Soul Soup

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Soul Soup

Come hither my child
There are things you must learn;
Things about life
and the blessings we earn.

Life isn’t easy, in fact
it can be quite cruel,
But follow these teachings and
in the end you will rule.

Our Mothers and Fathers
we don’t get to pick.
As some shower with love,
others beat with a stick.

Brothers and sisters,
Our blessings or our curse?
When divided between siblings,
one always gets it worse.

Sons so handsome
Daughters so fair;
They can bring us such joy,
or they can bring great despair.

Let’s not forget neighbors and
those we call friends;
Some turn away from trouble
While some remain through thick and thin.

So come now, my child
To the kitchen and my school.
For that’s where I’ll teach you
the secrets to my brew.

Go to the pantry and
grab that big vinegar jug,
That is the poison that
can run in family blood.

Open up that lower cupboard
see the tin of anchovies?
Those are the deep ugly scars
the bloodied belt buckle leaves.

Now to the ice box
We need an onion and celery
Some juicy red depression and
stalks of self loathing.

Here is the last of the ingredients
Some basil and season-all salt;
To keep look out in our absence,
to accept us despite our faults.

Bring the vinegar to a boil
Add the anchovies one by one,
Now chop up the onion and celery,
Add them when you’re done.

We sprinkle a pinch of basil
We then season to our taste,
Let it simmer for a while,
This brew allows no haste.

I see the onions have
brought tears to your eyes;
We’ll need a few of them to add
for all the daily lies.

Now we’ll grab a frying pan
to brown up all this beef;
This is all the death and pain
that weighs people down with grief.

We mix it all together to
create this tasty soup,
Then set the table and serve it
for dinner to our little group.

As we consume life’s
trials and tribulations,
May we forever remain
in a constant state of elation.

We’ve taken the hate and
the pain we’ve endured,
we’ve boiled it into compassion
and love as the cure.

Remember my child;
we reap what we sew.
Just follow this recipe
to make soup for the soul.

Copyright © 2006 KMS

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Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

Luiseach’s Poems (27)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Forever Grey 0
Do I Exist? 0
Smile 0
Masks 0
When A Poet Can't Write 3
Imagination 1
Shapes In The Sky 1
Hiding 1
Destitution 0
The Candle 0
Never Let Them See You Cry 3
Inside Cry 1
Tears Of My Soul 1
Friendship 1
Thank You 0
Fathers’ Love (Song) 0
The World In A Dream 1
Summer Ecstacy 2
The Dance 0
Lovers’ Tango 0
Tranquility 0
Naked Before You 0
Most Precious Gift 0
Lucas 0
Logan 0
Soul Soup 0
Tears 0