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Showing posts from July, 2012

“Things Every Southern Woman Should Know How to Make”

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Alice clicked on the headline, mildly curious about what yet another stranger thought should be in her kitchen repertoire. Pictures of China plates mounded with crispy fried chicken, greens, cobbler, and a pile of biscuits a mile high flooded the screen, all set off with a pitcher of sweet tea beaded with condensation. The table was set; an apron draped off to the side next to a box labeled “Gramma’s Recipes” in fine calligraphy. She closed the browser and put away her tablet. She was born a Georgia peach, but she couldn’t make a cobbler to save her life. Did that mean she wasn’t southern? Or maybe just not “Southern.” For Alice, there was no recipe box full of family traditions. Her younger years were filled with rental homes in different states and her father’s voice coaxing her toward a text book rather than a cookbook. Metalworking and fabrication held more interest than learning to flambé or sauté. Did it make her less of a woman that her cooking skills consisted of fresh salads
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Poetry: All's Lost

His form, silhouetted against the red sky Held a sense of defeat. Slump shoulder posture, His outstretched hands, pleading. Glints of fire far from his reach reminded him of his solitude On a hilltop won by no one; the child’s body lay at his feet. Why? His voice echoed across the land and in his mind. Blind eyes returned the question, burning through his soul with accusation. Purple sky sparkling with white ice, the vapor of his breath the only sign of the living here. Still he sought an answer A lone figure against the night Blotting out stars, Stained blade in his hands.
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Where I Gush About Bush’s Album, Sea of Memories

“You shine, the world stops, and gods are humbled.” That line right there, friends, melts me into a tingly mess of “Oh my God, that’s the best line ever!” It’s from the song, All Night Doctors , and even if the rest of the song was total crap (which it’s far from), I’d listen to it just to hear that line. Yeah, I’m a lyrics girl. While, in my opinion, this is the best lyric in the universe, it’s not the only reason I love this album. Bush brings together in Sea of Memories music that pulls at the core of me and beautiful lyrics that not only paint wonderful pictures in my head, but hit me in the emotional bull’s-eye. Gavin Rossdale’s voice, swoon-worthy as ever, turns it all into a concoction of inspiration that compels me to put fingers to keyboard. And anything that makes me write is gloriously badass.   My top three songs so far are All Night Doctors, The Sound of Winter, and Be Still My Love. There isn’t one that I just don’t like, and I’m sort of in love with the
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Poetry: Kitchen Knife

  Blood               runs across the light oak table    and   drips   garnet spheres                                                                      to the varnished floor.                                                                             Terror is found in numbness of the                                                                                                     body and clarity of the mind.                                                                                                                             He knows as he stares                                                                                               at the senseless                                                             wounds weeping red tears on his arm                                                       Knife dangling from his pale fingers, the beat of his madness pulsing just Below the skin;                          
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