Making Soda

Making Soda short poem

She made her soda
by the handful,
three handfuls of flour,
a pinch of salt,
a pinch of soda,
a half pint of buttermilk,
from an urn,
not a carton.

She made her soda
by the handful,
one hand that threw
dirt on the lid
of her sister’s coffin,
the other holding
an orphaned son.
Hands that raised him
as her own, and never
a ring on their fingers.

She made her soda
by the handful,
baked in a range
until it was done,
and we ate it, oven hot,
and thick with butter.

She made her soda
by the handful,
a recipe I have been
unable to follow;
I have different
sized hands.

This poem is part of the Poetry Book Black Eyed Peace

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david atkinson

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Irish poet, who spent his early years in Belfast and now lives in Coleraine with his wife and 2 children. His first collection "Thomas" was published by Lapwing in 2005, and his second collection "Black Eyed Peace" has just been published. It is available as either a free eBook or in traditional printed format. His work has been widely published in magazines, anthologies, and on-line. His work has also been broadcast and published by the BBC and a number of his poems have achieved competition success. He has been involved with the Ballymoney Writers for over 15 years and has edited and published 3 collections of their work.
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4 Comments on "Making Soda"

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Swathi Rao

She has a good recipe, agreed. Nice poem.

Christopher S. Bunch

Good twist at the end.


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