Dining al fresco
when the weather is warm
in the summer months
here is the norm
but Mr Khayyam said it best
'A book of verses underneath the bough,
a jug of wine, a loaf of bread
and thou...'
as eating outdoors
flavours taste finer
and there with my lady-love
I'll wine and dine her
Excerpt from Rubáiyát by Omar Khayyam (1048—1131)
We’re absorbed
by the Saran-wrapped food,
the plastic cutlery,
tired brains monopolized
by the clutter of the meal tray,
numbed by hours of jiggling -
the carting of torpid bodies
through interminable distance,
wedged into
a restricted boredom.
Anesthetized – we fear nothing.
If the aircraft stalls,
if an engine fails
few will find the strength to panic,
we’ll keep decanting small bottles
of vin de table,
studiously apply hard butter
to soft buns.
As the aircraft plummets earthward
we’ll continue to struggle
with condiment sachets,
coffee creamers,
with small, molded cruets,
glad to be occupied
and totally blanked out
to what comes next -
or whatever.
Uncle is extremely meticulous
At arrangement of dishes, he’s cautious
From smallest to biggest
Glasses and all the rest
If order of wares fails, he whines like ewes.
velvet draperies
gold victorian brocade
showroom opulence
touches of crystal
gorgeous furnishings
an antique mirror
linen tablecloths
succulent meat fragrances
exquisite dining
linen table cloth
beautifully patterned china
clear crystal goblets
special occasion
weddings and graduations
elegant dining
About to procrastinate
am putting it off
setting it aside
it's never too late
it can wait
as
now is the hour
no time
like the present
nothing important
I can't circumvent
didn't wind the clock
gave my watch away
don't need to know
what week it is
nor hour of the day
nowhere I have to be
no one's expecting me
from this moment on
no long hard climb
just eating drinking wining dining
I'm living on island time
You've missed a bit, there on your chin.
Thin reeds of river grass and fish—
cheeks-deep in roe, mud-covered twin,
you've missed a bit.
Let's bumble on to spawning's pitch
eat salmon-seasoned trout—with quince,
furs drenched in entrails glazey drip...
I long forgave your glutton sin,
big Grizz, I swear there is no hitch,
just time enough to feast with friends
you've missed a bit.
Said a handsome New Orleans waiter,
"Sir, can I recommend some freshly caught gator?"
I said, "Are you for real?
Didn’t you hear about that poor woman Lucille?"
"But Sir, what if I can assure you ~ this ain't the gator that ate her?"
alien made salad dream
carrot blue with pink sauce cream
broccoli chartreuse
some light wavy juice
great chef of a distant scene.
"Forever" seemed like a long time
The taste buds had worn off the desire to eat from the same plate
My eyes feasted on other froral ceramic plates not of my cabinet
I ate from one plate to the next interchangeably
How fast the vows had forgoten the path to my heart
My "plate" just as beautiful, i wonder how fast my eyes had chosen open blindness
............................
Here i lay, breathing by neck
Dying two fold
acknowledging the glitter was only granular's of poison from the grim reaper
My plate is broken and so is my health
I only have myself to crucify
I natured it
Entertained it
Invited it in
sky glistens with light
every bite -I enjoy view
till sunset arrives
King Cat sat at the head of the table without a care.
His corpulent body oozing out of his super big chair.
His girth slipped onto the edge of my chair like a wing.
His fur was prickly, but I dared not say a thing.
He was all powerful at this table, the king, after all.
Throwing around his weight, his ideas ridiculously small.
I made a note to myself next year to take a chair at the foot.
His brutish behaviors were annoying I told my clown, Soot.
Soot had been around since King Cat was a boy.
He was a sad little thing; food became his best toy.
Feeling sorry for him, I felt empathetic now.
But I would rather dine in a hall next to a cow.
Go ahead
Waste your time
I choose to dine
all alone
Crowded eateries
are never 'pleaseries'
Go through the drive-thru
enjoy it at home
I sit at my family’s empty table
Life’s feast is almost gravely gone
I am the final guest left in this familial fable
All within my bloodline have somehow succumbed
I recall the time of the sweet, sour, bitter and salty with zeal
Each gathering shared with love for each other at every meal
November 13, 2022
Bitesize Poem Number 55
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
As you know, I am fasting today
And fasting was never a lighter chore for me
Craving sugars, coffee mugs, all those, all of these
Serenity prayer, and I kept myself ongoing.
Every fever has a hype, this one too.
I just thought that the thermometer was a gift
a glassed space with mercury indicator
to remission the degree of expiation
the world needs.
Though, the world, I thought, is still in the first phase
phase I construction zone, happening in mind space.
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