It was there on the red table cloth,
Of the Chinese Restaurant,
Where the chef use their left hands,
To pick up the right ingredients,
To put into the hot pans and pots,
To dish out the delicious fries of boneless meat,
Laced with Ketchup and in MSG puddle,
I forgot the ‘It' on the table,
It was like a grain of sand,
Suddenly started to crawl like an ant,
A small little cute ant took a stroll,
Beside my plate and cutlery,
Then it stopped crawling, I thought it was tired,
I took the servitude and folded it into a cone,
Touched it softly to provoke it,
Then it woke up from the slumber,
And started to crawl like any toddlers do,
When I tried to touch for the third time,
It spread its tiny wings and flew away,
In a split of a second, either it knows,
That it is in the wrong place,
To show its tiny fist thinking as hulk's
Or might have gone to the right place,
Where the rotten fruits are found.
A splendid poem on a fruit fly! The poem displays your soft heart even to a fruit fly! The last two lines are so apt. Thanks and best wishes. Chandra Thiagarajan
This s a truly poetic look at a fruitfly. Poets see in small things a worthy being. Excellent poem, Veeraiyah
Bri Edwards! 1. what writing tool is found in a drawer? we may answer pen, pencil, markers and many more. 2. what servitude that can be folded from the dining table? tissue papers and napkins. I sincerely thank you for reading this 'poetic prose'.
as for veeraiyah's comment, below, on her poem and the use of left hand/right hand: i had a college friend years ago.............was it the peace corps volunteer to india or the linguist traveling in turkey area? ? .........tell me the reason the people of the area/culture uses one hand to eat and not the other is that the people of the region do or USED TO use the other hand to clean up after having a bowel movement. makes sense to ME! !
what does servitude refer to here? i really like the storytelling of this, though i REALLY don't know if it qualifies as a poem. i REALLY mean that i DON'T know. i'm no expert on the subject of poems. a poem i wrote, six legs....but who can see them? , might interest readers who like veeraiyah's poem about a fruit fly. i like the idea that the fly may think wrong place or right place.....maybe both. thanks for sharing and for your comment earlier on one of my poems.
Amazing! your compassion and keen observation reflecting through out the poem made it a real beautiful and tender, poetic read. Thank you so much for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Normally Chinese use their left hands for auspicious things and they give and take money from us extending the left hand, while the Indians prefer the right.