Having beaten eggs into whipped
and heavy cream into peaks
and molded the crust to a tin, and cut
glistening, arced, fat chunks
of sliced peach, we
prepare for pie. Making pie
is the sweetest of all self-deceits
in that in all of baked goods, bads
peek out: boo! Calories! Processed sugars,
sex with professors, heavy syrups, indulgences,
Martin Luther nailing a paper, heaving
with grievances, to a heavy
oak door and on it: a
recipe. Protestant Peach Pie. Well, Marty,
spare me your inordinate affections, your ex-nuns,
your seven rules for better living, your vitriol and
vim, but I do believe I will have a big piece
when it is good,
Is an unquestionable good.
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years. Try the RANDOM button to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.
*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.