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Create!

That's the purpose of this section. You are encouraged to read the poems

posted here and elsewhere on the Poetry X Hunger website, to look 


at 
the historic accounts of hunger, famine and starvation, or consider the

​prompts suggested and then... write some poetry about hunger.
 

Poems by Linda Trott Dickman

12/15/2020

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The Hands That Prepared It
For Priscilla Drake Solomon
For all those for whom a crust is a feast
​
She started from a full heart.
Mixed all the elements
Kneaded, working her floured quilters hands
Into the dough, folding shaggy into smooth
Sticky into soft.

Working into a promising mound
Covering with a cotton shroud, 
Letting the dough ferment

Reshaping,
Dividing, cross sectioned
Tucked into bundles
anointing with butter
Cover once more

Rise again like Easter morning.
Bake, remove from oven
deliver with warm wishes
kind words.
A starter for so much more.
Click on the file below to listen to Linda read the poem:
linda_trott_dickman_the_hands_that_prepared_it.mp4
File Size: 6435 kb
File Type: mp4
Download File


For all those still seeking a good meal in the dust.


If the chicken knew what lifted her, 
she could not say, 
strutting in the sun, 
looking for food, then
propelled across the farm
into the dark.

1.
Incredible luck.
A murky tidal wave crashed
across the plain.
I saw it coming,
closed all the shutters.

It looked like the judgment,
dark powdery angry rolls,
rushing toward me.

My defense as effective as my
six year old fighting to bite a thin carrot
with two front teeth missing.

A rust colored film
breaking in to the smallest crack,
the slimmest crevice,
coating everything.
The winds sixty miles an hour or more.

I was grateful my Billy was in school,
they had a storm cellar.
I got that call before the cacophony of the heavens.
The sky now the color of melting Baker's dark chocolate.
And then it was over. 

I heard the cluck and looked twice;
there stood a plump white Leghorn wearing a rusty coat.
Dinner!
Family too thin, eating the last of the root vegetables.
A miracle!
The chicken looked dazed, I wasted no time.

It was a job lifting my eyelids, lifting my arms was easier.
The dust gave me an edge, a better grip on the twiggy legs.

2.
He heard it too. Hungry, out of work,
on the road for days, he started past the house
he needed water, he needed food.

He saw the hulk of dust approaching,
ran for the barn.
This farm had nothing
more than he had left behind.
Undetected he climbed aloft
Listening to what sounded 
like a dump truck was loosing its load overhead.
He waited till the soil stopped raining down.

When it ceased, he heard it.
A surprised cluck.

He would have kept going, 
but for that promising sound.

He heard the pursuit,
the capture
the final strangled cluck,
then the danse macabre in the yard;
wings extended, 
legs in a great hurry, rushing nowhere,
covering ground she had never covered in life.

He watched the woman drain, pluck, sing.
He heard “as I went down in the river to pray” coming from the kitchen.

I put the pot on to boil,
“studying about that good old way.”
Chicken baptized, rinsing the storm off the last of the turnips, onions, carrots, parsnips.
Peeling and singing,
“and who shall wear the starry crown, oh Lord show me the way.”

He waited. 
“Oh Lord show me the way.”
she moved a basket of laundry
out to the line,
the last of the elephantine cloud
lumbering away. 

Shaking the residue
loose from the line,
I lifted the sheets, towels
knowing it would be tomorrow's refrain, 
“oh sinners lets go down
lets go down, come on down
down in the river to pray.”
I smiled for the first time in days.

He whistled soundlessly,
picking up the air...

By the time I returned, more than the storm had blown by
the chicken
the pot
gone,
though he'd had the courtesy to turn off the stove.

If the chicken knew what lifted her, 
she could not say, 
strutting in the sun, 
looking for food, then
propelled across the farm
into the dark.
Click on this LINK to listen to Linda read her poem.
Picture
Linda Trott Dickman has been writing poetry since her first sleep-away camp experience when she was ten years old.  Linda is the author of Robes,  The Air That I Breathe and Road Trip. Linda’s poetry has been published on-line, in Pratik Journal and in several anthologies.  She is the current coordinator of poetry for the Northport Arts Coalition (Northport, NY.),  has taught poetry to children for over 35 years and leads a poetry workshop for adults at Samantha’s Li’l Bit O’ Heaven coffee house in East Northport, NY.  ​

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  • Home
  • Hunger Poetry
    • Now more than ever! >
      • Now more than ever: Submitted poems
    • 2020 WFD Poetry Competition >
      • 2020 World Food Day - submitted poems
      • 2020 World Food Day Poetry Competition announcement
    • World Food Day Poetry Competition 2019 >
      • World Food Day 2019 - Submitted Poems
    • World Food Day Poetry Competition 2018 >
      • WFD 2018 - Submitted Poems
    • Maryland Poets
    • International Poets
  • About
    • About the Initiative
    • Initiative Founder
    • Advisory Board
  • News & Blog
    • Events
  • Young!
    • Poems by Young Poets
    • Videos
    • Materials for Teachers
  • Library
    • Extent of Hunger >
      • Global Hunger: Progress & Challenges
      • Hunger in the US
    • Historic Accounts of Hunger >
      • Africa
      • The Americas
      • Asia
      • Europe and Russia
    • Historical Poems
    • Interviews
  • Create
    • Prompts to help you get started
  • Contact us & Get involved!
    • Call to Action
    • Resources >
      • Global resources
      • US resources
      • Maryland resources