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Lentils, Uncooked
by Kristina WoodhillIn this lent
of self sacrifice
when father
and his male progeny
have already left
my otherwise
bountiful table,
two joys,
two men
of my childhood
leaving me
dumb founded,
though the sky
still echoes
my silent abuse
on occasional
star crackling
nights;
I grasp
jealously
at crinkling
wisps from
old diaries
where fresh
pens held
strong hands
pointing out
pyramids and columns
pantheons and aqueducts
letters into words
playing ring around
the colliseum
forgive me, father,
for I cannot give you up
oh, cat,
don't
look at me
reduced
to petting
photographs
03/08/2012
Posted on 03/09/2012
Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 03/09/12 at 12:41 AM Deeply introspective and thought-provoking. Absolutely perfect. |
| Posted by Linda Fuller on 03/09/12 at 02:07 AM Thought-provoking indeed. Fine poem, Kristina. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 03/09/12 at 04:41 AM OMGosh, this, from you, is incredible! The last stanza brings reality right back into focus, but still allowing for the feelings. Feelings expressed with some of the finest eloquence and depth I've ever read on these pathetic pages. <3 <3 <3
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| Posted by Jody Pratt on 03/09/12 at 05:26 AM Magnificent Kristina. :) |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 03/09/12 at 02:10 PM You never cease to amaze me- as usual. |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 03/09/12 at 04:51 PM I love it lady!! |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 03/10/12 at 03:11 PM just what I always find with you ~ an effervescent thought that takes my mind to my own real world inside your real world ~ so fine |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 03/24/12 at 12:41 PM old diaries where fresh pens held strong hands. what a marvelous line. what a marvelous poem. Don't ever stop writing, Kristina, such wonderful recollections as this are truly worth the re-conjuring up and the telling with fresh pens held in strong and reminiscent hands. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 05/11/12 at 04:46 PM Not sure I fully understand it, but I love the poetics Kristina. I had a local poet friend, since passed away, who used to cook a lot of his food with lentils, suppose to be quite good for you in staving off cancer. |
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