Thursday, 21 March 2013

Harpsichord Cooking










How many times have I chopped onions
Listening to the strains of Purcell
Eyes streaming trying to forget you

It is alway winter coats that I remember
Iced breath and wheeze when I hear this
How many times have I chopped onions

Years fly by in a whirr of busyness
Life is crammed with endless mundanities
Eyes streaming trying to forget you

Who has the time to smell the roses
On this treadmill of diurnal survival
How many times I have chopped onions

Purcell walks me through the time of chestnuts and nougat
And briefly I'm back with tulips and crepes
Eyes streaming trying to forget you

And now in the evening glow of steaming pots and pans
Sound the trumpet I prepare yet another culinary gift
How many times have I chopped onions
Eyes streaming trying to forget you





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9 comments:

  1. Unknown21 March 2013 at 08:15

    So effective! The image of tears when chopping onions replaces the obvious crying scenes and takes the loss and broken relationship straight into the kitchen... the heart of the home.

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  2. alan170421 March 2013 at 15:17

    I can feel your heart and your longing for a release from the mundane. The repeating lines make it feel all the more forlorn. I like this.

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  3. Mary21 March 2013 at 15:58

    So many wonderful images in this poem really. 100% evocative. And, oh yes, those years DO fly by.

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  4. Walt Wojtanik21 March 2013 at 16:14

    Your voice remains familiar, and sorely absent from my reading. An error I must soon correct. Touched by your words. Thank you.

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  5. Kathy Reed26 March 2013 at 19:53

    Oh, I thought you meant Bill Purcell...regardless, I get the feeling loudly and clearly..I've been there ..bittersweet ;)

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  6. Brian Miller26 March 2013 at 20:13

    smiles...chopping the onions helps to hide the tears for sure...great use of repetition in this and the feel comes through so very strong and is relatable as well...love the new header--pretty colors....

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    Replies
    1. Cressida de Nova26 March 2013 at 23:25

      Thanks Brian ...it is a villanelle sans rhyme.

      Delete
  7. Happy Jack27 March 2013 at 10:40

    Yummie ... a "culinary gift" awaits. I offer myself as a food taster. Great peace can be found in the mundane but do chop mushrooms, not onions which produce tears that burn.

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  8. Victoria27 March 2013 at 10:52

    Wonderful effect you create with the repetitiveness of the form.

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