only when I’m hungry (2)

sometimes I still miss you
but only when I’m hungry

sometimes I wish I had gone slower

sometimes I wish I had waited
I wish I hadn’t rushed

sometimes I wish I had just tasted you
waited
saved you
no biting

but you tasted so delicious
I couldn’t wait
I tore into you
I didn’t want to wait
or share you
you were all mine

sometimes I still miss you
but only when I’m hungry

there is always someone else
even if they aren’t
as delicious
as you

only when I’m hungry (1)

sometimes
I still miss you
then I have to check
if I am hungry

I’m doing well, you see
I only miss you when I’m hungry

I’m moving on
but sometimes I still get hungry

hunger is tied up with fear
in childhood
and grief and abandonment

When you fed me
that was huge

You don’t feed me any more

Sometimes I still miss you
but only when I’m hungry

I think you’ve joined the dead
the angry dead
who didn’t feed me
and didn’t love me

or loved me during anger
and wouldn’t feed me

Sometimes I still miss you
but only when I’m hungry

________________

Photo taken by my friend JB.

caged rose

WHY is this poor rose caged, you ask? I removed the top bit of cage to take the photograph. This is the only bloom this summer, because the rose keeps growing out of the cage. It’s in my backyard and the deer chomp down to the wires. I think they need vitamin C.

I tested this the other day. I trimmed a rose in the fenced front yard. I took the trimmings and spread them under the apple tree. This is not a great picture but I was happy to see this young visitor eating roses and fallen apples.

For Cee’s Flower of the Day.

who eats hydrangeas?

I like this photograph. It grew on me. I was disappointed at first because the subject of the picture dropped his head almost out of the frame just before I clicked it. This is taken with my cell phone zoomed in, though my subject was only 12 feet away. I’m glad he didn’t object to the photography. He’s very used to cars and crossing local roads.

Many of the empty lots are cleared and new houses are going up. I wonder if there is pressure on our in town herd and whether they have enough food. We still have Kai Tai Lagoon as a park, but there are less wild lots.

For Cee’s Flower of the Day.

Tulip 3

For Cee’s FOTD.

I pay for a whole 9 months of CSA, community supported agriculture, from Red Dog Farm. Early in the season my box has vegetables and tulips! I love the tulips, they are gorgeous.

I have been in a CSA for most of the last 22 years. People say, but you do not pick what you get. I say, I know, but I hate throwing food out so I end up eating MORE vegetables then if I bought them.

Red Dog Farm: https://reddogfarm.net/.

X is for X-Acto knife

I am blogging A to Z about artists, particularly women artists and mostly about my mother, Helen Burling Ottaway.

My mother disliked cutting mats more than almost anything except vacuuming and cutting glass. In the late 1980s and early 1990s my grandmother lived two doors down in Alexandria, Virginia. My mother took over part of the basement for matting, glass cutting and framing. Times right before shows included complaints about cutting mats and glass, her saying that she didn’t have enough things framed (though she always did) and at least one piece of glass broke. The X-Acto knife was the tool for mat cutting at that time. My mother usually cut herself at least once for each show. She was particularly annoyed if she bled on the freshly cut mat or the painting or etching.

Hanging the show involves a lot of time out words as well, but she would get excited once it was hung. Then it was time for dress up. Shows were a command performance: my sister and I were to go as well. We dressed up and talked to people politely and ate the strawberries when my mother was not looking. The opening of the show would include food and usually wine. In small glasses. And no, we weren’t allowed to have any. We had to look at the art and be polite to adults.

The photograph today is another of my poems with my mother’s etching. And look, she has avoided cutting a mat. She bought special frames, with two slots. One holds the glass. The second holds the mat with the mounted etching. If the glass rests on the etching, it can ruin it. She mounted all of our ten prints and poems this way. Clever artist and they look wonderful.

ATOZBLOGGINGCHALLENGE2022 #art #Women artists #Helen Burling Ottaway #ATOZCHALLENGE #Christine Robbins Ottaway #APRILATOZ

For more information about the #AtoZChallenge, check out this link.

I am a poet

I am a poet and the world is my oyster. I eat it daily. I take my knife, dull but strong, insert it twisting into the shell, and pry the world open. I admire the glistening juicy living contents. A splash of lemon or pepper, I cut it from the shell, tilt the shell to my open mouth. This living glistening world slides into my mouth and I taste it’s salty goodness, it’s raw oysterness, roll it around my tongue and teeth, bite and chew it, and swallow this delicious world. And eye the plate, choosing my next victim.

obfuscate

“Mom, the chicken tastes funny, but good.”

“Shuddup and eat.”

“Mom, the salty stuff on the chicken is the BEST!”

“Move over, I’m eating yours if you don’t want it!”

“Mom!”

“That kind of chicken is called a potato, dears.”

“Yum, mom, more.”

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: obfuscate.

Recipe: Corned Beef

My mother gave my sister and I small notebooks decorated with our names when I was starting high school. She said that we were each going to cook once a week. We were to tell her what we wanted to make. She would give us the recipe and we would put it in our notebook. She would buy the ingredients and we would each cook.

It ended up being every other week so that we alternated, but I still have the notebook. My mother died in 2000 of ovarian cancer. I miss her. The first recipe I chose was corned beef and cabbage.

Katy B.’s fruit torte

Katherine White Burling was my maternal grandmother, and this recipe is attributed to her. I still have the small three ring binder that my mother gave me when I was in high school, explaining that my sister and I had to do some of the cooking. We told her what we wanted to make and she would write the recipe in our book and help us. I wrote this recipe out in the 1970s.

preheat the oven to 350 F

cream: 1 C sugar
1/2 C butter

while the butter is softening enough to cream, cut up fruit: apples, pears, peaches, rhubarb, or use berries…

Add to the creamed butter:
1 C flour
1 tsp baking powder
salt
2 eggs

Spread in in a buttered, floured pan. Cover with chopped fruit: apples, pears, peaches. This one was local plums and blueberries.

Sprinkle with sugar and lemon juice
Dot with butter on top.
Bake for 30-40 minutes, depending on your oven.
Cook until browned a little in the part that rises around the fruit, and when a toothpick comes out clean.

I am submitting this to today’s Ragtag Daily Prompt: Kaleidoscope, because the torte reminds me of a kaleidoscope.