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
5 second rule says
ReplyDeletego ahead don't beat yourself:
cleanliness sickens
As long as you enjoy it :-)
ReplyDeleteOops! With or without sticks or fork, I have known this experience!
ReplyDeleteIt 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.
ReplyDeleteGood read.
What a strange moment you have captured there. I like it.
ReplyDeleteCold noodles on the cold floor. I'd definitely want to take a different fork!
ReplyDeleteThis is different - kind of funny and kind of embarrassing too :)
ReplyDeleteyou've taken a wonderful twist on the prompt -- fork on the road! Humor and chagrin come through in your poem.
ReplyDeleteLove the laugh and the loss of all useful tools.
ReplyDeleteSo clever and visual. Love it!
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed your poem and the humor.
ReplyDeletei feel this frustration (but my dog would love it!...he is our professional floor cleaner during/after meals)
ReplyDeleteSuch vivid imagery, and such a recognizable experience. Creative use of the prompt!
ReplyDeleteI can't eat with chop stick, either. Good poem
ReplyDeletethat was a great use of the prompt...i can only compare to the last raw egg crashing...
ReplyDeleteand up a creek without a paddle, as well.
ReplyDeleteMy my.
Thanks for the smile--