Hostile Pasta

cooked pasta shells

(Image courtesy of

Never trust a noodle

plucked from a boiling pot

Do not test it with your tongue

It’s always way too hot

Forget the wooden spoon

acting as buffer

the water tucked inside the shells

will surely make you suffer.

A belly full of pasta 

a wine-assisted grin

An ice cube pressed upon my lip

to soothe the blistered skin.

…and now for something completely different (revisited)

Disclosure:   This post was originally published on my blog “Blipfillypicklepoo” in August 2011.  All the work is my own with the exception of the pic of an Andrew Wyeth painting.

Since I have done nothing to add to this blog in the last several (many) months, I thought I better get crackin’ and do SOMETHING… so, a small selection of “poetry” from my distant and not so distant past.

Benny's Scarecrow

                       Benny’s Scarecrow – Andrew Wyeth

He recalled beauty.                                  
It’s power and
An ache in the breast
like rust.


Raw winter sky
White void
Pounding the will
Crushing the symphony
of me


She sits, always alone.                                                                                                                                                
Iron tongued
and dreams of singing delicate music
of whispering her want to her beloved
in light cool moments.

Not much, but something.