Food for Thought

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Food for Thought

I sit within the broken ladle
- a sheet of plastic dirtied.
I wrap my fingers about two
straps that hold the ladle sturdy.

I push my feet against the
starches drowned in soup.
My legs turn up and catch
the steam turned up from the coup.

I look up and close the lids
- both so naught escapes.
My body discreetly simmers
and leaves my thoughts to shape.

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Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

SecretAngel3’s Poems (40)

Title Comments
Title Comments
I Am Ugly 0
Fragile People 0
The Hunt for Delectable Expression 3
Take My Heart 1
Mini Poem Series: Entry 4 0
All About Joe 0
The Stone Ones 0
Imperfect 0
Beautiful Morning 1
How Water Hurts 0
Misfortune 1
Neutralizatio
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0
The Dream Me 0
Can a brighter day inspire me? 0
Last Hope 0
In My Hands 1
The Power of God 1
Their Sting Fills Me with Poison 1
Mini Poem Series: Entry 3 0
Tale of a Maiden 1
Mini Poem Series: Entry 2 0
Mini Poem Series: Entry 1 0
Regretful Realizations 0
Spread the Love 0
Little Sprite 0
At Last, Avenged 0
Food for Thought 0
Elusion 0
Strength 0
The Hunter and The Woman 0
Calling 1
Confidence 2
Which Apple I Love 0
My Heart's Pain 1
Lost at Home 1
Somber Icy Spectacle 1
HATS AWAY_ 1
Meet You In Heaven 1
Sickening Stage 0
Cafe Cliche 0