Dream Macaroni

It seems as though the recipe is simple.
When you enter it you’ll be surprised;
the macaroni is a part of you
trying to communicate with water.

You were not really listening at cookery school;
to make a smooth sauce
you have to keep stirring time.
You have to dream like a pro. 

It’s important to have a crunchy top,
light shining through breadcrumbs,
revealing the things that bubble away
beneath the cold salad of your mind.

Bathe in the atmosphere,
in the incredible cooking
of your own depths —
you can’t go wrong.

* * *

The prompt for today's poem came from The Poetry School:

Take an A4 piece of lined paper and fold it down the middle. Write a topic heading at the top of one side of the paper and then write a contrasting topic heading at the top of the other. For each of your headings, free-write as much as you can around the topic. Now unfold your piece of paper and read across from left to right. Can you make any sense? Now write a poem in which you connect two things which might, at first glance, seem very different or not connected at all.

— Helen Mort, from Poetry and the Brain.

My two topics were dreamwork and macaroni cheese.

Funeral Food

I like to go round to someone’s house
when there’s a funeral going on
and feed myself and my family
with tablespoons of honey
and peeled cooked chestnuts.

It is both comforting and sustaining
to taste the golden centred discs
infused with cinnamon sticks,
molasses, star anise, and bay.

There’s something hopeful and cheering
about the golden yolk
of the egg of mourning
and the solemnity
made sweet with prunes.

Here is the cycle of life —
the end and the beginning in one.

* * *

This poem is a variation on the found poem, taught to me by poet, songwriter and teacher, Barbara Marsh. The words and phrases come from a Nigella Lawson recipe. They have been selected and rearranged to form the poem with minimal changes made by me. This was a great piece of writing to work with, because the text was so rich with sensory images.

That Night With Her

When she
entered the chamber,
her feet
hardly touched the ground,
so light she was,
like a marigold petal,
carried
on cool currents of air.

And I,
who lay trapped in the dark,
could sense her presence,
felt the tremor
of sobs
as they shook
my mattressed coffin—
I, who should feel nothing.

There, in the dark,
I tasted the blood and salt
of her strange suffering —
this bride to be,
already covered in bruises.
There in my tomb,
I drank from her cup,
the wine of delirious emotion.

It stained me red;
it gave me back my soul.

* * *

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem in the voice of minor character from a fairy tale or myth. I love myths and fairytales and I found this prompt to be an inspiring one. I wrote two poems, each exploring food as character.

‘That Night With Her’ is written in the voice of the pea in 'The Princess and the Pea'. To Be Devoured is written in the voice of the cake in Little Red Riding Hood’s basket.

To Be Devoured

The cool white cloth

wrapped itself around me.
Mother made it with her own hands
just like she made me.

She wrapped the girl in red,

but the girl protested,

stamped her foot,

face like a corkscrew.

I laughed to myself,

Don’t look so pretty now, do you?

She wore the cape in the end,

stormed out of the house,

swung me roughly in my basket

as she tore down the path.

Stop! I shouted.

Are you trying to kill me?

She calmed a little,

sung us both a ditty

about love and buttercups and mandolins.

Her voice soothed my seasick soul.

(I almost liked her then.)

I lost myself in daydreams —

Granny would caress me

say how sweet I smelled,

all almonds and cinnamon.

The girl hated Granny’s kisses.

How her cheek glistened with saliva!

I saw her wipe her face

when Granny turned away to stoke the fire.

Oh, Granny!
Won't you consume me with your kisses?

A voice wrenched me from my reverie.

His eyes deep as the forest,

drool dripping

from the corners of his mouth.

It was me he wanted, not her.

All she cared about was skipping in the grass.

I let him know

I longed to be devoured,

longed to give myself

to the wild green of his eyes.

* * *

Today's NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem in the voice of minor character from a fairy tale or myth. I love myths and fairytales and I found this prompt to be an inspiring one. I wrote two poems, each exploring food as character.

'To Be Devoured' is written in the voice of the cake in Little Red Riding Hood's basket. That Night With Her is written in the voice of the pea in The Princess and the Pea.

I'm feeling a little hungry now. I think I need to go and eat a piece of cake!

Bananas

Are they berries?

Are they herbs?

Are they good for you?

Can they kill you?

Yellow is the colour of sun rays.

Yellow is the colour of my true love’s hair.

Yellow is the colour of my energy.

Yellow is the new black.

How many in a pound?

How many in a bunch?

How many a day?

How many can you eat?

We don’t have enough time.

We don’t have enough money.

We don’t have enough house.

We don’t have enough tumblr.

Can they can polish silverware?

Can they can deter aphids?

Can they can attract butterflies and birds?

Can they make you happy?

We all want to help one another.

We all want to change the world.

We all want to be somebody.

We all want to be rock stars.

Will they last longer in the fridge?

Will they make you fat?

Will they help you sleep?

Will they become extinct?

The answers are within you.

The answers are blowing in the wind.

The answers are out there.

The answers are as follows.

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt: I challenge you to write a poem about food. This could be a poem about a particular food, or about your relationship to food in general. Or it could simply be a poem relating an incident that involves food, like David Ignatow’s “The Bagel”. Still not convinced? Perhaps these thirteen food poems will give you some inspiration. 

While I was making my banana smoothie this morning, a question popped into my mind: Can you eat too many bananas? My first thought was, ‘I’ll google it.’ My second thought was, ‘Today’s poem is going to be about bananas.’

As I was googling on the subject of bananas, I felt like I was in dialogue with the great brain of the world, knower of our desires, fears, and strange factoids. I found myself wanting to ask all sorts of questions, not just about bananas, but about life itself, what we want, what we are searching for.

Inspired by Google Poetics, I typed the first part of a question or statement and let Google complete it, usually offering several options. Apart from a little tweak here and there, this poem was written almost exclusive by google. The biggest editing choice I made was to remove the word ‘banana’ from the body of the poem.

Google is vast. Vast enough to contain the search for information about bananas and the search for the meaning of life, all at the same time.

The Mosquito

While I munch 

my sensible snack

of carrot sticks 

and cheese,

the ambassador of hunger

sucks what he craves

from my hot blood.

An Emotional Bake-off

On The Menu At The Witch's House

Haute Cuisine