“My Neighbour Wears a Lace Apron” dVerse week 51

Garlic sautéed in butter permeates the kitchen,
shrimp shriek to a pinkish hue in cast iron;
she prepares asparagus in an amber glass bowl
Saint Joseph’s keys hang on the wall beside her
She sets the table …

Her fixed pastures, buried green and dovetail blue;
in them exists harmony, a tale of different times,
assonant, capturing happiness in minutes

She rises beyond mercurial with
honeysuckle scents trapped in distances
of high-walled gardens, on this evening


20 responses to ““My Neighbour Wears a Lace Apron” dVerse week 51

  1. Hi Barb! Thanks. This is the first poem I have written in awhile, that wasn’t a wordle. Now that I have gotten back some free time, I am trying to come up with some writing for Margo’s prompts. I love her list poem prompt.

  2. this is way cool pamela…really love it …all the scents and how it goes far beyond what they’re actually doing..

  3. I love this descriptive narrative evoking our sense of smell, Pamela. Beautiful work!

  4. Wonderful verse Pam! Welcome back to poetry Looking forward to more from you ‘now that you are blessed with more free time!’


  5. Aha…like hovering over a stew spewing an aroma of gorgeous words and colours! The image is so vivid. Very enjoyable!

  6. Pamela, I am always struck by your titles and imagery, and here is another example of your skill at both. That she wears a lace apron says so much about her — not plain or stained or old, but lace. Very subtle and effective.

  7. Oh, Kelly, she is anything but ordinary. I live in a city filled with some very elegant folk. Thanks.

  8. mmmm honeysuckle int eh evening…that is home for me…and the food up front sounds just wonderful….made my mouth water just a bit as i wait for dunner….smiles…

  9. A fragment of a life, like a bright bit of mosaic, pamela, showing a little bit of everything larger, everything important. Good to read you, and happy summer your way.

  10. Love all the sensory images in this poem, Pamela! And what a beautiful setting you have described.

  11. I am a simple soul and thus I love a poem with food in it… perhaps it’s a sensory thing, as I could smell the garlic and hear the hiss of the cooking.

I appreciate all comments.

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