Nana’s Pie

You start with flour in your bowl,
(All purpose types will do),
Sieve in two cups and one half more,
A pinch of salt in too,
Plus a bigger pinch of sugar,
Then stir the mixture through.

Next, take two cold sticks of butter,
(To make a tasty dough),
Work it in with a pair of forks,
(Don’t overwork it though),
Stop when the butter’s marble-sized,
(You’re done before you know).

After that you add ice water,
A half cup’s what you need
With a teaspoon of vinegar,
Follow her mama’s lead;
Stir until it comes together
When like rich soil proceed.

Dump the mix upon the counter
Then form two disks by hand,
Your dough’s now ready to be filled
With sweetness, fresh or canned,
Whatever fruit filling you choose
The outcome will be grand.

It’s time to heat your oven now
So set it to three fifty,
Roll your disks ’til an eighth inch thick,
Twelve inches wide they’ll be,
On the pie plate the bottom goes
Now build the rest with glee.

The filling’s piled majestically
Then covered with the crust,
A sheen’s applied by brushing milk,
The edges pinched and fussed,
Some knife slits cut into the lid
Ensures the pie’s robust.

Now place the pie in the oven,
Let it bake for an hour,
Drink in the perfume it creates,
Succumb to its sweet power,
You know it’s time when golden brown
So take it out – devour!

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Take the Sky

At the wild frontier of the galaxy,
Far beyond the reach of Alliance law,
Where the Reavers rage in a cloud of war,
Way out there you’ll find the Serenity.

Her brave captain looks out for me and mine
With a warrior woman his number two;
There’s a soaring leaf piloting her crew
And a Canton hero who don’t half whine.

Quick to help Companions when they need aid,
She is kept afloat by a shiny heart;
While the Shepherd’s compass directs their chart,
The two sheltered siblings won’t be betrayed.

They may lose their freedoms, may even die,
But from them you can’t ever take the sky.

Thirds

My dear cook I know you’re wondering
How to judge a meal’s success,
Well here’s my winning recipe
So that you need not guess.

If your guest is looking happy
After eating their first plate,
Another helping you should serve-
Their hunger must be great.

If a guest takes only seconds
It may be to not seem rude,
But if they choose to take a third
You know they loved your food.

the underworld (ii)

Inspired by Tyler Gonlag’s poem “the underworld” in Guernica, the story continues in this second stanza.

my response was composed and measured, a verbatim
account of a sinister elegy overheard
in the Styx. oh that for one time she wouldn’t
berate me for my choice, for the cannonball running
of my hippocampus. take your designs I exclaim
already navel-gazing in defeat. her verbal
karate has me beat myself, on a grizzly bearing
due past. but you can kiss my ass if you think
I’m finished. my sixth sense portends the return
of Psyche and my hopes are pinned on this tale
continuing. a verdant future awaits
me before the red velvet curtains are drawn.

The Frog

Now tell me: have you ever met Harold?
Why he’s the greatest frog in the world!
Handsome, an amphibian Adonis,
In wit and wisdom simply peerless.

On his lily pad he sits each day
Not missing a fly that comes his way;
His every croak an aural pleasure
For all the pond to hear and treasure.

Just one weakness had he, alas,
The stumpiest legs in all his class;
His achilles, just no good at sport,
When he tried to leap he came up short.

Each day he dreamt of balletic flight,
Of languid leaps, so graceful and light;
He yearned to be free from gravity’s chain
Yet tethered to Earth he did remain.

One day a stork, stopping by to fish,
Informed the frog how to gain his wish:
“Along the stream there lives a Princess
For longer legs seek her lips’ caress.”

So stumpy Harold hopped off to see
If a kiss could change his anatomy;
When he found her she was busy wooing
A large knot of toads, orderly queuing.

Waiting his turn he received her kiss
But from there, oh dear, things went quite amiss;
His legs grew longer, yes that is true,
But as a human, six foot two.

You see, dear Harold, we can now attest
Was in fact a Prince (as you might have guessed);
He was cursed as a frog when he turned sixteen
By a vengeful witch who despised the Queen.

The spell now undone the Princess screamed
At the handsome Prince of whom she’d dreamed;
“Finally!” she squealed “I’ve found my man
Now let’s get married, quick as we can!”

“No way” cried Harold “This is my chance
To lordly leap, pirouette and prance”;
So now you can watch him, happy each day,
He’s the lead performer in the Royal Ballet.