POETIC BLOOMINGS

POETIC BLOOMINGS, a site established in May 2011 and which reunites Marie Elena Good and Walter J Wojtanik to help nurture and inspire the poetic spirit.

PROMPT #261 – ALL THE COMFORT (FOODS) OF HOME

Think of a place where you feel the most comfortable and the good majority of us would say “home.” Either our current home or our childhood home, home answers most questions. And I suppose the one thing that gives incredible comfort at home is the food there. Grandmother’s Apple pie, Mom’s homemade soup, Dad’s barbecue all hold a special place. So write the comfort of home in the foods that satisfied and warmed you inside and out.

MARIE’S NOURISHMENT:

COMFORT FOODS

It’s Mom’s recipes –
stained, and written in her hand –
that nourish my heart.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

WALT’S CRAVING:

SOUP’S ON

The patter of rain,
a steady downpour, more
monsoon than shower.
Hours spent huddled
warm under a soft throw.
Temperatures have fallen
the condensation thick
on windows as savory steam lifts
from soup kettle to nostril,
it fills you with reminders
of mom’s kitchen. You’re itching
to recapture her comfort.
Eyes beckon to doze through
the next few hours as the showers
do not relent. You are spent
and it’s mid-afternoon.
You can’t wait to fill your spoon! 

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2019

Single Post Navigation

51 thoughts on “PROMPT #261 – ALL THE COMFORT (FOODS) OF HOME

  1. Earl Parsons on said:

    Yummy in My Tummy

    Eggs soft scrambled in butter
    Soft cream cheese on toast
    Crispy hickory smoked bacon
    The breakfast I like most

    Lunch could be tomato soup
    And velvety grilled cheese
    I’ve loved that since my childhood
    My tummy’s always pleased

    For dinner I’m a steak man
    Iron skillet or on the grill
    Baked potato on the side
    That plate full fits the bill

    I’m a simple food guy
    Have been since my youth
    Snacks are a different matter
    Gotta satisfy my sweet tooth

  2. All The Food That’s Fit To Eat

    When hands were stiff and numb
    from playing in the snow
    I’d wrap them ’round steaming mug
    of marshmallow covered cocoa.

    Wolfing down chocolate chip cookies
    still too hot from the oven,
    I’d burn my tongue if clumsy,
    though worth it, caused I loved ’em.

    Split pea soup, and burgers
    with hand-cut crispy fries,
    stuffed cabbage always a favorite.
    Remember rice pudding; forget waist size.

  3. Walt, I love your poem. Comfort to the max!

  4. Cora Maybelle Tilley

    I remember iron-skillet fudge –
    you beating it till it lost its gloss
    and butterscotch pie
    and bread pudding made
    with biscuits and topped
    high with meringue
    breakfast every morning
    supper every evening
    Sundays always a little special
    I can see it all again in my head
    but I’d be lying if I said the
    fragrance still lingers…
    that’s long gone
    what’s left is the memory
    of you, safety, comfort, love.

  5. Baking

    Dad loved lemon meringue pies
    and on his birthday, May 31st,
    Mom baked them to perfection.
    But what I remember most—
    the chocolate ones for us five sisters.

    And on other special occasions
    our small house would fill with fragrance
    of freshly baked bread and cinnamon rolls
    warm and satisfying, not only physically,
    but emotionally, as well.

  6. William Preston on said:

    LET US HAVE CAKE

    In this great world, make no mistake,
    there’s nothing much better than milk and some cake,
    especially, eaten while reading a book
    or seeing a scene that demands a good look;
    enjoyed all the better when shared with a friend
    who knows that the moment is destined to end
    and so is the cake, and so is the book,
    and so is the scene that procures gets the good look,
    but nothing, whatever, is of the same ilk
    as old friends convening with cake and some milk.

  7. William Preston on said:

    Marie. I think your piece is a gem, especially the middle line.

  8. Marie, I can really relate to this poem. My sister has a couple of recipes written in Mom’s hand, and stained, as they should be.

  9. Delicious memories, with leftovers of the heart. Both of your pieces Walt and Marie are so endearingly common to us who were blessed in like manner. Beautifully done.

Plant your poem or comment here!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: