Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “salt”

Food Fear 3

The scarlet letter of shame today
is not an “A”.
It’s the “S” painted on the shaker of salt
that’s at fault.

The salt shaker top is littered with holes,
it’s hard to control
the amount of salt that hits your food
and you overdo

because salt is teeny and hard to see,
it’s pale and wee.
Not like pepper that is easy to see
and makes you sneeze.

Though pepper lives in a shaker too
the holes are few.
And though pepper is safer than salt they say
this is the way

we traditionally think our seasonings should be
but it seems
pepper should be in the shaker marked “S”
(for ‘Safe’, I guess.)

And salt should be kept in the one marked “P”
’cause it seems to me,
since we know too much salt is  bad for us –
“P” for ‘Perilous’.


Dietary Blues

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day
That is what the diet gurus and the doctors say.
It’s also where the two diverge and no one can agree
on whether 2 or 5 more meals are what is good for me.

Some say browse, some say graze, but I’m not a deer or cow
Some say six small meals beats three squares, anyhow
it’s not just the carbs that are complex in this equation
breakfast, lunch, and supper are now planned like an invasion

with several stops for healthy snacks, like yogurt, fruit, or veg
I’ve eaten enough foliage today to build a hedge.
Cut salt (which is the only thing that makes a hedge edible).
Cut fat and cholesterol. It really is incredible

how overwhelming meal planning’s suddenly become
With his and hers requirements and taboos, it’s no fun
and if perchance we happen, on something that tastes good
that both of us can eat with impunity we would

eat it so darn often that we’d tire of its charms
so back into the dietary fray, we take up arms
and forge ahead though meal planning’s getting to be a bore
Just put it in a pill, I don’t want to cook no more.



Memories of the Sea

Once upon a million years ago or maybe more
some of us climbed dripping from the ocean to the shore.

Some of us breathed in the air and stood on new fledged  limbs
and turned our backs upon the home where we once used to swim.

And some of us remember still the ebb and flow and tide
of our ancestral home where our siblings still abide.

Some go back to the water, some stay away in fear,
but all of us have memories of the sea that salt our tears.



Our lot in life
unlike Lot’s wife,
is to never look behind us
at what chases
as we hasten
to whatever fate resigns us.
The salt that makes
our pillar shapes
itself from tiny grains
of truths that lie
safe in our mind
protected from the rains.
The seasoning
of reason brings
knowledge of salt’s true measure
for wounds it stung
but on the tongue
salt gives to all things pleasure.



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