Chocolate

You are the chocolate cake
kept hidden in the ice box

Your skin is rain-moist, 
petals plump as ripe apple cheeks 

My vegan tongue plied me
raw crunchy baby carrots & celery stalks

I nibbled on baked salmon with lemon & dill
But the meat of you

roasted fat,  juicy, pitted with spicy herbs,
wells up from my deepest belly

making my canines 
itch

longing for burn
of your kiss

                                                  From Maya Lukash


Posted for:   D'verse poets Pub - Theme is Food hosted by Kanzensakura ~ Thanks for the visit ~

Secrets

 Pummarola. Credit: Hirsheimer & Hamilton

fruity & fragrant -

      is what an italian sauce should be -   

so what's the secret, i ask -

      time he says, choose carefully the season-

ings & ripe tomatoes - flame-red, elliptical & firm

     not flabby, containing little water & few seeds-

i peel off - skin & seeds - ready for the lesson -           

     (note: oregano makes a bitter marriage with sauce)                      

he starts with a fast saute

     olive oil, garlic, onion, celery, carrot & parsley

i curl into the earthly aroma -

     all senses taut & stirred in what we are creating -  

here's the key, he carefully watches sauce pan -

     the tomatoes natural juices allow the other

sauce ingredients to stand out while it simmers -

     not suffocating (like heavy puree), but enriching flavor -

i imagine my colors swirling in canvas-

     coppery gold with specks of autumn orange, rising in steam- 

cook gently but quickly, he adds -

   & with a flourish, he ends with a dab of olive oil -

don't forget that & this -

    his hand reaches for the wine glass

i swivel in his tongue - lush of grapes & black plums-

    fruity & fragrant-    



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics by Karin G - Anything about Italian, so I went for Italian cooking ~  Happy long weekend & thanksgiving to my Canadian friends ~

The master chef

he fancied me
like a red plum
cream souffle 

pouring hot milk
& vanilla into my yolk
he stirred me  
rapidly on bowl

to sugary drumbeats, 
i parted my lips into
a believer, sieving  
edges until my skin 
melted butter & salt  

i rose 
warm golden,
to soft peaks,
dusted icing ready 
for the precipice,
soulful bite  

but all I heard 
were crickets
drowning the moon's song,  
as his palette knife   
climbed my neck 
framed in velvet ribbon   


Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Inspired by William Carlos Williams work
and Get Listed - Of Catnips and moons

Picture credit:  here

Working up an appetite

she thinks of breakfast-
turning the pancakes once in the pan, 
firmly golden with melting butter and 
splattered blueberries-     

then coffee, steaming hot  
beside orange juice & heavy maple 
syrup on the small wooden table-

outside, the trees are donning 
aprons, scooping each dew drop,
and prick of warming light-     
eager to rouse from winter's embrace- 

stirring in bedsheets,  
refreshed by her sleep, she runs
her fingers lightly over his still-sleepy frame,
soft in the breathing, firm in the admiration- 

she strikes a match, 
rekindling faith in beginnings,    
with each caress, a bud opens like spring, 
seeking the rain & sky-bursting-joy-  

he loves her hunger in the morning.


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Thanks for the visits ~  I am working hard on my appetite for writing almost every day~
picture credit:   here

On ripe fruits

    

  in the blender 
the pared frozen fruits
     thicken in its juice
a slush of faint morning dawn,
  fusion of ice crystals & cream-

i pour the smoothie in my cup,
  bits of tropical tang & sticky flesh
clings to the roof of my mouth-
    its ripe roots, like wild honey
collect memories like seeded trees:  
  jazzy blues, heat/ed summer nights- 

in my thick sweater & beanie, 
    you roll in my tongue like bitter-
sweet song -

~0~0~

the basic is an experiment--

break the cumin seeds in the oily pan,
   tap a few spices, pungent & yelling of sun-
   dried palms, 2x roasted --  

as i count each round peach as perfect, 
   even with slight wrinkles & cuts -
   like nature, growing ripe/old, with/out tampering--      

in your hands, the sauce simmers & shudders--  
   i bite a chocolate piece, wishing for its
   decadent sweetness 

Posted for:   Real Toads - Sunday's Challenge - Poets in the Kitchen - It's all about food & taste, I am hosting ~ Smiles ~  

