The Lost Recipe – a poem


The Lost Recipe


A page flaps from under an air stream,

Caused by the wisping of a shallow wind or a dream.


Where is that lost recipe with a blotch, from the old juice of an orange rind,

Which no one ever could find?


Quite the orange jelly I had once made with a touch of lemonade,

With such an exquisite recipe that no one could recreate.


With delectable notes of the fruit and the delightful texture,

One could only learn about it at a prominent lecture.


No store or person could assemble and mix such a jelly

In any attempt or measure, not even from a culinary show on a tele.


Just off at another room, I craft an old story of gloom,

Where penchant elves and gnomes watched the forest esotery bloom.


A page or two into the sweet revenge of the morning dew,

A pixie creature fought the weather with a spoon from a stew.


Where would the old story go,

I could never know.


The characters bring the story forth,

Like a stirring surprise or a secret witches’ broth.


Spending hours on writing and editing thoroughly,

One certainly deserves a break cordially.


I must partake a tea and that jelly which I had made.

Where could that recipe paper be – I wonder about its fate.


Searching for it under the furniture and behind the furnished wardrobe

While looking through my old manuscripts, an idea flashed like a strobe.


Right off to my writing room with an idea, I added one more line

To an old story of mine.


As time ticked forth, there were hundreds of pages.

And here, I thought it would take forever to write it into the great ages.


Looking for the lost recipe – part 2

Now, what should I do?

I have absolutely nothing to do.


Right in the kitchen sat my cold, stale tea.

It waited for me.


The tea waited for me to see the last spoonful of jelly in the old jar,

And it almost started a war.


With a whit of hope, I took my grit to find the old recipe note,

For it keeps my day bright and my good thoughts afloat.


Meanwhile, here, I stay to share my written work.

Perhaps it would give great hope, like seeing a friendly stork.


A stork that gives ideas to whoever bothered to listen or read,

Who foretells a fruitful future and brings a good deed.


I know it is time for me

To search for my orange jelly recipe


For more poems, you may visit Choices – a poem

You may also like to read 40 Percent Precipitation

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

14 + 2 =

Please note that this website is using cookies for analytics and functionality purposes. You may visit the privacy policy page posted on this website for your convenience.
Skip to content