Hello there!
This week's poem is a throwback to NaPoWriMo 2020 and based on a prompt from The Poetry Society (UK).
The Riddle of the Cutlery Drawer
I am an eternal enigma,
well at least simnce humanity first sculpted me.
According to evolution,
my species branched out into two distinct life forms
and spread.
Although another theory
suggests that I am a mutant,
a cross-bred mongrel of two other pieces of cutlery.
Maybe I was a happy accident,
forged by a kitchen creator,
a rarity, a mysterious piece
of emblematic abstract art.
A symbol of the constant struggle
to decide which implment is best
to devour food with.
Like two etheral forces
clashing, sparking,
making plastic magma,
then cooling, forming offspring
sometimes useful for picnics.
Or maybe I'm their unwanted offspring,
an orphan, always forced to take sides
but deciding to be neutral,
unadored by both,
never loved by others,
outcast in the dark fluff encrusted regions
of the drawer.
Languishing, waiting, yearning
for escape from this soft-closing prison.
Then light enters,
a mystic form rises up into my vision,
the deity of the kitchen bellows,
"Shall we take the - ?"
but it struck down by a higher authority,
"No, just use the - ".
Darkness falls, loneliness returns.
I go back to dreaming about my proud origins.
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