Saturday, 7 March 2009

chop it nicely

coiled strands fall flailingly
on the cold floor
sticking and coagulating
staring at it with revulsion
I curse myself at my stupidity

feeling like a clod I am left watching
unappetisingly congealed
cold noodles falling on the ground
all this, as I had chopped my sticks
& thrown my fork on the road

16 comments:

  1. 5 second rule says
    go ahead don't beat yourself:
    cleanliness sickens

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  2. Oops! With or without sticks or fork, I have known this experience!

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  3. It is hard to prepare any food when the cook`s heart is not connected to the dish and it is no more than a chore.

    Good read.

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  4. What a strange moment you have captured there. I like it.

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  5. Cold noodles on the cold floor. I'd definitely want to take a different fork!

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  6. This is different - kind of funny and kind of embarrassing too :)

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  7. you've taken a wonderful twist on the prompt -- fork on the road! Humor and chagrin come through in your poem.

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  8. Love the laugh and the loss of all useful tools.

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  9. So clever and visual. Love it!

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  10. I enjoyed your poem and the humor.

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  11. i feel this frustration (but my dog would love it!...he is our professional floor cleaner during/after meals)

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  12. Such vivid imagery, and such a recognizable experience. Creative use of the prompt!

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  13. I can't eat with chop stick, either. Good poem

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  14. that was a great use of the prompt...i can only compare to the last raw egg crashing...

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  15. and up a creek without a paddle, as well.

    My my.

    Thanks for the smile--

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