Cordon Bleu by Stephen Kingsnorth

Stephen Kingsnorth | May 3rd, 2020 | poetry | No Comments


The cooking bowl, hoped wish each stir –
as if in mix would spoon alone
spread star-dust on ingredients –
is trough for thought, not pot-luck game,
a recipe, old style, receipt.

To often, as a dish served cold,
we pay back what we have received,
and menu is repeated list,
recycle brewed till sick of it,
instead of staples, just, the need.

I’ve met the free in dungeon chains,
as captives, topped the table mount;
cordon bleu, bind the heart and mind,
fly freedom, least expect to find.
Where meal is shared, companions dine.

Poet Bio

Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church, has had pieces accepted by some thirty on-line poetry sites, including Poetry Potion; and Gold Dust, The Seventh Quarry, The Dawntreader, Foxtrot Uniform Poetry Magazines, Vita Brevis Anthology ‘Pain & Renewal’ & Fly on the Wall Press ‘Identity’.

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