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The Hasty Pudding

Rating: 2.8


Canto I

Ye Alps audacious, through the heavens that rise,
To cramp the day and hide me from the skies;
Ye Gallic flags, that o'er their heights unfurled,
Bear death to kings, and freedom to the world,

I sing not to you. A softer theme I choose,
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Dr Antony Theodore 15 May 2020

Poise with one hand your bowl upon your knee; Just in the zenith your wise head project, Your full spoon, rising in a line direct, Bold as a bucket, heeds no drops that fall, The wide-mouthed bowl will surely catch them all. a very fine poem. tony

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Cheryl Tutaan 23 July 2017

Amazing! Thank you...a rate of 10. Cheryl

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Lantz Pierre 23 July 2017

I am ashamed to say that this is my first time reading this poem. Ashamed because it's magnificent. It brings all of life to bear upon a simple dessert of spiced and sweetened boiled corn meal. An extended mock heroic that makes of something meek and humble a true epic centerpiece. To me, this is where life begins and ends. Put down your modern electronic distractions, your mind-numbing generators of universal immediacy and stunted attention span and savor this poem. The labor of the land, growing the corn helped by beasts of burden to share the labor - and the spoils. The land, the weather, labor and comradery. A bowl of lowly origins is raised upon dais for all to marvel at. Everything it takes to produce. The dairy cows that contribute their milk, the husband and wife both who must take turns stirring the thickening gruel. The community that gathers to shuck the ears after harvest. The heavy millstone turning the kernels to meal. It's all here. Celebrated in the epic style it deserves, with near pitch-perfect rhyme and meter. I am blown away. And sure to find a recipe and share in the by-gone memory this poem is built upon.

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Bernard F. Asuncion 23 July 2017

Such an interesting poem.... Thanks for posting...??

1 7 Reply