Published: 31 August 2026

There’s Nothing Like Banana Bread

You may talk about the beauty of Venice,
or you can visit the glories of Rome, but
for me there’s nothing better on Earth,
than banana bread made at home.

The smell is so delicious
health benefits meretricious
the gale may rage and blizzard blow
but fresh baked banana bread
with a pat of butter melted slow
you’ll struggle to contain yourself
as it warms you to the bone
there’s nothing more auspicious
than banana bread made at home.

You might be in Hollywood
dining with the latest “it” girl;
you could be Napoleon
conquering half the world;
you can seek the formula to happiness
in every ancient tome;
but I take my pleasure, in simple measure
with banana bread fresh baked at home.

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More Poetry:

gravity mocks me

with flying pies in the face
rakes meant for Sideshow Bob
new frost on concrete stairs
ladders not properly secured

everything is a lie, what is love?

everything is a lie; what is a lie?
what can be excused; what must be forgotten?
when the blood is on your hands
the moment you say you’re innocent

poetry is more than a hole

1
you can go to bed and plan
to get up in the morning and dig a hole
and by noon, you can be done
this is not a good recipe for writing a poem

Confession, for Michael Dennis

I’m reading Raymond Carver and thinking of my friend Michael –
not because he recommended Carver, but because
when he’s in his stride, Michael writes like Carver. I call it ‘me
poetry’. I wrote lots of it. Until I got tired of seeing “me” all the time.
Nonetheless, there’s something in the delicacy of Carver’s/ Michael’s ruminations,