"Clicking Chopsticks"
It's raining snow
Monkeys and
I'm not in
Any
Way
Where
I thought
I might be
At this time
Or place but
Please place
Me in the seat
That I was
Meant
To
Be
In
.
So many curry shops
which should I pick
Stick with the one
Hasn’t made me sick
Plain or colored sticks
Thicker than noodles and pricks
Spoon and fork in one
A game on table or floor that's gone!
I thought by writing this poem
I could ramp up the cognitive demand
I wanted to get down on paper
The time my chopsticks talked to me
They told me there is a towel
On the flag of Belarus
I was flabbergasted by this
I dipped them in wasabi
I imagined a scream
Like a falling bomb
I overheard someone
Asking about the buffet
I heard the name
Emma Chizzit
This was repeated several times
With more and more intensity
Then it was realised that this
Australian woman was asking
"How much is it?"
Followed by my chopsticks
Asking me about Moses
How he makes his tea
Hebrews it was the answer
I paid the bill and left
I met a strange young gal in St. Louis
Her favorite Chinese food was chop suey
This gal got her kicks
Twirling her chopsticks
I finally said, “too much kung phooey.”
written September 26, 2021
Whenever I felt blue
I’d pick up a pen
And write my thoughts
It was my way of connecting
With my most inner depths
Now it’s been way too long
And I miss that bond
I could turn sadness into creation
And felt more alive for it
Living and creating so intertwined
Feeling nostalgic tonight
As I sit enjoying popcorn
With my fancy chopsticks
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on October 3, 2020 for contest WHEN THERE IS NO INSPIRATION sponsored by SILENT ONE - RANKED 3RD
Originally posted on April 5, 2018
By Elton Camp
A fork to eat soup is unwise
Thus, spoons are no surprise
It makes no sense if anyone picks
To try to eat rice with two sticks
If I try with all of my might
I might get a teeny-tiny bite
To pick up meat might be okay
For little grains--it’s nuts I say!
Orientals may master the skill
So that chopsticks fill the bill
But here’s the thing I want to say:
Why would anybody pick that way!
The most amazing of culinary tricks
would be to eat spaghetti with chopsticks.
A pair of chopsticks you will never see
if you go to any table in Italy.
Marco Polo was not perspicacious enough to see
his contribution to western culture’s popularity.
When using chopsticks, you won’t get much sauce.
Unfortunately, there would be much of a loss.
A fork and spoon would appear a strange thing
at the dinner table in Shanghai or Beijing.
I love a meal with chopsticks –
It’s elegant and fun.
I’m slowly eating, bit by bit,
When forkers are all done.
Each morsel’s daintily procured
And lifted to one’s lips;
Some concentration’s needed
So the food stays in its grips.
But once you get the hang of it,
You’ll dine with new delight,
A feeling of accomplishment
In every single bite.
Some people find it challenging,
But everybody should
Discover just how pleasant
It could be to eat with wood!
I learned to eat with chopsticks
From my spouse, on our first date.
It added something magical
To everything I ate.
He also taught me how to tell,
By looking at the moon,
Whether it was getting bigger
Or would disappear real soon.
I told him that I understood,
Though often I would guess.
Was it waxing? Maybe waning?
Just one answer would impress.
But after years together,
He’s convinced I really know.
It’s one of his accomplishments
Of which he likes to crow.
He’s very wrong when he insists
That sums up all he’s taught;
For waxing moons and noodles are
A speck of what I’d sought.
Since marriage is a partnership,
There’s so much give and take;
And to think one person’s given more
Is sometimes a mistake.
I’ve been lucky on the getting side
Despite my husband’s doubts,
For the treasures I have reaped
Have far exceeded any droughts.
When I reminisce I can’t forget
Those moments opportune
And the charming way it all began -
With chopsticks and the moon.
I celebrated the
day you were born
by wrapping a
present of chopsticks
I had purchased but
would never give you.
I wrapped the box
as though I might --
with colorful tissue and
a silver ribbon
that catches the light
in a similar manner as
do your eyes.
But realized that were
I to offer them up
you might ram one through
my heart
without even meaning to.
You would say thank you
and be gracious
but would not hold me
citing a thousand reasons why
you shouldn't.
And you would be right.
For we would hurt all over.
So instead I write this for you,
hoping you will visit
but knowing you won't.
So I forget your birthday --
though I don't.
empty wooden rice bowl
scattered
upon
the
dry land
find their hungry feet
and
hungry hands
shall
gather
at
night
where
the
fish breathe air
eat their food
with
paper chopsticks