Recipe For Life

Vintage Words


Life is measured in inches

like an estimate of flour 

in the mixed bowl of home

made pancakes. Sifting 

is for novices. Flour, like 

baking powder, is real fine.


Kids are like eggs cracked 

and added to make life stick

together. Additionally, they clot

the arteries with love and energy

posing as cholesterol.


Butter. Just butter. Milk

is another version of butter.

The laborious act of breathing

is another variety of thick

cream. Melted, please add

the sweetener of your

choice; a mate, a job, more

questions, more mouthes

to feed.


A dash of salt. Two dashes

of salt. Enter  birthing

soda and nurturing powder.

If 4 cups of flour you make

cookies, if two, cake. Tears

optional. Bake until burned 

or all the answers to questions

beginning with why fill the nose

as if it were a kitchen when

the oven door is opened. 







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djtj's picture



allets's picture

Just Scribbling

Glad you found something worthwhile here. Thanks for the read (totally humbled by your comment). ~ Stella ~



djtj's picture

i love this style of writing

i love this style of writing and have been attempting to convert some of mine.  So I am admiring your work.

allets's picture

So Far

what I've read of your poetry, it needs no re-working. The more editing done, the further you get from the original inspiration and emotionsl causality. The poet seldom sees or feels what the reader does. Like small leaf boats placed in a stream, let them go and write using new found insights, abilities, and techniques. The poet said it best, "Let the dead be dead." Write new poems, I do and stretch that way. Or not :D ~ Lady A ~



rjnmhrjn's picture


This is deliciously insightful.

allets's picture

See, Now

I am ready to go bake something! Thanks for the encouragement.  

~ S ~



sweetwater's picture

A brilliantly clever,

A brilliantly clever, thoughtful and well constructed poem, I was left both fascinated and hungry! Loved it :-)) Sue.

allets's picture

Thanks For:

Reading and commenting. The writer has no clue if it is reaching the reader. Glad this one reached you. Your poempalfrommichigan.