I never thought I’d attempt to make corn chowder
and that too in a crock-pot of all things,
perhaps the world ends here,
while chopping onion,
cubing potatoes and feeling constrained by rules
set by the norms of society;
if only it was the other way around,
I’d get so much done, but that’s a story
for another time.
I gather fresh thyme, bay leaf and evaporated
milk as the hours slip away
and dance,
I prefer putting some music on
when I am in the kitchen, lest I die of boredom,
it is a labor of love, making soup,
I turn the crock-pot on and add chicken broth,
just a few hours more, I tell myself
and it will be ready to serve.
I allow my thoughts to wander and travel to
a night out in Seychelles,
clear blue waters and roasted breadfruit
beckon me to come and join,
I feel as though all the walls have fallen.
The thick outer skin of the fruit protects
the starchy interior, when it’s sufficiently roasted,
you can break it apart with your hands,
dark promises,
unspoken in their offer, but oh, how I long
to indulge– he is grey gardens,
a compass of moments that may or may not belong.
The timer comes to a halt and ushers me
back to the present;
I pout, for constraints are loudest
when one is uninhibited,
I pour the corn chowder into a bowl and admire
the greens that accentuate the yellow.
I don’t have regrets, but I would want to live
a fuller life, where twilight softly burns.
But something was amiss, and then it occured
to me, a splutter of oaths as one hand flies
to my mouth, “damn, forgot to add pepper and salt!”
I guess some things never change.
Photo credits: Lauren Coleman Photography, Pinterest.
Posted for Poetics: Time for Soup! @dVerse Poets Pub
20 Responses
I enjoyed your soup making and daydreaming. It worked very well…Sounds like it will be tasty when all the spices are added! I really liked this line…
I pout, for constraints are loudest
when one is uninhibited,
Thank you so much, Dwight 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
I like the alliterative title, Sanaa, and the way you muse and daydream while ‘chopping onion, / cubing potatoes and feeling constrained by rules ‘, and even dance! And I agree, making soup is a labour of love and aesthetics, especially in the lines:
‘I pour the corn chowder into a bowl and admire
the greens that accentuate the yellow.’
Thank you so much, Kim 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
Never mind, with soup you can adjust the seasoning at the end, unlike most things in life 🙂
Absolutely! Thank you so much, Jane 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
I liked this very reflective poem. Cooking something like soup does allow time to think.
These lines hint at so much more:
“feeling constrained by rules
set by the norms of society;
if only it was the other way around,
I’d get so much done, but that’s a story
for another time.”
💙
You got the drink in this time in the photo. Made me laugh. 😉
Hahaha! Thank you so much, Merril 😍 so glad you enjoyed it! 💄❤️
(and thank you for the glorious prompt) 🥂
We forget to fully live certain moments at times, just like your seasoning.
Yes! Thank you so much, Reena 🙂 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
Love this: “ a fuller life, where twilight softly burns” — Gorgeous writing as always, Sanaa. The way reality butts its head in when dreams are gathering — You make this so apparent through this extended metaphor of cooking. 🩷
Thank you so much, Dora 😀 so glad the poem and its imagery appealed to you 💄❤️
This is such a lovely write, Sanaa. Enjoyed much! 🙂
Thank you so much, Kitty 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
Trust you too be seduced away by dreams of the Seychelles and more exotic foods Sanaa – never mind seasoning works just as well added at the end…
Thank you so much, Andrew 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
A delicious combo of words and musings. Set a place for me please.
Ofcourse! Thank you so much, Helen 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
Your post from today, Jan12, 2024, led me here. As a poet and cook, I love this! I’m inspired…
Thank you so much, Kim 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️