In Ravenscourt Park there was an old man
Who lived in an alabaster cave
Each morning he’d eat Bitterness on Toast
Then for work he would leave
With his glass jar tucked under his arm
Hobbling through the streets
Waiting for the moment tension would strike
To gather his bittersweet treat
Throughout the day he’d fill his jar
Revelling in its growing weight
Daydreaming the joy of getting home
To eat his sandwich filled with hate
To sit at the table with his favourite plate
And fill his belly full of misery
Then off to bed he’d take himself
Where he would dream of history
The dreams weren’t much different
From the days that he had
Except for the ring on his finger
And the smile that greeted him at the door
But the bitterness it did linger
While he ate his sandwich filled with hate
His wife ate strawberry jam
Too sweet was the taste of her lips
It angered the little old man
Night after night he’d dream of those lips
A never ending cycle of torment
Waking up to the brim with anxiety
Ready for a day of resentment
Category: Food
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Marooned on a desert island
Despairing how she got here
Thankfully she’s not alone
At her side her good friend Fear
Fear looks on with kind eyes
Soothing the relentless shadow
Feeding island coconuts
Making soup out of her bone marrow
The soup tastes so good to the ever delirious
They reminisce of times gone past
They hug until the moon does rise
Then Fear decides she wants to dance
In her frenzy she kills the fire
And accidentally spills the fresh water
It’s ok, it’s not your fault
She tries not to scold her
But Fear is in her element
A whirling dervish in the moon light
Helplessly a surrender takes place
With a gentle fade, Fear wins the night -
“Rabbit! Rabbit! Goose! Goose!”
Wailed the man from his hoose
Gone hopped the rabbit
Off waddled the goose
Into the forest
They got loose
Cried! He cried!
For his goose!
The man exclaimed
“I’ve got no juice”
The rabbit returned
Red faced and sweaty
Chased by a zebra
From the Serengeti
The zebra stopped
Saw the man
Returned to the forest to make a plan
To steal his house
And live their himself
Put all his trophies on a shelf
All the rabbits, all the geese
He stuffed himself
Full of peace
At the thought of his new future as a man
The zebra thought it was a cunning plan. -
Oh the smell from long ago
The waft warm and familiar
The early start a slave in part
In a world confused and in pain
Why do passing smells entice
More than if I was the chef
With my own hands creating
But my nose elating
From the aroma of the morning tube -
There was a little Strawberry
Hanging on a bush
It was so red and juicy
Then one day whooosh
A giant hand came and grabbed her
And placed her in a cave
Then crushed her little body
With her cousin Dave -
Butter! Butter! Where are you?
You’re not in the fridge.
Are you hiding from me?
A just need a smidge.
For my crumpets. Only two
Why don’t you come hither?
I’ll let you go before you know
I just need a slither
Ah there you are. On the side
How did you escape?!
I’ve got my knife. I’ll hold your life
On this nice warm plate
Actually I changed my mind
Crumpets can’t be dry
I’m going to dolop you on them
I’m afraid you’ll have to dieI’m loving memory of M.Y Butter. Use by date April 2023. Gone before his time. Gone, but never forgotten. RIP
Sin Agua Poetry Blog 