Monday WRites 307

'Some Of The  Onions Went Into The Tuna Sandwich'
 

This morning, the onions made me cry. They were large brown skin covered onions. The kind you find readily at any supermarket or vegetable seller.  Sometimes i buy the large white ones and sometimes the red ones. 

The smell of sauteed onions with tomatoes is to me divine.  Just the right piece of heaven sent.

It's a clear morning, bright, blue sky. Chopping along my merry way, thinking of nothing but breakfast, including coffee of course. Half way through i could only hear the soft crunch of the chopper wading through them. 

I have aprons but i never wear them. I choose instead to wipe my tears away on the sleeve of my tee shirt. And continue chopping away. No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife. Some of the onions went into a tuna sandwich.

 © gillena cox 2021

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You've heard about the Monday Blues well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance for eg the rite of afternoon tea).

Welcome to Monday WRites #307: A Happy Monday to all. Be Safe.

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BLOG HOPPING TODAY WITH

Mosaic Monday 

Mosaic Monday: #139: The Garden Explosion

AND

 

dVerse — Prosery — Finding Ms. Zora Neale Hurston

prompted to use the lines No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife in a prose using not more than 144 words

A JIGZONE PUZZLE 20 PIECES TO FIT ONLINE

REVISIT

19 July 2018

9 July 2017

42

ONIONS
What does it matter tears adding winks to the aromas; just adding more saltiness i suppose, a scenario of chopping and slicing, slicing and chopping, needs the empathy of wholesome joy, so yes let the tears flow before the hungers are appeased.
What matters then, if you wring your sadness like clothes wet, from the washing tub into the dross of daily menus, into bellies belied of gratitude.
The sauce of ungrudging toil, of course! not like a day at the mines in the earth’s dark womb to triumph the cause of sparkle, sparkling cut stoned diamante
Does it matter if mockery lures the smiles of tired hands and unassuming
gait, into accepting a bargain for a pledge, or a fledge or fledgling passion.
The weight of trump cards played like words at the gaming table, serves to
sweeten the delight of augur. Passion please take your seat to the left of the head table where the carrots cannot not be eaten.
© gillena cox 2015







Written for the prompt today at
Poems In April DAY FOUR - Caution: Tender Buttons

THE CHALLENGE
Read the excerpts from Tender Buttons given and write a short poem about an object, foods, or a room in the style of Stein. If you are one of the many readers who find Stein's work inaccessible or baffling or just not inspired by Tender Buttons???? then your challenge will be to write a poem without any gendered pronouns (she or he).

I CHOSE FOR MY INSPIRATION THIS EXCERPT FROM STEIN'S - ROOMS
Why is there more craving than there is in a mountain. This does not seem strange to one, it does not seem strange to an echo and more surely is in there not being a habit. Why is there so much useless suffering. Why is there.
Any wet weather means an open window, what is attaching eating, anything that is violent and cooking and shows weather is the same in the end and why is there more use in something than in all that.
The cases are made and books, back books are used to secure tears and church. They are even used to exchange black slippers. They can not be mended with wax. They show no need of any such occasion.