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
17 comments:
5 second rule says
go ahead don't beat yourself:
cleanliness sickens
As long as you enjoy it :-)
Oops! With or without sticks or fork, I have known this experience!
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.
What a strange moment you have captured there. I like it.
Cold noodles on the cold floor. I'd definitely want to take a different fork!
This is different - kind of funny and kind of embarrassing too :)
you've taken a wonderful twist on the prompt -- fork on the road! Humor and chagrin come through in your poem.
Love the laugh and the loss of all useful tools.
So clever and visual. Love it!
I enjoyed your poem and the humor.
i feel this frustration (but my dog would love it!...he is our professional floor cleaner during/after meals)
Such vivid imagery, and such a recognizable experience. Creative use of the prompt!
I can't eat with chop stick, either. Good poem
that was a great use of the prompt...i can only compare to the last raw egg crashing...
and up a creek without a paddle, as well.
My my.
Thanks for the smile--
Sounds like more than the meal was cold. Her emotions certainly were hot.
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