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Stinky Dinner

Stinky Dinner

She sits under an old oak tree
with two five-gallon buckets
one-she uses for sitting
the other with tonight’s supper

The sun travels across the sky
and the shade moves away
she separate the hog chit'lins
from its liver, lungs and stomach

The sun starts to set
and dusk approaches
she continue to clean the feces
from the stinky chit'lins

Stink and wet from head to toe
she is in before dark, fresh and dry
a magnificent whiff of her dinner
she calls, “sup neat ready”

Nine gather to the kitchen
seven kids, mom, and dad
a feast; bread, meats, rice, and vegetables
I’ll pass on the chit'lins


— Barbara Writes, Jul 13, 2008

About This Poem

About the Author

Region, Country: United States, USA

Favorite Poets: Billy Collins, Shakespeare, , Emily Dickinson, , , Whitman, Jess Tapper

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Critiques

R

rahbar

17 years 11 months ago

A Dinner for a family..

Hello Barbrara..some one has to toil to provide to the family...in the end providing is more important...thats what your poem says...agreed! good work indeed! Rahbar.
Barbara Writes

Barbara Writes

17 years 11 months ago

Rahbar

Smiles:) Barbara thanks for you comment. I agree, but eating chitterlings then yeah, now nah, smell got to me. Idea of poem was to turn the chitterlings stinky, nasty into something good and your point show it to be as important, worthwhile and special as i intended it to be. growing up as a child missing those days.
Rett

Rett

17 years 11 months ago

Oh man, that brings back memories.

Barbara, you don't know how many memories that brings back! I was raised in the deep south and the Chit'lins as we called them were around a lot. Even as a kid I tried to disappear whenever they were being cleaned, cooked or served. Never could develop a taste for them.*shudder* You could even buy them in the grocery stores pre-cleaned. Rett: "At twenty, if you are not a Liberal, you have no heart. At Thirty, if you are not a Conservative, you have no brain." Winston Churchill
Barbara Writes

Barbara Writes

17 years 11 months ago

Yeah those were the days

Smiles:) Barbara hated them, but when mom mix them with the hog stomach i would eat, but after a while just couldn't appreciate the smell. but loved the liver, lungs, hog head cheese, feet, stomach.souse meat liver pudden to this day, the best, but the chit'lins nah thanks for the spelling didn't know how to spell the broken language we spoke back then. great language. thanks for commenting and sharing your southern memories, much appreciated.
Barbara Writes

Barbara Writes

17 years 11 months ago

by the way

Smiles:) Barbara Mom buy from store these days, still must clean as they don't do a good job, but when she cook my husband run to get his.
Rett

Rett

17 years 10 months ago

*LOL*

Yeah, they weren't clean enough basck then either. As for running, I would run...the other way. Mom would make craklin' bread ever once in a while too. I could eat it that way. Hogshead cheese etc.. oh yeah. Believe it or not I still know how to render the fat, make my own lye and still know how to make lye soap from the fat and the lye. We made the lye by pouring water through ashes we kept from the fireplace. In some parts of the south, even now, you can find jellied snout for sandwiches. Loved them as a kid. Don't know if I could eat it now. *L* I absolutely adore your poem. It brings back so many memories. Rett: "At twenty, if you are not a Liberal, you have no heart. At Thirty, if you are not a Conservative, you have no brain." Winston Churchill
Barbara Writes

Barbara Writes

17 years 10 months ago

Thanks Rett

Smiles:) Barbara I am happy you adore it so. I never learn. but saw mom do it all even the lye soap, she made homemade sausages, smoke ham hock in the bottom of the frig, link sausages from chit'lin skins, grind her own sausages, etc so many memories. When mom tried to teach I ran the other way, did not want to learn how to clean chit'lins. I have one little sister that learn. When mom had so many chit'lins to clean she took over and finish. The poem is about both of them.