Gillian

What a wonderful poem you wrote. I love it all. I can't say enough good words about it. It dances in my head. I brings me to my wife with a smile. This is the kind of stuff that changes people's lives. A real joy to read. A (reed) in the wind of happiness. I wrote it the night before but didn't post it until the next day. And then I noticed you were going to be out of town. I said--Oh well-- I'll post it anyway for everyone else to read. So you got it anyway. Well this is a real good one as far as I'm concerned. Which doesn't say much. I have been real busy preparing form my reading coming up 27 in Davis, CA. So I have been falling behind in my posts. But I read that poem of yours and it blew me away. I had to make a post.

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Statement:
At first we hear a deep frightful voice in the title, the sound of which is like a hearse rolling slowly over pea gravel. And it monstrously says: (Marmalade lover), lower than the bottom shelf in the pantry closet. Deeper than the bottom of the last big-mouthed Mason jar. And take a double-take on the glass marmalade jar, because it sets both ways in this poem. So wonderfully so. It not only takes the lid off with devotion for Mr. Marmalade man but then it slaps you across the face with its poignant battering style. Well done Gillian.

Marmalade defies rationality

A marmalade lover myself I know how irrational this subject matter is. I've written songs about the marmalade lover. It defies understanding, and truly should. After all, golden apples are for kings and queens anyway, so when you make them into jam; it is fit for royalty.

Sly, smiling breakfast man,
your fresh familiarity
defies rationality.
How can comforts like
tea and toast ignite the passion
that abandons cups and plates
on cluttered kitchen counters?

Smear that toast and jam Mr. breakfast man. Get your Marmalade all over that muffin. Sticky finger touch. It is far better than vegemite ever was, no way around it. And we are talkin' down home style silver cutlery spread. Uh-huh. All over them depraved counters with flaming good taste striking oblivion's cluttered spinning saucer chords.

Decade by decade,
this quietly attractive loveliness
is held before me --
astonishing me
with its familiar treasures.

Oh yeah! I can smell its life-long flavor. I can taste its eons of tangy tartness. A labyrinth of buds and astounding aroma. I am yelling into the kitchen -- (I am on my way up.) Honey did you put that meltin' butter on it too. I know its goin' to be good now. Better than goody two shoes. Oui! Set me free. Funky man! Bathroom robe and fuzzy slipper dreamin'. Big coffee morning with all-day Saturday lovers.

This tangy marmalade devotion
starts my day afresh,
and life's stormy desire
tramples up the stairs;
love's thunderous clamour
batters at the door.

This closure is dynamite. Love is knocking at the door with thunder. Ummmm. Marmalade lovers watch out. Watch Out! Stand back; this door is comin' off its hinges. This is good stuff--rockin'chair and braided hair. Jars of homemade sweet stuff, like grandma told ya all about.

Commentary:

One fantastic poem; I love every line in it. I wouldn't change a hair on the thing. It makes my mouth water. I'm going to read it to my wife tomorrow three times in the morning and three times at night. Marmalade lover that I am; I will see that she smiles in the proper way. I finally taught her to love the stuff too, ya know. All jokes aside. It is a great piece, Gillian. Well structured poem. I like how it moves from sly, smiling breakfast man to (love) batters at the door, without skipping a beat. And this closure, It raps on your head three times in the morning to wake you up. (Marmalade devotion) is a superb metaphor right along with smiling breakfast man and love's thunderous clamor. I wouldn't want love any other way. It batters at my door for me too. One great title as well. Start it out right and end it perfect. A good one here--fish in the barrel. Very sensual; it strikes all the nerves of taste, smell, touch, and implied sight; even tongue touch. It has steamy flavor lassie. And the best kind -- the madness of (Marmalade devotion). Keep up the good writing. It is all said so well here on every level. This poem roars with a passion for life like a lion.