Making Sense

[Delta40]

While I try to remember
an old psalm
I'm serving up platefuls of
creamy mashed potatoes
A spoonful for you
A spoonful for me

Who is my refuge and defence?
I should be glad
I should rejoice
in the bosom of my Mother
whose wooden spoon stung
yet sheltered me from danger

Like His anger
such lifetimes of denial
last only a moment

As I glaze carrots and beans
in exhausted tears of sorrow
I hope you enjoy my gravy
that residue I leave behind
which cannot be defeated

[cacian]

Delta this made me smile.
It is fun and I enjoyed it a lot.
I think the
'wooden spoon stung'
did it for me! :D

[Delta40]

Thanks Cacian

[Delta40]

And in another time
bathing in an IV line
anti-depressants
anti-suppressants
anti-oppressants
give me the freedom
to float wherever I please
until the bag of saline
which I splash round in
gushes out
on my distant shore
and I flatline like a slippery fish
on a shiny hospital floor

[Xillus_Xavier]

Liked both poems, especially Making Sense.
In the second poem, shouldn't it be "distant" instead of "distance"?

[Delta40]

Oops! Thanks Xillus

[DocHeart]

Dear Delta,

I haven't commented on your poetry in a while, but that doesn't mean I haven't been lurking around your threads' shadowier parts. Always gives me great pleasure to read you.

In this one, the residue of a human being is likened to gravy in a poem that employs a rhetoric of comfort food very well. Often, your poems offer brilliant slices of insight into the narrator's past, especially their childhood. So many things to discuss here: religious upbringing, charity, parental cruelty; it's a rich text.

(I must say, however, why another commentator found it funny beats the fukc out of me.)

Thanks for sharing, Delta, and good health.

DH

[Delta40]

Thanks Doc