Gearhead picking wild leeks
Wife: “I took a picture of you picking wild leeks for my blog”
Gearhead: “What blog? You haven’t written one in months.”
It’s true. How can I explain it? Is it because comedy is born of anger? That I had some incredibly funny things to write? That I know, with keen instinct, that laced up blog posts are not the balm for marital discord [wife edits: more blam really]? [Gearhead edits: It’s because you’re too busy! You’ve taken too much on! Your
poetry course for Christ’s sake!].
Yes, the poetry course. I underestimated the mind time necessary to produce an idea with as few words as possible. And with the few words chosen, one must create a picture of beauty, a painting within the mind’s eye. It required all the extra attention I had. And then some. But I discovered I LOVE it.
Here’s an example of one that, by posting here I forfeit the privilege to publish elsewhere. But as a good friend pointed out, with the tact and skill of the Jedi mind trick, “you wouldn’t want this poem to be part of your professional repertoire.” So, in lieu of a recipe I give you a foodie still life in poetic form:
Your Fruit Salad Makes Me Blush
Rolled lemons
beneath the heel
of the hand
press juice
from flesh
Dangled pear
ripe
soft
sticky
slicks fingers
Slivers of peach
fuzz-rubbed
shiver the
length of my
tongue
Grape skin
peeled back
slow
slips off
purple
A capful or two
of rum
shoots heat
to the back
of the throat
Oh
the cherry
Oh
the stain
burgundy
Your banana
laid to rest
alongside
a spill of pomegranate seeds
glistens
If this poem was successful you should all have an erection … or at least a
tumescent hint of one [wife edits: women have erectile tissue too ladies! And just as an aside, did you know that the vagina is not so much tube shaped, but really more like a folded up umbrella? They never show you that in the medical drawings.]
[Gearhead edits: Good God. Stop!]
wife: “what do you think of my poem?”
Gearhead: “it makes me want to eat fruit salad.”
[wife edits, wailing: I’ve failed!!!]
It’s spring. A new beginning. Here’s another poem to end this post off:
I pray that my creativity multiplies
As the jaguars, put to winter in the barn
Give birth to greater numbers
By spring
[Gearhead edits: smartass.]
Food by the Gearhead's Wife 
That was the best fruit salad I have had in a very long time!! Loved the second poem as well. Thank you for sharing, you are so dry creative.
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Thanks Lin – your comment gave me a good laugh!
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knock down that inukshuk…. it can hurt stupid tourists…. in my poem the grapes were green so it didnt get past broca’s area
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Ha ha ha
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Love them both Suzanne, I am always very impressed with your writing ability .Poetry wow!. A delicious fruit salad thank you so much for sharing.
Your second poem really made me smile. X
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Thank you Dolly. I will try to keep poetry as part of my writing practice.
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I feel your destiny is no longer a cookbook, but a poetry cookbook………waiting patiently!
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Unfortunately, at an hour or less of creative time a day, I fear it will be awhile. But yes, I agree, no longer cookbook but creative writing projects instead.
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your poetic spring stirrings are strangely reassuring…try saying that outloud 3 times without biting your tongue. 🙂
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