Showing posts with label Food with a Twist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Food with a Twist. Show all posts

Monday, June 16, 2025

Wooden Nickels

 

Honest Lee stepped out of a dime western—

wavy brown hair, chestnut mustache,

six-shooter on his thigh.

 

Not anybody’s prairie girl,

I knew which one of us was a lie—

even with his black olive eyes,

 

black as my lil’ ol’ pea pickin’ heart.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

Photo © 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

dVerse Quadrille:  Honestly

 

Sunday, April 27, 2025

New Kiss

 

Forget the old—

 

there’s no time

like the present,

and no place

 

like the honeycomb-home

of your lips.  Lick

those ruby reds—

 

meet mine, glossed,

sugar-frost

-ed,

 

and salt me

with your wizardry

of bliss.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

Poem-A-Day 27:  title a poem “New (blank)”

Poetic Bloomings:  write a “Forget (blank)” poem

 

Friday, April 18, 2025

Haibunyum

Planted, it grew.  As seeds are supposed to do.  Water (of course), dark (sandy loam preferred), light (direct, for several hours a day). But it was a potato and not technically a seed.  And, therefore, a little safer from chickadees.  What it grew into once baked (or twice), au gratin-ed, mashed, fried, gnocci-ed, latke-d, made some t-uber good comfort food.  And without getting too chippy about it. . .

 

haiku na ma tuber tot

means no eating

a potato seed

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

What’s Going On?  Seed (or in this case, not one ;-P)

Day 18

 

Thursday, October 10, 2024

Arrested

 

On the menu:

chocolate cakes.

Two, to be exact.

One with espresso in the batter, one

without.

One apple cake, one apple crisp.

One chocolate chip banana bread.

 

I am making these,

which I do not eat.

 

Pretzel peanut butter cookies are next,

or your mom’s pistachio bundt,

or pumpkin spice cupcakes,

some with sprinkles, some

without.

 

I will probably not eat much of them either.

 

Strangely, I am baking as if they are

for repast post funeral, attempts

at forgetting your superpowers,

the ones that always weakened,

arrested me.

 

Still wanting you to hold me,

settling for within,

but

without.

 

 

© 2024 Jennifer Wagner

 

 

For The Word Garden Word List—Tomb Sweeping