An old woman who lived in a shoe
said “what is a person to do?
There’s a hole in the roof
and to tell you the truth
it reeks of old feet in here, too.”
~~~
Not in the mood for real poetry.
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Tag: napowrimo 2007
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napowrimo 12: Poetry Thursday exercise
In ancient art, birds always seem to carry
a hint of the unworldly;
their fragile bodies just the physical expression
of some god
intruding on our world.
Flight and song; the essence of occult.
We praise them in bowls of water
left as mirrors
for them to bathe in,
and with propitiatory offerings of seed.
~~~~
At Poetry Thursday this week they invited people to post a line from one of their own poems, and then use a line posted by someone else in their own poem. If that’s clear. Anyway, the line ‘we praise them in bowls of water’ is from a poem by Poet With A Day Job.
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napowrimo 11: Making Pizza
Start with Tipo 00 flour.
So fine and white, it makes your usual flour
seem hard and vulgar,
and makes a dough as silky and elastic as
(supply your own lascivious image here).
For two, use half a pound of flour
with a quarter-pint of water.
Add olive oil, salt and yeast,
knead until smooth and springy
and leave an hour or two;
split into portions, knead again.
Oil the rounds of dough,
drape clingfilm on them lightly,
and leave to swell again.
Only the fussiest stickler would insist
that the tomatoes must be grown
in the volcanic soils of Napoli.
It is enough they are Italian plum tomatoes
—tinned, not fresh—
broken up slightly in the saucepan.
A potato masher is ideal for this.
Then simmer slowly,
for an hour or so,
to thicken, darken and enrich.
Some salt is vital;
they must be savoury as well as sweet.
It is acceptable to add a little something;
a dribble of West Indian pepper sauce
or half a chopped chipotle.
Or crush a clove of garlic,
add it to hot olive oil,
and immediately mix the simmering oil
with your tomato.
Cow’s milk mozzarella is fine, if bland,
but does not have the farmyard sourness
of buffalo.
A variation is a different cheese;
perhaps a little feta or a chèvre.
Roquefort, and other affectations,
should be avoided.
Toppings must be sparing.
Gild the lily lightly.
Perhaps some finely sliced shallot,
a little Jámon Iberico or saucisson,
some kalamata olives.
And don’t forget a pinch of oregano;
get the good stuff at your local Turkish grocer.
Your enemy is moisture.
You must be quick, like a boy scout;
be prepared.
A newly-rolled pizza base, left to sit,
will sweat and stick
like a hot thigh on a leather chair.
Cooking must be hot and quick;
as hot as possible.
Bake the bases for two minutes
with nothing on them.
Then quickly add the toppings
and bake until the crust is golden
and the mozzarella has a hint of colour.
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napowrimo 10: Hollow
I aspire to be meringue—
sweet airiness
just scorched enough for flavour—
but recently I seem to be
a rock cake.
Or on a good day,
a doorstep sandwich.
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napowrimo 9: Heraclitean Fire
Beneath us rock stretches and folds like toffee.
A bracken frond unfurls. A tadpole hides
beneath a lilypad. Within the window
of an aeroplane a film of condensation
glitters. A glacier scrapes across a rock.
In someone’s ear the wobbles of a magnet
turn electricity to funk. A krait
splits its own skin. A girl stroking a cat
sparks static. Kimchee softens and sours.
Salt forms on a drying swimmer’s back.
~~~
meh.
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napowrimo 8: salmon
Salmon throw themselves upriver
hurrying to die.
The cones upon the pine trees shiver
at the spirit thrusting by.
~~~~
another short one, I’m afraid.