I’m Not An Italian Poetess

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Typical Monday, it seems. Tried making lunch, while writing my feelings. Epic fail ensues, as thoughts continue to pursue my mind. Forcing me so easily to forget the time.

Poet’s are always lyrical, definitely this one, it seems. I can’t get past writing this as poetry. Stick a knife in my side. Please, won’t you abide? My friends, don’t write and bake, unless burned pizza is all you’re willing to take. My wishes sincere, once again, don’t do both while planning to eat, you won’t win.

Thankful I have a few other attributes that keep you coming around. Like maybe my smile or even my frowns. Tears shower plenty upon these walls, oh God, stop her before she continues to pitfall.

Laughter begins, oh look, a grin! Yep, tis possible, she’s drunk again. No, my friends, it isn’t so. I’m just handling a Monday, so far as this one goes…

Loyal followers, stay with me, please. This is only going to hurt for a minute. Slap happy grins is how I’ll spin it, you’ll see.

***
She’ll never be an Italian chef
and poetess, too
just look at what
wandering thoughts
can do…

Writer’s multitasking summer,
kitchen’s a wreck,
lovely ideas interrupt
baking, for endless possibilities,
if only I would’ve stopped to check…

This homemade pizza now crisp
and slightly burned, tis true
thankful, in the end
this treat,
is simply a vessel for brew…

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I should go back into the Houston sun. It’s just delightfully hot and humid here. Yeah, I know, I’m almost done. The end is near…

Yours,
Audrey

50 thoughts on “I’m Not An Italian Poetess”

  4. *laughs* That pizza looks absolutely fine! Everyone knows they’re better crispy anyway. And that’s the thing: One puts a food-thingy into the oven, and since it takes so long, one forgets about it. And it burns. Happens all the time. Is the oven’s fault.

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  6. You had me at the pizza, Audrey. I never knew there was such a thing as LandShark beer. Seriously? More than a few of my fellow Ole Miss alums (and also current students) want our mascot changed to the land shark. Yeah, I’m fine with that! Bet your lunch tasted pretty good, and it doesn’t look all that burned to me!

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  7. What………..? Tears anywhere near an Audacious Dawn, just simply is not permitted… So now I’m going to have to write a “Misty Dawn” poem… There must have been something in the air on this Monday, cause sadness seemed to linger around here also… but when I saw that delicious looking pizza (you may call it burned, but it looks delicious to me) and the Land Shark… well… it brought a smile to my old wrinkled face. Pizza and beer are definitely not my doctors orders… but we won’t tell him… will we?
    You do know of course that Tuesdays are my favorite days, (because I’m weird)… so I’ll just send it to you with tomorrow’s dawn and know that it will bring a smile to us both…
    Wishing you smiles and beautiful moments…
    Michael

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    • …blink…blink…blink… but tis normal for a Poetess to cry, I think. Allow a few tears to roll. This is what happens when I write of Nebraska and the love I feel from there, dear Michael. Happens. However, I do love that you want to ease my tears. Allow for a Misty Dawn…sir, you spoil me. Sadness has found you? Say it isn’t so. I can’t have you feeling down. I need your positive vibes flowing. (Aww. You are too kind. And I love ya for it.) I won’t tell the doctor, if you won’t. I would be no good for you, you know. But I’d enjoy the sparkle In your eyes as you enjoyed that pizza and Land Shark. I’d join you, for sure.
      Tuesdays are your favorite days…not weird at all, especially since it’s an odd day, 21, which is my favorite sort of number. I look forward to your misty dawn’s arrival, Michael. Humbled and incredibly excited. Thank you… xx
      Smiling already,
      Audrey

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    • I am most assured that the Poetess could transpose her tears into the most magnificent words upon the page, absorbing at least a thread of the emotional pain that has wandered from her heart and journeyed so profoundly into her saddened eyes… for there is no cure for the aching of love that has filled our hearts but has eluded our touch… our vision… our taste. Yet, we linger in thoughts of what should have been… what could have been had we changed only one tiny pathway we chose to wander… While our tears become our words… searching for truth… for wisdom… for love… tears upon the parchment… love within our souls…

      Okay… could you feel me sitting near you?
      I don’t know where you are in this moment…. It is a rather confusing place for my astral wanderings… but know that I am near…
      *Hugs* over and over…
      Michael

