When I need some nourishment
I take all the wild words I can find
and I dice them finely,
Until I finally have a bowl
of bite-sized pieces.
Little shavings of a story,
shards of a mystery,
Fragments of love,
and a craving to see
where the flavour takes me.
All these finely sliced pieces
I gently toss in freshly scented flowers.
Then I set fire to my kindling heart
and wait until the flames roar.
And I can start to really cook
a specialty, a meal fit for you and me.
I ignore cookbooks,
I don’t look at recipes
I let the words speak for themselves.
I cast them into the fires of hell.
These voyagers of poetry.
In their cast iron boat.
Whilst I dance around,
like a conductor
orchestrating the beat.
There is an art to this,
learnt over years,
many plates drowned
under countless tears.
But now that I’m smiling.
I execute each part
with precision timing.
Sautéing in the heat,
I let them sweat,
searing the expression,
until it is golden,
I add flourishes,
herby verbs to add action,
nourishing nouns
to give some body,
then I sprinkle in
adjectives to add to the flavour.
A bouquet of scents arise,
but this meal is not nearly ready,
it needs a little spice.
I need to add some
seasoning similes,
meaty metaphors.
before adding
some flavoursome stock,
and bringing to a boil.
Then lowering the heat
till it’s a gently simmering pot,
letting all of the component
parts become one, and I let it stew.
It’s not yet ready
to serve up to you,
it needs to be fine-tuned,
refined in the last moments,
as this is a meal of love
and it takes time to bring
the best out of it,
to make every mouthful perfect.
To make every taste a little piece of heaven,
But until then I sit
weaving more words in my head
and I let my thoughts unwind,
to untangle the threads for dessert.


