Sunday, November 22, 2009


When I was a tot I put a penny on my tongue
and tasted what they ate in a cave.
The bones of dragons,
licked clean of sinew,
flavored by the iron arrow that made him slain,
a soup stirred by a crone
whose  ragged sleeve dipped into the steaming gruel.
My grandfather was a giant,
chief assassin when kin gathered,
who always placed a nickel on my forehead,
pressed it to cling with drunken spittle.
My mother brushed the coin away
to keep my price pure and high.
c copyright all rights reserved


A Cuban In London said...

'My mother brushed the coin away
to keep my price pure and high'

Reality check? Or early introduction to pragmatism? Beautiful poem. Everything's there: child's innocence and adult's world (the spittle). Many thanks.

Greetings from London.

Lyn said...

Greetings to a Cuban:
To balance reality and idealism..that finally kicked in!!
Poem..thank you..just rises to the surface, somehow..

Linda S. Socha said...

Beautiful poem Lyn

I love what you say and how you say it

Lyn said...

Hi Linda-
Thanks for your lovely comment..
really appreciate it!

Jeane Myers said...

I believe I've found a favorite among your poems that you've posted - this is just wonderful - Happy Thanksgiving Lyn :)

Lyn said...

Hi Jeane-
Thank you..I'm so pleased..of course I can't choose..
Happy Thanksgiving to you too!!

Tess Kincaid said...

This reminds me of the metalic taste I was describing in my opening line of "Late" last week. Gosh, I always had a penny in my mouth when I was little. I say it's because we were creative!

Lyn said...

Hi Willow-
Yes, that's right, you too are a penny eater! Creative, of course! Although I shortly switched to chocolate...

Unknown said...

Hi Lyn,

Another evocative poem. I'd never thought of a coin tasting like dragon bones, but it does!

Lyn said...

Hi Derrick-
Thanks..did you just taste one? Poetry's a funny thing, isn't it..


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