puttanesca tickles my nose
pulls me through
these streets, eyes closed
Mamma Sally, she knows
how to fill my bowl
daughter of the old country
pulled up her roots
for the better life, the big city
Mamma Sally, she knows
how far the red brick goes
raising up tomatoes to the sky
from her window box piazza
seven stories high
Mamma Sally, she knows
how her garden grows
olive oil, garlic, basil in harmony
hymns of joy
the blessed holy trinity
Mamma Sally, she knows
how to save my soul
Rene ~ February 2011
Submitted for Magpie Tales #51 ~ Come join, write and enjoy!
Love this poem, Mamma Sally indeed!
ReplyDeleteah rene, you had me with the first word
ReplyDeleteputtanesca
don't forget the olives! mmmmmm
did someone mention olives?
ReplyDeleteyes ladies, there will be olives, gotta get the sofrito started first :)
ReplyDeleteptenesca always makes me think of series of unfortunate events....
ReplyDeleteOMG...me too, Brian
ReplyDeletethose resourceful Baudelaires
Fie on you, Uncle Olaf
The biblical trio...of the garden. Nice reference for it - helps to paint an even stronger picture of this lovely Mamma Sally. Interesting one to pull from the pic...but it all comes together nicely. Thanks for sharing with One Shot!
ReplyDeleteRobust and simple, like the sauce named. Food for the senses.
ReplyDeleteHave to love that biblical trio... but I too would like some olives.
ReplyDeleteNicely done!
Nicely done! Really enjoyed it.
ReplyDeleteThis makes me think of all the Mamma Sally’s in the world, as they are the glue that binds our families. Well constructed, clean and simply...Well Done! Cheers, David
ReplyDeleteCan easily picture Momma Sally through your words. Old country woman making a family life in the city. Well written, Rene. Very nice, telling details in your poem.
ReplyDeleteMine too, I think! I love Italian food.
ReplyDeleteI needed to Google 'puttanesca' and will skirt around the literal meaning, to congratulate you on a delightful illustration of the Mamma Sallies of the world, who keep alive what is so special about real Italian cooking.
ReplyDeleteIf Mama Sally can cook good Italian I am in...she can save my soul...Love Italian...bkm
ReplyDeleteAh lahks me some puttanesca...(sigh)...hungry, so hungry...
ReplyDeletei adore you.
ReplyDeleteI love that savory holy trinity.
ReplyDeleteDeliciously tasty piece!
ReplyDeleteoh you made me see mama sally...what a lovely write!
ReplyDeleteyour words are full of imagery,
ReplyDeletetomatoes, garlic, wow,
well done.
cheers.
Ah, comforts. So sweet and respectful.
ReplyDeleteCheers,
Casey
Oh, to have green fingers!
ReplyDeletehttp://www.livinginthemiddle.com/2011/02/alal-or-little-affordable-luxury.html
ReplyDeleteI had a Mama Sally experience well sort of the other day at the olive bar. I posted my link just in case you want to check out my place for the Mama Sally ingredients. The only thing they don't sell is a Mama Sally. Wonderful poem. I am hungry now.
Enjoyable, smile-causing read.
ReplyDelete