No Supper

No Supper

Round as a planet, dark as the galaxy
the interior looked like the last battle in Verdun
the early spring of 1914.
It had been a healthy preparation of carrots, beans
turnips, potatoes and meat.
Scorched earth tactic nothing was salvageable.
There had been warnings but human insouciance
ignored the smell emitting filling rooms 
with the bitterness of a failed supper.
The last question is, can the frying pan be saved?
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace