word. The word pencil sat in front of me - but all I saw was the dusk all around me, so I said dusk. ANYWAY not quite a word association.. So I thought the least I could do was put pencil and dusk in a sentence together and the last line in the poem dropped into my lap. Thanks for stopping by.

This weeks words:dusk, link, trace, empty, essentials, rose, pencils, fence, chain, recipe, forgiven, operator

23 comments:

  1. Ah, the empty pockets - so symbolic. (Loved that touch.) Just love that strong last line "Dusk pencils her heart into darkness" which speaks reams!

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    1. Thank you Mary...I am not a cook so loosing recipes is not even possible for me... But the idea of a lost path is so enticing. And the last line was really the first thing I thought of.

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  2. This is beautiful and mysterious, Teri... begs for more!

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    1. Laurie- This writing thing has really started to call on me lately. And I can so see how this could go further. Thanks for coming by.

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  3. Great images, Teri! The opening is very strong... love that pencil thin line between dusk and darkness. I too like the image of the empty pocket as a link to remembering something essential.

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    1. Thank you Nan! That pencil thin line just really started this whole piece off.

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  4. Two things: 1) you can start your own story verse with this 2)I do hope that recipe was copied first...I like the idea though of returning a tatter recipe from a loved one to the garden to add it's own spice instead of just tossing it into some strange trash heap.

    I enjoyed the quiet solitude and hope of this piece. I'm here:
    http://julesgemsandstuff.blogspot.com/2012/08/sw-71-how-to-serve-man-11-b-10.html

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    1. Jules- That first line was just as satisfying as the last. It does sound like the beginning of a story. I am sure I can find that recipe online... or I hope so! Thanks as always for stopping by.

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  5. In my pocket will be a pine cone, grains of pink sand and a sea shell .....not exactly right, but reminds me of a poem by Hilda Conkling (age ten), 1922, "I Shall Come Back." Loved your poem.

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    1. Annell- so nice to have you here. I will need to look up this poem, thank you for sharing!

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  6. I wish I had written that first stanza...it sets the reader up for more, more, more. . .
    You just gotta love it when words like that flow from your fingers. This is a strong write...carrying a touch of sadness. So many sad pieces this week....we must need it to contrast the hilarity of Friday night. LoL

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    1. Brenda- this writing stuff is creeping in and leaving me feeling there might be more. Thank you once again for giving us an outlet.

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  7. There are so many wonderful lines in this Terri. I have to agree about the empty pockets being so symbolic and chain of faded words on tattered paper. Some truly fabulous imagery in all of this. It seems somehow sad and yet, wiser for the knowing.

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  8. Teri, this is gorgeous. That last line is awesome, and leapt off the page at me.

    Pamela

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    1. Thank you Pamela- That last line was the first one I wrote.

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  9. lovely words, conveying so much meaning.....as with other commentors, I love the last line...

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  10. very nice, Teri. I like how you link the recipe dropping from the pocket to a bigger loss.

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    1. Annette - there seem to be so many symbols for loss. I wonder sometimes why the ache and longing. And then I give up and just write.

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  11. Hi Teri.
    My computer isn't letting me leave a comment on your poem, so I'm sending a quick email your way:

    Your poem is rich with meaning and seasoned with significance! I am a collector of recipes first, and a cook second. I have many treasured recipes that are "bespattered with attempts, bent and worn." You speak like an expert. I also love "chain of faded words on tattered paper." This is a lovely write, one that is near and dear to my heart!

    Best,
    Marianne

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    1. Marianne-
      Sorry for the computer trouble.
      I am not a much of a cook, but the recipes I do use look like they have been through the blender. This wordle came about when I neglected to do the word association correctly the other evening. I followed "pencil" with "dusk". I was determined to make them come together in my poem. The last line was actually the first I wrote.

      I love your "penciled barriers" in your piece... and will leave comment in just a bit.

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  12. This reminds me of all the recipes I once owned, bent and tattered from use. Because it fell from her pocket, it must have bee a treasured one, perhaps from someone loved and lost. I like the seeming uncorrelation between pencil and dusk, it made that last line well worth the wait, and your 'recipe' is marked by your own process to cook it,

    Elizabeth

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  13. Teri - I'm glad the writing thing is starting to creep in and bother you again - we are the richer for it ... I am not surprised that the last line was the first one you wrote; it's a great "hook" or "anchor" for the rest of your delicious poem. It's so great to have you back ...

    http://seingrahamsays.wordpress.com/2012/08/26/shifting-colours/

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  14. Very moving poem and a wonderful last line.

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Comments are welcome and appreciated, thanks so much for stopping by.