Thursday November 17th, 2011

The exercise:

Let's go with: preserved.

I made an apple delivery to the restaurant this morning, as they finally have some time to do some preservation work. Before I left the chef said he had a gift for me and disappeared around the corner. He came back with a quince and lavender marmalade that he'd recently made (hadn't even put a label on it yet).

Very unexpected, very appreciated, and, as I discovered shortly after I got home, very tasty.

Plus he mentioned that next time I come by he'll have something for me that he made from our apples as well. Sweet deal!

Mine:

The cupboards are filled
With bottles of red and green,
Summer's sweet harvest
Saved to brighten Winter's scenes
And enliven tongues
When fresh produce becomes lean.

Their numbers will shrink
As the days slowly crawl by;
We know there's enough,
And if we don't we just lie.
Until at long last
With a smug smile, Spring arrives.

5 Comments:

Cathryn Leigh said...

For some reason the word perserved brought up memories of my grandmother. So here you go:

Preserved by the sun and fresh sweet air
Wrinkles from laughter and days without care
Preserved by her wit and tenacity
For all those who called her Grandma B


I'd also like to say I'm jealous of your life up there. I know it's hard work, but man its got to be super satisfying (and apparently delicious).

:} Cathryn LEigh (aka Elorithryn)

Greg said...

@Cathryn: That's a very sweet poem, and slightly poignant I think. Beautifully done.

@Marc: The lavender and quince marmalade sounds delicious! How do I get some of that, then? ;-) This chef sounds like he really appreciates your produce too, and has found a great way to compliment you.
Good poem, as always, and it sounds great when read aloud.
Sorry also for the poor quality of posts from me of late; I will do better at the weekend when I've a little more time!

Preserved
Jarred heads
Of the unhappy dead
Are things the priest preserved.

Rattle the lid,
Just as he did,
And the head will wake and stare.

Ask its name
It will claim
That it lived a famous life

Ask it why
When it died
The priest bottled it like this

Silence falls
Death only calls
The priest is stood behind you with an axe.

writebite said...

marc, mmm, food!
cl, cute!
greg, dark, love it.
mine's dark today, ( too much nin and manson music :)...

Preserved

Snake venom moisturiser or Botox, take your pick. It’s all pickles in a jar to me. Might as well put vinegar on your face, might be the cheaper option, might work just as well. 
What’s to preserve for, anyway? Death comes to all in time and it never looks pretty. Jams are much more fun and you wanna grab that while you can, believe me.
Frogs in a formalin jar had more fun than you in your plastic skin, to say nothing of what else is plastic about you - false, preserved, but not for prosterity, ’cause I don’t care about that “Barbie doll” you.
Earth is the only one worth preserving and we ain’t doin' that well at all.
Nah, I have my reservation about preservation.

morganna said...

Pretty preserved peaches
Waiting to be eaten
Open up summer
Golden jars of sunshine.

And also thanks to the musical group Wilson and McKee for inspiration

Marc said...

Elor - I can see why she came to mind, that's a lovely little tribute :)

Greg - how do you get some? Get work to send you to BC again :P

Nothing to excuse here, I really enjoyed your poem!

Writebite - love the attitude in your piece. Doesn't hurt that I totally agree with you as well :)

Morganna - mmm, I can picture it... and almost taste it too!