December 27, 2020

Tradition (BTP prompt)

Here is a more literal example of my prompt idea about possessions.  This crock (already well used) was given to my grandmother sometime around 1910, by someone who I like to think taught her the recipe.

The old stoneware bowl
is not very pretty,
but it’s lasted well over a century,
and served heavy duty.

It once belonged to my grandma
of the flowered bib apron,
covering her housedress,
rosary firm in her pocket.

It’s held countless batches
of dough left for rising,
made without any recipe,
just by feel they were perfect.

My mom gave it to me
when she taught me the secret
of the magical formula
for feeding my family.

Now that chipped piece of crockery
sits low in the cupboard,
gathering dust and
holding in memories.

It's waiting and wishing
for some new generation,
to honor the history,
and learn this tradition.

Then I will show them,
and pass on the knowledge,
along with the old heavy bowl,
to treasure as I have.

The Journey

This is another of my "regression" series where I wrote down images that came to me during the therapy session I had. As I always say, "I don't care what anyone's beliefs are on this topic, hope you just enjoy the poem on it's own merit!"

I run headlong amongst the gorse, along the cliffs; the sea below. My worn brown brogues trip over stones, my homespun skirt fights cold, wet wind. I call until my throat is hoarse, but screams are carried far away. At last I dare to look below and see such terror within the surf. A broken boat, a broken man - lying crushed upon the rocks. The future ends upon that sight as gladly I fly down to him. And into sweet oblivion.