After Dinner- now titled- Cast Iron
Posted: 03 Aug 2018, 19:21
2nd Revision-
Cast Iron
My orange goose down coat
and loose fitting ball cap
hang on a hook, obscuring
a somber grey scarf
worn by my father.
Black beans and onions
simmer in a pot,
corn bread is covered
with a red gingham towel.
Steam fogs the stove clock.
Time is an uncertain song,
a monotone a grief
consuming my patience.
I turn off the news,
discard a long held belief
that most men are good.
Dishes stacked in the sink
are a memorial of stones
in a flood of warm suds.
The kitchen door closes
behind me, a new fallen snow
is a delicate sheet for my eyes,
father’s itchy wool scarf
is turned around my neck.
Revision-
dale patterson
Posts 2,276
Member
06 Aug 2018 13:16 #1
My orange goose down coat
and loose fitting ball cap
hang on a caste iron hook
obscuring a somber grey scarf.
My wife stirs a pot
of black beans and onions,
covers hot corn bread
with a red gingham towel.
Grief is a monotone song
consuming my patience.
I’ve discarded a long held belief
that most men are good.
Dishes are stacked in the sink,
a memorial of stones
in a flood of warm suds.
The new fallen snow
is a delicate sheet for my eyes.
An itchy wool scarf
is turned around my neck.
Original-
Death’s itchy wool scarf
hangs on a cast iron hook.
My orange goose down coat
and loose fitting ball cap
cover it up.
My wife stirs a pot
of red beans and onions,
a square pan corn bread
cools beneath
a white cotton towel.
I have lost all my patience
for watching the news
and discarded a long held belief
that most men are good.
Grease is a film
on the kitchen wall clock.
Time is uncertain.
Our dishes are piled in the sink.
My wife is asleep in a chair
as I go for a walk.
This time of year
the weather is cold.
My scarf is wrapped around my neck,
a thin sheet of snow obscures the ground.
Cast Iron
My orange goose down coat
and loose fitting ball cap
hang on a hook, obscuring
a somber grey scarf
worn by my father.
Black beans and onions
simmer in a pot,
corn bread is covered
with a red gingham towel.
Steam fogs the stove clock.
Time is an uncertain song,
a monotone a grief
consuming my patience.
I turn off the news,
discard a long held belief
that most men are good.
Dishes stacked in the sink
are a memorial of stones
in a flood of warm suds.
The kitchen door closes
behind me, a new fallen snow
is a delicate sheet for my eyes,
father’s itchy wool scarf
is turned around my neck.
Revision-
dale patterson
Posts 2,276
Member
06 Aug 2018 13:16 #1
My orange goose down coat
and loose fitting ball cap
hang on a caste iron hook
obscuring a somber grey scarf.
My wife stirs a pot
of black beans and onions,
covers hot corn bread
with a red gingham towel.
Grief is a monotone song
consuming my patience.
I’ve discarded a long held belief
that most men are good.
Dishes are stacked in the sink,
a memorial of stones
in a flood of warm suds.
The new fallen snow
is a delicate sheet for my eyes.
An itchy wool scarf
is turned around my neck.
Original-
Death’s itchy wool scarf
hangs on a cast iron hook.
My orange goose down coat
and loose fitting ball cap
cover it up.
My wife stirs a pot
of red beans and onions,
a square pan corn bread
cools beneath
a white cotton towel.
I have lost all my patience
for watching the news
and discarded a long held belief
that most men are good.
Grease is a film
on the kitchen wall clock.
Time is uncertain.
Our dishes are piled in the sink.
My wife is asleep in a chair
as I go for a walk.
This time of year
the weather is cold.
My scarf is wrapped around my neck,
a thin sheet of snow obscures the ground.
