Taste It
I thought my creativity was dead,
and I would never be able to write again,
I’ve experienced writer’s block
my brain was hard as a rock.
Tossing to and fro,
I wonder which way to go.
Rhyme,
verse,
narrative,
nothing was positive.
I tried to write a verse,
but my imagination got worse,
so I went into the kitchen
to find a way to begin.
Chopped onion,
salt and pepper,
rhythm or rhyme?
all forms declined.
Melted butter sauté with thyme
alliteration or blank verse?
I had nothing to converse.
I hang over the kitchen sink
and think,
but I couldn’t find the missing link .
Chopped broccoli and chicken broth,
limerick, haiku and didactic thought,
a touch of shredded cheese and pepper,
quatrain
prose
ballad
whipped cream
with tomato salad.
I blend and stir,
and bring to boil,
and
poetrysoup added the essential oil
©2013 Christine Phillips
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