Dough Lands by Riana N

Through the morn clang rusty pans.

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Debbie Gravett
14 days ago

Hmmm. I’m now craving a slice of homemade bread slathered with creamy butter. Your poem was melodic Riana and I could see and feel and smell the process and satisfaction of preparing the dough from the golden wheat fields to the kitchen.

The words flow beautifully and the rhyme doesn’t feel forced.

Well done and thanks for sharing.

Elizabeth Strehl
12 days ago

Honestly, I chose this one because the image of the bread looked so yummy. Clever trap. It was a worthwhile click, though. I love the playfulness: eye rhymes at the start of the lines, true rhymes at the end. The ability to write a poem like this is a true testament to the confused mess that is the English language, which I love. Excellent work.

Christian Donovan
11 days ago

Hi Riana, I like the way you start each line with a different ough word and their varying pronunciations. There was a comedian here in Wales a long time back who pronounced the name of the town Slough to rhyme with tough. (If you are not from UK you may not know it should rhyme with bough.) And so I have since always thought of it like that. Such is the English language… You might like to try baking sourdough bread – the dough tends to be very slack and sticky and presents a totally different problem to the baker. Thank you for sharing your poem with us.

9 days ago

I am from the US – fascinated by the different ways to pronounce “slough” – sluff or slew….Enjoyed the bread story. That dough can be a sticky wicket