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    • All good memories and longings that I enjoy reminiscing over usually, Michael. Your comforting words added to my thoughts mean so very much. I hope I can offer a view that is fresh and will compliment the midwest. I do have lingering thoughts over how life could have been had a divorce never shattered my young hazel eyes, saying goodbye to a love or moving away, but in the end all of those made me who I am. And that I can live with. Smiling. Your words up there are beautiful.
      Thank you for adding them to my poem and this story. Lovely. I’m a bit pensive, I know, it reads that way, but I am happy. I am looking forward to a beginning I never saw coming. Hugs to you. Thank you…
      Audrey

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    • The Misty Dawn

      The dawn just blushed
      The tips of the cornfield
      As I walked along the
      Straight and lonely highway
      Across Nebraska
      Heading west out of Omaha
      My bare feet already longing
      For the cool of the Platte
      My body worn from the miles
      And the heat of the concrete…
      Memories lingering
      In my mind…
      In the fields…
      Along this very road…
      My hazel eyes gazing upon the blue asters
      Reminding me of what I had left behind…
      Lingering…
      Still swaying in the breeze
      With the bluestem grasses
      Dancing to the same melodies
      Undulating in my soul…
      When I wandered into other worlds
      Without you…
      Leaving behind what I had always known…
      Always loved…
      The very essence of my soul remained here…
      Awaiting my return…
      Drifting across the plains…
      My breath still lingers through the goldenrod…
      My song echoes in the lullaby of the meadowlark…
      I must walk along the pathways
      That I so often wandered in bare feet…
      Knowing that you hold my hand in yours
      In the twilight of the misty dawn…
      Where I can so easily breathe the essence
      Of my soul…
      In the gentle breeze…
      In the gentle breath…
      Of Nebraska…

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    • Michael…
      You’ve blessed me with a beautiful poem… I don’t know what to say. Words escape me as I sense the time it took you to research my home, my Nebraska. Our friendship means everything to me and your ability to make me smile never ceases to amaze me. Thank you for getting to know Nebraska. I understand, you took part of your day to comfort me…sigh, the effort does not go unnoticed by me. I will cherish this poem from you all my life. Thank you. Tears. Misty Dawn now indeed…
      You know me well… ♡

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    • Actually… I had more fun writing this one than I have had in a long time… and it wouldn’t have mattered if words had escaped you and you hadn’t said a thing… It seems that we both have that ‘sensing’ ability and although sharing our words has become a favorite of mine, we both can ‘feel’ without the words… Like when we sit together in the stillness of the morn in our quietude, with nothing but the songs of sparrows within our silence.
      Writing “Audacious Dawn” was also a great deal of enjoyment. Perhaps it is just the muse behind the inspiration that causes the pleasure of writing… I must admit that I really did very little research… I didn’t need to search anything but a bit of past life memory… (there’s another story there, but not ready to share it all with the ‘world’ of wordpress… let’s just say that since certain illnesses came along… in addition to all the unpleasantry that came with it… it also brought some very interesting clarity of ‘sight’…) Anyway… I just had to research back to the days when you and I rode the plains together… *Smiling* *Knowing that she is now caught up in curious thought… and leaves her with herself to ponder from within*
      Hugs

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    • Submerged beneath the surface
      My eyes, my mind
      Transfixed upon the depths
      Searching for the very words
      I have so longed to hear…
      The hot west wind
      Rippling the surface of the water
      Into swells that can sink the setting sun
      Before the afternoon
      Comes to close…
      The gulf salt stinging my eyes
      As if I were swimming
      In tears of injustice
      Unable to reach for the truth…
      There…
      Far beneath me…
      I see the words for which I am searching
      Near the silt in the depths of my mind…
      I am reaching for them
      Stretching my arms into the unknown
      Just for the touch of my fingertips
      Against one single word
      That could make you smile…
      My mind becoming confused
      Longing for a breath of air…
      I must raise my mouth
      Above the surface of the water
      Or I shall perish in the depths…
      There… I see the words
      Within my reach…
      I’ve almost got them in my hand…
      Oh, crap…
      An octopus ate them…
      He looked at me with a grin
      Flagellating his suction cupped legs
      In my direction
      As if he knew
      That he had eaten the very words
      That would have made you smile…
      My head is hung in sorrow…
      I shall swim ashore
      And breathe a sigh of disappointment…
      But I will never stop searching…

      Missing your words…

      Michael

      (I would start a challenge on my site called “Nitwit Poetry”…
      But I would be very afraid of the results)

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  9. I blame that squirrel in the other poem for distracting you in the pizza-making process. Or was it a chipmunk? Either way, it’s the culprit here. Enjoy the beer 🙂

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