I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world,
to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

5 April 2015

Pumpernickel Bread

Is not blackness. Is not. Is deepest brown, harder and redder than chocolate.

Crumbles on the tongue and up behind the back teeth. Tastes of that redness, that deep brown malty redness.

German palaces. Thatched cottages in woods. Going home to sit by the fire.


Today's 'Poems in April' prompt at 'imaginary garden with real toads' is to write about food (or objects or a room) in the style of Gertrude Stein. Only Gertrude Stein can do Gertrude Stein! But I've done my best.

18 comments:

  1. Wonderful, Rosemary. "German palaces. Thatched cottages in woods." I love that.

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  2. I too think your last line adds so much to the piece. And I also like your opening, telling us what pumpernickel bread is not.

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  3. Greetings Rosemary....I bow to your words here. In particular was taken with "Is deepest brown, harder and redder than chocolate." and how you follow that up with the crumbling behind teeth. This echoes Stein brilliantly! Viva la and thanks for posting to my prompt!!!

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  4. a worthy Stein-nessque opening(◕‿◕。) "Is not blackness. Is not. Is deepest brown,"

    luv it; have a creative month

    much love...

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  5. Nice! I want more. Gimme some more malty goodness!

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  6. Wonderful! This brings the taste and texture of the bread to the reader on a whole new level.

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  7. Fantastic, Rosemary! I liked most the line Izy quotes, too. This is so rich, it makes me want pumpernickel bread.

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  8. your sketch speaks volumes ~

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  9. This is wonderful, Rosemary. You have captured her perfectly, with your own delicious twist.

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  10. Ah, lovely--just terrific. k. (Manicddaily)

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  11. I love how you connected the colors and tastes ~ with Germany! Perfect.

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  12. O Rosemary, I'll go with you, back to Germany. My roots are there but I was born in the U.S. I would never have associated those colors with Pumpernickel bread, mere bread. But you had it triggering thoughts of your heritage.
    BTW, we, Mrs. Jim did most of the cooking work but I peeled the pears, stirred a little, and gave moral support, made "Poached Bosc Pears with Pomegranate Glaze served with Crème Fraiche."
    They were sooo pretty, a very dark red which reminded me of giant chocolate candy kisses. I loved the colors of those saturated pears, your poem reminded me of them.
    Also BTW, your comment reminded me of another picture I had of some sailboats moored at Istanbul. I had meant to include it so I have put it on my post now.
    Thank you. Thank you too for your Pumpernickel bread, I do like it to eat. Next time I'll be thinking to see red.
    ..

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    1. I'm glad it was so evocative for you dear Jim! But it's not my heritage; I'm a Celtic/Indian mix. But was brought up on Grimm;s fairytales, like everyone else. I was eating a slice of pumpernickel bought from the supermarket just before I wrote this. :)

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  13. Rosemary, this is about as good as it gets when writing "in the style of" another person. From that first snippet of phrase, starting off WHAM! in the heart of things, you came across with a fine work. Her style is so jarring, so offputting; and yet, there is a sense of rightness in her writing. Don't know how else to explain it. Your use of a good, sturdy bread as a subject, extra points. Now, the hot cross buns in the kitchen don't have the same allure! Thanks, Rosemary. Amy

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    1. Dearest Amy, I trust you thoroughly enjoyed the buns all the same! I am such a foodie, I am sure I could write of them with equal relish. (Grin.)

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