Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.
Opus
I wonder where Nonna went.
She wore her apron all day,
and cut onions to add to virgin olive oil.
And when the sound of the skillet hit the stove,
when the house held the smell of sizzling onions,
Nonna would sing.
And to the onions, garlic was added,
and to the garlic, rosemary, oregano, and basil.
It was an opus of unrestrained aromas,
and within her aria, was the rise and fall
of the bubbling tomato paste, like an overture
making way for the chorus of sliced bell peppers,