And D'verse Poets Pub - weaving these words:   sauce, chocolates, hands, count, double,  yells, break, basic, round, shudder (From my children)  

picture credit:   here

Simply complicated

Nasi Goreng (Indonesian Fried Rice)

it's complicated, i said  --
no, it's really simple, you said --

"roll your "r" like "rrr"
and k is "c" as in car "  


Selamat pagi (Good morning) 
Apa kabar? (How are you?)

your voice is gruff and coarse 
as you sprinkle red pepper and spice
over bubur ayam  (chicken congee) --

i decide to try a less-foreign fare  
for breakfast - nasi goreng (fried rice)
topped with egg (no spice please) -- 

we are eating in crowded food stall,
smell of the heat and spices are stifling
amidst head scraves and batik shirts -- 

outside, street vendors are selling
fresh fruits in a plastic plate - watermelon, 
kedondong, green mangoes, ripe papaya and rose apple -- 


Food (makam)
Delicious  (enak)


i nibble on krupuk (deep fried crackers) until 
saffron clings to my hair and  hot chili pastes (sambal) 
lingers on my lips--

after one month, we said 


Terima kasi (Thank you)

Selamat tinggal (Good Bye)

there is no "maybe" or "someday" in your tongue,

time is yesterday, today & tomorrow --

it's simple, you said --
no,  it's very complicated, i said --


Posted for:   D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics of Foreign Tongues - hosted by Fred Rutherford.
I visited Jakarta, Indonesia, many many years ago but until now, l still remember the hot chili food.   
Shared with Poets United - Poetry Pantry

At the Italian Cafe

air - scented with red-spicy sauce
clings to leather jacket & gypsy hair.
inhale --    

crisp buttered-bread in dipping oils,
garlic sauteed mushrooms, in-between butterfly
conversations & sipping periwinkle-iced wine.   
listen --

voices of people,
ubiquitous holiday carols,
grinding pepper mill,
crackling spice seeds,
clicking of cutlery,
heels on linoleum tile.
soak -- 

for a moment the thick air. 

bring it home with you.
do not wash it away, 
instead wear it to bed.
stain your sheets, 
alabaster-silk pillows,
your lover. 
kiss --

indigo-inked skin,
slowly as you would savor freshly
ground peppercorn, olives, basil &
spices sprinkled over the pasta noodles -
fiery, orangey-lit, sweat rolling backside - 

serendipity or synchronicity -
words brim from lips.     
& you --

are never the same again. 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight -  Guess who is helping tend the bar ?  Smiles ~

and Real Toads: An Ink-Stained List - Thanks De ~

Thanks for the visit.






picture credit:   here

Dreaming of pumpkins

I.  Late Spring

On  the  warm  soft  soil

I lay, pale pumpkin seed 

By garden’s edge – I bloom

Orange cheeks, bee stung lips    

II.  Mid-Summer

I thirst for rain  and  sun   

To drench dry olive skin

Bend me over several times   

Growing round and long vines

III. Early Autumn

Fragrant, ripe - you pluck me

Peeling layers to taste cream

With sweetness of golden pears-

You come like swooning leaf

Iv.  Winter night

Hold  the  core  of  me

Dry and cold, sealed envelope  

Amidst  white landscape, I sleep  

Dreaming of spring    --  and you 

Posted for:  D'verse Poets Pub - Its About Time - I made pumpkin soup with Bosc pears - heavenly ~ and Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Sunday's Challenge - Chinese poetry form is Jue-ju 

Line length: 5 words per line
Lines per stanza: 4
Theme: Often suggestive of erotic love
Rhyme scheme: couplets or unrhymed

Picture credit:   here

Cooking for two

fresh wheat bread -
crust broken and dipped -
in virgin olive oil
stirs the tongue of basil, lemon
and herbs, their garden of roses

this is the way he touches her -
thick buttermilk and minced shallots
curling the pan, inhaling poppy seeds
and mushroom, softening skin

this is the way she falls into him -
slowly melting, nose flaring in sensous
intake, white wine twining with sea salt, 
as his fingers knead and entice the aroma

of creamy white sauce, over cooked pasta 
crimping her hair in honeycombs,
waiting for the serving fork to twirl -
sprinkling of black pepper and parmesan cheese - 
his love - warm - on her lips


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub- Poetics - Foodloose ~ another food poem ~  
Shared with Poets United

