Sourmilk and rhubarb jam – for dVerse

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My day is sourmilk,
and inky clouds of drizzling misery;
it’s death and greed of sooted news;
a cup of tea and orange juice;
cottage cheese and rhubarb jam;
redolent of summer breeze
with sweetness of a ticklish sun.

In shadowplay of singing woods
I close my eyes and flo-o-o-at
to laziness beside the mountain creek
as cloud plays peek-a-boo
with warmth on the electric blue
through muslin curtain’s whitish mesh
I’m dancing barefoot on the mossy softness
adorned with dewy rhinestones
on grey-green hues of rhubarb jam.

I turn to ashen paper news again
but having found the strength to face
November teeth of carnivores.
My day is sourmilk and rhubarb jam.

Today Abhra want us to write about our local food and what it means to us at dVerse poetics. We have preserved a little summer as rhubarb jam, that can bring small flashbacks to summer for us. There are more food here as well but this is what came to mind first.
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34 responses to “Sourmilk and rhubarb jam – for dVerse

  1. so loved the shadow play in the singing wood… the whole piece is light and carefree… great job… i was taken up in the verse and totally forgot about the food end…LOL

  2. hmmm… i love rhubarb jam… even more with some strawberries… i like how you use the food as indicator for mood here as well… and dancing barefoot…hey… that sounds wonderful

  3. Wow, beautiful – I didn’t think of such lovely surprise from my prompt, looking forward to a lot of varieties from all tonight…..I have never tasted rhubarb jam, but in jams blueberry is my fav 🙂

  4. Your closing stanza is killer, brother; & what a great way to use the prompt. Your free verse becomes stronger weekly; this is a fine poem, especially after thrice-read; it has a lusty, strong aura to it, yet beneath the drama, there are delicious whiffs of whimsy & slathers of rhubarb jam; by the by, rhubarb & strawberry pie is one of my favorites.

  5. Cottage cheese, sour milk and rhubarb jam – do you know that the jam and the sour milk are almost impossible to find in the UK (unless you make them yourself)? So there you go: great cultural differences rising to the fore already…

  6. Food conjures forth such a plethora of memories – in a way, touchstones of the days of our life. I’ve heard it said: happiness depends on a leisurely breakfast. At any rate, it’s a good start.

  7. Mmm. I can taste this – well not the sour milk – the pie. I do like me some homemade rhubarb pie. Straight rhubarb, not the strawberry/rhubarb mix some others do. It really is a summer thing isn’t it?

  8. Breakfast is indeed my favourite meal of the day! And I admit, I had absolutely no idea what is rhubarb! Must go and scavenge!

    Love the subtleties you have used across the poem –
    I’m dancing barefoot on the mossy softness
    adorned with dewy rhinestones
    on grey-green hues of rhubarb jam.

    Nice!

  9. I liked the divergent thought behind sour milk. For some (who hate it) your poem will read one way. For some (who like it) it will read another. Poetic justice when the poem lands in the readers lap all convertible like that. Thanks.

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