Canned Memories
The days have grown shorter and
there is a chill hovering around the
last of the Maple leaves, as they dangle
listlessly from the branches that nourished them
Thoughts turn to all things warm – sweaters and
blankets and soup. My freezer is stocked with
containers of tomato soup made from the
fruit of our garden. Ripened by the sun, picked
and peeled, chopped and simmered with garlic and
basil and onion – ready to warm the body when
Winter makes itself at home, here.
But the soup that warms my soul with memories
is the kind that came in a red and white can, the one
made famous by Andy Warhol. The soup my mother
served for lunch with small round crackers and a
cup of hot chocolate.
Poetics: Time for Soup!
A beautiful lead up to a glorious childhood memory… 💜💜😊
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Thanks
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Great title, Candy, and I love the whole build-up to your childhood memory of canned soup: image of the ‘Maple leaves, as they dangle’ and thoughts turning to ‘all things warm – sweaters and / blankets and soup’ – the things I love about autumn and winter. The description of tomatoes ‘ripened by the sun, picked / and peeled, chopped and simmered with garlic and /
basil and onion’ made my mouth water.
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Thank, Kim
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A poem infused with sensory images, those sun-ripened tomatoes “simmered with garlic and
basil and onion – ready to warm the body,” and then the strong memories from childhood, how that Campbell’s soup comforted your body and made you feel loved. Beautiful!
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Thanks
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You’re welcome.
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I think tomatos make most soups better.
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So lovely! I especially resonate with; “Ripened by the sun, picked and peeled, chopped and simmered with garlic and basil and onion – ready to warm the body when Winter makes itself at home.” ❤️❤️❤️
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Love the delicate flow of your poem.
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Love this, Candy! When my sister and I were ill together, my mom would bring in bowls of that canned soup with Ritz crackers.
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