~  A Happy Thanksgiving to all of my Canadian friends and readers ~ Happy long weekend ~  

picture credit:  Tagliatelle with Poppy Seeds and Prosciutto

The red velvet cupcake

fresh salad and pumpkin soup,
my dinner for the last months,
or to be more precise, my diet to be slim as a vine  

autumn leaves are filling the ground -
speckled yellow, dotted golden and papered cheese - 
reminding me of harvest, buttered corn and roasted turkey   

my stomach grumbles with each spoonful,
thinking of cupcakes lining up in the bakeshop -  
chocolates, lemon and most of all, red velvet cupcakes -

"She said that the cupcakes are the best desserts, easy to make and
you don't feel guilty as it is a single serving.  One can be very creative
in its presentation, using flavored icing and toppings."

my finger idly traces the orange peels like broken glass on the table linen 
-- ironic that what is kept away is most often in one's thoughts -- 
sugar temptations, sprinkled or whipped, whisper at every turn 

only the mirror knows my madness,  
with expectations heavy on slim shoulders
I fork the salad greens, pressing down on the craving at every turn.    

"Just two-thirds of the way up is perfect as cupcakes expand when baked, 
and if the cupcake pans are filled any higher, the batter will spill over when baked. 
Any less than two-thirds, and the cupcake won't "dome." 

i found a big pine cone, broken petal and famished rain, fallen star
beneath the needles leaves and maple tree, and I took it inside,
feeling kinship with imperfect beauty  
  

~0~0~0

                                                Dexter theme cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery

her lips quivered with thoughts of red velvet cupcake

topped with whipped cream and cherry syrup --

it was a constant battle between her sugar tooth

and dieting for an hour glass figure to please her fiance 

after three months,  she finally gave up and binged --

the cupcake was sinfully sweeter than his kisses

First post:   D'verse Poets Pub:  Post-modern prose
Second post: Flash Fiction Friday - For the G-Man - A post in 55 words.

picture credit:   here

Unexpected

i buy
mangoes, plump yellow skin
amidst orange pumpkins and potted mums

i slice
with a sharp knife, along the seed,
sticky juice drips on my fingers

i scoop  
the flesh, sweet but not sweet enough,
but tangy to stir a faint memory, ever so lightly 

i cube 
the fruit, up and down in little squares  
then spoon the rest into a bowl with sugardust

i drain
wine glass, vigorously cleaned from your stains,  
inhaling autumn leaves on ground, unraked, spilling colors  

i savor 
solitude of where i am:  not in a perfect place 
but untroubled, safe from your lies and pity crumbs    

as i wipe  
kitchen top, peace comes like a sip from young coconut:  
fresh, awakening senses, content in one's choice-   

alone       

D'verse Poets Pub: Unexpected - Based on my friend's life, after discovering that her long-term boyfriend was keeping secrets from her, the most damaging being his sexuality.    Strangely enough, this conversation happened last year when I went abroad to visit my mom who was confined then in the ICU.   My friend came unexpectedly for a visit, and told me her story.   Thanks to Karin Gustafson for juggling my memory. 

Happy weekend to everyone ~

Picture credit:   here 

Spice of life

the silky peelings of onions,

crushed cloves of garlic

sizzles the pan of our evening

my treat, you say as your hands

caress the red and green bell peppers,

jalapeno and spice waffling kitchen nook

i smile at your dash of zest

whilst kneading the dough pie, soft and moist

swirling dust in bowl of white ceramic

my hands sugar the air of our

conversation, a dash of chocolate in a mix,

makes you stop and kiss my powdery lips

as olive oil tenders the chicken breasts,

leisurely your hand measures a cup, 

heady brew of herbs and crimson sauces

steaming air envelops oven hearth

as fresh vegetables and flavored meat entwine,

melting butter in crusty french bread

we savor slow cooking time,

the fruits of long companionship: soft, light
as whipped cream over layered English trifle

filling our insides with warming cheer
soon, my lime sprayed apron slips away

as eager hand peppers and seasons the dish

with a flourish, you pour the spicy hot

dish on wide moon platter, asking me casually,

"what do you think?"

grabbing wine glasses, i look at your steady hands,
and with a practiced expression, i say,     

"delicious."

and it still is.

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - OLN - Monday

and D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight  - every Tuesday at 3pm EST

I wrote this last year as a prose, inspired by reading through Brian Miller's archives.  After  some editing with the ending, I thought of sharing this as hubby and I are celebrating our personal milestone this weekend.   Cheers ~ 

picture source:   here