I follow my mother’s tradition
as a young girl I was told
to braid loaves in the right season,
to bake them to shine as dark gold.
She taught me to braid loaves,
they must be kneaded the right way,
they must be eaten the right way.
Wash your hands clean and pray.
Blessed be the Lord who brings us
bread to the earth.
I watched and listen
her humble words of blessing
before she cut the loaf,
before we put salt on it,
before we started to eat.
After her words
there was always a special silence and deep,
unknown feelings of eternity in my heart.
Bread will never have the same taste
as when it was made with my mother’s hands.
A contest entry
- Blast From The Past by Celticmoon.
1200 points, ended February 24, 6 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 18 of 18
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Lovely poem ..I could smell the warm scent of bread baking...a comfort food bringing memories of heartwarming times...
Congrats on the hm!
Lynda
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If there is one thing that I feel when I smell the air filled with the scent of fresh baked bread, it is warmth. It gives me a sense of 'welcome home'. It is the one scent that seems to bring a calming warmth to the mind, body and soul like none other. It also, brings memories of mom and grandma in the kitchen so many years ago preparing Sunday's family dinner. I thank you my dear sister for sharing your memories and bringing forth some of my own as well. Good luck and thank you for entering!
Blessings
Bel
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Outstanding
It is memories of our childhood like this that somehow seem to gain even more significance as we get older. I remember you using bread as an image in earlier poems and this explains its importance to you. Poetry is often at its best when it is full of memories. A stunning poem.
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Yes, you noticed it well. As I already mentioned in my previous answer to Wandika, I like its smell and to me bread is a symbol of life. Maybe it is because in some parts of my life I was in luck of it. You may read it both way.
~Sonja~
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Very nice
I learned from my Grandmother and now bake the bread for special days at the Children's and Grandchildren's request.
Lovely Sonja.
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Nothing is so nice as a fresh baked bread. And visitors like you are. I am sure your grandchildren likes your bread.
~Sonja~
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this is comforting.
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Like your comments. They always makes my heart to run faster.
~Sonja~
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lovely
this is very touching and written very well. you definitely captured the feeling. nice job.
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I am glad if you find my poetry worth to read and moreover if you like it. Thanks for your kind visit.
~Sonja~
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warm memories
warm memories here encased in a lovley read, your wors are clear and let us the reader have a little insight into your life, with the images you speak it is easy to do so, beautiful poem.
white
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Thank you.
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warm...
...like that bread you watched your mom and i watched mine and so many others did with awe and love in eyes, hearts and... noses yes, that special taste, like being fed with a lover's hands and lips...
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Ah... you make me to sigh with your so mimiimaginative comment about bread and the rest of taste what follows...
~Sonja~
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SO BEAUTIFUL AND HEARTFELT!!!!!
There are many things which today hold for me a very special significence that remind me of my grand parents.
I also remember oh so well the smell of fresh, hot bread still in the oven baking. The warm home made pies, what memories which warm my heart and keep it seeing the light.'s
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Yes, the smell of fresh bread, still can feel it... Thank you for visit and applauses.
~Sonja~
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Bread is one of those wonderful things that seems to be overflowing with symbolism, memories and associations. The ritual of mixing the ingredients, kneading, leaving to prove (and the miracle of rising) and then to bake it in the oven, letting the smell inveigle itself into every corner of the house, is something so special that once you have made it, or watched your mother make it (grandmother in my case) you'll never want to buy bread in the shops again. Your poem captures this process beautifully, the repetition of 'before...' brings home that sense of ritual especially your adding salt before eating it, wonderful piece, thanks. Elizabeth David wrote a beautiful book on bread making.
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Thanks a lot for your so nice comment.
~Sonja~
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